No, it won't. In the first 6 months of the war more troops, ships, and planes were going to the Pacific to shore up defenses because the Japanese kept advancing. What finally reversed that was the Battle of Midway. After Midway the Japanese were incapable of any more large-scale offensive operations, and the offensive against Germany could begin. An opening raid on Panama won't change Allied grand strategy, just add to the initial shock of Pearl Harbor. The Japanese never posed the level of threat that could cause the Allies to lose the war. The Germans were an existential threat to both the British & Soviets, and with U-Boats sinking ships in sight of land off the East Coast they were the bigger threat.
December 7, 1941. The Day Japan Attacked the Panama Canal
- Thread starter YYJ
- Start date
It was, indeed, a bad idea! But a fascinating story, just the same.
If it hadn't happened, it would seem like a kinda loopy and barely plausible ATL timeline. But if it was a well written and researched one, why....
I think it's far more likely they'd just take their chances trying to get back to imperial waters via the South Pacific. They face difficult odds but it is not impossible that they might pull it off. U.S. naval and air presence in much of Polynesia in December 1941 was not nearly what it would be just a few months later.
On my reading of the record, even if Midway is a defeat, or does not happen, I think Roosevelt still insists on TORCH going forward.
It will take a lot more to force a revisit of "Germany First," no matter how much this might annoy Ernie King.
The irony is: Except for long range reconnaissance, of course, the good general's bombers would be mostly useless in any defense of the Canal Zone against a naval attack of any kind. But then, this was still not quite as clear in December 1941 as it would become over the succeeding months.
IMHO the Germans were not an existenial threat to the British. They had no plausable way to invade GB and their empire, or the US for that matter. Once they were also fighting the USSR, it was just a matter of time before they lost. They were also running out of the oil supply, that they grabbed from France, by late 1941.
GB poured a lot of resources and manpower into bomber command. A diversion of some of those resources, say 10%, to the navy and anti submarine warfare would have a big impact.
Butcher Harris's bomber command losses rivaled Haigs in WW1. A crew member on a British bomber had a shorter life expectancy than an infantryman in the trenches of the First World War.
Taking resources from Harris helps GBs war effort overall.
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None of this would have been readily apparent to anyone in the Allied camp during the dark days of 1941-42.
The allies knew that the axis had little oil internally. It was known that Romanian oil production had started to decline in the 1930s. Germany needed the oil that Stalin supplied to conduct the war against the Wallies. Grabbing France's oil reserve was a bonus. In 1938, two thirds of German oil supply came from the United States and Latin America.
Was the production of Romanian oil enough for Germany in 1939-1945 (WW II)?
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Mine warfare in this time. As much as having airdropped mines cause a problem, they would be easily cleared. These are not the oyster mines or the other ones the germans thought up and layed around the UK. The type of mine they would use was just the simple herz horn type that was a floating mine type that they would know where they were.
There was no regular peacetime CAP at all over the Canal, as far as I have read, even thought they were on war footing. There was a requirement from 1939 for 2 fighters to be on 5 minute alert for inspection flights, that is intercepting any aircraft approaching the Canal Zone that had not filed a flight plan with the authorities and had it approved. All foreign owned aircraft needed to be escorted across the Canal Zone, by Army Air Force fighters. Other than that, all the flights by the pursuit squadrons in the Panama Canal Air Force would be training flights.
All the pursuit squadrons were based at Albrook Field on the Pacific, which would have been very crowded, although one squadron, the 30th, may have been transferred to La Chorrera Field in the Republic of Panama on the 24th of November. They were also using Rio Hato as a training field, but pursuit aircraft were not normally based there.
By deduction, it looks like it took about 6 weeks for a trained pilot to convert from a P-36 to P-40, since the types were very similar. Although the sources are contradictory it looks to me like at least 4 of the 9 squadrons in the CZ at the time were equipped with P-40s and had been training on them long enough to be proficient. If the squadrons did not have enough P-40s, P-36s were available to fill in the gaps. As it says above in Sidebar: Pursuit Aircraft in the Canal Zone, Dec 7, 1941, 71 P-40s were at Albrook Field Dec 7, and 84 P-40s in total had been sent to the Canal Zone by this time.
29th Pursuit Group:
24th Pursuit Squadron: Received P-40s, in June 1941, flew reconnaissance flights to Jamaica.
29th Pursuit Squadron: at least 10 P-40s, on general alert Dec 7, described as combat ready.
43rd Pursuit Squadron: P-40s in July. Sent a flight (2 or 3 aircraft) to Trinidad in August, suggesting they were sufficiently trained.
37th Pursuit Group:
Received 35 P-40s, in May 1941.
28th Pursuit Squadron: reported to have received P-40s after PH.
30th Pursuit Squadron: P-40s in November 1941, transferred to La Chorrera Field.
31st Pursuit Squadron: P-40s in July 1941.
32nd Pursuit Group:
Understrength in personnel and aircraft. At time of the story effectively a training group with hand me down aircraft.
51st Pursuit squadron
52nd Pursuit squadron
53rd Pursuit squadron
For the purposes of the story the total number of modern fighters does not really matter because
The Canal in not being attacked by the whole Kido Butai.
The bombers were mostly used for long range reconnaissance, letting the sparse naval patrols know what ships were approaching the Canal. They did not have any dedicated weapons for attacking surface ships that I am aware of, other than GP bombs. They did engage in anti-submarine patrols, so I expect the Army Air Force did have some depth bombs. The Navy certainly would have depth bombs.
I would argue that they *were* an existential threat to Britain, but it was more of a medium to long-term threat, not a short-term one. Obviously, in 1940-41 the Germans had no plausible prospect of successfully invading Britain itself (though the uncertainty even for the most knowledgeable of British leadership at that time was somewhat greater than ours). This would be true for a Germany either allied with Soviet Russia (as it effectively was from Sept. 1939 to June 1941), or which has successfully conquered most of its European territory. With these resources at its disposal, it simply has a much greater warmaking potential than Britain and the Empire do. (See Paul Kennedy on this point.) It might take years for it to develop a credible amphibious threat to Britain, but not quite so long to do the same to Britain's position in the Middle East, which would be lethal in its own way to Britain's position.
There is a certain analogy to the threat Napoleon posed to Britain in 1798-1814, and how British leaders perceived it: The Royal Navy credibly blocked any hope Bonaparte had of invading for the foreseeable future, but British leadership rightly understood that their empire and their economy was not sustainable in the long run against an entire European continent mobilized against them under a hostile regime. (Note, too, just how dangerous Napoleon's naval buildup had become by the end of the War of the Sixth Coalition: Give 'em enough time and enough resources, and they could undo a half dozen Trafalgars.)
So Belisarius's point does remain valid: "The Japanese never posed the level of threat that could cause the Allies to lose the war." Japan simply lacked the warmaking power or geographical position to really be an existential threat to any of the other great powers. Its war aims were highly ambitious, but not as ambitious as Germany's. I think Allied leadership rightly understood this reality, and that is how we got the Germany First consensus.
Plus in the 30s there was the inherent racism in the western view regarding the Japanese people. Few believed their military could have the wherewithal to pull off any significant threats against the US (or Great Britain). Even if they were so foolish, they would be quickly and decisively dealt with. Remember that the British went ape-shit over just the Bismarck, but shrugged off the Rengō Kantai.
This mentality lead to the disasters at PH and the far east. Our modern day view of the Japanese people would have gotten you laughed at by late 30s Americans. So adjust your 20/20 hindsight accordingly.
ric350
Okay.
Kicked for a week.
Action has been rescinded after communication from both members involved.
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None of that was apparent in 1941/42. Only in retrospect do things seem so assured. At the time the British were worried about the Atlantic Lifeline, the defense of Egypt, and the ME. The Soviet Union seemed in a desperate situation at the end of 1941, and it was expected that the Germans would resume their advance in the spring of 1942. In the winter/spring of 1942 U-Boats were roving up and down the East Coast of the U.S. sinking ships at will, and the oil terminals in the Carribean and Gulf Coasts were under attack. The U.S. rearmament program was just starting to get rolling. The Germans had a larger industrial base, and generally more advanced technology than Japan's. The Allies rightly considered the Germans a more dangerous opponent than the Japanese.
Yeah, I suspected that. (Radar would make much of this role superfluous before too long, of course).
But I was more responding to the general's comment: "As an Army Air Force career bomber advocate, I find the situation galling.” He's clearly thinking about their use in a bombing role.
Yes. I thought it would be in character for Andrews to say that. The bombers would have a more traditional role if there was an amphibious landing aimed at the Canal, or an attempted invasion of a Latin American country by Axis forces, somehow.
Until the 8th Air Force destroyed most of Germany's synthetic oil plants in early 1944, they had enough fuel to meet most of their operational requirements.
Hykyoban
1800 hours, Dec 6, 1941. Seaplane carrier HIJMS Chitose, Tagus Cove, Albemarle Island, Galapagos Archipelago.
Takeda’s aircrews clustered around the lead Type 97 flying boat. It was sitting alone on Chitose’s after deck. The other two aircraft were anchored in the bay, with maintenance personnel walking about on top of the wings and hulls. The sun was low in the sky, and lit up the horizon to the west a brilliant orange. To the east, over the bleak landscape of the Galapagos islands, a low bank of grey clouds brooded. Riggers on the carrier’s modified oversize aft crane were preparing to lift the last plane into the sea.
The Kawanishi was its usual light grey, but now had a row of black circles painted along the length of the fuselage, simulating the windows of a passenger plane. Above the row of circles was painted Pan American Airline System in tight capital letters. On the bow was a logo of a winged globe with the letters PAA in streamlined italic typeface. Above the logo, was painted in even smaller romanji letters, Tokyo Clipper. Apparently, one of Chitose’s aircraft mechanics was a comedian. A six character alphanumeric tail number, the Pan Am registration number, was painted on the vertical stabilizer. The bow in front of the windscreen was painted anti-glare black, as was the hydroplane underside of the hull and outrigger floats. What seemed to be missing was the large red hinomaru rondel on the tail boom, but at second glance there it was, only as a thin red outline. Another identical rondel was on the underside of the left wing. The right wing had the Pan Am registration number in bold black letters. Takeda noticed some of his crew looking at the new livery.
“Top of the wing is the same,” he told them. “One empty hinomaru, one number.” Looking out at the two other aircraft, they could see it was true. At this distance he could just barely see that all three flying boats were painted with the same registration number.
“I am sorry, Sir,” said Lt. Hitsuji. “I am not for a moment convinced that is anything but a Kawanishi H6K4.”
Takeda frowned. He gestured in the direction of Albemarle Island, two kilometers away. “look at the most distant plane in the bay,” he said to the skeptical Flight Lieutenant, pointing towards Tagus Cove. “Cover your eyes with your hands. Take your hands away for two seconds, and cover your eyes again. Then tell me you are so sure.”
The young lieutenant complied, then mulled over his impression. “Perhaps,” he said.
Takeda said, more quietly, so only the two could hear. “I know. I am not entirely convinced myself. This was not my idea, and I am afraid it is wasted effort. But it should not matter. We wish to avoid being seen at all, until the very last few seconds of our attack.”
The aircrew had now fixated on the pair of torpedoes, one slung under each wing at the weapon attachment point midway down the diagonal wing brace, and were gathering to look the weapon over. Chitose’s armourers were finishing up their work with the torpedo.
“Ittoheiso,” Takeda addressed the crew chief. “Please orient my men on the unique features of this torpedo.”
“Yes, Sir!” responded the crew chief. Then less formally he faced the junior officers. “His Majesty’s ship Chitose’s float planes do not carry torpedoes, so her armourers are unfamiliar with the weapon. I was assigned here from Sasebo Naval Arsenal, along with some civilian technicians from Mitsubishi.” A trio of men in coveralls stopped working on the torpedoes for a moment and bowed to the airmen. “These are very special and rare torpedoes, and the fact you have them at all tells me this is a very important mission.”
“You will notice,” the chief said pointing, “this appears at first glance to be a kyujuichi shiki kokyu gorai, the familiar Type 91 Modification 2 aerial torpedo with a 204 kilogram warhead, in use since 1938. I expect you have dropped these may times in training. Equipped with torpedo net cutter, in case you meet a torpedo net. Careful, it is sharp. This wooden box stabilizer on the tail fins, the hykyoban, I expect you are also familiar with. Its purpose is to keep the torpedo from wobbling in flight, so it will land in the water with consistent pitch and yaw.
“What is unique about this torpedo,” he patted the body just before the tail, “is the addition of these roll controlling movable surfaces here.” He pointed to the body ahead of the tail control fins. These small fins are controlled by a second gyroscope, and act to correct the torpedo’s roll in the water. The tail rudder and fins can only steer correctly if the torpedo is perfectly upright. This roll correction system makes sure that is the case. This much is sufficient to make the torpedo extremely accurate in the open sea.
“If you want to attack an enemy in a harbour, where the water is shallow, the torpedo needs to pitch up immediately when it contacts the water, so that its entry dive is shallow. Otherwise the torpedo will hit bottom before it corrects to attack depth. These small roll control fins, because they are designed to work in water, are only able to correct the roll once the torpedo is in the water, which might be too late in shallows. These here,” he pointed again. “are wooden gloves that fit over the roll control fins, increasing their surface area tenfold. The extra surface area allows the fins to correct the torpedo’s roll in the air while it is falling, like the ailerons on an aircraft, so that the torpedo strikes the water perfectly upright. Then the tail control fins can pitch up and direct the torpedo immediately on a shallow course. The wooden pieces all break off as soon as the torpedo strikes the water. They are no longer needed and would only be in the way.”
“These weapons have been thoroughly tested to plunge to no deeper than 10 or 12 meters depth when drooped at 160 knots from an altitude of 20 meters, by a competent pilot.”
“Sir,” interjected Lieutenant Hitsuji. “You said our drop zone has a depth between 20 and 27 meters?”
“That is correct,” replied Takeda, with a hint of satisfaction.
The riggers motioned that they had completed preparations, and Lt. Commander’s flying boat was lifted from the deck, swung out, and placed gently on the water of Tagus Cove.
Technical details in this chapter are heavily indebted to this article:
www.pearlharboraviationmuseum.org
Navigational chart of the north end of Gatun Lake at the approximate time of this story, with depths. Somewhat zoomable
Takeda’s aircrews clustered around the lead Type 97 flying boat. It was sitting alone on Chitose’s after deck. The other two aircraft were anchored in the bay, with maintenance personnel walking about on top of the wings and hulls. The sun was low in the sky, and lit up the horizon to the west a brilliant orange. To the east, over the bleak landscape of the Galapagos islands, a low bank of grey clouds brooded. Riggers on the carrier’s modified oversize aft crane were preparing to lift the last plane into the sea.
The Kawanishi was its usual light grey, but now had a row of black circles painted along the length of the fuselage, simulating the windows of a passenger plane. Above the row of circles was painted Pan American Airline System in tight capital letters. On the bow was a logo of a winged globe with the letters PAA in streamlined italic typeface. Above the logo, was painted in even smaller romanji letters, Tokyo Clipper. Apparently, one of Chitose’s aircraft mechanics was a comedian. A six character alphanumeric tail number, the Pan Am registration number, was painted on the vertical stabilizer. The bow in front of the windscreen was painted anti-glare black, as was the hydroplane underside of the hull and outrigger floats. What seemed to be missing was the large red hinomaru rondel on the tail boom, but at second glance there it was, only as a thin red outline. Another identical rondel was on the underside of the left wing. The right wing had the Pan Am registration number in bold black letters. Takeda noticed some of his crew looking at the new livery.
“Top of the wing is the same,” he told them. “One empty hinomaru, one number.” Looking out at the two other aircraft, they could see it was true. At this distance he could just barely see that all three flying boats were painted with the same registration number.
“I am sorry, Sir,” said Lt. Hitsuji. “I am not for a moment convinced that is anything but a Kawanishi H6K4.”
Takeda frowned. He gestured in the direction of Albemarle Island, two kilometers away. “look at the most distant plane in the bay,” he said to the skeptical Flight Lieutenant, pointing towards Tagus Cove. “Cover your eyes with your hands. Take your hands away for two seconds, and cover your eyes again. Then tell me you are so sure.”
The young lieutenant complied, then mulled over his impression. “Perhaps,” he said.
Takeda said, more quietly, so only the two could hear. “I know. I am not entirely convinced myself. This was not my idea, and I am afraid it is wasted effort. But it should not matter. We wish to avoid being seen at all, until the very last few seconds of our attack.”
The aircrew had now fixated on the pair of torpedoes, one slung under each wing at the weapon attachment point midway down the diagonal wing brace, and were gathering to look the weapon over. Chitose’s armourers were finishing up their work with the torpedo.
“Ittoheiso,” Takeda addressed the crew chief. “Please orient my men on the unique features of this torpedo.”
“Yes, Sir!” responded the crew chief. Then less formally he faced the junior officers. “His Majesty’s ship Chitose’s float planes do not carry torpedoes, so her armourers are unfamiliar with the weapon. I was assigned here from Sasebo Naval Arsenal, along with some civilian technicians from Mitsubishi.” A trio of men in coveralls stopped working on the torpedoes for a moment and bowed to the airmen. “These are very special and rare torpedoes, and the fact you have them at all tells me this is a very important mission.”
“You will notice,” the chief said pointing, “this appears at first glance to be a kyujuichi shiki kokyu gorai, the familiar Type 91 Modification 2 aerial torpedo with a 204 kilogram warhead, in use since 1938. I expect you have dropped these may times in training. Equipped with torpedo net cutter, in case you meet a torpedo net. Careful, it is sharp. This wooden box stabilizer on the tail fins, the hykyoban, I expect you are also familiar with. Its purpose is to keep the torpedo from wobbling in flight, so it will land in the water with consistent pitch and yaw.
“What is unique about this torpedo,” he patted the body just before the tail, “is the addition of these roll controlling movable surfaces here.” He pointed to the body ahead of the tail control fins. These small fins are controlled by a second gyroscope, and act to correct the torpedo’s roll in the water. The tail rudder and fins can only steer correctly if the torpedo is perfectly upright. This roll correction system makes sure that is the case. This much is sufficient to make the torpedo extremely accurate in the open sea.
“If you want to attack an enemy in a harbour, where the water is shallow, the torpedo needs to pitch up immediately when it contacts the water, so that its entry dive is shallow. Otherwise the torpedo will hit bottom before it corrects to attack depth. These small roll control fins, because they are designed to work in water, are only able to correct the roll once the torpedo is in the water, which might be too late in shallows. These here,” he pointed again. “are wooden gloves that fit over the roll control fins, increasing their surface area tenfold. The extra surface area allows the fins to correct the torpedo’s roll in the air while it is falling, like the ailerons on an aircraft, so that the torpedo strikes the water perfectly upright. Then the tail control fins can pitch up and direct the torpedo immediately on a shallow course. The wooden pieces all break off as soon as the torpedo strikes the water. They are no longer needed and would only be in the way.”
“These weapons have been thoroughly tested to plunge to no deeper than 10 or 12 meters depth when drooped at 160 knots from an altitude of 20 meters, by a competent pilot.”
“Sir,” interjected Lieutenant Hitsuji. “You said our drop zone has a depth between 20 and 27 meters?”
“That is correct,” replied Takeda, with a hint of satisfaction.
The riggers motioned that they had completed preparations, and Lt. Commander’s flying boat was lifted from the deck, swung out, and placed gently on the water of Tagus Cove.
Technical details in this chapter are heavily indebted to this article:
Pearl Harbor: Thunderfish In The Sky
When an aerial torpedo weighing almost two tons slams into the water at 200 mph, it barely slows down. In the open sea, Japan’s aerial torpedoes plunged 150 feet before climbing back to attack depth.[1] Pearl Harbor was only about 40 feet deep,[2] so Japan needed to modify its tactics and...
www.pearlharboraviationmuseum.org
Navigational chart of the north end of Gatun Lake at the approximate time of this story, with depths. Somewhat zoomable
