The political struggles between the two U.S. military branches had become so divisive that the Navy was charged with handling the decryption of Japanese Purple messages on the odd-numbered days of the month and the Army on the even. They would each then distribute the information on the opposite. And while Kramer and Bratton had been ordered to work together on the decrypts, neither was pleased with his assignment.
Bratton took off his overcoat and hung it with his hat on a brass hook on the back of the door. The room was small, with maps of the Pacific tacked up to the walls, pushpins indicating different battles. In the center was a long wooden table, with a complex, three-part machine.
“I’ve been working with you for months now,” Bratton said, rubbing his hands together to warm them, “but I still can’t get over how you make your Magic.” Magic was the name that had been given to the decoding and translating project, while Purple was the name of the diplomatic code.
Kramer allowed himself a pinched, proud smile. “Thank you, Colonel Bratton.” The first machine, which looked like a typewriter, intercepted all diplomatic correspondence between Japanese embassies and Tokyo. The correspondence, in the code named Purple, was typed in, then fed into the next machine, which looked like a wooden box with wires, buttons, and switches, connected by wires to the first. The messages were deciphered in there, and then came out from the third machine, another typewriter, connected by still more wires to the decryptor, decoded and in Japanese. Then skilled personnel had to be found to translate them—which was difficult, since few Americans were proficient at Japanese.
There was a knock at the door. “The latest intercept, sir,” an intelligence officer said, holding a sheaf of papers.
“Might as well get on it, even if there’s no one around to translate.”
“Yes, sir.” The young officer sat at the first typewriter, the coded documents in front of him. He began typing. As he did, lights began to wink and blink on the deciphering machine in the middle. On the far end, the typewriter began typing automatically, like a player piano.
Slowly, as if by supernatural forces, a document in Japanese was being typed out by the last machine—a coded message from Kita at the Japanese Consulate in Hawaii to the Japanese Navy.
“At least the President’s back on the distribution list now,” Kramer said. He walked to a chalkboard against the far wall and gestured to a list of twelve names: “the twelve apostles,” the only men authorized to see the decrypts. The list read:
ULTRAS
THE PRESIDENT
SEC. OF STATE
SEC. OF WAR
SEC. OF THE NAVY
ARMY
GEN. G. C. MARSHALL
BRIG. GEN. L. T. GEROW
BRIG. GEN. S. MILES
NAVY
ADM. H. R. STARK
RADM. R. K. TURNER
CAPT. R. E. INGERSOLL
CMDR. A. H. MCCOLLUM
LT. CMDR. E. WATTS
The words THE PRESIDENT had been crossed out in chalk when decrypts had been found in the White House wastebasket and Roosevelt stopped receiving them because of security concerns. Now he was back on, the yellow chalk line erased but still visible.
“I’m glad the President’s reading them again, but I’m concerned that the Chief of the Air Corps isn’t on the list. And what about our overseas commanders? What about Admiral Kimmel in Hawaii, for Pete’s sake?” Bratton asked. “He’s head of the whole Pacific Fleet!”
“We’re lucky that even the President’s getting them these days—these are extremely sensitive documents,” Kramer admonished, heading back to the typewriter with the decrypted message. “Not so much for their content, but if the Japanese ever found out we’d broken their diplomatic code …”
He pulled out the typed piece of paper. “Since the Navy and Army are sharing these now, for ‘information, evaluation and dissemination’—here you go. I don’t read Japanese—can’t make out a damn thing without the translator.”
Bratton accepted the paper. He had basic knowledge of Japanese characters and could make out the gist of the memo. This particular memo, from Consul Kita in Honolulu to Admiral Yamamoto at sea, divided Pearl Harbor into five distinct zones, with the locations and numbers of U.S. warships indicated on a grid. It read:
THE WARSHIPS AT ANCHOR AT PEARL HARBOR ON NOVEMBER 27, 1941, ARE:
1. Alongside Ford Island East—one Texas-class battleship, total one.
2. Alongside Ford Island West—one Indianapolis-class, one unidentified-type heavy cruiser, total two.
3. Vicinity of Ford Island, East and West—seven light cruisers of Honolulu- and Omaha-class, 26 destroyers.
4. Repair dock in Navy Yard—one Omaha-class light cruiser.
5. Also, six submarines, one troopship, and two destroyers off Waikiki.