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5. Architectural modelmaking Second Edition Dunn Digital
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Author(s): Dunn, Nick
ISBN(s): 9781780676463, 1780676468
Edition: Second edition
File Details: PDF, 37.61 MB
Year: 2014
Language: english
10. 6 INTRODUCTION
6 Why we make models
14 A brief history
20 Modelmaking now
21 About this book
22 Getting started
26 Machines
Contents
28 MEDIA
30 Introduction
30 Abstraction
32 Size and scale
34 The selection and composition
of media
36 Paper and cardboard
41 Step by step: Developing a design using
paper models
48 Wood
55 Step by step: Woodworking
57 Styrofoam, acrylic and plastics
62 Case study: Using plastics and styrofoam
66 Step by step: Making an acrylic model
71 Resin, clay and cast materials
73 Step by step: Casting a plaster model from a
silicone mould
78 Case study: Casting resin elements
79 Step by step: Using plasticine to develop form
80 Step by step: Casting a concrete model
81 Step by step: Casting concrete components from
a silicone mould
82 Steel and other metalwork
83 Step by step: Modelling a geodesic dome
86 CAD/CAM
88 CNC
92 Step by step: Powder printing
93 Step by step: ABS Printing/Rapid prototyping
94 3D Printing: Amalgam Modelmaking
95 Step by step: CNC milling & routing
11. 168 APPLICATION
170 Introduction
171 Descriptive models
174 Case study: Descriptive model as communication tool
178 Case study: Descriptive model as practice
182 Predictive models
184 Case study: Detail models
186 Case study: Predictive modelling as hybrid process
188 Case Study: Predictive modelling as technical study
189 Evaluative models
193 Case study: Evaluating material properties
194 Step by step: Evaluating the effects of a façade
196 Explorative models
202 Case study: Explorative model of urban flows
203 Case study: Prototyping through explorative models
204 Step by step: Exploring materials through models
205 Case study: Exploring new materials through models
206 Case study: Explorative models of spatial narratives
207 Case study: Taichung Metropolitan Opera House
208 Modelling the future
210 Case study: Integrated making and thinking
212 Glossary
213 Further reading
214 Index
215 Picture credits
216 Acknowledgements
97 Finishing techniques
100 Photography and film
103 Step by step: Creating a realistic photomontage
105 Digital and camera technology
106 Case study: Model photography
107 Case study: Time lapse and lighting effects
108 TYPES
110 Introduction
111 Concept models
113 Case study: From concept to design proposal
114 Site/city models
119 Block/massing models
122 Design development models
126 Step by step: Making a wax model
128 Case study: Process models
129 Spatial models
133 Case study: Spatial models as design generator
134 Structural models
138 Case study: Structural models in the design process
140 Interior architecture models
144 Case study: Exploring light and shadow
146 Lighting models
148 Step by step: Light effects on an interior
152 Presentation/exhibition models
157 Step by step: Making a presentation model
158 Case study: Models for an exhibition
160 Full-sized prototypes
162 Case study: Prototype models
165 Case study: Material exploration through prototypes
166 Step by step: Making a cladding model
Related study material is available on the Laurence King website at
www.laurenceking.com
12. Introduction
Why we make models
The representation of creative ideas is of primary importance
within any design-based discipline, and is particularly relevant
in architecture where we often do not get to see the finished
results, i.e. the building, until the very end of the design
process. Initial concepts are developed through a process that
enables the designer to investigate, revise and further refine
ideas in increasing detail until such a point that the project’s
design is sufficiently consolidated to be constructed. Models
can be extraordinarily versatile objects within this process,
enabling designers to express thoughts creatively. Architects
make models as a means of exploring and presenting the
conception and development of ideas in three dimensions.
One of the significant advantages of physical models is their
immediacy, as they can communicate ideas about material,
shape, size and colour in a highly accessible manner. The
size of a model is often partially determined by the scale
required at various stages of the design process, since models
can illustrate a design project in relation to a city context,
a landscape, as a remodelling or addition to an existing
building, or can even be constructed as full-size versions,
typically referred to as ‘prototypes’.
Throughout history, different types of models have
been used extensively to explain deficiencies in knowledge.
This is because models can be very provocative and evoke
easy understanding as a method of communication. Our
perception provides instant access to any part of a model,
and to detailed as well as overall views. Familiar features
can be quickly recognized, and this provides several ways
for designers to draw attention to specific parts of a model.
A significant advantage of using models is that they are
a potentially rich source of information – providing three
dimensions within which to present information, and the
Members of the Office for Metropolitan
Architecture (OMA), with a design development
model for the Universal Headquarters,
Los Angeles.
6 Introduction
13. opportunity to use a host of properties borrowed from the
‘real’ world, for example: size, shape, colour and texture.
Therefore, since the ‘language’ of the model is so dense
the ‘encoding’ of each piece of information can be more
compact, with a resulting decrease in the decoding time in
our understanding of it.
In order to understand architecture, it is critical to
engage in a direct experience of space. As Tom Porter
explains in The Architect’s Eye, this is ‘because architecture
is concerned with the physical articulation of space; the
amount and shape of the void contained and generated
by buildings being as material a part of its existence as the
substance of its fabric’.1
The organization and representation
of space is not the sole domain of architecture – other
visually orientated disciplines such as painting and sculpture
are equally engaged with these tasks, but on different terms.
The principal difference between these disciplines lies in a
concern with the function of the final ‘product’. In the case
of painting or sculpture, such purposes are typically visual
alone. By contrast, the creative process in architectural
design often results in a building that has a responsibility
to address additional concerns such as inhabitation,
climatic considerations and maintenance. The considerable
amounts of expense, resources and time invested in building
architecture at its full-size scale demands that we need to be
able to repeatedly describe, explore, predict and evaluate
different properties of the design at various stages prior
to construction. This raises an important issue concerning
modelmaking since, as with other modes of representation
in architecture, it is not a ‘neutral’ means for the conveyance
of ideas but is in fact the medium and mechanism through
which concepts and designs are developed. This point
is reinforced by Stan Allen writing about architectural
drawing, as he suggests it is ‘in some basic way impure, and
unclassifiable. Its link to the reality it designates is complex
and changeable. Like traditional painting and sculpture, it
carries a mimetic trace, a representational shadow, which
is transposed (spatially, across scale), into the built artefact.
Drawings are, to some degree, scaled-down pictures of
buildings. But to think of drawings as pictures cannot
account either for the instrumentality of architectural
representation nor for its capacity to render abstract ideas
concrete.’2
Considered in this manner, the discrimination
on behalf of the modelmaker to decide which information
to include, and therefore which to deliberately omit, to best
represent design ideas becomes crucial.
As practitioners, architects are expected to have a
highly evolved set of design skills, a core element of which
is their ability to communicate their ideas using a variety of
media. For the student learning architecture, the problem of
communicating effectively so that the tutor may understand
his or her design is central to the nature of design education;
spatial ideas can become so elaborate that they have to
be represented in some tangible form so that they can be
described, explored and evaluated. This situation becomes
complicated since ‘crosstalk occurs between different
Left
The team at the in-house
modelmaking facility at
Rogers Stirk Harbour + Partners
works on a 1:200 model of The
Leadenhall Building, London.
Right
Antoine Predock working on
a clay model for Ohio State
University’s Recreation and
Physical Activity Center, en route
to a project presentation, 2001.
On his website, Predock refers to
the importance his clay models
have within his design process:
‘compared to a drawing on paper,
the models are very real; they are
the building’.
Why we make models 7
14. methods of communication so that they form a coherent
presentation’ but they may also contradict one another.3
However, this delivery of ideas is not simply for the benefit of
a tutor or review audience. The modelling of an architectural
design has important advantages for a student during
the design process as he attempts to express his ideas
and translate them, allowing the designer to develop the
initial concept. However, it is important to emphasize the
performative nature of models at this point since they, as
with other media and types of representation, are highly
generative in terms of designing and are not simply used
to transpose ideas. This establishes a continuous dialogue
between design ideas and the method of representation,
which flows until the process reaches a point of consolidation.
This latter point is important and something we shall return
to again and again throughout the course of this book.
Fundamentally, the physical architectural model allows
us to perceive the three-dimensional experience rather than
having to try to imagine it. This not only enables a more
effective method of communication to the receiver – such
as the tutor, the client or the public – but also allows the
transmitter – such as a student or architect – to develop and
further revise the design. As Rolf Janke writes in the classic
Architectural Models, ‘the significance of a model lies not only
in enabling [the architect] to depict in plastic terms the end-
product of his deliberations, but in giving him the means –
during the design process – of actually seeing and therefore
controlling spatial problems’4
; while Criss Mills asserts that
‘models are capable of generating information in an amount
of time comparable to that needed for drawing, and they
offer one of the strongest exploration methods available’.5
At this stage it is worth expanding further upon
the use of a model by a student of architecture, since it
is a common assumption that an architect has sufficient
experience and skills to employ a variety of design processes
and methods of communication as required by the task
in hand. When developing design ideas as a response to
studio-project briefs, the employment of various methods
of communication is a prerequisite for the thinking process
necessary for a student to deal with the complexity of
architectural design. Unlike the final presentation type
frequently found in architectural practice and exhibited
to the public, in educational environments models and
drawings are not seen as end products in order to ‘sell’ the
solution, but as vehicles for thought or tools with which
ideas can be developed and expressed. More specifically, the
use of different communication methods encourages greater
exploration of a student’s ideas. This is because different
visualization methods and techniques provoke different
thought processes, and inspire greater insight during the
design process. Every model has a specific purpose and user,
as it is not possible to embody all potential design ideas
within a single one. In the first instance it may function
purely as a design tool, allowing the designer to explore a
particular idea or analyze successive developments. Secondly,
it may be used to present or demonstrate design ideas to
an audience – allowing others to share the designer’s vision.
Whilst it is tempting to rigidly classify different types of
1:20 model of a temporary pavilion by 6a architects
in the process of being made. The intricate pattern
directly replicates that of the final intervention and
uses the same process of manufacture, albeit on a
smaller scale.
A variety of explorative models by Grafton
Architects for their Università Luigi Bocconi
scheme in Milan. Note the range of materials
used and their resultant differing effects on the
spaces within the models.
8 Introduction
15. model, and indeed this book will look at the full spectrum
available, it is apparent that most models are dynamic in
nature and have at least a dual function depending on
who is using them and why and when they are employed
throughout the design process. Marcial Echenique first
described the difficulty of architectural model classification in
his essay of 1970, ‘Models: a discussion’, wherein he defined
a model as ‘a representation of reality, where representation
is the expression of certain relevant characteristics of he
observed reality, and where the reality consists of the objects
or systems that exist, have existed, or may exist.’6
This short
introduction seeks to demonstrate the significance of models
not only as aids in the decision-making process, but also as
a means of generating, searching and investigating creative
impulses. Before moving onto the main part of the book
there follows a brief overview of the role of the model in
history, an explanation of the format of the book, and some
basic information on the type of equipment necessary to
begin making models.
Below left and right
Presentation model for UNStudio’s design for
the Columbia Business School, New York, under
construction (left) and the finished result (right).
Bottom left
A modelmaker at Alsop Architects in the process
of assembling a presentation model for the CPlex
project, West Bromwich (the completed building
is known as The Public).
Why we make models 9
16. Above
A quickly produced design-development model
made by UNStudio during their process of
composing the geometry for the Mercedes-Benz
Museum in Stuttgart. Models such as these
provide architects with flexible tools, through
which they can explore ideas in a fast and
effective manner.
Below
The number of models made to investigate
design ideas obviously varies from project to
project, but a series of models that clearly
communicate the process through which a
concept has evolved are not uncommon, as
shown here.
10 Introduction
17. Right
Series of design-
development models
for Coop Himmelb(l)
au’s SEG Apartment
Tower, Vienna,
illustrating the
increasing articulation
of the tower’s form
in order to maximize
its passive-energy
performance.
Why we make models 11
Left
Explorative model for Daniel
Libeskind’s design for the Jewish
Museum, Berlin. This model was
made to examine the relationships
between the voids of the building
and its powerful generative
geometry.
Below and right
The effect of lighting upon a model
and how it communicates its ideas
is beautifully illustrated by this
design for a new urban vision, FREE
city, by the practice FR-EE (Fernando
Romero), which uses different
colours to indicate the various
zones and networks. The master
plan synthesizes three existing
urban typologies: the radial city,
the hexagonal connection and the
urban grid. The scheme organizes
the city in a radial manner, creating
a hierarchical zoning strategy and
allows for continuous growth in
all directions. A rectangular grid
is superimposed in each sector
and hexagonal rings optimize the
proximity between the various axes.
18. Above
Sectional model for CPlex project by Alsop Architects,
investigating internal characteristics of the design.
Left
Competition model for the Fourth Grace, Liverpool, by
Rogers Stirk Harbour + Partners, 1:500, illustrating the urban
scale of the scheme.
Right
Coop Himmelb(l)au’s presentation
model for Museum of Knowledge,
Lyon, France, 2010
-14. Note the
careful use of lighting within the
model to enhance the effect of the
project’s sculptural forms and their
interplay with space.
12 Introduction
19. Above
Series of design development models for the Burj Al Maydan Tower, Dubai
by Morphosis which sought to integrate an iconic design with public
space. The top two images show a card model used to refine the initial
form. The bottom left image illustrates various iterations of the design
as 3D powder prints, some with acrylic blocks for contrast. The final
image demonstrates the evolved design placed into a massing model of
the context. All these are tools for the design team to think about the
building’s geometry and form.
Right
The presentation model of the
Absolute Towers, Mississauga,
Canada, designed by MAD
Architects. Standing at 170m
(558 ft) and 150m (492 ft) tall
respectively, the towers consist
of oval-shaped floors but with
each storey incrementally rotated
to give both buildings a curved
and twisted outline and aims to
provide each residential unit with
360 degree views. The design also
features a continuous balcony
that wraps around the whole
building, eliminating the vertical
barriers traditionally used in high-
rise architecture. Far right: the
completed building.
Above
The larger final model of the proposed scheme
enables more detailed elements such as the
translucent façade and intricate structural lattice
of the curved wall to be appreciated.
Why we make models 13
20. A brief history
The first recorded use of architectural models dates back to
the fifth century BC, when Herodotus, in Book V, Terpsichore,
makes reference to a model of a temple. Whilst it may be
inspiring to believe that scale models were used in the design
of buildings from ancient civilizations, this appears highly
unlikely. This is because the inaccuracies in translating scales
at this time would have resulted in significant errors, but also
because designs in antiquity were in fact developed with
respect to cosmic measurements and proportions. Despite
this, however, the production of repetitive architectural
elements in large quantities was common, and the use of a
full-size physical prototype as a three-dimensional template
for the accurate replication of components such as column
capitals was typical.
Architectural design continued in a similar manner
through to the Middle Ages. Medieval architects travelled
frequently to study and record vital proportions of Classical
examples that would then be adapted in relation to a
client’s desires. Although models were not prevalent at this
time, they would occasionally be constructed to scale from
wood in order to enable detailed description to the client as
well as to estimate materials and the cost of construction.
This was largely because two-dimensional techniques
of representation were comparatively under-developed.
Therefore, despite the very early recording of an architectural
model, there is no substantial evidence to suggest that such
models were used again until this point: ‘only since the
fourteenth century has this form of representation become
relevant to the practice of building; we know that a model of
the Cathedral of Florence was made towards the end of the
fourteenth century.’7
There appears to be an explanation for this emergence
of the scale model as a method of design and communication.
Unlike his predecessor and Gothic counterparts, the
Renaissance architect had no equivalent frame of reference
as he derived his style from fragments of Graeco-Roman
architecture. The only method of checking the feasibility of
these new architectural concepts was to build exploratory
models. These models were even, when necessary, made
using the actual materials proposed for the building itself.
14 Introduction
21. Opposite, left
Domenico Cresti di Passignano’s
painting Michelangelo Shows Pope
Paul IV the Model of the Dome of St
Peter’s, 1620.
Opposite, right
Wooden model from around 1717
of the Church of Saint Mary-le-
Strand, London, designed by
James Gibbs. This type of model
is typical of those made in the
period between the sixteenth and
nineteenth centuries.
Right
Sir Christopher Wren, model for
dome of Royal Naval Hospital,
Greenwich, London. This model,
from circa 1699, is one of the
earliest examples of a sectional
study in British architecture.
Therefore, from the early Renaissance on, an increasing
number of architectural scale models exist, illustrating not
only buildings but also urban districts and fortifications. Well-
documented architectural models included those of the church
of St Maclou in Rouen from the fifteenth century, the church
of ‘Schöne Maria’ in Regensburg of 1520 and the pilgrimage
church of Vierzehnheiligen by Balthasar Neumann, circa 1744.
Such scale models were large prefabrications constructed in
wood, plaster and clay. In contrast to the primitive structural
models of the Middle Ages, these new models were expensive
and extravagant – frequently including pull-away sections and
detachable roofs and floors, both to allow internal viewing and
to aid the development of the design.
During this period, the proliferation and status of the
architectural scale model grew significantly. It not only
complemented drawings, but also frequently became the
primary method for the communication of design ideas in
architecture. In particular, specialized models were made as
part of the design process for major building commissions.
Two such important examples were the domes of the
Florence Cathedral by Filippo Brunelleschi and St Peter’s in
Rome by Michelangelo. Brunelleschi primarily designed in
three dimensions and used models extensively – whether
as elaborate 1
⁄12-scale wooden constructions for the benefit
of the client, or quickly carved in wax or even turnips to
explain structural ideas to the builders. Domenico Cresti
di Passignano’s Michelangelo Shows Pope Paul IV the Model
of the Dome of St Peter’s, 1620, perhaps best illustrates the
importance of the model within this period. This painting
depicts the architect using a large wooden model of St Peter’s
Basilica to explain and sell his ideas to his papal client. The
significance of the model as a method of communication is
evident in the way the model is represented in the painting.
The high quality of workmanship apparent shows how the
proposed building could exist at full size. The model is the
focal point of a conversation between the architect and the
client, who will evaluate the design from it. This painting
also signals a change in the function of the model during this
period, from a vehicle for exploration to a descriptive tool
used to explain a design.
Inspired by Antonio da Sangallo’s huge wooden model
of St Peter’s in Rome – started in 1539 and, at 1
⁄24 of the full
size, taking several years to construct – Sir Christopher Wren
commissioned the Great Model for his design for St Paul’s in
A brief history 15
22. London. Built between 1673 and 1674 by a team of
craftsmen, the Great Model was accurately made at a scale of
1 inch to 18 inches, enabling the client and prospective
builders to walk inside the model’s 18-foot-high interior.
However, it is evident that Wren considered the model to be
for the benefit of the client and builders rather than for his
own design-development purposes as he wrote: ‘a good and
careful large model [should be constructed for] the
encouragement and satisfaction of the benefactors who
comprehend not designs and drafts on paper.’8
Prior to the eighteenth century, architectural models
were primarily produced as either descriptive or evaluative
devices, or occasionally as full-scale prefabrications used
to predict structural behaviour. However, during the mid-
eighteenth century, and coincident with the newly founded
technical colleges, the use of physical models for teaching
purposes became more widespread. Such models represented
the more complex structural and constructional conditions
that this period ushered in, and they were used in the
education of technical students and building tradesmen.
Parallel to this development, architectural and scientific
models quickly populated the displays of museums and
collections in different countries around the world. This
dissemination also began to have considerable impact on a
wider culture as Nick Hopwood and Soraya de Chadarevian
have explained, ‘models were demonstrated in popular
lectures and above all at the international age shows of the
capital and empire that followed the Great Exhibition of 1851.
Many of the exhibits representing manufactures, the sciences,
and the arts were models, which here came together most
prominently as a class.’9
A major resurgence in the use of the
model as a design tool in architecture can also be traced to
the start of the twentieth century – for example in the work of
Walter Gropius, who, in founding the Bauhaus in 1919, was
keen to resist the prevailing preoccupation with paper designs
in favour of physical models to explore and test ideas quickly,
an impetus reflected in the extensive use of models in the De
Stijl period and elsewhere.
From this point on, the scale model was re-established as
a vital design tool for architecture. The design-development
model was to have an important role in the conception
and refinement of countless built and unbuilt projects of
the Modernist era. For example, there was Gerrit Rietveld’s
attempt to give architectural form to the ideas about space
that he had previously explored in his furniture designs. From
the sequences of models for his design of the Schröder House,
it is clear that Rietveld’s starting point was a block form, whose
coloured surfaces combined with receding and projecting
parts to break up the massiveness of its volume. A similar
intent is discernible in Vladimir Tatlin’s search for a monument
to represent a new social order in Soviet Russia, described
in the great model of his leaning, twin helicoidal tower, the
Monument to the Third International. The actual building
of the model took just less than eight months and was
16 Introduction
23. Opposite left
Delmaet and Durandelle’s plaster
model from 1864 of the capital for
the columns on the façade of the
Opéra Garnier, Paris, designed
by Charles Garnier.
Opposite right
Vladimir Tatlin’s assistants building
the first model of his Monument
to the Third International from
wood connected by metal plates,
1920. This was one of several
models made for this project
that tested various iterations of
the design. A simplified version
was paraded through the streets
of St Petersburg (then known as
Leningrad) in 1926.
undertaken without preliminary sketches, enabling Tatlin to
explore design possibilities as the model was constructed. The
progression of architecture throughout the twentieth century
bore witness to the increasingly common use of models as
explorative tools in an architect’s design process.
Right
Sir Edwin Lutyens’ proposed
design for the Metropolitan
Cathedral of Christ the King,
Liverpool, 1929–58. The model
was constructed from yellow
pine and cork, and made by
John B. Thorp in 1933.
Below
Model for the Concrete City of
the Future, designed by F. R. S.
Yorke and Marcel Breuer, 1936.
A brief history 17
24. It was this direct handling of materials and space through the
use of models that heralded the key early twentieth-century
architects as creative designers who visualized and articulated
their concepts in a provocative and unconventional manner.
A study of their formative experience and design processes
reveals an explorative nature, which, being founded upon
an understanding of spatial possibilities, transcends a
singular reliance upon drawing. In fact, as the twentieth
century progressed, physical models sometimes became the
fundamental means and resonating echo of radical ideas and
projects. As Holtrop et al. have observed, ‘the revolutionary
1960s will always be associated with the models and images
of Constant’s utopian New Babylon or Frederick Kiesler’s
Endless House.’10
Whilst the architectural model continued
to offer a dynamic tool for design conception, development
and communication, during the 1970s it also began to
be perceived as having value as an art object in its own
right. Beyond this point in history, the physical model was
established as a powerful method of communication in the
description, exploration and evaluation of architecture. The
model has been an important method of communication in
the understanding of architecture for over five hundred years.
Whilst the increase and developments of new technology have
enabled Computer-Aided Design (CAD) to become a powerful
design tool in architecture, the use of physical models
remains a key aspect of education within the discipline and
for many practices around the world. This position is further
supported and explained by Juhani Pallasmaa in his book The
Thinking Hand, ‘Even in the age of computer-aided design
and virtual modelling, physical models are incomparable
aids in the process of the architect and the designer. The
three-dimensional material model speaks to the hand and
the body as powerfully as to the eye, and the very process of
constructing a model simulates the process of construction.’
11
Therefore, let us turn our attention to modelmaking in the
twenty-first century.
Left
Sir Denys Lasdun and Philip Wood looking
at the model of the library extension for the
School of Oriental and African Studies, London,
1972.
Right
Wooden concept model showing the
geometrical solution for the pre-cast concrete
shells, Sydney Opera House, Sydney.
Designed by Jørn Utzon, this landmark project
initiated an era of complex geometry in
modern architecture.
18 Introduction
25. Top
1:20 model of the design for the new additions
to the Reichstag, Berlin, by Foster + Partners.
Made by Atelier 36, using MDF (medium-
density fibreboard), acrylics, steel and brass, this
model of the plenary chamber, dome and light
cone was hoisted onto the roof of the Reichstag
to test the lighting in 1996.
Below left
The widespread adoption of digital fabrication
technologies in architecture schools and
practices has contributed to a major resurgence
in the production of models such as this 3D
powder print of a sculptural staircase as part of
UNStudio’s design for Le Toison d’Or, Brussels.
Below right
This beautiful concept model by Ken Grix,
Feilden Clegg Bradley, skillfully combines
concrete, acrylic and dichroic film to illustrate
the proposed extension to the Festival Wing of
the Southbank Centre, London. The model won
the Grand Award for Architecture at the Royal
Academy Summer Exhibition in 2013.
A brief history 19
27. PEARL HARBOR ATTACK 537 or provoking undue curiosity
of newspapers or alien agents. Suggest maneuver basis. Maintain
alert until further orders. Instructions for secret communication
direct with Chief of Staff will be furnished you shortly. Acknowledge.
No United States official then regarded this action as an overt act
against Japan. Moreover, when in this 1940 case Washington
authorities were worried about hostile Japanese action, they ordered
the commanding general at Hawaii to an immediate "complete
defense organization to deal with possible trans-Pacific raid" in
language that was crystal clear. The fact is that the War Department
and Navy Deioartment did not instruct General Short and Admiral
Kimmel to put into effect an all-out war alert, and the War
Department was informed by General Short that he had actually put
into effect the alert against sabotage. Furthermore, the actions of
the War Department in instructing General Short in November and
December as the Army Pearl Harbor Board correctly stated, showed
"a lack of adequate procedure under which to advise the Hawaiian
Department and to control its actions" (APHB, p. 240). The War
Department failed to reply to General Short's antisabotage report. It
failed to give him further instructions for a stronger alert. These
failures, it is reasonable to say, contributed heavily to the
unpreparedness existing at Pearl Harbor when the Japanese struck.
It could reasonably follow from this failure that the Army airplanes,
instead of being scattered, were bunched together wing to wing ;
ammunition, except that near the fixed antiaircraft guns, was in
storehouses ; antiaircraft artillery and two combat divisions were in
their permanent quarters and not in combat positions. As the Army
Pearl Harbor Board stated : Everything was concentrated in close
confines by reason of the antisabotage alert No. 1. This made them
easy targets for an air attack. In short, everything that was done
made the situation perfect for an air attack, and the Japanese took
full advantage of it (APHB, Report, pp. 193-94). This was known to
the War Department by General Short's reply to the message of
November 27, but the Department took no action. The President's
lack of power under the Constitution to meet the Japanese menace
28. by an attack without a declaration of war by Congress increased the
responsibility of high authorities in Washington to use the utmost
care in putting the commanders at Pearl Harbor on a full alert for
defensive actions before the Japanese attack on December 7, 1941.
This they did not do. H. nigh authorities in Washington failed in
giving proper weight to the, evidence before them respecting
Japanese designs and operations which indicated that an attack on
Pearl Earhor was highly probable and they failed also to emphasize
this probability in messages to the Hawaiian commanders.
Washington authorities had before them prior to December 7
conclusive evidence that the Japanese Government and its agents
were giving minute attention to American military and naval
installations, ship movements, and preparedness in the Hawaiian
area, as well as in other areas. But despite their knowledge of this
fact, those authorities failed to emphasize, in orders to the Hawaiian
commanders, the perils of an attack on Pearl Harbor. They did worse
than fail in this respect. With poor judgment as to the effect of their
own words upon the com
29. 538 PEARL HARBOR ATTACK manders, they went out of
their way to emphasize the probability of attack elsewhere. The
following passage in the war-warning message of November 27 from
the Navy Department to Admiral Kimmel reflected the loose thinking
that prevailed widely in Washington : Japan is exi)ected to make an
aggressive move vpithin the next few days. An amphibious
expedition against either the Philippines, Thai, or Kra Peninsula, or
jwssibly Borneo, is indicated by the number and equipment of
Japanese troops and by the organization of tlieir naval forces. These
words not only displayed the apparent ignorance of Washington
authorities respecting Japanese designs on Pearl Harbor but also
gratuitously conveyed to Admiral Kimmel a false impression.
Although the message of the War Department to General Short on
the same day did not contain these misleading words, General Short,
in conferring with Admiral Kimmel on "the meaning and intent" of
their messages learned about this expectation that the Japanese
attack would occur in the Far East. Notwithstanding their apparent
ignorance of the full meaning of Japanese movements in the
Southeastern Pacific, Washington authorities knew or should have
known from their understandings of parallel action with the British
and Dutch, that a Japanese attack on the Philippines, Thai, or the
Kra Peninsula meant war with America. It also meant, in view of the
strategic principle that the flank of an advancing force must be
guarded, that Japan would not leave the strong fleet at Hawaii on its
left flank without doing something about it. This was the meaning to
Washington of the Japanese move in the Southeastern Pacific.^
Without having the benefit of these diplomatic understandings, it did
not have the same meaning to Admiral Kimmel and General Short.
Testimony and documents before the Committee lend support to —
in no way traverse — the Sixteenth Conclusion of the President's
Commission which found : "The opinion prevalent in diplomatic,
military, and naval circles, and in the public press," was "that any
immediate attack by Japan would be in the Far East." [Italics
supplied.] IS. The failure of Washington authorities to act promptly
and consistently in translating intercepts., evaluating information.,
30. and sending appropriate instructions to the Hawaiian commanders
was in considerable measure due to delays., mismanagement,
noncooperation, unpreparedness, confusion, and negligence on the
part of officers in Washington. The record before this Committee is
crowded with items of evidence which sustains this conclusion. As to
delays, take for example section B of Japanese Messages Concerning
Military Installations, Ship Movements, Etc. [Exhibit 2]. Pages 16-29
give "messages translated after December 7, 1941." Here are
messages exchanged by the Japanese Government and its agents 1
Meanwhile we are exchanging views with the British Government in
regard to the entire situation and the tremendous problems which
are presented, with a view to effective coordinating of efforts in the
most practicable way possible. * » * Indirectly influencing that
situation : American military and naval defensive forces in the
Philippine Islands, which are being steadily increased, and the
United States Fleet at Hawaii, lying as they do along the flank of any
Japanese military movement into China from Indo-china, are ever
present and significant factors in the whole situation, as are the
increasing British and Dutch defensive preparations in their
territories to the south (Exhibit 16, State Department message,
approved by President Roosevelt and transmitted through
Ambassador Hu Shih to Chiang Kai-shek).
31. PEARL HARBOR ATTACK 539 which were intercepted by
American intelligence services before December 7, hut not translated
until after December 7. Special attention should be drawn to the
message from a Japanese agent in Honolulu to Tokyo on December
6, 1941, listing the ships at anchor in Pearl Harbor on that day and
reporting to Tokyo : It appears that no air reconnaissance is being
conducted by tlie fleet air arm — a fact with which high authorities
in Washington were not acquainted, if the testimony before this
Committee is accepted as accurate and comprehensive. One of the
great tragedies was that a message sent from Honolulu to Tokyo
Deceinber 6, 1941, was not translated until December 8, 1941, after
the attack. The following appeared in the message "at the present
time there are no signs of barrage balloon equipment. I imagine that
in all probability there is considerable opportunity left to take
advantage for a surprise attack against these places" (Exhibit 2, p.
27). Another message intercepted and translated in the rough and
available on the desk of a responsible officer in the Naval
Intelligence on the afternoon of December 6, 1941, provided for
land-sea signals at Hawaii. These signals were intended to disclose
to Japanese the location of our ships in Pearl Harbor — apparently
nothing was done about the message either in evaluating it in
Washington or transmitting it to the commanders in Hawaii (Exhibit
2, p. 22). As to mismanagement, noncooperation, unpreparedness,
and negligence, the evidence cited in the following pages is
sufficient (Conclusions 8, 10, and 16). Since President Koosevelt was
convinced as early as the middle of August that a clash with Japan
was a matter of a few weeks, the responsible officers of his
administration had ample time to strengthen, organize, and
consolidate the agencies in Washington, especially the Army and
Navy communication and intelligence services, in such a manner to
assure the speedy translations of intercepts, prompt distribution to
the appropriate officials, swift evaluation, and proper decisions
based on such information and evaluation. Lack of time cannot be
pleaded as an excuse for this failure, despite the difficulties involved
in securing competent and reliable specialists. General Miles
32. admitted at the hearing on December 3, 1945, that there had been
no meeting of the joint Army-Navy Intelligence Committee between
October 11 and December 8 or 9, 1941, and declared: I regret to
say, Mr. Congressman, there were still discussions and difficulties
going on between the War and Navy Departments as to just what
the functions of that committee would be, where it would sit, what
rooms it would have, what secretary it would be allowed, et cetra.
There was lack of cooperation between the Army and the Navy
regarding the fourteen parts of the Japanese final message between
9 :30 p. m. on December 6 and the morning of December 7 about
10 :30. The existence of the first thirteen parts of this Japanese
message, which President Roosevelt received between 9 and 10
o'clock on Saturday evening and interpreted as meaning war, was
known more or less accidentally to certain high Army and Navy
authorities about the same time. But Admiral Stark testified before
this Committee at the hearing on January 1, 1946, that the first
thirteen parts and the di
33. 540 PEARL HARBOR ATTACK rective for delivery to
Secretary Hull at one o'clock Sunday, did not come to his attention
until late on the morning of December 7. Admiral Stark thought that
he went to his office between 10 :30 and 11 o'clock that morning
and that as nearly as he could remember he did not see the directive
message for one o'clock delivery until about 10 :40 that morning. It
was the final part of the Japanese message, and the one o'clock
directive that convinced General Marshall that war was immediately
at hand and led him to send the warning dispatch which reached
General Short after the Japanese attack. For this noncooperation and
mismanagement, high authorities in Washington were fully
responsible. The President, the Secretary of State, the Secretary of
War, the Secretary of the Navy, General Marshall, and Admiral Stark
were all in Washington or environs. It is true that General Marshall
and Admiral Stark — when they appeared before this Committee —
could not remember where they were during the evening and night
of December 6 but they were at least accessible to officers of the
Army and Navy Departments, or should have been ; hence, there
was no excuse for the failure of these high authorities to assemble
on the evening of December 6, inquire into the defensive
preparedness of outpost Commanders, and send peremptory
directives to them. The setting up of so many councils and
committees, and the intermeddling of so many men created such a
state of confusion in Washington that the high principle of individual
responsibility was apparently lost to sight. The result was that no
one among the President's chief subordinates was enough
concerned on the night of December 6 to do anything about the 13
parts which indicated a crucial stage in Japanese- American
relations. (See Conclusion No. 10.) In the lower, operating echelons
of the Army and Navy, on the other hand, men seemed to see or to
sense the gathering crisis and even the immediate danger to Hawaii.
They tried to take steps to meet it but were discouraged by their
superiors. This was notably evident in the testimony of Captain
Arthur McCollum, Chief of the Far Eastern Section of Naval
Intelligence. Alarmed by conditions on December 4, 1941, he
34. prepared a dispatch to fully alert the fleets in the Pacific. He tried to
get permission to send this dispatch at a meeting attended by
Admiral Stark, Ingersol, Turner, and Wilkinson but was discouraged
from doing so on the ground that the messages of November 24 and
27 to Admiral Kimmel was sufficient. He protested that it was not
sufficient and that he would like to send his December 4 dispatch
anyway. The dispatch he prepared and wanted to send was never
sent, and the result was tragic. (See testimony of Captain McCollum,
Tr., Vol. No. 49, p. 9132 ff.) Finally, there is no excuse for the failure
of General Marshall and Admiral Stark to be on the alert early
Sunday morning or for their failure, after they did meet near the
middle of the morning, to reach the outpost Commanders with a
definite war- warning message before the Japanese attack came at
Pearl Harbor. This failure was all the more inexcusable for the reason
that some time in July 1941, the practice of sending intercepts to
General Short and Admiral Kimmel had been abandoned. 16. The
President of the United States was responsible for the failure to
enforce continuous^ efficient^ and appropriate cooperation among
the Secretary of War^ the Secretary of the Navy^ the Chief of Staffs
35. PEARL HARBOR ATTACK 541 and the Chief of Naval
Operations^ in evaliiating information and dispatching clear and
positive orders to the Hawaiian commanders as events indicated the
growing imminence of war; for the Constitution and luws of the
United States vested in the President full .poioer, as Chief Executive
and Commander in Chiefs to compel such cooperation and vested,
this power in him alone with a view to establishing his responsibility
to the people of the United States. As to the power, and therefore of
necessity, the responsibility of the President in relation to the chain
of events leading to the catastrophe at Pearl Harbor, there can be no
doubt. The terms of the Constitution and the laws in this respect are
clear beyond all cavil. The Constitution vests in the President the
whole and indivisible Executive power subject to provisions for the
approval of appointments and treaties by the Senate. The President,
by and with the advice and consent of the Senate, appoints high
officers, civil and military. He is Chief Magistrate in all civil affairs,
including those related to the maintenance and operation of the
Military and Naval Establishment's. Under the law he conducts all
diplomatic negotiations on behalf of the United States, assigning to
his appointee, the Secretary of State, such duties connected
therewith as he sees fit, always subject to his own instructions and
authorizations. Under the Constitution the President is Commander
in Chief of the armed forces of the United States, and with the
approval of the Senate he appoints all high military and naval
officers. He assigns them to their duties in his discretion except in
the case of the Chief of Staff and Chief of Naval Operations — these
appointments must be approved by the Senate. And why did the
framers of the Constitution vest these immense powers in one
magistrate — not in a directory or a single official checked by a
council, as was proposed in the Conveni:ion of 1787 ? The answer to
this question is to be found in No. 70 of The Federalist. The purpose
of establishing a single rather than a plural Executive was to assure
"energy in the Executive," "a due dependence on the people," and
"a due responsibility." A plural Executive, it is there argued, "tends to
deprive the people of the two greatest securities they can have for
36. the faithful exercise of any delegated power, first., the restraints of
public opinion * * *; and, secondly^ the opportunity of discovering
with facility and clearness the misconduct of persons they trust * *
*," The acts of Congress providing for the organization, operations,
powers, and duties of the Military Establishments under the
President particularized the powers and duties of the President in
relation to them ; in brief, they empowered him to issue orders and
instructions to the civil Secretaries and also directly to the Chief of
Staff and the Chief of Naval Operations. Such are the terms of the
Constitution and the laws relative to the Chief Executive. From March
4, 1933, to December 7, 1941, Fi-anklin D. Roosevelt was President
and Commander in Chief of the armed forces of the United States
and in him was vested all Executive powers under the Constitution
and the laws.
37. 542 PEARL HARBOR ATTACK He appointed Cordell Hull as
Secretary of State in 1933 and retained him in that office during this
period. He appointed all the Secretaries of War and of the Navy
during this period. He selected, or approved the choice of, all Chiefs
of Staff and Chiefs of Naval Operations during this period. He
selected, or approved the choice of, all the men who served as
military and naval commanders in charge of the Hawaiian area and
he assigned them to their posts of duty. In support of the doctrine
that the President is entrusted with supreme Executive responsibility
and cannot divest himself of it, we have more recent authority.
Speaking at a press conference on December 20, 1940, on a subject
of administrative actions. President Roosevelt said : "There were two
or three cardinal principles ; and one of them is the fact that you
cannot, under the Constitution, set up a second President of the
United States. In other words, the Constitution states one man is
responsible. Now that man can delegate, surely, but in the
delegation he does not delegate away any part of the responsibility
from the ultimate responsibility that rests on him" {Public Papers,
1940 volume, p. 623). * * * Although there were two departments
for the administration of military and naval affairs during this period,
they were both under the supreme direction of the President as
Chief Executive and Commander in Chief in all matters relative to
separate and joint planning for defense and war, to disposition of
forces and materiel, to preparednesr. for operation in case of an
attack. In respect of the President's power, the two departments
were one agency for over-all planning and operational purposes. Tile
President had power to issue directions and orders to the Secre,tary
of War and the Secretary of the Navy and also directly and indirectly
to the Chief of Staff and the Chief of Naval Operations and on
occasions used this power. Furthermore, under the Reorganization
Act of 1939, President Roosevelt had enjoyed the power, by grant of
Congress, to reorganize the Department of War and the Department
of the Navy if he deemed it necessary in the interest of efficiency
and more effective cooperation between the Departments. Since he
did not reorganize the two Departments under that act, he must
38. have deemed them properly constructed as they were. By virtue of
the powers vested in him the President had, during this period, the
responsibility for determining the reciprocal relations of diplomatic
decisions and war plans. In fine. Secretary Hull, Secretary Stimson,
Secretary Knox, General Marshall, Admiral Stark, General Short, and
Admiral Kimmel were all men of President Roosevelt's own choice —
not hang-over appointees from another administration to which
incompetence may be ascribed— and the President had ample
power to direct them, coordinate their activities, and bring about a
concentration of their talents and energies in the defense of the
United States. Thus endowed with power and in full charge of
diplomatic negotiations, the President decided long before December
7, at least as early as the Atlantic Conference in August, that war
with Japan was a
39. PEARL HARBOR ATTACK 543 matter of a few weeks or
months, was so highly probable and so imminent as to warrant a
dedication of his abilities to preparation for that war. Having decided
against an appeal to Congress for a declaration of war and having
resolved that he would avoid even the appearance of an overt act
against Japan, the President chose the alternative of waiting for an
overt act by Japan — an attack on territory of the United States.
Possessing full power to prepare for meeting attack and for
countering it with the armed forces under his command, he had
supreme responsibility for making sure that the measures, plans,
orders, and dispositions necessary to that end were taken. During
the weeks and days preceding the Japanese attack on December 7,
1941, the President and his chief subordinates held many meetings,
discussed the practical certainty of an attack, and, jointly or
severally, made decisions and plans in relation to the coming of that
attack — or overt act. Yet when the Japanese attack came at Pearl
Harbor the armed forces of the United States failed to cope with the
attack effectively. In view of all the evidence cited in support of the
preceding conclusions and more of the sam.e kind that could be
cited, this failure cannot all be ascribed to General Short and Admiral
Kimmel, nor to their immediate superiors, civil and military. Those
authorities had their powers and corresponding responsibilities but
the ultimate power and responsibility under the Constitution and the
laws were vested in the President of the United States. This does
demonstrate the weakness of depending on the political head of the
Government to bring about the necessary coordination of the
operating activities of the military branches, particularly in the areas
of intelligence. The major lesson to be learned is that this
coordination should be done in advance of a crisis. 17. High
authorities in Washington failed to allocate to the Hawaiian
commanders the material which the latter often declared to he
necessary to defence and often requested^ and no requirements of
defense or war in the Atlantic did or could excuse these authorities
for their failures in this respect. The first part of this conclusion calls
for no special citations of authority. In reports of the President's
40. Commission, of the Army Pearl Harbor Board, and of the Navy Court
of Inquiry, three points in this respect are accepted as plain facts :
(1) The ultimate power to allocate arms, ammunition, implements of
war, and other supplies was vested in the President and his aide,
Harry Hopkins, subject to the advice of General Marshall and Admiral
Stark; (2) General Short and Admiral Kimmel made repeated
demands upon their respective Departments for additional material,
which they represented as necessary to the effective defense of
Pearl Harbor; and (3) Washington authorities, having full discretion
in this regard, made decisions against General Short and Admiral
Kimmel and allocated to the Atlantic theater, where the United
States was at least nominally at peace, materiel, especially bombing
and reconnaissance planes, which were known to be absolutely
indispensable to efficient defense of Pearl Harbor. (See Exhibits 106
and 53, request for materials.) The decision to base the fleet at Pearl
Harbor was made by the President in March 1940, over the protest
of Admiral Richardson.
41. 544 PEARL HARBOR ATTACK The second part of this
conclusion may be arguable from the point of view of some high
world strategy, but it is not arguable under the Constitution and laws
of the United States. The President, it is true, had powers and
obligations under the Lease-Lend Act of March 1941. But his first
and inescapable duty under the Constitution and laws was to care
for the defense and security of the United States against a Japanese
attack, which he knew was imminent; and, in the allocations of
materiel, especially bombing and reconnaissance planes, he made or
authorized decisions which deprived the Hawaiian commanders of
indispensable materiel they could otherwise have had and thus
reduced their defensive forces to a degree known to be dangerous
by high officials in Washington and Hawaii. When this decision to
base the fleet at Pearl Harbor was made, certain definite facts in
relation to such base must be presumed to have been fully known
and appreciated by the responsible command at Washington. The
base is a shallow-water base with limited base mobility, with no
chance for concealment or camouflage and without enough air
beaches to properly park the necessary defensive air equipment.
Entrance to the base is by a narrow winding channel requiring
sorties at reduced speed, and in single file, and presenting the
possibility of a blockade of the base by an air or submarine attack on
the entrance. The base is surrounded by high land immediately
adjacent to the city of Honolulu, thereby affording full public
familiarity with installations and movements within the base at all
times. The base is located on an island where the population was
heavily Japanese, and where, as was well known, Japanese
espionage was rampant, and making it probable that any defensive
insufficiency of any kind or nature would be open to Japanese
information. All of the fuel for the base must be transported, by
tanker, from the mainland more than 2,000 miles away, thus
intensifying the necessity for complete defensive equipment and
supplies for the base. The waters about Oahu are of a depth
facilitating the concealed movement of submarines, and the near
approach of submarines to the shore, thereby favoring such
42. methods of hostile attack. The approaches to Oahu cover a full circle
of 360°, with open sea available on all sides. The situation thus
confronting the Pacific Fleet upon reaching its Pearl Harbor base
seems entirely clear. Before the base could be a safe base, it must
be supplied with adequate defense facilities, which facilities must be
in kind and amount in relation to the physical characteristics of the
base above referred to. An absence of adequate defensive facilities
directly increased the peril of the fleet. Since the decision to base
the fleet at Pearl Harbor was made at Washington, the responsibility
for providing proper base defense for the fleet rested primarily upon
Washington. (See Stark letter, November 22, 1940, Tr., Vol. 5, p. 706
ff.) It becomes important, therefore, to consider what defensive
equipment was essential to protect the Pearl Harbor base, whether
such defensive equipment was supplied, and, if not, the reasons for
such failure. The character of the defensive equipment necessary for
the defense of the Pearl Harbor base is not seriously in dispute. The
base most essential, being located on an island, approachable from
all directions,
43. PEARL HARBOR ATTACK 545 the first protective equipment
necessary was a sufficient number of longdistance patrol planes to
permit proper distance reconnaissance covering a 360° perimeter.
The evidence indicates that to supply such a reconnaissance
program would require approximately 200 patrol planes, with a
sufficient supply of spare parts to keep the planes in operation, and
a suflGicient number of available crews to permit a continuous
patrol. Base defense also required sufficient fighter planes to meet
any attack which might be considered possible. This would require
approximately 175 planes. The second class of essential defense
equipment was a suitable number of antiaircraft batteries with
suitable and sufficient ammunition and sufficient experienced crews
for ready operation. The third class of defense equipment were
torpedo nets and bafiles. It would be necessary for a considerable
portion of the fleet to be in Pearl Harbor at all times, fueling and
relaxation of men together with ship repairs requiring the ships in
the fleet to have constant recourse to the base at more or less
regular intervals. The mobility of the Pearl Harbor base was limited,
and ships using the base were in a more or less deferiseless
situation except for the defense power of their own ship batteries.
The British attack on the Italian Fleet at Taranto, Italy, brought the
question of torpedo bomber defense to the fore. Admiral Stark wrote
on November 22, 1940 — expressing fear of a "sudden attack in
Hawaiian waters" on the fleet, and asking about torpedo net
protection. (Tr., Vol. 5, p. 707.) Admiral Richardson, then in
command, expressed no enxiety about the security of the fleet, and
thought torpedo nets unnecessary, but thought security to the fleet
must be carried out, even at the expense of fleet training and extra
discomfort. Approximately four-fifths of the damage to the fleet
upon the attack was the result of torpedoes fired by torpedo-
bombing planes attacking the base at low altitudes. Against such an
attack, antitorpedo baffles and nets would have been of
extraordinary value. The fourth class of defense equipment for the
base lay in the newly discovered device known as radar, which
before December 7 had been sufiiciently perfected to permit the
44. discovery of approaching planes more than 100 miles away. It seems
to be agreed that it is not the duty of the fleet, ordinarily, to furnish
its own base defense. That duty is supposed to be performed by the
base defense itself, usually in the hands of the Army. The fleet,
however, is always to be expected to furnish every available
defensive effort it has, in event of an attack upon a base. The record
discloses that with full knowledge of the defense necessities inherent
in the defense of the Pearl Harbor base, and with full knowledge of
the dangers and peril imposed upon the fleet while based at the
Pearl Harbor base, and with full knowledge of the equipment
essential to a proper protection of the fleet at such base, it was
decided by President Roosevelt to remove the fleet from the
mainland bases and base it at Pearl Harbor. The record discloses that
from the time the fleet arrived at Pearl Harbor until the attack on
December 7, the high command at Hawaii, both in the Army and the
Navy, frequently advised the military authorities at Washington of
the particular defense equipment needs at the Pearl Harbor base
(Exhibits 53 and 106). Nowhere in the record
45. 546 PEARL HARBOR ATTACK does any dissent appear as to
the reasonableness, or the propriety, of the requests for defense
equipment made by the high command in Hawaii. On the contrary,
the necessity for such equipment was expressly recognized and the
only explanation given for a failure to provide the equipment was
that by reason of unavoidable shortages, the requested defense
equipment at Hawaii could not be supplied. It was asserted that
more equipment had been provided for Hawaii than for any other
base, and this is probably correct. The trouble with such an
explanation is that Hawaii was the only nonmainland base charged
with the defense of a major part of our Pacific Fleet, and the
equipment supplied to Hawaii was admittedly insufficient. The
Philippines received much equipment which might well have gone to
Hawaii, because Hawaii could have been defended, whereas no one
expected the Philippines to be able to stand a direct Japanese
onslaught. General IVIarshall reported to the President in March
1941 (Exhibit 59) that "Oahu was believed to be the strongest
fortress in the world" and practically invulnerable to attack and that
sabotage was considered the first danger and might cause great
damage. The Government made the Atlantic theater the primary
theater and the Pacific theater a secondary and a defense theater.
We raise no issue as to the propriety of such decision, but we cannot
fail to point out that such decision resulted in the failure of the
military authorities in Washington to supply the Pearl Harbor base
with military defense equipment which everyone agreed was
essential and necessary for the defense of the base and the Heet
while in the base. As we have said, such a more or less defenseless
condition imposed increased peril upon the Pacific Fleet, so long as it
was based at Pearl Harbor. We are forced to conclude, therefore,
that in view of the obligations assumed by the Government in other
military theaters, and to which we have just referred, and the
consequent inability of the Government to properly contribute to the
safety of the fleet at Pearl Harbor, that the only alternative left which
might have relieved the fleet from the resultant peril would have
been to have changed the original decision to base the fleet at Pearl
46. Harbor, and thereupon return the -fleet to its several mainland
hases. It appears obvious that the safety of the fleet would have
been helped by such removal. The perimeter of a defense at a
mainland base would only be 180° instead of 360°, thus permitting
distant patrol reconnaissance by one-half as many planes. The
transportation and supply facilities to the mainland base would be
immensely improved, as would all necessary communication
facilities. The mobility of the fleet at a mainland base would have
been improved and the concentration of the fleet in a single limited
base would have been avoided. We therefore are of the opinion that
the fleet should not have been based at Pearl Harbor unless proper
base defenses were assu/red. Since no such change in policy was
approved, and the fleet remained based at Pearl Harbor without the
necessary defense equipment to which we have referred — plus the
fact that the precise status of the defense weakness must be
assumed to have been open to the unusual Japanese espionage
operating in Hawaii, and therefore that the Tokyo war office must
b(} assumed to have been cognizant of the status of affairs at Pearl
Harbor, we are forced to conclude that the failure to remove the fleet
from Pearl Harbor to the mainland must be viewed
47. PEARL HARBOR ATTACK 547 as an important relevant
factor necessarily involved in the success of the Japanese attack on
December 7. The record discloses that the Army and Navy had
available, between February 1 and December 1, 1941, an abundance
of longdistance patrol planes suitable for reconnaissance purposes.
Exhibit 172 shows that the Army received between February 1 and
December 1, 1941, approximately 600 long-distance bombers
capable of flying, loaded, missions, of 1,250 miles or more. Of these
12 went to Hawaii and 35 went to the Philippines. During the same
period the Navy received approximately 560 similar long-distance
bombers, of which approximately 175 were assigned to carriers in
the Pacific. During the same period the Army received approximately
5,500 antiaircraft guns, of which 7 went to Hawaii and 100 to the
Philippines. If it be true that it was found necessary to send this
equipment elsewhere, as we assume, still it would seem that Hawaii
instead of having high priority, occupied a subordinate position. We
have referred to the unavoidable vulnerabilities of the Pearl Harbor
base, together with the identification of the essential defense
equipment necessary for its proper defense. We likewise noted the
demands made by the high command at Hawaii for such equipment,
the agreement that such equipment was proper and necessary, and
the continued and increased peril imposed upon the fleet by the
failure to provide such equipment. It seems proper here to note the
extent to which the Pearl Harbor base was deprived of needed and
essential equipment. ( 1 ) We have pointed out that the perimeter of
Oahu defense covered 360°. Full defense reconnaissance would
likewise be required for the full 360°. The evidence discloses that it
would take approximately 200 patrol planes to furnish such
reconnaissance. Such reconnaissance would require flights of not
less than 750 miles from Oahu. The evidence shows that the wear
and tear upon patrol planes engaged in such distant operations
would be heavy, that a certain proportion of available planes would
have to be under repair and adjustment, and that only about one-
third of the assigned planes would be available for a particular day's
patrol. In a similar way, in connection with the overhaul and repair of
48. planes, a proper store of repair parts would be essential and of even
greater importance, spare crews for the operation of the planes
would be required, since the same crew could not fly such patrol
missions daily. The record seems to establish that there were
available at Pearl Harbor on December 7, approximately 85 patrol
planes suitable for distant patrol, of which not to exceed 55 were in
operable condition. The supply of spare parts was not ample, nor
were there sufficient extra crews for a continuous operation. With
reference to fighter planes, the situation was not so acute. An
estimate appears in the record that 185 fighter planes would be
necessary to defend the base, and there were, on December 7, 105
available fighter planes, which, if propertly alerted, would have been
available for base defense. The fleet itself had been depleted by
assignments to the Atlantic theater, and the man supply for plane
service had likewise been used as a reservoir from which to supply
reserve demands for that theater.
49. 548 PEARL HARBOR ATTACK We agree that Admiral Kimmel
was faced with a sharp dilemma. He was the commander in chief of
the Pacific Fleet. Under WPL 46 he was given specific duties which
required him to have his fleet ready for action promptly upon the
breaking out of war. He had available 50 or 60 patrol planes, and he
would need these j^lanes in aid of fleet movements if his fleet was
to take the offensive against the enemy. If he used these patrol
planes for base defense, such heavy duty would reduce their
efficiency and ultimately put them up for repair in event the distance
patrol duty should cover an extended period. In such an event his
fleet could not sail against tlie enemy as required by WPL 46
because his patrol planes would be out of commission. He had
therefore to make a choice between fleet training and preparation
and base defense. He says his decision not to carry on distant
reconnaissance was based upon his belief, in common with his staff,
that Pearl Harbor was not in danger from a Japanese attack. W;e
think in making such a decision Admiral Kimmel was unjustified in
concluding, first, that there was no danger of attack at Pearl Harbor,
and, second, that such a decision did not violate the fundamental
proposition tliat no disposition should be taken which unnecessarily
increased fleet peril. The absence of distant reconnaissance
immediately imperiled fleet safety. We therefore think the
abandonment of distance reconnaissance was unjustified. (2) The
fuel reserves were insufficient, limiting full use of the fleet at sea,
required constant augmentation from the mainland, and the location
of such fuel supplies was such as to make them vulnerable to any
raiding attack. The fleet was required to come into the base at
frequent intervals to refuel. The facilities at the base made such
refueling slow. The fleet was without a sufficient supply of fast
tankers to permit refueling at sea, and there was ever present the
inescapable fact that a destruction of the fuel supply would
necessarily immobilize the entire fleet. (3) It is difficult to reach a
conclusion with respect to the sufficiency of the antiaircraft batteries
and supplies available at Pearl Harbor on December 7. General Short
testified as to the number of guns available on December 7, 1941, as
50. compared with the number available in December 1942. It is
apparent that the antiaircraft gun equipment had been much
augmented during the year following the Pearl Harbor attack. The
difficulty we have with respect to the antiaircraft batteries situation,
as with the available force of fighter planes, is that practically none
of these guns were alerted on December 7, and ammunition was not
readily available, the crews serving them were not in attendance,
and the only seeming excuse for such conditions was the common
belief that there was no danger of an attack on Pearl Harbor and
therefore no reason for any battery alert. Even if there had been
twice as many batteries (or fighter planes) available, there is no
reason to believe the condition of alert would have been different.
The ships in the harbor were not provided with proper torpedo
protection. The letter of June 13, 1941, with respect to the use of
aerial torpedoes, seems to demonstrate the responsibility of the high
command at Washington to provide a torpedo defense. Such a
defense was well known and could have been provided and, if
provided,
51. PEARL HARBOR ATTACK 549 might have obviated the
greatest source of damage suffered by the fleet during the raid,
even though Admiral Richardson in 1940 thought such defense
unnecessary. But it could not have been provided at Hawaii; it had to
come from Washington. Washington's advices on the subject did
more harm than good, because they intimated that an attack was
possible even in shallow water, but at the same time, negatived the
probability of attack.^ (See letter of June 13, 1941, Ex. No. 116,
letter from Chief of Naval Operations (R. E. Ingersoll) to the
Commandant, Fourteenth Naval District, among others.) The
installation of the radar in Hawaii was inexcusably delayed. It was a
method of defense peculiarly essential in Hawaii. It was known that
there were insufficient planes and insufficient guns to protect the
base, and this made the availability of radar all the more necessary.
It seems we could have priority for radar protection in New York and
other mainland points, where no attack was probable, but none in
Hawaii, where radar information was essential. The result was that
fixed radio installations were not accomplished at all prior to the
Pearl Harbor attack, and such fixed installations would have
furnished the most distant services. The mobile sets available had,
b}^ reason of the delay, been operating only on a short
experimental basis. There was a scarcity of trained operators. The
operators were trying to learn and operate at the same time. The
selected hours of operation, which proved of vast importance, were
not wisely fixed. Service stopped at 7 a. m., the very time when the
danger was acute. No suitable information center had been
established, and it is conceded that such a center was essential to
radar information. This was particularly true at Hawaii, because
radar had not yet been developed to the point where the nationality
of approaching planes could be ascer•tained. The information as to
whether approaching planes were, therefore, friendly or enemy,
depended upon the constant presence at an information center of
representatives of the military services who could instantly advise as
to location of friendly planes. No such information center was
established, and no assignment of trained operators to such stations
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