1943

Chapter 16

It had been building for some time, a product of forward looking realization that war was imminent. As early as 1938, it led Japanese naval planners to acquire ocean liners that had been quietly altered to place the large interior ballrooms and dining halls in locations that would serve perfectly as aircraft hangars. It prompted designers to build out barbettes on their 6-inch gun class cruisers, but make them large enough to quickly substitute an 8-inch turret instead. Among those in the know, it was simply called the shadow fleet.

The mammoth battleships Yamato and Musashi were actually among the first ships to emerge from that shadow, vessels which ended up being much larger and more formidable than US intelligence first thought when they learned they were under construction. There had actually been a plan for five such ships, but only those first two would ever sail as battleships. The third would be converted to the carrier Shinano, and the last two hulls were going to be cancelled. One was called “Warship 111,” and the last “Warship 797.” The keel for 111 was laid down and the hull partially completed, but neither would be built. Instead the steel allocated to get those two started would be used to build another ship using the plans for Shinano. The Battle of the Koro sea, and particularly the loss of both Zuikaku and Shokaku, had pushed that decision through.

That fourth ship would be called Shingen, after the famous Samurai leader Takeda Shingen from Kai Province. Known as the ‘Tiger of Kai,’ he had a fearsome reputation in old feudal Japan. Sometimes called “Taro” by his nickname, the builders took to calling the ship that as well. By any name, the ship was building out to be as fierce and rugged in design as Shinano, though it would not appear for some time.

But this was not the only shadow lurking in the shipyards of Japan. Things were not as grievous as Yamamoto made it seem. In 1940, when the arguments about the need and efficacy of more battleships and battlecruisers had reached their crescendo, it led to the cancellation of many ships slated for that category, particularly within the Amagi and Kii battlecruiser classes. The proponents of naval air power, Yamamoto a leading figure in that group, had seen they were laid to rest… but not buried.

Admiral Yamamoto had revealed this to Harada and Fukada before they departed for the Indian Ocean mission to secure Ceylon.

“We call it the shadow fleet, and phase one of this program was already activated in 1940, for many of our own carriers were converted from battlecruisers, seaplane tenders, and even fast tankers or ocean liners. All three ships in the Tosa Class were once battlecruisers, and now I must share yet another state secret with you. The Tosa Class battlecruisers were not the only hulls completed for new ships of that nature. Four hulls were laid down in our Amagi Class, and two hulls in the Kii Class. Only two of those six ships were ever commissioned as actual battlecruisers, our Amagi and Kagami, but the other hulls have been fitted out with propulsion systems, and all the interior spaces are completed—except they were not designed as battlecruisers, but carriers.”

The two ships completed in the class, Amagi, and Kagami, were works of art, with the same long forecastle, clipper bow, and swept decks of the Yamato class, only with nine 12.2-inch guns. They were also better protected than any heavy cruiser they might encounter, with 210mm belt armor and 180mm on the conning tower, and they were very fast at nearly 34 knots, with a 12,000 nautical mile endurance. Some called them fast battlecruisers, but the Japanese classified them as super Type A cruisers. Their analogue in the Royal Navy was the new Knight Class battlecruiser that had been a scaled down version of the KGV class battleship, only with ten 10-inch guns instead of 14-inchers.

These two ships had completed early war service, covering the invasion of the Philippines, and then returned to Sasebo for additional work on their AA suite and more recently, the addition of radar. The next two hulls would be built out as carriers, two ships Yamamoto had also mentioned to Captain Harada, the Shirane and Mikasa. And a fifth hull in that class was already afloat. Originally planned as the battlecruiser Ashitaka, it had instead been built out as the carrier Akagi.

Yet Yamamoto had not revealed everything to Harada and Fukada. Concerning the two Kii Class ships that he had mentioned, there had actually been four hulls laid down, with two completed to become the superb new fast battleships Hiraga and Satsuma. The last two hulls were wreathed in that shadow that lay over this hidden fleet construction program. Now the Navy would produce something more, born of that same compromise between battleship and carrier that had led so many nations to design hybrid ships.

Those last two hulls meant for the Kii Class had been well on their way to becoming fast battleships as originally conceived when that construction was halted, then secretly resumed to convert those ships to carrier designs. They already had two of the five twin 41cm main guns installed forward when that order was given, (one on each of the two hulls), and designer Yuzuru Hiraga soon argued that it would slow construction down considerably if they had to be removed, along with the barbettes and magazines, with the entire forward section reconfigured.

Hiraga was a very influential man, who had first learned his craft in the Royal Naval College at Greenwich. He then led the design team for the battleships Yamashiro and Hiei before becoming Director of Shipyards in 1913. The driving force behind Japan’s naval programs, Hiraga had a particular genius for getting as much power and speed possible within the limits of existing treaties before the war. This was why many Japanese ships had as many as five main gun turrets, and the Kii Class was one of those designs.

The guns were already placed up front, he argued, so why not leave well enough alone, and then simply build out the rest of the ship as a carrier? The Germans had the Goeben, the Americans had Shiloh, Antietam, Vicksburg and Gettysburg, and the Japanese already had commissioned two small hybrid scout carriers, Mezu and Gozo, though both were lost in the Gilberts the previous year. Very pleased with the battleship class that now bore the designer’s name, (Hiraga), the navy relented and sanctioned the secret program. Hiraga delivered.

Now the two ships sat in the harbor at Sasebo, just turned over to the fleet at Nagano’s order, and with the newest planes off the production lines, ready for trials. There was still a good deal of fitting out to do, and the crews were still adjusting the boilers for proper pressure. Normally, these ships would take another six months before being fully commissioned, but the need was very great, and Admiral Nagano had decided to put the ships into the hands of his navy professionals and see what could be done. The first was Kinryu, the ‘Golden Dragon,’ and its sister ship was the Ryujin, the ‘Dragon God,’ mythical ruler of the sea.

Without the other main gun turrets and barbettes, and a much simpler superstructure, the weight of the ships was reduced from an anticipated 48,500 tons to 38,000, about the same general displacement as Kaga and Akagi. Along with that weight reduction, four knots of extra speed were gained, pushing the ship to an expected 34 knots. Endurance was also improved by 50% to 12,000 nautical miles. A single vertical stack was retained but moved to the port side allowing for a long flight deck of 200 meters, only 5 meters shorter than the Blue Dragon. Interior spaces allowed for a carrier air wing of 48 planes to be stored on the hangar deck, with additional room for 12 planes on the flight deck.

The twin 16-inch gun turret up front also made this ship a perfect commerce raider, and one that could either outrun or engage enemy cruisers at the Captain’s discretion. The ship also had 16 of the new 10 cm/65 (3.9") Type 98 AA guns, eight per side, which was perhaps the best Naval AA gun Japan would produce in the war. To compliment these there were 16 upgraded 25mm AA guns on each side with improved elevation, range finding, and magazine capacity. Radar gave the ship night vision, making it a good ship for forward picket deployment as well.

These new dragons were going to be pressed into service as soon as possible, and complete the lengthy testing and shakedown period during active service. The very existence of these ships had been a closely guarded secret, and they were also a reason why the Navy was so desperately short of carrier strike planes. The wings allocated to Kinryu and Ryujin, along with those for the Shirane and Mikasa fleet carrier conversions, had been segregated from the main fleet and jealously protected. They were being allocated the newest aircraft off the production lines as well.

When Admiral Nagano first toured the Golden Dragon, he was so impressed that he quickly authorized several other conversion proposals that had been subject to debate. The carriers always needed fast cruisers to run with them. The four Takao class ships were excellent in that role, and later, four more ships were planned with improvements, two of which were built out as Tone and Chikuma. That was a new class that combined the firepower and speed of a heavy cruiser with the scouting ability of a seaplane carrier, with six Aichi E13A float planes that could range our 1300 miles.

“Why not use these hybrid designs to fulfill that same role?” asked Nagano, and the answer was soon to come. Two additional hulls had been completed for another pair of Tone Class cruisers, but they had been cancelled, the hulls scheduled for scrapping to provide steel for other projects. That order was quickly rescinded when Chikuma was beaten to near scrap by Mizuchi, along with the old battleship Mutsu.

“There is the steel we need,” said Nagano. “It will take two years in the repair yards to restore those ships to what they were. Then all we will we have is old Mutsu back again. I know there has been talk of converting that ship, and the Ise and Hyuga, to hybrid seaplane carriers, but they would all be too slow at only 23 knots to serve as a fleet scout ship. This is why we sent the Hawks back to their cages.”

Nagano was referring to the Taiyo Class, all with names relating to hawks. They were three Escort Carriers converted from ocean liners acquired by the navy before the war, and activated in Phase I of the Shadow Fleet program, but the Navy was not happy with them because of their slow speed. They served well enough in the first months of the war, mostly as invasion escorts. Now the Navy needed faster ships to dance on the high seas with the Americans, and so the Hawks were sent back to the dry docks to improve their propulsion systems. They began with four Kampon water tube boilers, and they would each get two more, hopefully improving power and speed from 21 knots to 30.

Nagano’s idea had a lot of merit. “Why not scrap Chikuma and Mutsu, and then build out more ships like the Tone? Better yet, why not build more of these fast hybrid carriers like Gozo and Mezu, only bigger, on a hull the size of Tone? Then it could carry both seaplanes as well as fighters.”

Nagano’s logic was sound, and his authority, supported enthusiastically by Yamamoto, would see the project come to life. It would be called the Okami Class, named for the Fox Kami that was a bit of a shapeshifter in Japanese Mythology, renowned for its stealth and far seeing abilities. What the Japanese would do is take those last two hulls that had been reserved for the Tone class, and build yet another hybrid design. It was much bigger and heavier than the Gozo class, at 15,000 tons. Okami and Kitsune were the first two conversions, and they could run at 34 knots, with a very long service range of 14,000 nautical miles. Like the Vicksburg, they would carry 24 planes, twice as many as the smaller Gozo Class that had trail blazed this hybrid concept.

The idea was further enhanced when designers decided that a special aircraft might be used to give the ships that long seeing vision that a scout ship would need. The Navy had issued a specification in early 1942 for a long range, high speed, single engine carrier based recon plane—and the need for speed was going to rule out any float plane design. Nakajima won the contract and the C6N Saiun was the prototype they delivered, and much earlier than in the old history because of the ships waiting for such a plane.

The Homare 24-Ru turbocharged engine was fine tune to develop better power at altitude, and the plane became a reality in January of 1943. The first models were being assigned to the scout carriers, and they soon demonstrated some remarkable abilities. Able to fly at 380 MPH, with a service ceiling of 35,240 feet and the astounding range of 2886 nautical miles due to its low mounted laminar flow wing housed fuel tanks. Named after the iridescent high altitude clouds it could reach, the Saiun would soon prove very useful on these smaller capacity carriers, allowing the larger fleet carriers to use all their dive bombers and torpedo planes in the strike role.

The designers were now wholly embracing the shapeshifting mindset themselves, particularly after what they had seen the Americans do with the Vicksburg Class. They already had a third Gozo Class scout carrier ready at Kobe, the Kiryu, armed with 12 fighters. It would now be joined by these two new Okami Class hybrid scouts.

This work, and the steel required to build all these ships, came at a price. The Unryu Class Fleet carrier project was not started in August of 1942 as it had been historically. Instead, the Japanese were opting for faster hybrid conversions, even if they could not carry as many planes. These ships would all appear at least a year earlier than the Unryu fleet carrier design, and given the pace of US production, sooner and smaller was deemed better than later and bigger.

“Even the fiercest serpent may be overcome by a swarm of ants,” said Yamamoto. “But if we build these hybrids, there must be enough of them to matter. Build four of these foxes instead of two.” The last two would be Tenko and Tama, to be available later in 1943.

So they were all building, in various stages of completion, some being rushed past the lengthy breaking in of sea trials and right into service. When completed, they would lengthen the register of Japanese ships considerably, adding fleet carriers Shinano and Shingen, which would be the largest carriers in the world when complete, with enough deck and hangar space to hold 96 planes. The Amagi hull conversions, Shirane and Mikasa, could each carry 84 planes; then Kii Class hull conversions, Kinryu and Ryujin, would bring another 48 plus 12 spares each. The smaller Tone hull conversions Okami, Kitsune, Tenko and Tama could carry 24 each, and the Gozo Class Kaya and Kiryu had 12. All together that would send up to 540 planes to sea, assuming the industry could produce them in time. It would double the striking power of the carrier squadrons, and help Japan maintain some edge in that category for the next six months. Some wings already existed, and work was now feverishly switching over from Army type production to carrier capable planes.

Then there was one last addition to the fleet spawned by the need to have destroyers with the carrier fleet at sea. Many of the existing classes were too short in range, so the plans for the super destroyer Shimakaze were expanded to build out a complete destroyer division. That ship was the only one of its class ever built in the old history, but here they would start with a full division of five: Shimakaze, Kitakaze, Hayakaze, Natsukaze, and Fuyukaze. Among the fastest ships in the world at 40 knots. They were much like the Russian Destroyer Leader Tashkent, or the French Le Fantasque, which still held the record at over 45 knots. They would steam 8000 nautical miles, and carry both the Type 93 Torpedo as well as depth charges, along with decent AA protection. In them, the fleet was getting a superb destroyer screen capable of engaging both enemy surface ships and submarines.

This was the shadow fleet, Phase II of the program now being rushed into production at all levels at Yamamoto’s urging, and fully approved by the Emperor. Even though it might appear that the Japanese would be able to keep pace with the Americans into 1943, the production effort had but one flaw. The carrying capacity of the hybrid ships was much lower than a purpose-built carrier designed from scratch. Even if it could join the war twice as fast, with would hit with half the punch.

When the fleet finally arrived at Rabaul on the 17th, both the stricken carriers docked and engineers swarmed aboard to make an assessment of the damage. Kaga had the most serious problems, and it would take at least 38 days to repair, even with an all-out effort. Soryu was expected to be back in service in 16 days, and the cruiser Maya in two weeks. Both Yamamoto and Ugaki were greatly relieved when they heard the news concerning Soryu.

Now all Ugaki had to do was find the planes to rebuild the shattered air wings. If necessary, he could order Ozawa’s two light carriers at Singapore to move to Rabaul, bringing in another 60 planes. To do so he had to cancel a planned supply run to Ceylon, as there would be no carrier covering force, and the British had replenished their losses in the Indian Ocean, restoring their Far East Fleet to three carriers again. As for fighters, there were plenty of Zeroes in theater, but many were assigned to land bases. He wanted those valuable carrier capable planes and pilots reserved for use by the carriers, and got very tough with the Army, demanding they take over responsibility for bases on the front lines.

As a result, 27 Ki-27B “Nate” fighters had already been transferred from a rear area assignment at Kavieng, hopping first to Tulagi, and then on to Efate. 30 Ki-30 “Ann” light level bombers would follow and land at Luganville on Espiritu Santo. They had been at Port Moresby to watch the North Cape area, but sea traffic was very light in that region.

The message Ugaki sent to Admiral Nagano concerned those planes being held in reserve for the new carriers. He wanted the strike wings from ships that could still not enter into immediate operations, and he also asked for permission to utilize any ship in the shadow fleet that was deemed seaworthy at this time. Nagano had been wanting to wait until the Emperor’s birthday in April, delivering the new arrivals as a present, but he replied that the request would be taken under consideration. When Ugaki learned that ships like Kinryu and Ryujin were close to delivery, he was elated, for neither he nor Yamamoto thought they would be ready for at least another six months.

Things were beginning to shape up, until two more bits of bad news arrived. The first was a submarine sighting of two unidentified medium sized carriers training near Midway. They later learned these with the light carriers Independence and Princeton. Then, on the 17th of January, word came in that the American fleet was landing Marines on Efate….

Chapter 17

That night Yamamoto convened a meeting to discuss options. Efate was considered to be the most important island in the French New Hebrides, and it was no wonder that it had been targeted. It was fairly large, 25 miles long and 18 miles wide. The northwest was thickly wooded highland country, with hills peaking at a little over 600 meters. The southeast was a broad and flat plain, cut in half by the thin Teouma River, with plantations, and lighter woodland. It was well suited for much more development if additional airfields were needed.

“What is the defense on that island?” he asked, and Ugaki was ready, knowing this would be one of the first questions the Admiral posed.

“Two battalions of French infantry from their Tonkin Division that transferred from Saigon last year,” he said, “along with a few coastal guns and aviation support crews for the airfield at Vila off Meli Bay.”

“There are no Japanese troops?”

“Not at the moment.”

The Admiral frowned, but he knew where all the Japanese troops were, locked in a death struggle with the Americans on Viti Levu. The Ichiki Regiment had been posted to New Caledonia, and the recently arrived Kawaguchi Detachment had been meant to reinforce that garrison and also provide additional troops for other islands like Efate and Espiritu Santo, but it had just gone to Fiji.

“Not a very satisfactory situation,” said the Admiral. “In this we see the reason the Americans withdrew their better Marine troops from Fiji. Now they tie down our best troops there, while they are free to begin a counteroffensive. Our setback at sea has opened the door for them, but we cannot allow this attack to go unanswered. The question now is what to do if we have no troops available to reinforce that island?”

“Dai-nijū Shidan, has just arrived at Rabaul,” said Imamura, the same man that had been plucked from the sea by the crew of Takami, and now acting as overall commander for Army operations in this theater. The unit he spoke of was the 20th Division under General Shigemasa Aoki, newly arrived from Korea where it had been a back waters garrison division for some time. It was there to begin fleshing out bases seized in Papua New Guinea, and the Solomons. Now it would stand as a good source of reserve ground troops for the entire theater.

“So we have more rice in the bin than I first thought,” said Yamamoto. “Are these troops combat ready?”

“They had limited experience in Manchukuo,” said Imamura, “but a few weeks hard training should get them ready.”

“Limited experience? The Americans will be using some of their toughest troops to make an assault landing like this.”

Imamura shrugged. “Considering that the Navy has been unable to prevent that, the Army will do what it can to correct the… situation.” That skirted very close to the thin line that separated comment from insult, and Imamura had been deft enough to stop himself from using the word ‘error’ at the end.

Yamamoto gave him a long look, the silence carrying the weight of his displeasure, though it would remain unspoken. Both he and Imamura had the enormous burden of ‘face’ to carry for their respective services, where the rivalry was often too hotly pursued.

“Then the Army will make troops available for a counterattack?”

“If necessary,” said Imamura. “And I would select the Ichiki Regiment, replacing it with troops from Dai-nijū Shidan. Then they can use the time on New Caledonia to acclimate to this area and continue training and preparation for combat. As for the American Marines, Kiyonao Ichiki and his troops will be more than a match for anything they send… Assuming our men can be safely landed on the island in question.” The General’s remark again skirted the frontier of insult and accusation, though Yamamoto said nothing.

He knew Imamura’s troops were having some difficulty on Fiji, where they had been unable to protect two of the three key airfields. The Army decried the lack of air support from the Navy; then Ugaki had demanded the Army send its own aviation squadrons, saying it was not the navy’s job to use its carrier trained pilots to defend Army held airfields. Those planes could not be found in time to matter, and the last obsolete A5M that had been at Nandi was shot up and made a forced landing there on the 19th of January.

“General,” said Yamamoto. “May I have your opinion of the overall strategic situation—specifically, the prospects for either taking or holding Viti Levu?”

“It would have been taken long ago, but the enemy was permitted to reinforce it by sea. That is the root of all our difficulties. Now we have been forced to commit far more troops there than we ever anticipated, leaving very little to hold all the other territories occupied last year. If you continue to allow the Americans freedom of movement on the seas around these islands, what can the Army do to save the matter?”

Without addressing the obvious blame in Imamura’s discourse, the Admiral pressed him further. “As a strategist, do you believe it was wise for us to undertake Operation FS?”

“It would have been a near mortal blow if it had been well coordinated and control of the seas had been maintained.”

Ugaki could bear no more, and at the risk of reprimand, he interrupted. “The Navy maintained control of the seas from the moment of the invasion until December of 1942. We defeated the enemy in the Coral Sea, and again in the Koro Sea, though not without cost. In spite of that, we have held the American carriers at bay all this time, yet now they return in much greater strength. And may I also remind you that were it not for the Navy, you would not be here at this moment to offer these opinions.” He folded his arms, a sour expression on his face.

Imamura took a deep breath, thinking to answer, but Yamamoto intervened. “We do not look to assess blame here, only to ascertain the course we must now take to assure victory. General, my real question is this—should we continue to contest Viti Levu and further strive to clear and occupy the other nearby islands, particularly Vanua Levu? The enemy has now built at least two more airfields, and the ground action on the main island has made use of the fields there… problematic. Without well defended local airfields, we must maintain a constant carrier presence to contest air superiority. This, too, is problematic, and now this news of the American invasion at Efate is most disturbing.”

“Why was it aloud to proceed?”

“Frankly, it came as a surprise to us all. We knew the Americans had relieved their Marines with Army troops, but did not expect they would use them in an offensive action again so soon. Now Efate is under threat of enemy occupation, and yes, it will require hard fighting Japanese troops to prevent that. Unfortunately, both Soryu and Kaga took damage in the recent action, and so this left our 1st Carrier Division with little striking power. It was therefore necessary to redeploy those ships here to Rabaul to begin repairs immediately, and to replenish the air wings, which were badly depleted in the recent engagement with the enemy.”

“Admiral, sir,” came another voice, low and gruff. It was Admiral Chuichi Hara, the bull necked man the navy had come to call ‘King Kong.’ He had been listening quietly from his seat at the far end of the table, but now he was compelled to speak.

“My 3rd Carrier Division was not engaged in the recent action, and Akagi was not damaged from Nagumo’s 1st Division. Why not permit me the honor of settling this matter, at least from the standpoint of the Navy. Simply transfer Tosa and Akagi to my division, and I will deal with the Americans.”

Yamamoto smiled, nodding appreciatively. Thus far, Hara had been the Navy’s most reliable carrier commander. He had 5th Division at Pearl Harbor, fought well in the Java Sea operations, and most recently, he had conducted the very successful Indian Ocean Operation that delivered the ripened fruit of Ceylon to the Empire. What Hara set his mind to do, was as good as finished, and Yamamoto had invited him to this meeting for precisely the action he now proposed.

“Admiral Hara,” said Yamamoto, “I would be honored if you would undertake this mission, as long as you bear in mind that we will not have Soryu back for two weeks, and Kaga for another month. Under these circumstances, I cannot afford to lose another fleet carrier, even if we were to sink two such ships on the enemy side in exchange. The production capability of our enemy is not something we can underestimate ever again. Look how they have already replaced all the carriers we sunk last year, even giving them the same names, as if to taunt us. We cannot hope to keep pace with them if they continue to build ships this quickly, so if we fight, we must be very skilled, and win without losing.”

Win without losing—in that twisted phrase, the Admiral had placed his finger clearly on the heart of the matter. Japan could not afford further losses to her hard-pressed Navy, even in victory.

“Admiral,” said Hara. “If you allow me to strike, I can guarantee you that we will win, and the enemy will do the losing.”

Yamamoto was silent for a time, then he nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Tosa and Akagi will be transferred to 3rd Carrier Division with all available strike planes. Admiral Ugaki, will you see the proper orders are given?”

Ugaki offered a shallow bow in confirmation, and Yamamoto detailed the operation he envisioned. “Muster near the American held island of Ndeni, but not close enough for their coast watchers to spot you. Reconnoiter the airfield, as we believe many enemy planes may have been diverted there after that last engagement. Strike that airfield, then move south to destroy the American invasion convoy. This will clear the way for us to move additional forces to Efate. I think we can all agree that island must be contested, neh?”

Everyone was in agreement. Efate flanked Noumea, and if it fell, it would put enemy fighters within range of Noumea and Luganville on Espiritu Santo, and offer the enemy a base from which they could attack either of those outposts. Efate was the center of the board in this chess game, and Yamamoto was still impressed with the boldness the Americans had shown.

“I might remind you that this Admiral Halsey has returned—the ‘Fighting Admiral,’ or so he is called in the American newspapers. He was able to beat Nagumo when our 1st Carrier Division engaged him last week. The Americans have three new fleet carriers, and new planes as well, particularly the new fighter they call the Hellcat, which our pilots say is very good. So, we will try again, as we must, and send our own Fighting Admiral—King Kong.”

Hara smiled, bowing his head appreciatively.

“Yet I have not yet heard an answer from General Imamura concerning the overall strategic situation. Should we continue to leave two full divisions, and two additional regiments on Fiji? Are we overextended?”

“Are you suggesting we withdraw?” Imamura finally used the word, just as Yamamoto had in his discussion with Ugaki.

“I suggest nothing. I ask the Army’s opinion of the situation. Is that where you wish to fight? Is Fiji to be the all or nothing turning point of this war?”

“The army is already there. Moving it elsewhere would be… problematic.”

“Perhaps, but if you felt the need to redeploy to the New Hebrides to reinforce the French garrisons, the Navy would do whatever was necessary to see that was carried our satisfactorily.”

“I could not contemplate such a redeployment without the approval of the Imperial General Staff, and perhaps even that of the Emperor himself.”

In all this inquiry, Imamura said nothing of what he had shared with 17th Army Commander Hyakutake. Things were afoot that would soon bring considerably more Army troops to the South Pacific, but he did not wish to disclose this until that was confirmed and announced by Imperial General Headquarters. Yet Imamura was not being entirely truthful. The arrival dates for units being transferred from China were uncertain. In the meantime, the situation required… Flexibility. He would later make a quiet request to Yamamoto that fast destroyers be made available in order to redeploy certain units to New Caledonia and better balance his overall force structure.

“I see… Of course,” said Yamamoto. “However, unless and until you deem it necessary to seek permission for a larger redeployment, I must assume that you are wholeheartedly committed to the Fiji operation. That being the case, General, can you be as direct as Admiral Hara here and promise the Emperor a victory?”

“I can promise him we will do all in our power to achieve that—even if it means we fight to the last man.”

Yamamoto did not like the sound of that. “I asked Admiral Hara to win without losing,” he said, “yet to fight to the last man would surely be to lose without winning. It may sound honorable and brave, but in the end, it is nothing more than seppuku. If we lose all those troops on Fiji, what then? Is the 20th Division enough to hold the New Hebrides, New Caledonia, Tulagi, Buin, Buka, the Shortlands, and all the rest? Surely we must find a different way of pleasing our Emperor.”

“Admiral,” said Imamura. “I would no sooner see the 38th and 48th Divisions lost in battle as you would welcome the loss of two more fleet carriers. Yet there we are, and there we fight. I will raise the question of the wisdom of holding Fiji with the Imperial General Staff, and they will decide the matter, not I.”

“Well enough,” said Yamamoto, “but realize time is a factor here. Perhaps Admiral Hara can buy us that, but I think it wise if the General Staff reaches a decision before the end of this month.”

The meeting adjourned and Hara was up and eager to get to his flagship, Japan’s newest carrier, Taiho. He had worked the bugs out of the ship in that long Indian Ocean campaign, now it was a lean and well run ship, in good fighting trim, and he intended to do exactly that—fight. They saw General Imamura out, and then Yamamoto pulled Hara aside.

“Kong,” he said. “Your mission to Ceylon was superb, and now I put what is left of the fleet in your hands. Be cautious, but realize also that we must kill our enemy, not merely dissuade him from engaging us. Yet we cannot afford more losses. Can you do this? Can you win without losing?”

Hara simply smiled at him, the gleam of battle in his eye. Then he bowed respectfully, and strode out, fixing his officer’s cap firmly on his big round head as he went.

Chapter 18

“Admiral,” said Ugaki when the others had departed. “As to the matter of ship production. Do you recall that we asked Nagano to initiate Phase II of the Shadow Fleet program last May?”

“Of course,” said Yamamoto.

“Well, I have recently received a communication from Admiral Nagano, and I am pleased to report that the Gunreibu has authorized the release of all Phase II ships presently available.” The Gunreibu was the Imperial General Staff of the Navy, led by Admiral Osami Nagano, who also had a seat at the table of the Imperial General Headquarters.

“You are certain of this?”

“Yes sir, they were assembled at Sasebo and Kobe last week, and I am now told they have left Japan to report to our Combined Fleet Headquarters at Truk.”

That raised an eyebrow, for it was the first that Yamamoto had heard of the matter. He had assumed the key components of that building program were at least six months from nearing completion. “You mean to say the ships are ready? I knew they were commissioned, but far from being delivered for operational use. I have not had a single report on this.”

“Because none have been written,” said Ugaki. “I am honored to make this first report to you personally. Given the urgency of the situation, Admiral Nagano has decided that the normal sea trials will be conducted with the ships already registered to the active duty rolls. He has every faith that we can handle the breaking in period in the course of regular operations. They will begin intensive training during the journey south from Japan.”

“I see… You say all the Phase II ships?”

“Except Shirane and Mikasa. They will still need a few more months fitting out. But we have all the other carrier conversions at sea—this very moment.”

“Empty shells,” said Yamamoto. “Two days ago we were looking for any strike bomber we could find to recover recent losses. What good will these ships do us if they have no planes?”

“That is what I first believed, but Nagano has held Naval air squadrons in reserve for those ships at Sasebo. I am told they will arrive with all air wings assigned, and at full strength, with the ships fully provisioned.”

That got Yamamoto’s attention. He knew that there were other power centers in the Navy, chiefly around Nagano at the highest levels, and that they could exert a good deal of influence over aircraft production and squadron deployment. He also knew that the trainers had been very busy in the home islands, for new planes were promised, though only a very few ever reached the fleet. When Taiho was commissioned, that ship came with the addition of the new D4Y Dive Bomber, and B6M Torpedo Bomber. Hara had very good things to say about their performance in the Indian Ocean. If these new ships all had full air wings….

“What ships have been released?” Yamamoto felt his pulse rise, the unexpected windfall of this moment akin to the feeling he experienced when he first set foot on the destroyer Takami.

“Two light escort carriers from the Gozo Class Conversion project, Kaya and Kiryu, then two more from the larger Kami Class, Okami and Kitsune. These are the escort carriers, but the best news of all is that two dragons have put to sea as well. Both the battle carrier conversions have also been delivered to the fleet early, the ships built on the Kii Class hulls, Kinryu and Ryujin. The whole lot are out to sea, and Nagano has included the two new battlecruisers, Amagi and Kagami, and five of our newest Destroyer Escorts—a full division!”

“This is most heartening news,” said Yamamoto. “You say they all have new planes?”

“One hundred and ninety-eight, to be precise. Many have the new A6M3, Model 22, and there will be many new D4Y Dive Bombers, along with the new Tenzan B6M. It passed carrier acceptance trials last year.”

“Amazing,” said Yamamoto. “Here we were scrounging to dig up any carrier capable strike plane we could get our hands on, and all the while Nagano sat on his nest of eggs, saying nothing. Now he releases the entire Phase II program ships, and without even a whisper to me concerning the matter.”

“I must admit that I interceded on your behalf,” said Ugaki, and Yamamoto heard more in that than he wished. The man was too headstrong at times. What had he said to Nagano? He turned his head.

“Explain.”

“I was able to convince Admiral Nagano of the necessity of maintaining our advantage in carrier operations. With all these new American ships being deployed, we had to take expedient measures to stay on top. He agreed, but there was one thing he required to sign this order.”

“And what was that?”

“The destroyer,” said Ugaki. “Just a single ship. Nagano wants it to deploy to Yokohama. He wishes to tour the ship himself personally.”

“Takami? I gave you specific orders that it was not to be discussed with the Imperial Naval General Staff.”

“Yes, and those orders were obeyed. I made no mention of it at all, but it appears that Admiral Nagano is more resourceful than we thought. He already knew of Takami, and requested this personally, and as a condition concerning the orders he has just signed on these Phase II ships.”

Yamamoto took a deep breath. “I suppose this was inevitable,” he said. “The Kempeitai have men everywhere. From the moment those first rockets were fired at Davao, it was certain that the existence of this ship would become known. I trust Nagano will be discreet, and I certainly hope he has no ideas about inviting the Emperor aboard that ship!”

“Nagano is a man we can trust,” said Ugaki. “Besides, shouldn’t the Emperor know about Takami?”

Yamamoto smiled. “Admiral Ugaki, the two of us have walked that deck, seen all the strange equipment on that ship, watched its rocket weapons fire, and spent hours with its chief officers. And yet we still have difficulty believing such a ship could exist, let alone the story that came with it—that these men come from our own far flung future. How could we ever explain this to the Emperor? If Nagano gets his hands on that ship, then the entire General Headquarters will know about it.”

“I would assume that is already the case.”

“They may have heard the rumors,” said Yamamoto, “or even read reports, but that is one thing—seeing that ship first hand is quite another. They will not understand, and they would certainly not believe the story we were told by Harada and Fukada. What they will believe is this—that the ship is a top-secret prototype that has been kept from their knowledge, just as Nagano husbanded the resources of the Shadow Fleet. They will then assume that all these weapons, these radar sets and rockets, are actually in development, and then they will stop at nothing to find out where they are being produced.”

“But this will lead them nowhere,” said Ugaki.

“Precisely, and that creates another enormous problem. They will look for the factories, the warehouses, the designers, but find nothing. Their suspicion will increase with every day that passes, and fingers will be pointed in all directions. Then the Army will learn about all of this, and they will think the Navy has deliberately held back this technology and weaponry.”

“That was inevitable,” said Ugaki. “In fact, I believe it may be well under way. I have learned from this Executive Officer, Fukada, that Nishimura invited them to dine with him when Takami arrived at Singapore.”

“That was not wise.”

“Yes, but how could they refuse? Needless to say, our signals intelligence unit intercepted a friendly communication sent to Imperial General Headquarters shortly after that dinner.”

“Then Nishimura is spying for the Army?”

“At the very least. He is Tojo’s rat, and I have little doubt that our Prime Minister has been well informed.”

“Yet he has said nothing, at least not to me.” Yamamoto was deeply concerned about all of this. He shrugged, clearly unhappy. “I will reiterate my order that nothing should be revealed about this ship, or what we have also learned about Mizuchi—even if you are asked directly by a man as highly placed as Nagano. Play the ignorant subordinate if you must, but say nothing. Simply refer the inquiry to me. Sooner or later, this will come to the attention of the Emperor, and then all the senior officers will be called to account—including Tojo. Now… Do you wish to explain this to His Majesty? If not, learn when and when not to speak!”

Ugaki was silent.

“It doesn’t make sense,” said Fedorov. He had been huddling with Nikolin and pouring over recent signals intercepts. The Japanese Naval code had been changed, but the considerable computing resources aboard Kirov had made short work of it, a feat that would have amazed a man like Joe Rochefort at Station HYPO, or Alan Turing at Bletchley Park. “You are certain of the translations?”

“As far as I can be, sir,” said Nikolin. “I even ran them by Ensign Omi last night to be sure.

“Golden Dragon…” said Fedorov. “Dragon God…” Those must refer to aircraft carriers. Japanese ship naming conventions are very predictable. The last two dragons were Hiryu and Soryu, which translate as Flying Dragon and Blue Dragon. Now we have two names on the airwaves that never existed, Kinryu and Ryujin. Yet my guess is that these must be new aircraft carriers, something this history has spawned that we couldn’t anticipate. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing in the history of the Pacific War has repeated after Pearl Harbor, and even that battle was quite different from the historical attack.”

Karpov overheard their conversation and drifted over. The two men had come to a new understanding after Fedorov’s mission to Ilanskiy in 1908. They had managed to put aside their inherent opposition to one another, and see that together they were much stronger than they could hope to be as adversaries. In fact, Karpov made a direct apology to Fedorov for the missile incident, and the two men shook hands on the matter and put it all behind them. They realized that what was before them was of supreme importance—the war, the strange new unfolding of this history, the prospect of an Axis victory that was still a very real possibility. The winds of war had been shifting, in Russia, North Africa and now in the Pacific as the Americans received new reinforcements and began to hit back. Yet all was still at risk in the swirling gyre of these events.

Winter had fallen on Karpov’s Sakhalin Operation, and the Japanese now had two full divisions in South Karafuto, enforcing a stalemate. The ice now prevented any ship traffic in the Sea of Okhotsk off Okha Harbor, and he could not hope to reinforce his ground troops by simply using his airship fleet. It took five ships on daily runs just to keep the existing forces supplied. So a stalemate had settled over the Sakhalin Front, now buried under the snows of January, 1943. The offensive there could not be renewed until spring, when fresh troops and more artillery could be delivered by sea.

So Karpov had decided to leave the bitter cold of the north and seek the warmer waters of the South Pacific. That was where the war was here, and he went looking to find it. He and Fedorov had considered their options in long discussions—what should they do? How should they apply the considerable but limited power of Kirov to the situation now unfolding? There had been no crushing defeat at Midway, and this had allowed Japan to invade Fiji in Operation FS. Yet Fedorov was quick to answer the same question that Imamura passed on in his discussion with Yamamoto.

“The Japanese are overextended,” he had said. “The operation they concluded in the Indian Ocean and Bay of Bengal was brilliant, and a severe blow to the British Empire, but now they have to sustain those troops. There wasn’t even enough food on Ceylon to feed the local population. Now they will have to run regular convoys from Singapore. And at Fiji, they’ve committed the bulk of all the troops they had in the South Pacific. That needs even more supply runs, that is a problem, now that Halsey is back with those three new Essex Class carriers.”

They had considered many alternatives. Should they hover off Japan and interdict convoy traffic south to Truk and Rabaul. “That would get tedious,” Karpov had said. “Besides, I would not waste a Moskit II on a tramp steamer, not unless it was a troop transport and carrying an important reinforcement.”

“Agreed,” said Fedorov. “We would have been an excellent commerce raider if we could have replenished our missile inventory. That being impossible, we should look to engage important enemy surface action groups, and carrier task forces.”

“What about Kazan?” Karpov had asked. “It vanished in the Atlantic many months ago, and now you say it suddenly reappeared off Murmansk? What is going on here? And why doesn’t this Captain Gromyko answer our hails?”

“That’s a mystery I’d like to get to the bottom of as well,” said Fedorov. “Remember, that boat had an active control rod—otherwise how could it have reappeared here?”

“But it could not be Rod-25,” said Karpov. “Chief Dobrynin has that one all bundled up in the Rad-Safe silo. There could not be two Rod-25s here, could there?”

“That is a very interesting question,” said Fedorov. “Kazan vanished during the engagement we fought with the Germans, or so I learned after the fact. I was not there when that occurred. The entire ship had already shifted… elsewhere. Yet I learned from Tovey that it happened when the Rodney was sunk. There was an incident, and I think it involved a nuke. For some reason, Kazan must have fired it, but I cannot see why. Gromyko has a very cool head in battle…. No offense, sir.”

“None taken, Fedorov. But this is very interesting. Tyrenkov got wind of that incident, though we never could ascertain exactly what happened.”

“I thought I would learn all of that when I made my rendezvous with Kazan,” said Fedorov, “but I was… diverted.”

“Yes,” said Karpov. “And how frightening to think that any airship overflying the coordinates of the Tunguska Event might also be diverted. I have told my brother that the entire area is to be considered a no-fly zone. It would be very dangerous if someone inadvertently went back in time through that portal. On the other hand, it is also interesting to know I could do so if I wished.”

“You aren’t seriously contemplating anything like that, are you?”

“Of course not. I have the means of moving in Time right here aboard the ship in Rod-25, and considering that we haven’t been hopping all over the continuum, as in that first loop, this rod is very fresh, and likely very potent. So you see, now I have three ways of moving in time if I choose—the ship, Ilanskiy, and the site of the Tunguska event.” He said nothing of the fact that the Airship Tunguska itself also possessed some rather unique properties.

As for Fedorov, he said nothing of the pronouncements of Professor Paul Dorland, or the mysterious keys for the moment. There were secrets that had to be held close, even among allies.

Yet now the two men had a more immediate problem to discuss. Fedorov and Nikolin had discovered that the Japanese Navy had commissioned ships that never existed, and this would become a matter of obvious interest to Karpov.

They had discovered the Shadow Fleet.