Armageddon

Chapter 18

Vice Admiral Dewa got the news soon after, fretting on the bridge of the armored cruiser Kasagi. He had returned from his conference with Kataoka unsatisfied. The other man’s caution and the obvious warning in his tone seemed inappropriate on the eve of battle. Then came the news he had been waiting for. The Russian ship had been sighted to the north about ten kilometers off the coast of Tsushima Island. Yet here he was with orders to withdraw! The news that two of the four torpedo boats from Fujimoto’s division had been attacked and sunk was most disheartening, though not unexpected. The boats were there as a trip wire, and now the enemy’s location was certain.

Signals filled the wireless channels, leaping from ship to ship, and also coursed along the undersea cable from Tsushima Island that stretched all the way back to Japan. Such means of communication were still relatively new, in the era where men named Morse, Hertz and Tesla still lived, and experiments with the arcane craft of electromagnetism were in their early days. Hertz had proved the existence of radio waves, actually calling them Hertzian waves in his experiments, but he saw no real application for them. “It's of no use whatsoever,” he said… “We just have these mysterious electromagnetic waves that we cannot see with the naked eye. But they are there.”

By 1895 others soon found new ways to use these waves, though the means of transmitting wirelessly could only reach a mile in range, and two years later it was extended to 34 miles. Soon coastal stations and lighthouses set up Marconi designed instruments and ship to shore wireless communications became a reality. By 1903 Teddy Roosevelt had been able to send a wireless message all the way across the Atlantic to the King in England, and from that day forward the mysterious unseen electromagnetic waves Hertz had talked about began to permeate the air.

Now the wireless telegraphy was chattering out the alert. The enemy was coming. Dewa had little doubt that Togo was already darkening the skies above his squadron with smoke as he hastened south to the planned rendezvous point. Now the 10th and 15th Torpedo Boat Divisions, each with four boats, would hastily form the last skirmish line off the coast of Tsushima. They would have a very special mission, deploying mines in the waters and then withdrawing south to bait the enemy on. Dewa was to take his cruisers and destroyers to effect a conjunction with Kataoka’s ships. Though he chafed for battle, he knew that every minute that passed now before the engagement only served to strengthen the Japanese position.

To make matters even more interesting, Vice Admiral Uryu in the Inland Sea had received word that the American Great White Fleet had postponed its planned visit to Yokohama, pausing only for coal, and would now proceed directly to Kure, intending to transit the narrow strait at Shimonoseki. That news seemed alarming to Dewa, and the thought of such a strong foreign fleet boldly navigating the waters of the Inland Sea seemed most disconcerting. The Japanese had intended to meet and escort the American fleet, matching them ship for ship at Yokohama, but that was no longer possible. Vice Admiral Uryu had no more than eight small destroyers and a few cruisers, hardly enough to show the flag of the Imperial Japanese Navy.

Now the rumors and speculation as to what the Americans were really up to began to be whispered on the ship, passing from man to man like wireless telegraphy, and Dewa himself was not immune to the sense of foreboding they carried. What if the Americans and Russians were colluding? What if the attack on that Canadian mail ship had been staged to simply create a pretext for the movement of this massive American fleet into Japanese waters?

Time will tell, he thought. The Americans certainly favored the Russian side in those ill handled negotiations at Portsmouth. If the their fleet were to have any hostile intention, that would soon come to light-the light of battle.

He rubbed his hands together, thinking of the moment his cruisers would first begin to open fire and recalling that glorious day three years ago when they had savaged the Russians with their superior gunnery. We have been lax, he thought, but I have trained my men hard these last few days to see if they can recover their edge. Whatever happens, we must do our utmost now. I am ordered to withdraw northwest to the rendezvous point, but no mention was made of the timing on that movement. If I linger here I will be in a much better position to find this ship…

He smiled, making a stubborn decision that would seal the fate of his entire division.

Tasarov had been restless of late, with too much time on his hands. There had not been much of anything for him to do at the sonar station in recent days. Undersea threats were all but nonexistent here. Yet his passive system could also detect and track the noisy surface contacts, and at ranges rivaling that of the Fregat system under good listening conditions.

He had been listening to the picket line of torpedo boats ahead of them, slowly fleeing before the oncoming wrath of Kirov. The example made of two boats earlier was apparently more than enough to convince them that they had no chance of attacking successfully. Then he heard something he did not expect, particularly given the range.

“Con. Sonar. I have splash transients in the water, sir.”

Karpov had not heard Tasarov report for many days now, and seemed surprised. “Splash transients? Are you saying they have fired a torpedo?”

“No sir. I detect no motor noise or any sign of a torpedo in the water. But something big enough to make a fairly distinct noise has been dropped into the sea. I think they are deploying mines, Captain.”

Naval mines had been around for centuries, from floating wooden boxes filled with explosives used by the Chinese to powder keg barrels used in the 17th century. They had always been a cheap, devious and very effective means of interdicting and controlling waterways, and Karpov was not one to underestimate them, even in this day and age. The Japanese had used mines very effectively against the Russians in the last war, killing their best fighting admiral Makarov and sinking the battleship Petropavlovsk in the process.

“Well…” said Karpov. “Up to their old tricks again, are they?” He was well aware of Makarov’s fate, and determined not to fall into the same trap. “The ship will reduce speed. Ahead one third.”

“Aye, sir. Slowing to 10 knots.”

“Mister Tasarov, go to active sonar and find me those mines. Rodenko-post lookouts forward to port and starboard and stand ready to engage any floating target with the ship’s Gatling guns. We will not blunder into one of these mines on my watch.”

“Should we ready the RBU-1000 system?” asked Rodenko. The Smerch, as it was called was the very same system they had used to blast the waters around the ship and blow through the Italian minefields in the Bonifacio Strait. Kirov was a veritable Swiss Army knife when it came to weapons systems available for any application or defensive purpose.

“No, Mister Rodenko. I do not think it will be necessary. Those boats could not have deployed more than one or two mines. This field will be very porous. I think good eyes and well aimed small arms fire will be sufficient here.”

Tasarov’s warning proved to be very timely, for he soon began to detect several objects ahead, it was not long until the ship was engaging them with short bursts of the Gatling guns, or from 50 caliber machine guns set up on the weather deck by the Marines. They watched as several exploded, sending tall geysers of seawater up that glittered in the afternoon sun.

“Well done, Mister Tasarov,” said Karpov. “I expect that will likely be the last of them, but keep listening on active sonar for the next hour.”

They had reached the mid-point of the island, still about ten kilometers off the coast of Tsushima. A little farther south the island broke up into a series of smaller islets and deep bays and Rodenko noted that the Japanese torpedo boat screen had withdrawn into the cover of the bays around Kuroshima Island.

“It’s clear they mean to lie in wait there,” he said. “They will most likely make a rush at us when we pass that island.”

Karpov nodded. “Well, if the example we gave them earlier was not enough of a lesson, then we’ll give them more of the same. The instant one of those boats sticks its nose out, I want to engage with the forward deck gun. The 100mm gun should be sufficient.”

To the Japanese, the Russian ship seemed to have an almost prescient ability to divine their intentions. Lieutenant Commander Odaki heard and saw the mines exploding as they withdrew south, elated at first to think they had struck a fatal blow and that his small flotilla would have accomplished what the other cruisers and battleships before him could not do. Yet lookouts soon reported that the Russian dreadnought was still steaming stalwartly south, apparently uninjured. Now his small group of four boats, numbers 40 though 43, would take up their pre-assigned position to the north of Kuroshima Island, which sat like a small boot in the waters off Tsushima.

Odaki’s 10th Torpedo Division would deploy near the ankle of that boot, and further south, Commander Kondo’s 15th Division had four newer boats hidden beneath the long jutting toe. There, watching from a 100 meter hill on the tip of the island, flagmen would signal the moment of the attack. Yet all this was anticipated by the men aboard Kirov, so it was no surprise when the Japanese boats suddenly emerged, charging boldly forward at high speed. Odaki’s boats could make 23 knots, but Kondo had newer boats that were the fastest in the fleet at 29 knots. It was soon to become a brave and desperate rush to their doom.

“Con, radar reports eight contacts, four to either side of that island off the starboard bow.”

“I expected this,” said Karpov. “Mister Samsonov, please add the Forward 152mm deck gun to this engagement, and I also want the modified Kashtan system to deploy a missile salvo as a test.”

The crack of the guns began, their radar eyes quickly finding and targeting the oncoming boats. At 150 tons the torpedo boats looked like tiny destroyers on the high resolution Tin Man cameras, with two stacks puffing dark smoke as they surged forward. On they came, through geysers of seawater with the first near misses. Samsonov concentrated his fire on the northernmost group, and Odaki’s boats paid heavily. The penetrating rounds of the modern 152mm guns did severe damage to the lightly armored boats, and within minutes three of the four boats in that division had been hit and were on fire.

Kondo’s Division had been given just a little time to get into the action. When he saw the fire and smoke of Odaki’s burning boats, he gritted his teeth and stiffly extended his arm, pointing at the distant behemoth that loomed ahead like a dark storm. As the enemy ship approached, it seemed to grow to an enormous size, a huge silhouette that towered above the sea with tall battlements, its long, sharp bow cutting effortlessly through the waves like a sword. In fact, Kirov was 20 times the size of his boat and over 200 times his displacement!

Sagi was the first in his division to fall, struck amidships by two 152mm rounds that penetrated to the boat’s boilers and exploded with bright fury that sent hot tongues of flame jutting from the ship. Hashitake fell next, bow hit by a 100mm round, geysers from near misses all around, and then the starboard torpedo mount struck by a 152mm round. The resulting explosion sent men and metal careening into the sky, yet Kondo charged bravely on. He had to get very close to have any chance of hitting the enemy ship, but the range and accuracy of the enemy guns was making his charge suicidal.

“Ready torpedoes!” he shouted boldly, intent on getting through the iron curtain of enemy fire to deliver his sea lances home. Like so many before him, he would never get the chance. There was no mercy at the edge of this storm, just deadly lightning that struck with thunderclap speed and surprise. The dark silhouette of the oncoming enemy ship suddenly erupted with fire and white smoke, and then something came screaming in at his boat, fire rockets that danced wildly up, then angled down to surge in at Hibari. His boat was struck by both weapons, shrapnel ripping through the bridge crew, and wounding Kondo himself in the shoulder. He clutched at the wound in pain, then removed his hand, raising his good arm, still pointing out the direction of his attack with a bloodied white glove. Then a 152mm round slammed into the bridge, killing Kondo and every man there.

The navigation wheel was sheered away, and the Hibari veered off course, wallowing to port as two more rounds delivered hard body blows. Her sides were ripped open to the sea and the boat capsized to one side, the last of her crew screaming as they leapt into the restless water. Only Uzura was left, but it, too, died a quick and painful death, skewered by three hits from the 100mm deck gun on Kirov’s forward bow. None of the eight torpedo boats got within 4000 meters, still well outside the range of their 14 inch torpedoes. The tricks and surprises that Togo had planned and executed so successfully against the Russian Fleets of 1905 would not avail him now. Kirov’s ability to see every move the enemy made, and to engage at superior range, was decisive.

The big Russian battlecruiser had expended no more than 72 rounds and a couple of Kashtan missiles Karpov wanted to test in their new role as a small anti-ship weapon.

“There you have it,” said Karpov, a jaunty rock to his step as he walked to the viewport, lifting his field glasses. “We have blown through their little minefield as if it wasn’t even there. Now we put all eight of these torpedo boats to rest. They had no chance to get anywhere within range. What were they thinking?”

“I don’t think they knew that, sir,” said Rodenko. “But it was a brave charge nonetheless.”

“Yes,” said Karpov, “and a foolish one as well. You would think they would have broken off and scurried to the safety of those island shoals after we blasted the first couple boats.”

“I don’t think they realized what we could do, sir. Our radar lock with the deck guns made this a sure kill.”

“Well, let’s see how the news of this little engagement ripples south. They know where we are, and have undoubtedly withdrawn their heavier assets south to present a stronger threat. This attack was mere harassment.”

“That they have, sir,” said Rodenko. “I think we can assume we will be facing at least 18 ships in the next engagement.” There was an edge of warning in his voice now.

“Eighteen ships, or eighty ships, it doesn’t matter, Rodenko. The result will be the same. We will fight that battle just as we have fought this one. Mister Samsonov will engage at 15,000 meters with all our deck guns. I’ll fling a few modified P-400s at them as well, just for color. The fragmentation of those exploding warheads is lethal, and there are many open battery gun mounts on those old ships. The SAMs will sweep their decks clean. I’ll identify the flagships and make a determination as to whether or not we employ one or two SSMs as well, but I want to preserve that inventory as long as possible. Well,” he concluded, “now the real fun begins.”

“Vladimir Semenoff thought the same,” said Rodenko.

“Semenoff?” The Captain turned to look at him, not placing the name.

“I read his account of the battle of Tsushima in one of Fedorov’s books last night. He made that very remark when he witnessed the sudden turn made by Admiral Togo’s ships at the outset of the battle.”

Karpov gave him a thin lipped smirk. “Well, Semenoff was not aboard the battlecruiser Kirov, was he, Mister Rodenko?”