Armageddon

Chapter 28

Vice Admiral Dewa sat stolidly in the life boat, shame burning the back of his neck as he watched his flagship burn. For the last hour his line of four cruisers had run southwest, slowly angling toward their adversary, but taking a fearful pounding. He perceived that the Russian ship was trying to steer for the southern tip of Iki Island, which gave him heart at the outset.

They will run afoul of our minefields there, he thought, but the damage his ships were taking from the lethal accuracy of the enemy guns was mounting rapidly. At one point he was thrown to the hard metal deck by a direct hit on the conning tower of Kasagi. The armor there saved his life, and those of his bridge crew, but the smoke and fire of battle obscured all and he found himself senseless for a time.

“Admiral!” a voice came as he was roused from his stupor. “ Chitose has sunk, and we are burning badly. Our aft stack has been blown clean away and we have fallen off the line. You must transfer your flag, sir.”

“What? Chitose has sunk?”

“And we will follow her in a matter of minutes. Come sir, we have a boat rigged on the port side of the ship. The fires are not as bad there.”

And now Dewa stared in horror at the scene before him, watching Kasagi, keel over to starboard, her hull riddled by enemy fire. Chitose was gone, but cruisers Otawa and Nitaka were still bravely firing at the enemy, though he could see their effort was futile. The range had barely closed to 12,000 meters, and the enemy had targeted and destroyed the 8 inch guns on his cruisers, picking his ships apart with those deadly small caliber rounds that seemed to have tremendous penetrating power. None of his four destroyers could get anywhere near the Russian ship without being riddled with fire, and one endured a barrage of what looked to be very small rockets dancing over the sea with wispy white tails. They smashed into the destroyer, killing men all over the exposed weather decks and igniting the torpedo tubes there. Asagiri died a miserable death. Murasame and Shirakumo were both burning fiercely.

The Russians had once called his brave division the “Greyhounds,” as they would dog the old Russian ships, appearing suddenly out of the mist and then racing off, sometimes to lead the unwary enemy into a trap or a hidden minefield. His cruisers would dance about the Russian battleships, but not this time, not against this new monster. How could it move so fast? His entire division had been shattered in a single hour, and the enemy was unscathed! The Greyhounds were gone.

“It seems there will be no place to transfer my flag,” Dewa said sullenly.

“ Nitaka has seen our signal, Admiral. She has broken off and is heading our way.”

“So I will climb aboard her burning decks?”

“At least she is seaworthy, sir.”

“Yes, and my shame will be that I must order her to withdraw the instant we arrive there. We are no match for this Russian dreadnaught. Now I know what Kamimura suffered.”

“Sir, we can try and rendezvous with Vice Admiral Kataoka’s battle line there to the northwest. They are very close, and Admiral Togo’s ships are right behind them.”

Dewa followed the man’s arm where he pointed. There was Kataoka, steaming in the ponderous hulk of the old battleship Chinyen, a line of five armored cruisers and four destroyers in his wake.

When Admiral Togo got the news of Dewa’s fate he showed not the slightest flicker of emotion. Circumstances had conspired to place Dewa’s force in the vanguard. His most impetuous leader was therefore too eager to prove himself and avenge the shortcomings of Kamimura in the north. Unfortunately, the lesson learned was a hard one, and now Dewa was dragging himself up from his lifeboat onto one of Kataoka’s armored cruisers after transferring from the damaged Nitaka. He had nothing left to command. It was karma.

Now the fleet had finally been united when Togo brought his division up at the best speed he could muster. Out on the weather bridge he could see the smoke and fire of battle ahead, Dewa’s last cruiser, Otowa burning and dead in the water, one of her stacks sheared off at the top, and another broken and collapsed on itself like a crumpled stove pipe hat. Farther ahead he could see the silhouette of the enemy ship, a sinister threat at the edge of the sea.

By all Gods and Kami, he thought, where have you come from? The long raked bow of the ship seemed completely empty. He could see no big gun turrets, and only noted the last wink of what looked to be secondary batteries firing from the mounting shadow of the dreadnaught’s superstructure. He saw the white splashes as the rounds struck very near Otawa’s listing hull, and then there was a lull in the action.

The Admiral knew without asking that the range was still far beyond the capability of his own main guns. The Japanese had purchased 44 Armstrong Whitworth 12-inch naval guns from Great Britain, and Mikasa’s forward turret held two of them, with two more aft. They were now designated as "Type 41" in honor of the 41st year of the reign of Emperor Meiji. An early version of this weapon had served well against the Russians here in 1905, but Mikasa had been re-gunned in 1908 with an improved, better rifled version that could elevate 18 degrees to fire at a maximum range of just under 15,000 meters.

“Sir,” said the Lieutenant of Arms. “We can finally fire!”

Togo looked at the man, his face a mask of calm. Patience, he thought.

“Sir, shall I give the order?”

“We will wait,” said Togo, seeing the obvious frustration on his Lieutenant’s face. The officers had all seen the punishment Dewa’s division had taken, he thought, and they were now eager to join the fray. Yet firing now would only waste ammunition, even if it might bolster the spirits of my ship and crew.

He raised his field glasses, studying the ship more closely. The Russians did not have this ship in 1905. This is something entirely new. It is bigger than anything I have ever seen afloat, faster than the wind, and fierce as the biting sting of a typhoon. The enemy was now at his maximum range, and running for Iki Island. Why this ship runs to the shallows near Iki is a mystery to me. If he keeps on that way perhaps I can catch this spider is my own web there. The minefields at the southern end of the island will soon force him to slow his pace, and then we will close to a better range.

Kataoka leads with the ponderous Chinyen, and those two armored cruisers just behind her, Matsushima and Hashidate. They have that heavy gun forward, and so to fire they must turn and present their bow to the enemy. The turret is so heavy that if it attempts to rotate and fire from broadside they will surely capsize in these rising seas. It should never have been mounted on a ship of that size.

He looked at the gathering clouds, the warning of a storm clearly evident as the winds began to whip the seas higher. The Gods themselves bellow with anger in the sea and sky. So be it. We will stay on this heading and when the enemy reaches Iki Island they will soon find my barnacled friends in the sea and be forced to reduce speed. Then we will close and I will give the order to turn.

His gaze shifted farther east where he saw smoke on the wind. That must be Admiral Uyru escorting in the American Great White Fleet. He has signaled that Admiral Sperry will support us. If this is true they come to our aid at a most opportune time. Hopefully we will all share tea in the Imperial Gardens when this is over, but that is for another day.

Togo smiled inwardly. While this enemy ship threads its way through my minefield I will close the range protected by those islets southwest of Iki Island. Then, when he blunders into the thicket of my floating thorns, I will be there with over twenty ships, and we will charge boldly in from the west like a mighty lance of steel and skewer this monster! His only recourse would be to turn on a heading of 130 and run for deeper water, yet if he does that the British will engage, and the American Great White Fleet soon after. Hopefully that will not be necessary and I will end the battle long before he escapes my trap.

No, he thought. This is not about hope any longer. This Russian Captain has maneuvered foolishly to place himself within my grasp, and now my mailed fist will close and crush him. I could not have planned it better!

Oronshima Island was a tiny speck in a region of the Sea of Japan known as the Genkai Sea. The island was endowed with many shrines and offerings to the Shinto kami, the spirits of the Gods who would take shape in natural forms. As a stepping stone in the sea between Japan and the Asian mainland, the island was also a way station for that sea faring nation, and prayers were offered there for the safety of all sea going souls.

The stories about the place dated back centuries. It was said that Amaterasu, the Shinto Goddess of the sun, was suspicious that another deity was envious of her land there, and so she suggested a trial by ordeal to test the intention and honesty of the god. She took his sword, broke it into three pieces and swallowed them, exhaling a thick fog that then spawned three Kami spirits now inhabiting the islands. So it was that a test of loyalty came to be associated with the ancestral rituals of the region, and now another sword would be unsheathed to test the loyalty and intentions of Captain Vladimir Karpov and his ship of fallen angels.

Kazan had obtained a bearing on Kirov and was now approaching the lee of that island, ready to fire the last warning shot across Karpov’s bow, a single P-900 cruise missile. Admiral Volsky insisted that it be programmed to self destruct once it came within visual range of the target, if it managed to survive to even get that close, and he would announce it in warning. But first he needed to explain what was happening to the bridge crew of Kazan.

“Gentlemen,” he began heavily, “we have a difficult situation here. As you know, we believed Kirov was lost, but that turns out not to be the case. Our mission was to find her and bring her safely home. Your Mister Chernov here has sharp ears, and we have now located the ship. Fortunately for all of us, Moscow has been trying to negotiate an armistice to end this conflict before it gets out of hand. Though I have ordered Kirov to break off and return to Vladivostok, the Captain there refuses to comply with that direct order. That is why we are here, and now we must take stronger measures to convince this Captain. I could simply threaten to fire, but the sight of a missile will speak volumes,” he said. “We are going to fire a warning shot and see if it will put some sense into this man and give us the hope we can end this war before the real missiles fly. I do not have to tell you what that will mean…”

He let that sink in, waiting as he looked from one man to another. “So you may receive some difficult orders here, but I expect every man to do his job. Captain Gromyko has been fully briefed and knows what we must do. Follow his orders faithfully, and without fear or hesitation.”

“It would be good if we could fire now, sir,” said Gromyko. “He is running southeast toward Iki Island and will soon place that land mass between our position and his. I would fire now and then move quickly off this bearing at high speed. We’ll round that little island ahead, then swing southwest toward that long line of surface contacts. Their noise will mask our position well. In fact, we could get right beneath them and I doubt Kirov could hear us, or find us there, no matter how good their sonar man is.”

The range to target was only 45 kilometers, so they knew they were taking a risk that Kirov could return fire now with her long range Vodopad missile torpedo system. Yet Gromyko was told to stand ready to launch a full missile barrage should that happen, another fifteen P-900s that would mass on the target in reprisal. One of those missiles would carry a nuclear warhead, and both Veter system 20 kiloton warheads would also be fired. They would take no chances that Kirov would survive. The question on everyone’s mind was hinging on Karpov’s response. What would he do?

“Spin up missiles one through sixteen on the P-900 system,” said Gromyko.

“Sir,” said the weapon’s officer, “the number sixteen missile is mounted with a special warhead. Do I include it in this order?” Protocol required that he point this out.

“Confirmed. Missiles one through sixteen,” Gromyko repeated flatly, and Belanov seconded his order immediately.

“P-900 system. Missiles one thru sixteen, aye, sir.”

“ Veter system,” said Gromyko. “Load tubes one and two. RU-100 torpedoes, with special warheads.” He reached for the missile key that dangled from his neck, making his way to the console with Belanov quickly at his side.

“Sir, load RU-100s on tubes one and two; special warheads enabled, aye, aye.”

There was a long moment of tension in the control room, then Gromyko nodded to the communications station. “The floor is yours, Admiral.”

Kirov ran southeast, well ahead of Togo’s converging column. Samsonov had been given the order to open fire with the forward deck guns. As the Captain had not been specific, he was using the 100mm bow gun to range in on the leading ships of Kataoka’s division in the long line of contacts that now presented themselves on his tactical display. The gun fired in three round salvos, with a brief pause between each one while Samsonov refined his radar lock and fed the data to the bigger 152mm deck guns fore and aft. Soon they were making short work of the enemy ships, punishing them severely with their precision radar controlled fire. Kataoka’s leading battleship and flag, Chinyen, was hit three times and already fighting fires, and Kirov was so fast that the enemy could not close the range to answer.

“What is the range?” The Captain was pleased with his results so far as he watched Samsonov target the unwieldy Japanese battleship in the vanguard of the enemy formation.

“About 15,000 meters, sir.”

“Good. Give them a good pounding, Samsonov. Light that one up and let the rest see what’s in store for them. Helm, ten degrees to port. Come to one-four-zero and reduce to twenty knots.”

“Sir, coming around to one-four-zero, aye.”

Chinyen was among the oldest ships in the Japanese fleet, built by Germany in 1882 and sold to China where it deployed as a “turret ship” in the Sino-Japanese war of 1894–1895. Called Zhenyuan at the time, she was damaged at the battle of the Yalu River and transferred to Weihaiwei after repairs where she struck an unseen rock, forcing her Captain to beach the ship to avoid sinking. There she was taken as a prize of war by the Japanese at the battle of Weihaiwei, and after refurbishing, she became the only battleship in the Japanese fleet for a brief time.

Like so many other ships, once the pride of the fleet, she was soon relegated to the status of an obsolete troop escort ship. Togo had reservations about letting her sail at all, but Kataoka had insisted that her four Krupp 12 inch guns would provide much needed firepower for his division. Yet those guns could only elevate thirteen degrees, restricting their range to an anemic 7,200 meters, so Chinyen remained silent as she labored forward at 15 knots, her best speed in the rising swell. The only thing she would end up providing Kataoka would be a harried trip to the salt of the sea.

“Give me a single Moskit-II,” said Karpov. “Blast that lead ship out of the water. That will be the flagship of this squadron.”

Samsonov wasted no time, keying the target and assigning his weapon. The roar of the missile launch followed soon after, devouring the short 15 kilometer range in just 25 seconds from launch to impact. To Kataoka, it seemed like a demon from the deepest hell, howling in at his flagship and smashing the vessel amidships with a terrible explosion and raging fire. As with Tango and Mishima, the missile had barely touched its fuel reserve, yet was hurtling at near Mach 2 speed when it thundered home. Chinyen had a thick shell of 14 inch armor, but at only 7,600 tons she rode very low in the water and the missile struck well above her armor, ravaging the superstructure and burning completely through the ship.

Kataoka was well forward of the impact on the weather deck of the bridge, but the concussion was so severe that he was hurtled off the deck and right into the sea along with several junior officers. When he finally managed to break the surface, clinging to a shattered spit of the ship’s forward mast, he gaped in horror as Chinyen buckled and broke in half, the ship completely gutted by the terrible fire dragon that had devoured it. He would be a long time in the water before being rescued by the destroyer Oboro. In that time his division plowed forward gallantly, the five remaining armored cruisers sailing past the ravaged ship, their crews gasping at the carnage inflicted on their flagship, yet determined to seek vengeance.