Second Chance

Chapter Forty: Reactions

10 Downing Street

London, United Kingdom

25^th September 1940

The flight of German aircraft, a handful of the newer jets and three dozen Messisamitts, roared over the channel, followed by a flight of the new V1s. Before they had crossed over the water the Eurofighters pounced, launching missiles at the jets before closing to cannon range. The Germans fought bravely, launching new unguided missiles in a vain attempt to down a jet before they broke and ran, heading back for Germany. The V1s, primitive cruise missiles, came on, falling to the RAF and the ground-based weapons.

In the war room, Hanover watched as the last V1 vanished from the screen. It had been one of fifty raids, launched since the Japanese had opened hostilities in the Far East, and it was wearing the RAF out. Every time the Germans launched an air raid, the jets on Combat Air Patrol had to intercept, or launch QRA from one of the airbases. The wear and tear on the equipment was staggering; no one had ever expected a war on this scale.

“Major Stirling?” He asked finally. He’d ordered Stirling to brief him in person before he faced Parliament in the afternoon; even through Parliament was acting almost responsibly for the moment. He doubted it would last; only the pressures of a real live war had kept Parliament focused on actually important issues.

“The Australians are taking a beating,” Stirling said, after checking his PDA. “Their navy was salvaged on the first day of the war, and now the Dutch rolled over and surrendered their airfields in the Dutch East Indies, they’re being bombed regularly. For the moment, we’re blocked from sending them aircraft; the Japanese have bombed all of their airfields and are repeating the effort whenever it seems necessary.”

“Bastards,” Hanover commented. “What about the submarines?”

“That’s the good news,” Stirling said. “Trafalgar sank three Japanese cruisers that were going to bombard Darwin and two destroyers. Since then, the Japanese have travelled in convoys through the region. Unfortunately… they’re running out of torpedoes.”

Hanover nodded. “Tell them, if they can, to locate and sink the Japanese carriers,” he said. He scowled. “We’re not used to the fog of war,” he said. “The moment the Japanese break contact, we’re screwed.”

Stirling grinned. “The British Space Centre came up with an idea about that,” he said. “We can get back at least some satellite coverage if we start at once.”

“Marvellous,” Hanover said dryly. “How many of our firstborn do we have to sacrifice?”

“We have some boomers with ICBMs that aren’t doing anything,” Stirling said. He tapped his PDA, transmitting the file to Hanover’s PDA. “The idea was that, in the short term, we rig up a couple of communications and reconnaissance satellites, basic American designs that the ESA stole, and then launch them into space as a temporary measure. In the long term, they recommended developing a space centre in Kenya, using American boosters to launch a proper communications network.”

Hanover smiled. “We need them,” he said. “The submarines are doing a grand job, but they’re not able to find anything below the horizon yet. At this rate, we’ll have to build up in India and crush Japan from there.”

“The battles for Singapore remain undecided,” Stirling said. “The Japanese, we think under General Homma, are still pushing down towards the defence lines, despite the SAS’s interference. They just don’t need as much in the way of supplies than we do. On the other hand, they’re having to divert some of their strength – a lot of their strength – to keep their lines secure. The really bad news is that they’re looting and raping their way south.”

“Bastards,” Hanover said again. “And Burma?”

“There was only a Contemporary battalion there,” Stirling said. “They’ve forced them back, although we slowed them down by taking out the bridges with Harriers from India. Of course, if the Soviets do manage to take Tehran and Iran, they might be in a position to slip a knife in our backs.”

“It’s still too soon to begin flying aircraft from that airbase with the unpronounceable name,” Hanover mused. “Damn it!”

“RAF Habbaniyah,” Stirling supplied. “Ground teams are working there now, and we have a proper forward base in Saudi – which, by the way, is now called the Republic of Arabia. Give us a week and we’ll start hitting their supply lines as well. PJHQ suggested that we could move one of the new Armoured Divisions, 4^th or 5^th, up to Habbaniyah as well; they only have Chieftain tanks, but they’re better than anything the Soviets have.”

“Show me a plan for their deployment,” Hanover said. “We still can’t free up the forces in Britain itself, worse luck.”

Stirling shrugged. Politics was not one of his concerns. “On different news, President Roosevelt seems to be moving ahead of his opponent in the Presidential Race, which is due to happen on 5^th November. The Japanese attack put the wind up a lot of people; particularly with Japanese convoys sailing past the Philippines and attacking islands the Americans warned them to leave alone. On the other hand, there isn’t much support for war, now that the cost of the first Pacific War has sunk in. We might end up with a third Roosevelt administration that doesn’t have a mandate to go to war.”

He displayed a chart. “Polls and political polling are far less reliable here than back in 2015, and they were never that reliable in our time, but a lot of industries are in favour of using the war to hack open our trade routes, and to force forward Latin America, rather than fighting beside us. They’re scared that our technology, which they can’t duplicate, will give us an advantage in trading with the rest of the world, and we’re annoyed some of their oil producers by our actions in Saudi. And, of course, there are the social… uprisings popping up across America – they’re scared.”

“The West Virginia arrives today, doesn’t it?” Hanover said thoughtfully. “A single battleship and the Queen Elizabeth, coming to collect the future Americans.”

Stirling nodded. “Many of them, those who want to return to pre-civil rights America, have signed agreements with various American interests. The Navy and the USAAF, in particular, are very interested – they’ve even agreed to waive all rights to the military material in the country in exchange for dropping the espionage charges.”

Hanover shrugged. He knew, even if Stirling didn’t, that the mobile phone masts provided by Britain possessed hidden systems, ones that did the same trick. “Ah, screw it,” he said thoughtfully. “None of the people who really should have been hauled in front of the EU court have been born yet. We’ll let them go.” He chuckled. “We won’t forget it, of course.”

Stirling coughed. “Some of them, the ones on day release, have been purchasing books and equipment,” he said. “Do we let them take those?”

“They can’t buy anything too important,” Hanover said wryly. “Why not?” He chuckled. “Any final matters?”

“The Australian, General Blamey, believes that the Japanese will descend on Australia itself when they’ve finished with the Dutch East Indies. They want to know if Admiral Turtledove will be diverted, now that the war has begun properly.”

Hanover scowled. “What did Admiral Grisham say?”

“She wanted to brief you in person,” Stirling said. “I think, however, that she had in mind seeking a battle with the forces on hand.” He smiled. “If the Japanese can be tempted into concentrating their forces against our fleet, we could destroy them from long range.”

USS West Virginia

Nr Liverpool, Irish Sea

25^th September 1940

Captain Mervyn Sharp Bennion stared at the aircraft that flew over his ship from time to time, truly believing in the future Britain for the first time. His ship, the West Virginia, had been at Pearl Harbour, but then they’d been summoned back to the United States for a hurried series of refits, and then, instead of going back to Pearl when the Japanese attacked the British, they’d been ordered to the future Britain. Near his battleship, the liner Queen Elizabeth followed; it would provide most of the personnel transportation.

“You were supposed to die at Pearl Harbour,” the Negro Ambassador King had told him, before he returned to his ship. “Perhaps you’ll have better luck in this life.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” The British naval officer, Peter Townsend, said. The officer had come aboard as they’d neared Iceland; the puny-looking ship that had delivered him leaving them shortly afterwards.

“I was wondering why all your ships looked so frail,” he said, leaving behind thoughts of his own death. “That Edinburgh didn’t look as if it could stand up to a line of battle.”

“It couldn’t,” Townsend said. “It’s a difference in design philosophy; after World War Two battleships like this one” – he waved around West Virginia’s dark lines – “were proven obsolete. It was the aircraft carrier that was the new queen of the seas, and submarines as the kings, so units like Edinburgh were built to defend one and hunt the other. If it had to fight your ship at point blank range, I imagine that it would be quickly sunk. Indeed, I believe that Harpoon missiles are being refitted for bunker-busting warheads, which have proven themselves effective against battleships from this era.”

“Then what happens when you face a battleship?” Bennion asked, interest overwhelming his dark thoughts. “Do you get quickly sunk?”

“There are only a handful of battleships in our time,” Townsend said thoughtfully. “There are two American ones on active service, and a Russian ship that is a semi-battleship. I can never remember what happened to that ship, but if we had to fight one, we’d send a submarine or use missiles from long distance.”

Bennion frowned. “So Tojo could send the Yamato around here, move up to the coast, and bombard you?”

“We’d see it coming and the RAF or the Fleet Air Arm would take it out,” Townsend assured him. “The German ships have been sunk, although they’re managing to slip a handful of u-boats through the blockade.” He scowled. “One of our submarines was wreaked; the coast was different in our time and no one thought of that when the Captain decided to slip in closer to Norway and hit an electric u-boat.”

“Shit,” Bennion said. “What happened?”

“Crew rescued, craft destroyed before the Germans could investigate,” Townsend said. “We’re bloody lucky that it wasn’t a nuclear submarine; that would have been a real disaster.” He tapped the side of the battleship. “Some baboon had the idea of building a nuclear-powered battleship, but it was scrapped along with a nuclear-powered aircraft.”

“I think I’ll keep this ship as long as I can,” Bennion said. He waved a hand at the stream of motor launches coming out to meet them. “Is that them?”

Townsend chuckled. “Remember to be polite to them,” he said. “Each of them will end up pulling in more money than you.”

“Humph,” Bennion said. He’d expected it, but it was still astonishing. “They’re mixed together!”

“Black, white, male, female, combinations you’ve never heard of and might not exist in this timeline,” Townsend said. “They’re all equals here; don’t try to treat them as subordinates or you’ll regret it.”

“They wore the blue during the War between the States,” Bennion said absently. “I have no doubt that they’re good Americans.”

“They’re coming back to a land that thinks of them as uppity niggers,” Townsend said. “Oh yes, they’re very good Americans.”

Jock Gordon, liaison officer to the American bases, was astounded to see the American battleship sitting in the middle of the Irish Sea. Liverpool, of course, no longer possessed the facilities to handle a battleship – even though there was an extensive program being carried out to provide a base for the five Contemporary battleships – but he wondered why it could not have come in closer, or for that matter why the Queen Elizabeth could not have come in to the docks. The air was clear, but very cold, and the spray splashed over his body, soaking him.

The Americans grew silent as the battleship, the West Virginia, grew closer. Gordon watched them carefully; a third of the Americans in the country, mainly blacks, had requested asylum; others had requested permission to stay for a while anyway. The Government had granted it, with the exception of a known criminal who would be returned later.

“This is pretty much your last chance to stay here,” he said, as the battleship’s squat form loomed above them, its crew preparing to meet their descendents. The launch bumped against the side of the battleship, the crew attaching lines to allow the packages to be hauled onboard. Gordon shook his head; the Americans had purchased every last history and engineering books in Liverpool, as well as different parts of practical equipment.

“Coming aboard,” he called up, and pulled himself up the rope netting by force of will. It was hazardous; the oily netting was disgusting to the touch, but he made it. “Jock Gordon,” he said, saluting the Captain.

“Captain Bennion,” the Captain replied, returning the salute. “These are the future?”

Gordon smiled as the future Americans came aboard. West Virginia was nowhere near as luxurious as any 2015 naval ship. “These are the ones who wanted to return,” he said. “Take care of them; they’re good people.”

“Don’t worry, we will,” Bennion said. “You should have put them on aircraft.”

“Money talks louder then diplomacy,” Gordon said. “It was a political decision; only a handful of aircraft are in service on the trans-Atlantic run, and they’re needed to supply goods. And then your President was worried about the Germans targeting the crew in particular, so he insisted on a battleship.”

“Personally, I voted for the other guy, last time,” Bennion said. “Still, history says that he’ll make a good wartime President, and everyone knows that the nips are just waiting to kick us in the nuts… we were supposed to deploy to Manila, but we got sent here instead.”

Gordon chuckled. He liked the Captain. “You’ll be sunk quickly,” he said. “Until we kill the Japanese carriers, your ships will be sitting ducks. You’d be better off putting resources into your own carriers and aircraft.”

“Everyone’s an expert on the war,” Bennion said, as the boxes of possessions and books were loaded onboard.

“Everyone’s been studying the war,” Gordon said. “They even took the children back to school to learn about it, just to keep them off the streets. All of histories judgements are known, you know. Of course, most of them were about Nazi mistakes…”

“We made fewer mistakes, then?” Bennion asked wryly. “Give me a couple of hours to learn, and I bet I could improve my ship.”

“Radar, sonar, some decent anti-aircraft guns…” Gordon began. Bennion glared at him. “I know, you want to do it on your own.”

Bennion smiled. “I also want to sail with the tide,” he said. “I don’t have time.”

“I imagine you’ll be back here soon enough,” Gordon said. “Be seeing you.”

“All ahead full,” Bennion commanded, and West Virginia started to move, powering slowly away from England. The warning about different coastlines had alarmed him enough to change the plan slightly; the battleship and the Queen Elizabeth would head south, rather than north. Some of the low-flying helicopters had been alarming – he’d been on the verge of ordering general quarters – but Townsend assured him that they were friendly.

“They’re the press,” he said. “Events like these are considered newsworthy, and now that there is a slight surplus of fuel, they’re allowed to film your ship.”

“I should have had it spruced up,” Bennion commented, as Ireland started to slip away. He gave the correct orders; the course was directly to America. A small launch caught up with the battleship with ease; Townsend’s ride home. The Queen Elizabeth carried no pilot.

“See you next time,” Townsend said, shaking his hand. “Have a nice trip.”

“Bring us up as fast as you can,” Bennion ordered, as soon as the launch had departed. “I want to go home.”

“Aye, sir, the helmsman said, and the ship increased speed. Hours passed as the day darkened, the sun catching up with them, and then… disaster struck. An explosion blasted through the hull of the battleship, shattering the stern of the ship. Bennion was thrown to the deck as the ship shuddered violently, almost breaking up under the impact. He staggered to his feet, the deck shifting under him, to stare out of the porthole at a wrecked ship.

“Get the lifeboats going,” he shouted, knowing that it would probably be futile. The deck shifted again; the ship was beginning to break up. A second explosion ran through the ship as one of the armouries exploded violently, followed by an almighty blast as the Queen Elizabeth blew up. “Get everyone off the ship!”

A third explosion shattered the prow of the ship and Captain Bennion knew no more.

10 Downing Street

London, United Kingdom

25^th September 1940

“Although it’s impossible to be certain, it looks like a torpedo strike,” Townsend said later. He had assumed command of the frantic rescue effort, one that had almost failed. “The four survivors, all shell-shocked, report several explosions; they think that one of the shell bunkers, shells for their main guns, exploded. There were no survivors from the Queen Elizabeth.”

Hanover nodded thoughtfully. “One of the new German torpedoes,” he said. “Didn’t anyone warn Captain Bennion that there were still submarines about?”

“I believe that someone passed on the warning to the Atlantic Fleet, but Captain Bennion was contemptuous of the danger,” McLachlan injected. Townsend looked relieved. “I’ve contacted the new American embassy; they’ve informed President Roosevelt.”

“Thank you, Mr Townsend,” Hanover said. “What happened to the survivors?”

“We flew them to the hospital in Plymouth, where they are being treated,” Townsend said. “They’re burned and injured, but alive. The forces on station will keep searching, but this was a scratch job at the limits of our range, so… we may not find anyone else.”

“Thank you, anyway,” Hanover said. “I’ll put you and your crew down for medals.”

He waited until Townsend had left before continuing. “I wonder how America will react,” he said. “The Germans have sunk an American destroyer before, but this is something bigger, with all their hopes and fears invested within the hull of two ships.”