Second Chance

Chapter Forty-Two: Engage the Enemy More Closely

HIMS Yamato

Japan

29^th September 1940

Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, Commander-In-Chief of the Japanese Combined Fleet, allowed himself a sigh of relief. Whatever the crazy Germans had done, they hadn’t provoked the Americans into declaring war on Japan. Despite some desperate prompting by the China Lobby, the much-divided Congress had clearly decided that one war was enough.

“We were lucky,” he remarked to Genda, who was giving him the reports from the battlefront near the Dutch East Indies. “And now its all the more important to bring the war to a close – quickly, before Roosevelt manages to get America involved with us.”

“That won’t be possible until after we invade Australia and India,” Genda said. “Once we complete the campaign in Singapore and the Dutch East Indies, we can land on Australia.”

“If we can put together a force that those damned invisible submarines won’t dare to attack,” Yamamoto snapped. Naval Intelligence believed that there were only three submarines at most, operating near Australia. So far, no really large force had been attacked – but two destroyers had been lost trying to sink one. Japanese submarines were operating near India, but they simply weren’t having as much success as they could have been.

“We mass troops and supplies on the Indies,” Genda said. He waved a hand at the map. “General Homma believes that they can be occupied within a week, perhaps two weeks. With some luck, we might be able to manage an invasion of Australia within a month.”

“We’ll be lucky,” Yamamoto snarled. “That idiot Yamashita is taking his time marching down to the Singapore Island and the naval base there. We should just deploy a holding force and send the battleships in to reduce the base.”

“I believe that Yamashita is planning to do just that,” Genda assured him. “However, one of our sources in South Africa sent us something very interesting, and it was confirmed by sources in Australia.”

Yamamoto lifted an eyebrow, feeling his missing fingers twinge. “The British reinforcements?”

“Indeed,” Genda said. “Nearly fifty ships, heading to Australia, carrying supplies that would make the invasion far more difficult.” He smiled. “And, sir, we know their course.”

Yamamoto felt real hope for the first time since learning of the American declaration of war on Germany. “We can assemble the fleet and destroy them,” he said, running through what he’d learned of the British weapons. “We can swarm them under by sheer numbers of aircraft.”

Genda bowed. “Hai,” he said. “From reports, none of their ships carry much in the way of their jet fighters; their carriers are barely comparable to the Shoho in striking power. The real danger comes from their missiles, and they have to run out of them in a hurry.”

Yamamoto nodded thoughtfully. “From what the Germans said, their ships had to be struck directly to penetrate the armour, and if the fleet moves quickly, we might escape strikes against the battleline. The carriers, on the other hand, will be very vulnerable, so the carriers will remain behind while the battleships steam forwards, presenting a threat they cannot ignore.”

If Genda had concerns about risking the battleline to save the carriers, he didn’t show it. “Once the battleships get to gun range, they’ll savage the enemy force,” he said. “Their armour is almost non-existent.”

“Have an operational plan drawn up,” Yamamoto said. “I’ll take it to the War Cabinet and get their approval, and then we can start massing the fleet.” He allowed himself a minute to consider. “Leave behind the two oldest ships,” he said. “Admiral Nagumo can use them at Singapore. The others can rendezvous in the ocean wastes past the Indies well away from land, and then prepare for interception. Ozawa and Kurita can command their respective departments.”

“Yes, sir,” Genda said. “I’ll start preparing the plan at once.”

Indian Ocean

3^rd October 1940

Admiral Turtledove paced the bridge of his ship, the carrier Ark Royal II. He knew it suggested uncertainty, or even weakness, but he was nervous and aware of his nervousness. The crew were nervous too, even though they hid it under their professionalism. There had been no attempt to hide the presence of the fleet, rather than opposite, and the detection of a Japanese submarine had confirmed that the enemy knew where they were.

“We just picked up a primitive burst transmission,” the EMCOM officer, Tom Landshark, reported. “Very primitive; only code words rather than compression.”

“They haven’t invented computer compression yet,” Captain Rama pointed out. “What does it say?”

“Cryptanalysis isn’t certain,” Landshark admitted. “It’s just a selection of words from a one-time pad.”

“It’s a contact report,” Admiral Turtledove commented. He glanced down at the display; the carrier’s Sea King helicopters were spread out, probing for enemy ships and transmissions. He glared across at a freighter, stacked with hastily-mounted machine guns tied into the point defence network; the AWACS it carried could have settled the debate in a moment. Somewhere over the horizon, the Japanese fleet was gathering…

I should never have agreed to this, he thought grimly, as the fleet moved to general quarters. The Japanese would know about the vulnerability of his thin-skinned units to kamikaze attacks, or to battleship shells. If they somehow managed to spoof the radar…

He shook his head. Don’t be stupid, he thought angrily. The Japanese can’t possibly spoof all the radars on the task force. “Commander, has the Chatham located the enemy submarine?”

“Yes, sir,” Commander Bluebottle said. “It’s trying to follow us and falling behind. We’ll have lost it completely in a couple of ours, unless we slow down.”

Every war fighting instinct in Turtledove’s body called out for the imprudent submarine to be sunk. “Order the Chatham to keep an eye and a torpedo locked on the submarine,” he said finally. “If it attempts to manoeuvre into a firing position, the Chatham is to fire at once.”

“Aye, aye sir,” Commander Bluebottle said.

Captain Rama smiled. “So, who do you think would win out of a world war two grudge match?”

Turtledove blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You have a contest between the five world leaders; Churchill, Stalin, FDR, Hitler, Mussolini and Emperor Hirohito,” Captain Rama said. “All go in, unarmed; one comes out.”

“That’s a bloody silly death match,” Turtledove snapped, even though he understood that it reduced the tension on the ship. “And besides… that’s six world leaders.”

“Sue me,” Captain Rama smiled. “Ever since that woman started broadcasting from Germany, this has become a hot issue at the bookies.”

Turtledove smiled. “Well, Roosevelt is on a wheelchair, so he’s out quickly. Mussolini and the Japanese Emperor would be next – coming to think of it, where is the fat tub of lard these days?”

“Pretending he still rules Italy,” Rama said.

“I can’t remember if Stalin had any military experience, so he and Churchill might be out next,” Turtledove said. “Hitler had experience, but he wasn’t very healthy, but nor was Churchill at the time.” He hesitated. “Captain, do you think that 1940s Britain is back in our place?”

“Shit, the French would just take over,” Rama said grimly. “I can’t see them passing up the opportunity to…”

“Sir, the Trafalgar reports that it’s found the Japanese fleet,” Commander Bluebottle interrupted. “We’re vectoring a Sea King in to confirm the discovery, some four hundred kilometres from us.”

“Beat to quarters,” Turtledove ordered sharply. “Transmit the message to the fleet; Britain expects that every man will do his duty.”

“Aye, sir,” Captain Rama said. “Shall I order a drone launched?”

Turtledove nodded. “Order the submarines to move towards the Japanese ships,” he said. “Stand by all air defences; stand by Harriers for launch.”

“All ships report ready,” Commander Bluebottle said. “The fleet is fully at your command.”

Roughly four hundred kilometres to the north, Admiral Ozawa nodded as his men decrypted the sighting report. Seconds later, one of the tiny picket ships reported one of the helicopters flying high above the water, heading towards the fleet.

“They’ve seen us,” he said. He’d hoped that he could sneak closer before launching the attack, but the British had managed to locate them, perhaps with their marvellous radar. He’d kept his aircraft on the carrier decks, just to make certain that they presented a low profile, but there was no longer any need to hide.

He looked ahead, at Admiral Kurita’s battleline as it began to pick up speed, heading for a surface engagement, and gave the order he knew his crew had been waiting for. “Launch aircraft,” he said, and the four fleet carriers turned into the wind. Minutes later, Zero fighters, Nakajima torpedo-bombers and scout planes started to rise into the air, some taking on CAP, others heading towards the British fleet. Nearly three hundred aircraft; surely enough to soak up British missile fire and reach their targets.

“Launch Harriers,” Admiral Turtledove ordered, as the scope of the Japanese attack became clear. The entire British air contingent would be outnumbered; only fifty Harriers and Sea Harriers had been stuffed onboard the various craft, from the Ark Royal itself, the Marine Transport ship and the three adapted freighters.

“The drone reports four Japanese fleet carriers and two adapted transports,” Commander Bluebottle said calmly. Captain Rama was issuing orders as Ark Royal flash-deployed her aircraft, launching the AEW helicopters and the ASW helicopters.”

“Designate them for Tomahawk strikes from the frigates and destroyers,” Admiral Turtledove said. “Order the Chatham to hit that submarine; any Japanese submarines are to be sunk without warning.”

“Aye, sir,” Bluebottle said. In the distance, a burst of water blasted up from the surface as a Japanese submarine died. A console bleeped. “Sir, they just killed the AEW helicopter.”

“Noted,” Turtledove said. “Time for the drone to be on station?”

“Five minutes,” Bluebottle said. “Shall I order the strikes on the battleships as well?”

Turtledove shook his head. “Carriers first,” he said, as the tenor of the alarm changed. He looked up again; a swarm of Japanese aircraft could be seen in the distance. “Clear to engage.”

“I think they’re the Akagi, Kaga, Soryu and Hiryu,” Bluebottle said. “They were in service at the time; the other big carriers will be being worked up at the moment. They were all sunk at Midway.”

“Let’s sink them earlier then,” Turtledove said, as the flight of Japanese aircraft bore down on the fleet.

Squadron Leader Sato smiled as his force bore down on the British fleet. He could see it in the distance; around forty ships, shimmering in the sunlight. There were two carriers, but neither of them seemed likely to carry enough aircraft to pose a threat. He blinked; there were no aircraft, apart from the strange whirly-bird craft like the one they’d shot down on their march to the enemy fleet.

A streak of fire shot past him and slammed into a Nakajima torpedo-bomber. He blinked and looked upwards; enemy aircraft were coming out of the sun. As they flashed closer, his first inclination was to laugh, until he realised how much damage his force had taken. He’d commanded a flight of twelve Zeros; half of them had been wiped out by the strange weapons.

He muttered a command into his radio and yanked his plane sideways as a streak of tracer fire screamed past him. One of the strange aircraft had targeted him, bumping and weaving as it spun around in the air. It was amazingly manoeuvrable, Sato realised as he forced his Zero though a series of spins and turns, trying to hit it with his own weapons. The attack seemed to have continued anyway; the Nakajima torpedo-bombers were launching strikes… and they were dropping like flies. He drew a bead on the tail of the strange aircraft, and then it spun around, nearly ramming him in midair.

He fired as it swooped past and hit it, hit something. It retreated, leaving a trail of smoke, and he looked down. For a long moment, he thought that the Nakajima torpedo-bombers had scored spectacular successes, and then he realised that he was looking at some kind of anti-aircraft fire. A handful of torpedoes were in the water, closing in on the enemy ships… he saw one explode in a blast of fire, and then a hail of shells blasted through his Zero, scattering his remains onto the sea.

The frigate exploded in a blast of fire as a Nakajima torpedo-bomber rammed directly into the structure. Admiral Turtledove cursed; the Japanese aircraft were dropping like flies, but the rest were learning. Some daring pilots had realised that the machine guns, radar-guided through they were, couldn’t depress too low for fear of hitting their own ships, and were flying in low. The Sea Harriers picked them off, but not before they got their torpedoes off.

“Ocean’s been hit,” Bluebottle muttered. “Captain Anchovy thinks it’ll be fine, but wants SAR on standby to recover his crew.”

“Make it so,” Turtledove muttered. “What about the drone?”

“Getting real-time coverage now,” Bluebottle said. “It’s the Akagi, Kaga, Soryu and Hiryu all right; we don’t recognise the converted transports. The battleships are still oncoming; they’ll be on us in around ten minutes.”

Ark Royal shuddered violently. “That was a kamikaze,” Captain Rama snapped. “Bastard struck the side of the hull.”

“They’re concentrating on the carriers,” Bluebottle said grimly.

“Order the frigates to begin rapid-fire of Tomahawks,” Turtledove said grimly. “We have to finish this quickly” – another ship exploded – “before we end up wishing we’d lost instead of won.”

The Type-45 destroyers hadn’t been originally intended to take on an anti-ship role, but experience had shown the Royal Navy that they couldn’t count on receiving the new carriers in time for the next war – as indeed they hadn’t. Daring and Dauntless, armed with Harpoon missiles, constituted a sizeable portion of the task force’s striking power.

“I see no need to waste missiles, not with those big battlewagons closing in on us,” Captain McTavish of the Daring said. “Designate one missile for each carrier; three from us and three from the losers.”

There were a few chuckles; the Daring’s crew had an ongoing football game with the Dauntless’s crew, and they’d won the last two matches. “Missiles locked, sir,” the weapons officer said. “We can fire upon your command.”

Captain McTavish paused to savour the moment. “Fire,” he said. A streak of fire blasted away from Daring’s deck, followed by two more. Behind them, Dauntless launched its own missiles. Flight time would be measured in seconds.

The missiles had been programmed to execute a dive-bomb attack pattern and fitted with warheads designed to blow open bunkers. Travelling at supersonic speeds, they were high over the Japanese ships before the warning could even be passed by the handful of remaining aircraft, many of whom were launching last-ditch attacks or retreating.

Akagi was struck in the centre of her unusual flight deck. Ironically, the missile slammed right through the ship and detonated just under the vessel, but it made no difference. The explosion tore a massive rent in the hull of the carrier, ripping it apart. She was the luckiest ship – some of her crew survived – the other carriers died within seconds as their warheads detonated inside the hulls, igniting their stores of aircraft fuel, and blowing them out of the water.

Blood streaming from a wound to the head, Admiral Ozawa gave the order to abandon ship. Saluting the flag, he prepared to go down with his ship as she sank under the waves. There was no hope of salvaging the ship; that was clear from the damage to the flight deck. Admiral Ozawa murmured a prayer as the waters closed over his head, and died.

Admiral Turtledove took a breath as the final Japanese aircraft died. For the moment, the fleet was in clear waters; the recording of the final moments of the Japanese carriers was playing on the screen.

“Report,” he said finally. “Captain?”

“We took a kamikaze to the prow,” Captain Rama said. “I think it was a Zero; no bomb detonated. Nothing a few days of repairs can’t cure.”

“And the fleet?” Turtledove asked, turning to Bluebottle.

“We lost seven ships; three destroyers and four freighters,” Bluebottle said. “Fourteen Harriers have been lost; two beacons have been activated and SAR helicopters are on their way. Twelve more ships, including Ark Royal and Ocean, have been damaged; Ocean cannot recover aircraft.” He winced. “Fortunately, we can land them on the freighters or Ark Royal.”

He smiled wanly. “On the other hand, we sunk six carriers, three submarines, and wiped out the cream of the Japanese carrier air force,” he continued. “A victory by anyone’s standards.”

“Let’s hope the Japanese agree,” Turtledove said. “Where are their battlewagons?”

Bluebottle glanced at the display. “Uh-oh,” he said. Turtledove lifted an eyebrow. “They’re not giving up,” Bluebottle said. “They’re still coming; around ten minutes until they get into gun range.”

Turtledove winced again. “Order the Lynx Helicopters to attack, with anti-shipping missiles,” he said. The Lynx helicopters had been ordered to orbit outside the Japanese range. “Then order Daring and Dauntless to take out the lead battleship; perhaps the others will get the message.”

He looked down at the fleet display, building up a picture of the damage to his fleet. “And perhaps we ought to get moving,” he said. “Order the submarines to attack as well; we need time and space.”

The mood on the bridge was sombre. “Aye, aye, sir,” Captain Rama said.

Admiral Takeo Kurita felt fear gnawing at his insides, even as he ordered the six battleships to move forward faster and faster. He hadn’t expected the command – not after being blamed for losing the war the first time around – and he had a sneaking suspicion that the High Command regarded him as expendable. The six battleships, Haruna, Hiei, Kirishima, Kongo, Hyuga and Ise, were all older designs, not fit to engage aircraft carriers.

Admiral Ozawa was in command, Yamamoto had told him, but Admiral Ozawa was dead. The miracle weapons had screamed over the decks of his battleships, heading for the carriers, and before he could transmit a warning they struck. The ships that had escorted Admiral Ozawa were trying to rescue the crews, but it seemed that three complements had been wiped out in seconds. Although he would never admit it, Kurita was scared.

“Incoming aircraft,” an officer said. Kurita looked up to see the strange… helicopters swooping down on the battleline, launching missiles and aiming at the hull. He winced as the missiles slammed into the side of the ship, and then he opened his eyes, realising that he’d expected death.

“They didn’t penetrate the main hull,” Captain Harkada said in sudden delight. Kurita allowed himself a smile. The helicopters fired again, targeting the superstructure of Hyuga, which started to burn. “Hyuga’s been hit, Admiral.”

“The bridge is still intact,” Lieutenant Makako said. “Admiral, they can’t hurt us!”

Under other circumstances, Kurita would have disciplined the young officer, perhaps even beheaded him with his ceremonial sword. “It seems not, no,” he said. “How long until we enter firing range?”

“Two minutes, Admiral,” Lieutenant Makako said.

“Commence firing as soon as we enter firing range,” Kurita said. “We have the lives of our comrades to avenge.”

The superstructure of the Japanese ship burnt, but it refused to slow. A series of explosions tore one battleship apart as Trafalgar made its presence known, but the others refused to run. Instead, they were closing in on the British fleet.

“They’re firing,” Captain Rama said. “Their shells are large enough for the close-in systems to engage.” Explosions began to sparkle in the air; water billowed up near the fleet. “They’re firing at extreme range without any radar.”

“I can program the firing computers only to engage shells that will come too close to our ships,” Lieutenant Payton said. Her fingers danced over the keyboard. “Done, I think.”

“You’re about to be promoted or killed,” Turtledove said. Another Japanese battleship seemed to slow, spinning in circles. “What happened to that one?”

“Trafalgar hit its propellers,” Bluebottle said. “UHF telemetry warns that they’re running out of torpedoes.”

“These blasted things must have a weakness,” Turtledove snapped. Another fountain of water blasted up. “Look the ships up in the cached Wikipedia; how were they sunk the first time around?”

“Ha,” Turtledove said, after a long moment. “Sir, some of the ships – I think they’re the same class – have weaker side armour. Perhaps a Tomahawk or a Harpoon…”

Turtledove looked up. The shape of the battleships, burning but unbowed, could be seen in the distance. “Order Daring and Dauntless to engage,” he said.

“These are our last missiles,” Captain McTavish said. “Make them count.”

“Targets locked,” the weapons officer said. “Ready to fire.”

“Fire,” Captain McTavish ordered.

Twin explosions billowed on the side of Hiei and Kirishima. The battleships healed over as the warheads detonated inside their hulls, blasting the ships apart. The explosions blasted chunks of metal into the air, showing the other ships with debris, and Admiral Kurita lost his nerve.

“Order a withdrawal,” he said, as calmly as he could. “We can’t hit them and I won’t waste battleships for nothing.” He scowled; three battleships had been lost, and one more would be because it could no longer steer. “Ise will cover our retreat. There’ll be another day.”

“There are no more Harpoons left,” Bluebottle said. “We’ve still got the Tomahawks…”

“Sir, they’re withdrawing,” Captain Rama said. “They’re bugging out.”

Turtledove stared down at the drone’s report. The ships that had escorted the carriers were leaving, joining up with the remains of the battleline and heading north, away from the British fleet.

“Sir, we can still engage them,” Bluebottle said, quietly. “We still have Tomahawks, and we can fit the Harriers with anti-ship missiles.”

Turtledove shook his head. “Order Trafalgar to finish off that ship,” he said, waving a hand at the crippled Japanese battleship, still firing madly whenever it entered firing position. “Other than that… I think we’ve pushed our luck too far for one day.” He stood up. “Captain, Commander, secure from general quarters. I’m going to report to London; a report that won’t get us all shot.”

“Admiral, you just won the greatest battle since the Second World War,” Bluebottle said wryly. “Oh, right.”

“Get some sleep,” Turtledove said. “We all need sleep; that joke seemed funny for a while.”