1943 (Kirov Series Book 27) Read online

  Soryu was still operational, and Akagi unscathed, but they could not get enough planes up to matter against the US defense. The inverse, however, would not be true. Halsey had been appalled at the losses, but was determined to throw everything he had left at the enemy for one more strike. He would turn over 29 Dauntless dive bombers, 17 Avengers and a light escort of 13 Hellcats, and with the enemy defense scattered, they managed to hit the Cruiser Maya and put one 500-pound bomb on the Soryu. Yamamoto’s second wave again came up empty handed, and that was to be the battle.

  The Admiral conferred with Ugaki after the last of the American planes had been beaten off a little after 03:30. “We have taken hits, but what is wrong with our pilots today?”

  “The weather,” said Ugaki. “Many of the squadrons were unable to find the target, and two could not even find their fighter escorts. Those that did attack reported much stronger defenses over the American fleet, and very thick flak. They have a new fighter, and it is very good. And they are learning, but do not be overly concerned. The damage to Kaga and Soryu is not as bad as it might appear. Neither ship is in any danger of sinking.”

  “Unfortunately, the damage to our squadrons is what I now worry about,” said Yamamoto. “Kaga reports the fires will prevent operations for at least another two to three hours, and we do not have enough strike planes left to stay here and continue the fight. I must order this Division back to Rabaul at once.”

  “But what about Hara? He still has four carriers to the north.”

  “They may continue south, but their first priority will be to cover our division as it moves to Rabaul. I cannot allow the enemy to find and strike this task force again.”

  “But sir, the enemy has also suffered. The last wave reported that enemy fighter screens were much lighter.”

  “Did they report any hits on the American carriers?”

  Ugaki was silent, seeing that a sullen expression had settled on the Admiral. “We should have waited for Hara to close up before we attacked, but that would have meant we had to forfeit the advantage of striking the first blow. Unfortunately, we did not hurt our enemy today, and there were reports of at least four other enemy carriers that have still not been engaged. No. This battle is over. I will move to Rabaul and concentrate on getting Kaga and Soryu back in fighting trim as soon as possible. Hara will not be permitted to face the entire American fleet alone. Order him to follow us once we get northwest of his position.”

  “What about the Kawaguchi Detachment from Noumea?”

  “Has it landed at Nandi?”

  “It was completing unloading operations an hour ago,” said Ugaki.

  “Then get those transports back to Noumea, but they should travel well south. We will not be here to contest or cover the normal transit route from Noumea to Fiji.”

  Ugaki had a very frustrated feeling, for it was obvious that they had suffered a setback here, though he would not allow himself to speak the word defeat. What if the enemy remained on station, he thought? That would allow them to claim a victory here, though Yamamoto is taking great pains to see to the safety of those two wounded carriers out there. He knows the future war effort depends on them.

  “Very well,” he said. “I will see Hara receives the proper orders. At least our intended objectives were fulfilled here. We struck the American airfield at Ndeni as planned, and successfully covered the transport of Kawaguchi’s troops to Fiji.”

  “Yes,” said Yamamoto, “and now I wonder how soon it will be before we begin planning their withdrawal.”

  There was an uncomfortable interval, for the Admiral had used a word seldom spoken by the Japanese. They had no word for retreat, though it was clear that Yamamoto was not speaking of a redeployment. He meant what he had said.

  “Withdrawal? I can see the wisdom in protecting our carriers now,” said Ugaki, “but the issue on Fiji is far from being settled.”

  “Is it?” said Yamamoto. “Kawaguchi’s troops were intended to bolster the garrison on New Caledonia. The Army already has two of its best divisions at Viti Levu, but they still need reinforcements. MacArthur has assumed command of those operations, and the Americans now have three divisions in the Fiji group. Who knows when they will bring more troops to that battle. And let us not forget that these divisions relieved their Marines, and they will still have those troops in reserve. Quite frankly, I believe Operation FS has already failed.”

  “What?” Ugaki was not willing to concede that, or even seriously contemplate it. “With Kawaguchi’s troops landed on Viti Levu, the Army should be able to counterattack.”

  “Do not humor me, Admiral,” said Yamamoto. “I have read the reports of the ground action there. Our airfield at Tavua is already under enemy artillery fire, and they also managed to flank that position through the highlands to attack the field at M’ba. This leaves us with only one operational airfield at Nandi, and intelligence reports that the Americans have three good airfields operational—two of them on Vanua Levu where we have not landed a single soldier. They have over 100 fighters over those islands now, and how many planes are left at Nandi?”

  Ugaki knew the answer to that, but said nothing. When the US Carriers moved in, Ugaki had ordered their better Zero Squadrons to move to Noumea. Now there was only a small group of fighters left at Nandi, and they were mostly flying the obsolete AM5s. All the D3As that had been based there were pulled off—just a few planes that remained after trying to get at Suva through those thick American fighter patrols.

  Yamamoto had put his finger squarely on the real wound that was promising to be fatal where Fiji was concerned. The Americans had control of the airspace over those islands, and only the arrival of the IJN carriers could contest it. That move had just been checked and repulsed by the American fleet, and both men knew what this meant. Yamamoto was willing to voice it, Ugaki was not, but he understood, deep down, the truth in what his commanding officer was saying.

  “We are overextended,” said Yamamoto. “It will now become a question of whether or not we can continue to sustain the army troops already committed to the Fiji operation. The Army is already complaining that we have not sent our battleships to pound the enemy airfield at Suva. Soon they will have much more to complain about.”

  “Then we must order our fighter squadrons back to Nandi.”

  “Should we? How many landed safely at Noumea? The report I read stated that no more than eighteen planes remain in that group. Where will we find the planes to contest the numbers the Americans now have?”

  “We have two squadrons at Tulagi—eighteen more planes there. And there is another squadron at Buin that could be moved.”

  “That would make 45 planes,” said Yamamoto, “half as many as the Americans are reported to have.”

  “We have three more squadrons at Rabaul.”

  “True, but have you tallied our losses? Those planes will be needed to fill out the squadrons on our carriers. I do not mean to sound like a defeatist, but we must be very cautious now. We were lucky there was not more damage done to our ships, but we must also rebuild our strike squadrons. Those planes are in very short supply. We have plenty of Zeroes at Truk, but very few strike planes in reserve.”

  “There is a big group of D3As at Koepang on Timor. They were sent there to make sure the Allies could not reach Darwin from the Indian Ocean through the Timor Sea. We could transfer them to Combined Fleet.”

  “That is a good start,” said Yamamoto, but Timor is nearly 2000 air miles from Rabaul.”

  “I will handle the transfer,” said Ugaki. “They can move to Amboina first, then make the jump to New Guinea.”

  “But we have not developed many airfields along the east coast of that island.”

  “The field at Hollandia is sufficient, and then they can move to Lae.”

  “Lae? Saburo Saki called that airstrip nothing more than a glorified mud hole. He told me the fighters there were losing planes to accidents on landing during training runs, which is why we ordered all those plan
es to Port Moresby, Buin, and Tulagi.”

  “Correct, but we could simply send one of the carriers north to hover off Hollandia and pick up these planes.”

  It was evident to both men that the logistics of rebuilding the shattered strike wings would now take some careful planning if the Kido Butai were to remain a potent force. All of Hara’s strike planes were in good shape, but those of Carrier Division 1 had been badly depleted. When the fires prevented Kaga from recovering her strike wave, she turned northwest with no more than six planes.

  The grim reality that both men were now facing was the dwindling numbers of planes and carrier trained pilots. A third of the superb force Japan had opened the war with were now dead. Even the planes Ugaki was thinking to transfer from Timor were second line pilots, with very good morale but only modest combat experience. The great shock of this action had been the fact that the Americans had so quickly replaced their losses, clotting the skies with new planes and pilots at an alarming rate. Yamamoto knew that Japan could never hope to match the tremendous industrial production of the U.S.

  As for Operation FS, the Army was in the Fiji Group for one reason, to build or control airfields that could insure control of the airspace around those islands. This had already failed, as Yamamoto clearly pointed out. The carriers the Admiral was so carefully husbanding now existed for only one purpose, to bring aircraft to a given place and control airspace, and to deny that to the enemy by attacking their carriers. It was all about the planes. None of the garrisons on any of the islands that had been seized mattered. It was all about the airfields those islands could provide.

  “Get me hard numbers on planes remaining at sea,” said Yamamoto. “Then start looking for replacements. If necessary, we can recall the Ozawa group from Singapore, and the two light carriers we left at Sasebo. I will want your report before we reach Rabaul.”

  Ugaki’s pencil would be very busy the next two days, and it was grim reckoning. As he tallied things up, he was slowly beginning to see the shadow that had darkened Yamamoto’s vision, and the reason for his caution. Hara was in good shape with 180 planes, but Carrier Division 1 had been reduced to 71. He looked all over the South Pacific, slowly finding and transferring planes to Navy command. There were those 32 D3As from Timor, 22 more in Saigon, 9 in Manila, 14 at Kobe with another 13 B5Ns. That was 90 more strike planes, enough to restore the Kido Butai to near full strength, but there was almost nothing left behind them. Another battle like the one just fought would leave the Navy woefully short of striking power, or so he now believed.

  Here I am scrounging for planes, he thought bitterly, and all to replace aircraft that these strangers from another time boasted they would protect. Now where is that damn picket ship, he wondered? Yamamoto should not have detached that ship as he did. It was too far north to be of any use today. But it was just a single ship, and how many of those rockets remain? I will have to ask that question as well, as I am sure the Admiral will want to know.

  He reached for his code book, still getting used to the new cyphers that had been instituted at the urging of the interlopers aboard Takami. Minutes later he had drafted a special message to the Chief of the Imperial Naval General Staff, Admiral Osami Nagano. He was the one man senior to Yamamoto, and the only man who could authorize what he was now requesting—the Shadow Fleet.

  Part VI

  Shadow Fleet

  “The fiercest serpent may be overcome by a swarm of ants.”

  — Admiral Isokoru Yamamoto

  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 nati
ons 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.