Tide Of Fortune (Kirov Series Book 20) Page 14

  A virtual flood of cable and signals traffic swamped every telegraph and postal office as people made frantic appeals to relatives overseas. It was war coming, sudden and uninvited, bringing confusion, an erosion of civil order, bank runs, panic buying, and all the unscrupulous corruption these activities were prone to. Yet this was merely the first swells of the storm. The tide of war would bring far more hardship and depravity in the days and months ahead.

  The hardened Japanese troops faced ill equipped Philippine divisions, where some regiments had as little as five weeks training. One even took the field having had no training at all. They knew how to hold and carry their rifles, but not how to use them. Later, in the grueling stand MacArthur would make at Corregidor, many of these same men would fight and die with great valor, but now, they were like so much debris on the beach, swept inland by the rising tide of Japanese fortunes.

  There was an almost comical moment when a call came in to UAAFFE in Manila, informing them of the Japanese landings in the south. It had come from a railroad stationmaster, and is quoted here verbatim:

  “There are four Jap boats in the harbor, sir, and the Japs are landing. What shall I do?”

  The USAFFE Officer replied, "Just hang onto the phone and keep reporting.”

  “There are about twenty Japs ashore already, sir, and more are coming…. Now there are about three hundred Japs outside the station, sir. What am I to do?”

  “Just sit tight.”

  “Sir, a few of those Japs, with an officer in front, are coming over here.”

  “See what they want.” A moment passed…

  “Those Japs want me to give them a train to take them to Manila, sir. What do I do now?”

  “Tell them the next train leaves a week from Sunday. Don't give it to them.”

  “Okay sir.”

  Unfortunately, the Japanese were not about to wait until a week from next Sunday. They were establishing themselves ashore, seizing initial objectives, and pushing on. Soon they would land at Mindanao in the south and at Jolo, two outposts they would use to springboard their attack into Borneo. That was where the real plum was, the resource rich holdings of the Dutch and British oil companies.

  There was oil at Sarawak near Kuching and at Miri near Brunei. There were also fields near Balikpapan, and the large island also afforded them numerous ports and airfields. These were the resources Japan had gone to war for, and they would become the heart of the new Pacific Empire they were striving to extend and build. Yet before that could be attained, the last two hard rocks of Allied resistance would have to be crushed. One would be MacArthur’s stubborn defense, falling back through Manila to the rugged Bataan Peninsula, and the fortified Rock of Corregidor. The other would be the British defense of Singapore. If they could make a skillful withdrawal, Churchill believed they could hold that island outpost, for he had been forewarned by Fedorov of how the Japanese would bluff their way into a victory there that might have been forestalled.

  These battles remained to be fought, and before they would conclude, the brutality of the war would show its ugly face. The troops Japan had assembled for these operations had been combed from the best units in the Army, veteran soldiers with years of hard combat experience. Yet they were also some of the most heartless and brutal troops in the Empire, the men who raped Nanking, and the men who were responsible for the Death March on the Philippines, and many other atrocities.

  No one was spared their spiteful ire. Prisoners received hideous treatment, captured civilian nurses were summarily raped and murdered, some thrown down onto the bodies of the dead patients they had once served for that act of depravity. Prisoners were beheaded, and some suffered an even more bizarre and lingering death, tied down and slowly carved up by their captors, who then literally barbecued their flesh and ate it while the helpless victim watched in utter agony.

  A time would come when the US forces would advance with their own brand of cruelty, burning and blasting their way from one island outpost to another. At the end of Fedorov’s history, the horrors of strategic firebombing and nuclear holocaust would await the proud conquerors that now strode so boldly into the South Pacific. But at this moment, no one could say how it would all play out. For the month of December would soon wear away, and the calendar would slowly turn to a new year, the pivotal months of 1942.

  The war in the Pacific had only just begun.

  Part VI

  Wolf in the Fold

  “The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,

  And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;

  And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea…”

  ― Lord Byron

  Chapter 16

  Another man was going to figure prominently in these events as well, though he should have not have been alive in 1941, for he had not even been born yet. At that moment, he was standing aboard yet another ship that was never supposed to be in this world, his mind running along the fine points of an agenda as long and deep as that of Imperial Japan, and with a sense of his own self-importance to rival that of MacArthur himself—Vladimir Karpov.

  There he stood, commander of the Free Siberian Navy, a single ship at sea now, with four or five destroyers huddled in the icy waters of Magadan back home. Unlike Admiral Decoux, however, he knew exactly how to command his ship, when to turn, when to fire, and his particular competence when it came to the violence of war was also layered with a flair for drama. Karpov had made his statement to Japan, one the ministers in Tokyo literally laughed off when they first received the messages. Japan had stepped boldly onto Siberian territory in 1908, and had kept it under foot ever since. Their Kwantung Army was between the Siberians and the object of their demands, Urajio, old Vladivostok, the war prize they had taken because of Karpov’s last unfortunate sortie in the Sea of Japan.

  Back then, he had faced an experienced and determined Admiral Togo, but the Japanese Navy that now graced the shores of Kure, Sasebo and Yokohama was an enormously enhanced force compared to Togo’s fleet. As reports came in flurries concerning the outcome of the attack on Pearl Harbor, and the progress of the Japanese offensive into Southeast Asia, Karpov’s ultimatum was largely ignored. Fedorov’s assessment had been spot on. There was simply no way they would ever consider handing over Vladivostok as Karpov wanted, nor would they give his demands even passing consideration.

  On one level, Karpov knew that would be the case, but he also knew exactly how he would shake the lapels of the Japanese diplomats and get their attention. Japan’s naval fortunes rested with her carriers. They were her real battle sword in the Pacific, clear and convincing proof that a sea change had swept through naval strategy, and the era of the great battleships was now over. The attack made by the Kido Butai had been largely symbolic of that fact. The loss of those fleet carriers at Midway was the great turning point in the war, one that would have eventually come some other place, with an inevitability that was almost certain, but it came at Midway when four fleet carriers went to the bottom of the sea.

  Now Karpov was considering how to proceed. Fedorov’s course plot had been true, and on the 16th of December, Kirov found itself in a good position to launch helos and hone in on the location of the Kido Butai. It was not long before the Oko panels on the KA-40s found their quarry, about 300 miles north of Wake Island, half way home. The helos had approached to within 300 kilometers using their extended range panels to find the Japanese. While Admiral Nagumo had search planes up, he was not expecting a threat where he was, and even had minimal CAP up over the task force, giving his hard working pilots a good long rest on the journey home.

  Karpov ordered the ship to continue to close, and it wasn’t until late on the 17th of December that his prey was brought within missile range. In many ways, Kirov was like another battlecarrier as it crept up on the Kido Butai. Its missiles were like kamikaze planes to be sent out, sure to hit their targets, but never to return. Yet the longest range missile he had was the P-900, which could get to
targets at a maximum range of 370 kilometers, or about 200 nautical miles. The ship had received better ranged weapons transferred from Kazan at one point in this long saga—but not this ship. Karpov was standing with the hand the ship was dealt when it first arrived, a royal flush in his mind, but it nonetheless had real limitations.

  First off, there were only ten P-900s aboard. His real ship killers, of which he had a generous double order on hand, were the Moskit-II missiles, fast, heavy, but with a maximum strike range of only 222 kilometers, or about 120 nautical miles. Those Japanese carriers had strike planes aboard that could deliver ordnance at better than twice that range, and this meant that Kirov would have to come well within the strike radius of the Kido Butai if it wanted to engage. Kirov’s initial advantage was the sheer shock of a missile attack as it first struck home on his enemy, but both Karpov and Fedorov knew that it would not end there. The Japanese would fight, with a ferocity and tenacity that was unlike any other foe the ship had faced in its long sojourn through time.

  That brought up the question of how to attack, as it was already clear that Karpov was taking the ship to war. He had declared all Japanese shipping found at sea would be deemed hostile, and treated accordingly.

  “You know the drill,” said Karpov. “It’s the old struggle to obtain the first salvo, only in our case, that is now our easy prerogative. The question now is how hard to hit them. A heavy salvo could rain hell upon them, just as they did with the American battleships at Pearl Harbor. But there are other ways to humble an enemy, the slow, measured cut.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” said Fedorov.

  “Perhaps it is something I’ll have to demonstrate rather than explain,” said Karpov. “I suppose I could just get in close and give them the Moskit-IIs. A salvo of six or eight missiles would wreak havoc, would it not?”

  “Given that none of those carriers are heavily armored, I would have to agree,” said Fedorov. “But what about a possible counterstrike? Remember what happened to the battle bridge the last time we faced the Japanese.”

  “That isn’t going to repeat itself,” said Karpov. “First off, I will not be so squeamish in plucking out my enemy’s eyes if he comes looking for us. They aren’t using naval search radar, am I correct?”

  “That was very limited technology at this point in the war,” said Fedorov. “No, they’ll rely on visual search from aircraft.”

  “Exactly, which means I can see those search planes on the Fregat system long before they get anywhere near enough to spot us, and I can shoot them down with our long range S-300s. They’ll hit targets 150 nautical miles out.”

  “We can do that 64 times,” said Fedorov.

  “Yes, I’m well aware of the inventory, and our limitations. This is why I believe I’ll try something a little different here. I could smash them, obliterate them in fact, and that without even thinking about the special warheads we have. The shock of that would be quite daunting.”

  “Yet they endured that at Midway, and still fought on for another three years,” Fedorov warned.

  “Precisely.” Karpov clasped his hands behind his back, thinking. “How to break them psychologically, that is the question.”

  “That won’t be easy, sir.”

  “Nothing about war is ever easy, but I can show them what I’m capable of, and how powerless their vaunted Kido Butai really is, and I think that will be the first lesson here. I addressed the crew this morning, and they are ready. The ship is ready, and so am I.”

  Fedorov noted that Karpov did not ask him to second the decision he was making now. He listened to his Starpom, considered everything Fedorov said, but when it came time to take action, the orders came from Karpov.

  “Mister Samsonov.”

  “Sir?”

  “Please sound battle stations and make two P-900 cruise missiles ready for immediate action. I will want to see your target plot board before we fire.”

  The warning claxon sounded, and everyone on the bridge stiffened, sitting just a little taller in their chairs, eyes fixed on their equipment.

  “Air threat report,” said Karpov, as if running down a checklist in his mind.

  “The screen is clear out to 150 kilometers on the Fregat system,” said Rodenko.

  “Good.” Karpov drifted over to the CIC, his eyes on Samsonov, seeing the big man hunched over his board. His fire control officer had been eager to conduct live fire exercises, though the ship never got that chance before this impossible accident sent them here. He had heard all the rumors at first, then the endless discussions among the junior officers, but Victor Samsonov was a simple man. His world was the ship, which seemed largely unchanged aside from the absence of the Admiral. His universe of understanding was in that CIC, and the weapons and systems at his command there. All he felt now was the jubilation of a warrior about to exercise his deadly craft.

  “Missiles up and target board ready sir!”

  Karpov was hovering over his broad right shoulder now. “filter your data and show me primes.”

  With a flick of a switch, Samsonov told his computers to display the strongest signal returns in the clustered group of some twenty contacts. The structure of the enemy cruising formation was clearly evident when the system processed the data, and then drew out the equivalent of a map on another screen. By analyzing that data over time, noting air blips rising from signal points, it was possible to determine which contact was a carrier. One strong signal was well out in front, surrounded by a cluster of smaller contacts. Karpov took it to be one of the fast battleships that had accompanied the force, and immediately discarded it as a first strike target.

  “This is interesting,” he said, looking Fedorov’s way. “I thought there were six Japanese carriers in this operation.”

  “Remember that Nikolin picked up orders for the Kaga to detach to Kwajalein,” said Fedorov.

  “Yes, but that should leave five here. I see only three primary contacts, if I’m correct in assuming this one here is a battleship.”

  Fedorov came over, noting the target board with a knowing glance. “Wake Island,” he said quietly. “It’s amazing how the history rings so true in places, in spite of all the changes. In our history, the Japanese detached Carrier Division 2 to support the attack on the American outpost at Wake, along with the heavy cruisers Tone and Chikuma. If this remains true, then those three contacts would be the Akagi, the fleet flagship, and then the two newest carriers, Zuikaku and Shokaku in Carrier Division 5 following.”

  “Excellent,” said Karpov. “Here,” he pointed to the carrier leading this group of three. I want a P-900 right there. Mister Samsonov.”

  “You’re going to hit the Akagi?”

  Karpov looked at him. “You would prefer another target, Mister Fedorov?”

  “It’s not a question of ships in my mind now sir. It’s the men aboard them. That is Admiral Nagumo’s flagship, and he is a very significant player in the opening game of this war. After replenishing in our history, he attacked the Australian Port Darwin, mounted a daring Indian Ocean raid, and then moved on to meet his doom at Midway. Suppose he were wounded or killed? That could have a significant effect.”

  “Of course it would, but I am not ready to try and sort out all the possible consequences each time I fire. You are still looking over your shoulder, Fedorov. We are not sifting through the old history now, except as a possible intelligence source. Here we write all new history. Nagumo went to war taking the same risk any man does when he picks up a weapon. So fate will just have to throw the dice in his regard. That is not my concern. Mister Samsonov?”

  “Keying target sir…. Missiles 09 and 08 ready to fire.” Karpov noted that Samsonov carefully started with missile nine, as number ten was in a special silo used for the mounting of an equally special warhead. He had not given that order, and all those weapons were stowed in Martinov’s larders below in the armory, but that missile would be the last to fire in the event it was ever tapped for special duty.

 
; “I like that,” said Karpov. “Yes, always affix a numerical suffix to each missile we fire. It will help me track our inventory. Very well, Mister Samsonov, sound your missile fire warning, and commence.”

  * * *

  Admiral Nagumo did not yet know it, but a large and powerful wolf was stalking his fold. He was standing on the bridge of Akagi, just having finished a discussion with Captain Kiichi Hasegawa concerning the Wake Island detachment. The two carriers they had sent south to bolster the attack on the American held Wake Island were well on their way, and should be reporting in soon. The history had indeed reflected back with great integrity here, with one small change. This time Nagumo had sent Carrier Division 5 south, largely because it had been at the back of his cruising order, and was easier to move. That meant he had Carrier Division 2 in tow now, with Hiryu and Soryu.

  From all reports the enemy garrison on Wake was putting up a stubborn fight. The initial landings had been repulsed, with the loss of a destroyer, and a little more air power was needed to soften the island defenses up, along with a promise that the Japanese would be back soon to knock a little harder on Wake’s door.

  It was a little after 15:00 when the radio man came in with a report from a search plane of a strange contrail in the sky, aimed directly at the task force.

  “What is this supposed to mean?” he handed the report to the Captain. “A fast moving vapor trail?”

  The Captain frowned at the paper, but at that moment a bell rang and the upper watch was reporting verbally that something was in the sky to the north. Nagumo considered the possibilities quickly. The only land mass that could have launched an aircraft was Wake Island to the south. What would be coming out of the north? Could one of the American carriers have been so bold as to follow them? Surely his search planes would have spotted such a task force creeping up, but he had not paid much attention to the northern flank. He had three fighters up on cap, with three more on the decks of his three carriers ready for immediate launch. He had it in mind to have his Air Commander, Masudo Shogo, vector in one of those fighters for a look, until he saw what the watchmen were reporting with his own eyes.