Tide Of Fortune (Kirov Series Book 20) Page 8

  “He was very cautious here, was he not?”

  “Quite so, sir.”

  “So there was no third strike against Pearl Harbor?”

  “No sir, that carrier action preempted any possibility of that happening. We have identified at least two strike waves against the harbor, but we don’t really know the extent of the damage there, except to capital ships. Historically, 21 of 96 vessels in the harbor were hit, but only a dozen took enough damage to put them out of action, and then for no more than a few months. Yes, it was a hard blow, but most of the battleships were re-floated and repaired fairly soon. Also, it now appears that two of the permanent losses, Arizona and Oklahoma, survived. So this wasn’t the knockout blow many think it was. That said, there’s been some radio traffic that concerns me, involving one particular ship, the Neosho. It was a tanker that arrived at Pearl Harbor on December 6th, carrying a million gallons of aviation fuel. Nikolin thinks it was destroyed.”

  “With all the battleships and the loss of that carrier,” said Karpov, “why should one more merchant ship matter?”

  “Because it was the largest tanker in the world when commissioned in 1939, and the only one this far west in the Hawaiian Islands. That ship literally kept the American fleet fueled in the early months of the war when it started to probe west towards the Solomons and Coral Sea. It’s loss would be significant, but it is how and when it was destroyed that really matters here.”

  “Explain,” said Karpov, folding his arms.

  “Historically, the Neosho arrived in December 6th, docked at Hickam Airfield to deliver 500,000 gallons of Aviation Fuel, and then moved to a mooring right on Battleship Row at Ford Island. It tied off right between the battleships California and Oklahoma, though the latter was apparently at sea this time around. That said, it still had another half a million gallons of fuel in its tanks, and was offloading that to the fuel tanks on Ford Island the night of December 6. It was mostly finished when the Japanese attack started the following morning, and managed to slip off Battleship Row unharmed in the middle of the attack. It made it across the harbor to Merry Point, near the US submarine pens and the big oil tank farm that was adjacent to that area. Nikolin’s report indicates something changed here, and that could be very significant.”

  Something had changed… That was an understatement if Fedorov could have known the details of what really happened. It seemed a small thing, the simple movement of a weather front, but it had huge effects on the outcome of the attack. The same weather that had masked the approach of the Kido Butai, and also served to delay the return of the American carriers, had instead moved faster than it once did. It allowed Enterprise and Lexington to get much farther east, giving them the opportunity to intervene, but also exposing them to the grave risk of counterattack.

  The front swept through the islands on the morning of the 6th, where it found Neosho still at sea, en route from San Pedro in California to deliver its aviation fuel. There, the rough seas for the heavily loaded tanker slowed it down considerably, and it was very late, arriving at Pearl Harbor in the pre-dawn hours of the 7th instead of the 6th. Running late, the ship’s skipper, Captain John S. Phillips, obtained permission to move directly to the berth at Battleship Row to begin offloading fuel for Ford Island Naval Air Station.

  To do so, ships always took the west channel, swung up and around Ford Island to reach Battleship Row, so their bows would be pointed west towards the harbor entrance when they berthed. This saved a lot of tug time turning the ships around if they had to sortie, and also helped manage harbor traffic. So Neosho was on the move that morning when the Japanese attack came in, and she was still fully loaded. The ship took the west channel, swung up past the old Utah, came around a few destroyer anchorages, and was right in the channel near Battleship Row when the attack started. It never reached its berthing near the California, because something happened to break a tiny link in the chain of causality, and it was going to make a great deal of difference in the months ahead.

  Chapter 9

  Yes, something had changed, a turning of the wind, a sea change as any old sailor might put it, and that wind had conspired with Fate to do a great many things. Enterprise and Lexington were early, Neosho was late. Battleships that should have been berthed in the harbor were out to sea about to open a long range gun duel with the heavy ships in the screening force, where Kirishima and Hiei were squaring off against Battleship Division 1. There was plenty of room on the Row, and an enterprising Captain Phillips thought he’d make up for lost time by berthing directly at Ford Island instead of first going to Hickam. And one more thing was about to happen, a few stray rounds from a Japanese Zero that would also have an impact far beyond their weight, and one no person in this time period would ever know about.

  It was a Push Point on the history that no man could see that day, a small thing that would cause dramatic and catastrophic changes in the Meridians of time.

  When the attack on Pearl Harbor started, one thing did ring true, the reflexive instinct of Captain Phillips to get his ship away from those battleships. He saw the planes coming in, the torpedo wakes streaking in to hit California right off his bow, and he quickly ordered a hard turn to starboard to head for the same refuge he had selected historically, the berthing at Merry Point near the submarine pens. He had the same good luck in getting there as he did in the old history, his AA guns even shooting down a Japanese plane on the way.

  Neosho made it to Merry Point, right behind the Castor, a general stores issue ship that had been carrying ammunition. There the two ships were to have passed through the attack unharmed. At one point in the real history, both Neosho and Castor were strafed by an enemy plane, with no loss of personnel and little more than a damaged nut on the recoil cylinder of Castor’s number three AA gun… But that did not happen this time.

  Instead of a wayward strafing, it was a dive bomber from the second wave that made that attack. The absence of Battleship Division 1 had left three less targets in the Harbor, and by the time that wave arrived, even without the planes from Zuikaku and Shokaku, Battleship Row was finished. So instead, one enterprising pilot decided to attack the largest ship he could find, and the 533 foot long Neosho seemed an appropriate choice, even if it wasn’t a warship.

  His name was Lt. Saburo Makino, with his radioman and rear gunner CPO Sueo Sukida. Both men were swooping down through the tattered Meridians of time that day, as they had been sheared and cut when the first wave attacks delayed the takeoff of a P-40 that was to have been flown by American pilot 2nd Lieutenant George Welch.

  He and another pilot had just come back from a Christmas dinner and dance party at a hotel in Waikiki, and a long all-night poker game afterwards. When they saw the attack begin, the Lieutenant telephoned Haleiwa fighter strip and told them to get a pair of P-40s ready. Then he and his mate, 2nd Lieutenant Ken Taylor, jumped back in their Buick and barreled towards the airfield.

  But they were just a little late.

  A Japanese plane came in low and made a strafing run on that car as it sped towards the field, with the rounds close enough to force Welch to swerve off the road and barely avoid crashing. The delay of just a minute was all it took, something so insignificant that it passed the notice of any historian scrutinizing the battle in the long decades ahead. It didn’t happen in Fedorov’s history, but it happened here. So when Welch and Taylor got their Tomahawks up, they were somewhere else in the sky, a hot minute away, and Welch was busy trying to shoot down some other plane instead of number AII-250, flown by Lt. Saburo Makino.

  That made all the difference in the world, and served to heavily underscore the tremendous effect that one man, a single pilot, a single sortie and attack, could have on the course of history. If Welch gets that plane, Neosho comes through the attack unscathed, in spite of the weather front that delayed her and kept her holds burgeoning with a million gallons of aviation fuel. If Welch is somewhere else, then Lieutenant Makino tips his plane over and comes down on top of Neosho to put
his 500 pound bomb right on target. He did not even know the real significance of what he was about to do, and would not survive to learn anything more about it. The resulting explosion was catastrophic.

  Neosho blew sky high, smashing Lieutenant Makino’s plane to pieces as it pulled out of that dive. The ship was blown apart, the fireball so enormous that it completely engulfed the ammunition carrier Castor as well. Then that ship blew, with all that remained in its holds, and the fires rampaged landward, immolating Merry Point, the submarine pens and tenders, CINCPAC Headquarters building, and then sweeping right on into the big oil storage tanks beyond.

  Standing there in his office near the sub pens, watching the attack across the harbor at Battleship Row, was the Commander-in-Chief of the United States Pacific Fleet, Admiral Husband E. Kimmel. In Fedorov’s history he would later report that it was only a stray machinegun round that had struck the window as he watched, punching a hole through and grazing his naval jacket, just one little scratch from the fingernail of fate that raised a small weal on his torso. He famously remarked to his communications officer, Commander Maurice Curts, “It would have been merciful had it killed me.”

  This time Fate’s mercy would come in raging fire. Minutes after that explosion, both Kimmel and Curts were killed, along with tens of other ranking officers in CINCPAC Headquarters, decapitating the US command structure in one mighty blow.

  The destruction went far beyond the removal of an Admiral whose days in command were already well numbered. It took out those sub pens, destroying Narwhal, Dolphin, and Tautog, along with a pair of sub tenders. Narwhal would not get her 19 ships, sinking over 40,000 tons over 15 patrols. Tautog would never get her 26 kills totaling 72,606 tons. They once called the boat ‘Tautog the Terrible,’ but that would never be. Dolphin had ended up a school boat after serving well in a reconnaissance role early in the war, but none of that would happen now. Those subs sunk 41 ships, more kills than the entire Kido Butai had inflicted just now with its attack, and their absence would certainly have some as yet unseen effect on the course of the war.

  The raging inferno eventually engulfed 40% of the oil tank farm behind the sub base, burning for days after with a thick black smoke that hung over the islands like a pall of doom. The loss of that oil tanker, all its aviation fuel, and 40% of the fuel stocks in that tank farm, were going to have a far greater impact on US operations than all the damaged battleships and cruisers combined. Thrown on the scales with the loss of Lady Lex, the aborted attack on Pearl Harbor was a much more devastating blow to the US Pacific Fleet than it had been in Fedorov’s history books.

  He did not know that as he stood on the bridge of Kirov at that moment with Karpov, but he could feel it. Something seemed to hang in the tension of that moment that spoke of destiny and disaster, something far more profound than Karpov’s desultory appraisal of Nikolin’s radio traffic intercept reports.

  “So what if this oil tanker were lost?” asked Karpov.

  “It would severely inhibit American fleet operations in the next few months. Ships at sea in this era were thirsty beasts. A destroyer would need replenishing every three days, and carriers steaming at higher speeds burned through fuel at an alarming rate. Neosho was an essential link in the thin logistical chain out to Hawaii.”

  “Then why didn’t the Japanese just target the fuel bunkers? You’ve already pointed out that the loss of those old battleships counted for little.”

  “Quite right,” said Fedorov. “In fact, historians remain amazed to this day that the Japanese did not place more emphasis on logistical targets in this attack. Considering the fact that they went to war for largely economic reasons, this is quite surprising. Their fuel stocks had diminished to about 50 million barrels, no more than 18 months supply due to the US oil embargo. They moved south to secure every vital source of oil and other resources between Hawaii and the Middle East, yet in striking here, they largely ignored the same fuel that would be so important to their enemy. Some say it was the samurai mindset of the attacking pilots, who wanted to strike ships of war, but the same behavior was also seen in the use of the submarines.”

  “Submarines?” That word had always been a hot button for Karpov.

  “Yes sir, the Japanese had many subs involved in this operation, and after the attack quite a few were assigned to interdict the sea lanes between the US west coast and Hawaii, but they largely ignored merchant shipping. Only 19 US merchant ships would be sunk over the next ten months, and most of those in the weeks just after the attack. The Germans tried to persuade them to alter their submarine warfare strategy, but they refused to change their preference for targeting warships. For them, a warship was their real enemy, with trained men and a potential to do harm to the empire, and something that took time and much effort to replace. By contrast, they thought lowly merchant ships were harmless, and even if sunk, might be easily replaced, and built quickly in very great numbers. The German U-boats did far better in the Atlantic than the Japanese ever did here in the Pacific.”

  “Yes, I remember you telling me this. Well there isn’t much we can do about Japanese sub Captains wanting to kill big fish— that is, as long as they stay out of my way. As for the rest of this discussion, I find it quite enlightening. Logistics. We certainly don’t have a fuel problem, if our reactors settle down and leave us in one place and time for a while.”

  “I’ve spoken to Chief Dobrynin,” said Fedorov. “He’s detected nothing unusual, and the reactors seem to have stabilized.”

  “Then the question now,” said Karpov, “is how to best proceed. Where would this Kido Butai be at the moment? Have you plotted that position estimate I asked for?”

  “I have, sir.” Fedorov walked to the Plexiglas navigation screen and indicated a position northwest of the Hawaiian Islands. “Considering the weather, my best guess is that they are somewhere here, and this is the predictive plot I’ve laid in based on their historical route of withdrawal. Yet they’ve fought a naval action here, and that tends to break up a task force into smaller components. It’s likely that the screening force is no longer with the carriers, and we have no battle damage assessment on the action fought with the American battleships.”

  They wouldn’t find that out for some time either, until Nikolin determined that another ship seemed to be routing to Kwajalein as well, the battleship Hiei. In the duel with Van Valkenburgh’s battleships, Hiei had taken the worst of it, sustaining eight hits of various calibers, including three by 14 inch guns. Destroyer Kagero, who’s name literally meant ‘heat haze,’ also took the heat when a 14-inch shell got lucky. At the same time, the Japanese battleships put two solid hits on both Nevada and Oklahoma, and one more on Arizona, but the resulting fires would be controlled.

  The first face off between the battleships, that both sides once thought would determine the outcome of the war, therefore proved most indecisive when Admiral Mikawa broke off the engagement after seeing the damage to Hiei. Kirishima could still fight, but the ships separated, with Hiei heading due west away from the action at the best speed it could make, just 17 knots. Even that was enough to get her out of harm’s way, for the lumbering American battleships, maintaining formation throughout the entire battle, could not pursue effectively, nor was Van Valkenburgh inclined to do so. A pair of fast heavy cruisers might have finished the battleship off, but none were present, and bad weather set in again soon after, severely hindering air search operations, and even making it difficult for his escort of four destroyers to keep station. Even the seaplane launches from Tone and Chikuma had to be cancelled, and that, along with Nagumo’s caution, ended the battle.

  “If the Japanese do withdraw as they did historically,” said Fedorov, “then we may hear about them next at Midway.”

  “They are going to bomb it?”

  “Possibly. Historically they simply detached a pair of destroyers to shell it, but this course shows the Kido Butai moving north of that island, well within air bombing range.”

  “Plot a
course to get me within range of those ships,” said Karpov. How soon can we move to helo operations?”

  “I recommend 28 knots on this course,” Fedorov pointed to the screen as a blue line lit up showing his plot. “That would put our KA-40s in range to cover this segment of the anticipated enemy course in about… three hours.”

  Enough time to check in with the diplomats, thought Karpov. He had ordered Tyrenkov to relay his demands to Tokyo, along with specific instructions on a coded signal he would send to initiate any further discussion. He then briefed Nikolin on how he wanted him to send out that message. Now he told Fedorov about it for the first time.

  “I have made demands of the Japanese concerning their ongoing occupation of Siberian territory.”

  “You expect them to concede, sir? You think they’ll return Vladivostok simply because you demand it?”

  “Of course not, but I have spelled out the consequences should they fail to do so.”

  “What consequences?” Fedorov still wanted to see into the darkest corner of Karpov’s mind.

  “First, that a state of war would exist between the Japanese Empire and the Free Siberian State, effective at 2:00 today, December 9th on this side of the international dateline. That is two hours and forty minutes from now as I read the ship’s chronometer, assuming it was correctly reset. It’s still December 8th in Hawaii and the United States, and Roosevelt will likely make his famous little infamy speech shortly, then Congress follows with a declaration of war on Japan at 1:10pm today. Roosevelt won’t sign it for another three hours, but that was a mere formality. As for Siberia, I sign off on hostilities at 02:00, and I have also formally dispatched a message to the American Embassy at Irkutsk informing them of my demands, my intention to declare war, and my open support of the United States in the Pacific as far as I am able. I have requested their ambassador arrange negotiations concerning the use of Siberian territory for wartime purposes.”