Kirov III: Pacific Storm k-3 Page 4

  “We’ve seen nothing on radar—until this report Rodenko made a moment ago.”

  “True sir, but these waters would not be much traveled, even in nineteen—” he caught himself, but Volsky realized what he was thinking.

  “You believe the ship is trying to settle into some proper time, but it is a time in the past?”

  “I do, sir. I explained it once like a rock skipping over water. We were thrown back to 1941, then skipped forward, arcing up through that bleak future time, and landed again, only this time in 1942. In the meantime we are able to move freely in space, and so we sailed from the Atlantic to the Med and found ourselves in quite a dilemma when we landed back in the middle of the war.”

  “I understand… Yet these waters were fairly quiet, even in 1942, or even 1943 supposing your theory holds true and we skip another year forward.”

  “That is one consolation,” said Fedorov, “if the history holds true, that is.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In that last episode there were instances where ships were committed to battle early, and found to be in places the chronology of the real history says they should not be, Admiral. Things are changing, sir. Our presence in the past has obviously had some effect on the course of events. And then…well what about Orlov?”

  “Yes, yes, what about Orlov,” Volsky repeated. “God only knows what he might be up to if he did survive as we now suspect.”

  “It’s a real problem, sir. Before we had the chronology, and certain knowledge of every enemy we faced, right down to the exact ships and numbers of planes in each task force. Now I’m not so sure, and as serene as these waters may now seem, this theater of the war was a titanic naval struggle.”

  “Yes, but these variations you reported from our operations in the Med—they were minor, were they not?”

  “Seemingly so, sir, though they brought us within range of 15 inch guns…” He let that sink in for a moment, and Volsky nodded his understanding.

  “Suppose we do return to the 1940s. Suppose we are even marooned there indefinitely. After all, this stone skips only so far on the water, Fedorov. It must land somewhere.”

  “Right, sir. If the interval holds, then we might skip slightly forward again, perhaps to 1943 or even 1944. Action in this region was mostly over by May of 1942 with the conclusion of the Battle of the Coral Sea. That was the Japanese attempt to take Port Moresby on New Guinea, and it resulted in the first carrier to carrier battle of the Pacific war. The Americans lost the Lexington, a high price to pay, though they sunk a light Japanese carrier and hurt the Shokaku, one of their bigger fleet carriers as well—and they stopped the invasion. That said, sir, I can’t even be certain that battle was even fought now.”

  “What do you mean? Not fought?”

  “America enters the war three months early, sir. At least I assume as much. It was our destruction of their Task Force 16 in the Atlantic, and the sinking of the Wasp that most likely prompted a declaration of war against Germany. If Japan sided with the Axis powers, then they had no reason to launch the Pearl Harbor attack if war began here in the Pacific at that same time.”

  “Yes, I recall our earlier discussion on this.”

  “Well don’t you see how significant that is, Admiral? If there was no attack on Pearl Harbor, then the whole chronology of the war at sea in the Pacific might have been severely altered. Major battles like Coral Sea and Midway might not have occurred. These are much more significant events than the early deployment of a few Italian cruisers in the Med, or even the movement of those two battleships to La Spezia. If there was no Pearl Harbor attack, or no operation against Midway, it would change everything. It could even be the real source of the variation in the history that has led to the war we read about in those newspapers.”

  Suppose this interval holds true and we land here in 1943. What lies ahead?”

  “We will have some real trouble on our hands if we stay on this course, Admiral. The Americans and Japanese were still locked in a bitter struggle for the Solomons, at least in the history I know.”

  “You are speaking of Guadalcanal?”

  “Well by February of 1943 that island had been secured, but the action shifted northeast to New Georgia and by August there was fighting for Vella Lavella, and also action in New Guinea as MacArthur drove on the vital airfield at Lae, and then against the Bismarck Barrier.”

  “Ah yes,” said Volsky. “MacArthur, Halsey, Nimitz and Yamamoto. All circling one another like a pack of great sumo wrestlers.”

  “Yamamoto would have been killed in April of 1943, sir. But I can’t be sure of this any longer. The history may no longer be reliable. If any one of these major battles was not fought, then there is no telling what might be happening in this theater, and that being the case, it won’t be as easy to pinpoint our location in time.”

  “I see why you have been brooding so long over this, Fedorov. Your history has been all fouled up, and you’ve lost your way—we all have lost our way. Now I’m afraid we will have to yield that god-like advantage we had of knowing the enemy’s every move. It evens things out somewhat, yes? Something tells me that both the Japanese and Americans will prove determined and dangerous foes in this theater, and we would be wise to avoid them and look for our island somewhere else. Perhaps we should reverse our course now and seek out safer waters.”

  “That might be wise, Admiral. Ahead lies the Torres Strait, the Coral Sea and the Solomons. Those were all violent war theaters in 1942 and 1943.”

  “Maybe we should have sailed south of the Australian continent.”

  “Indeed, sir. But who can say? We are still not sure where we are—in time that is.”

  “Yes, but you have that inner misgiving gnawing at you, Fedorov. It is just like my tooth when we get up north in the Arctic Sea. I’ve learned to pay attention to it, and so I take your warning here to heart. We will reverse course.”

  It was a sound and wise decision, they both knew, but one that would never come to pass. Rodenko was suddenly alert, his eyes fixed on his primary long range radar screen, and very intent.

  “Signal returns again,” he said quickly.

  Both Volsky and Fedorov came to his side, their eyes searching the screen. “Where?” asked Volsky, squinting at the milky green readout of the radar.

  “Here,” Rodenko pointed. “About 175 miles northwest of our position. It looks like a weather front developing, but then I lose it and everything is clear—no signal and no weather front.”

  Volsky walked slowly to the starboard side of the bridge and peered through the viewport. The day was clear and warm, the pristine waters of the sun dappled Timor Sea stretching out behind them to an empty horizon. He watched for some time, thinking he saw the barest glimpse of white cloud there, but all seemed well.

  “Here, sir,” said Fedorov. “We have another signal.”

  The Admiral hastened back in time to see the cloudy returns of something building on the northwest edge of their radar scope. He craned his neck toward the viewport again, thinking to see telltale signs of a weather front.

  “There, Admiral,” Rodenko pointed. “Do you see them. That’s a formation of aircraft. Look at the structure. It can be nothing else.” The signal quavered, clouded over, and then was gone again.

  “We’re pulsing,” said Fedorov in a low voice, “shifting in and out of some more definite time frame.”

  “If we only had some point of clear reference we might spot changes in the environment around us,” said Volsky, “but we are too far off shore. The ocean looks the same in every direction, and that distant coastline is lost in haze at this hour.”

  “That’s Melville Island up ahead, Admiral,” said Fedorov. “We’re just west of the Beagle Gulf that would take us into Darwin.”

  “What about the weather front?” said Rodenko. “It was the same way the first time. The weather changed abruptly.”

  “Are you sure your equipment is sound?”

  “All systems rep
ort green and nominal, Admiral. We had everything checked very thoroughly over the last eight days and we’ve even replaced the systems that were damaged by the first strafing run that caught us by surprise in the Med. No. My radar is not malfunctioning.”

  “It’s not the weather I’m worried about,” said Fedorov, “though that is reason enough for concern. We have cloudless skies now, and nothing on the horizon, but you say the reading appears to be a formation of planes—multiple contacts, yes? That is not common in peace time.”

  “Agreed,” Volsky said quickly. “I think it best that we move to level two alert, and if there is no objection I will come about and begin a graceful withdrawal from this sector. We’ll head west again.”

  Fedorov thought for a moment. “I suggest we wait for a moment, sir. I think—”

  “Level two alert, Mister Fedorov,” Volsky scolded. “A good Starpom immediately seconds a command level order, particularly one involving ship’s security.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Fedorov turned to a watch stander and repeated the order. “Signal alert level two—ship wide alarm.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The claxon was now clearly audible, and Volsky nodded his head, satisfied. “Now,” he said. “You have an opinion on our course?”

  “If we assume the worst, that we are again settling into another time, and supposing it is still the 1940s, then those planes would either have to be flying from bases at Kupang on Timor Island, or else they are off carriers.”

  “Could you get a read on their heading, Rodenko?” The Admiral wanted more information.

  “The signal returns were too brief to process, but I did note the range was decreasing, not increasing.”

  “That doesn’t sound very reassuring,” said Volsky. “If these were planes from a carrier group, where would they be headed, Mister Fedorov?”

  “There were no major naval actions in this region, sir, except perhaps the raid on Darwin in February of 1942.”

  “Could this be what we are seeing then?”

  “Perhaps, sir. But it would mean we have slipped farther back. Thus far the interval has always seen us move forward in time, never appearing earlier than our first displacement.”

  “Yes,” said Volsky, “and I suppose the good Admiral Tovey might have mentioned it if we did appear in February of 1942, and that becomes quite a puzzle if it is the case. We are missing weapons we would not have expended for another six months when we appeared in the Med!”

  “I agree, sir,” said Fedorov. “A bit of a paradox when viewed from any perspective other than our own.”

  “Then let us pretend Mother Time does not like her skirts ruffled too much, even if she has shown us a little leg. We already have a hand on her knee—our presence in 1941 has clearly caused a great deal of trouble. Perhaps she will not let us go any further with such a thing as you describe—this paradox business.”

  “Then I can think of no major carrier action here in 1943, or later. But as I have said, I cannot be sure of anything now. The course of events in the Pacific could all be radically different.”

  “There it is again!” said Rodenko. “Much closer now! It looks like 150 kilometers and closing. Something coming out of a nice fat thunderstorm about fifty klicks behind it. …now it’s gone again, sir.”

  The Admiral looked at Fedorov. “You are thinking a turn west would bring us into contact with a hostile carrier task force?”

  “I can think of nothing else, sir.”

  “Very well. Let us turn north for a time and see if we can get more information. But something tells me no matter which direction we head now, we are likely to find trouble. Helm come about to course zero, zero, zero. Speed twenty.”

  Part II

  THE OPERATION

  “The most dangerous thing in the world is an Admiral or a General with a map and a compass.”

  ~ Murphy’s Law of Combat #63b

  Chapter 4

  Yamashita set his teacup firmly on the table, savoring the nutty flavor with some satisfaction, and looked at Nagano with a glint in his eye. “It can be done,” he said with an air of calm assurance. “In light of our successful landing at Port Moresby, it is the logical next step.”

  “You are aware that the army opposes any further consideration of operations on the Australian mainland.”

  “Of course I am, but that is of no concern. They fret and chafe because they have ninety percent of the infantry in China now, and more to deal with than they expected. The fools. What has the invasion of China brought us but an unending war of occupation with 700 million Chinese, neh? Where are the resources this brings home to Japan?”

  “Agreed, but the army will use this very same argument against the Australian operation. They claim that it will take at least ten divisions to control Australia, and they will not provide even a fraction of that willingly.”

  “You and I both know that is ridiculous,” said Yamashita dismissively. “I took all of Malaya with just a single division—30,000 men against four times our number, and yet we prevailed. At this moment I have enough resources in 25th Army to carry out this operation alone. First off, the notion that we must occupy and control the whole of the Australian mainland is fallacious. It will do us no more good than the war in China. But what the army must realize is this—the resources and oil we have secured thus far in our drive south must be defended if they are ever to be of benefit. And to defend them we must build a strong outer line. The southwest perimeter now stretches from Singapore, through Batavia, Surabaya and Kupang, and its proper anchor is Darwin, not Kupang on Timor. By occupying Darwin our line cuts across the Timor Sea and is securely anchored on the Australian mainland. And Darwin is all we will need for the moment. From there our bombers can range on most other settlements of any consequence in the north.”

  Osami Nagano sighed, his hand running over the back of his bald head as he considered. Chief of the Imperial Japanese Naval General Staff, his support would be essential if Yamashita was to have even the slightest chance of gaining approval for his operation. “I understand your logic, but the Army will say that bases on Timor will be sufficient.”

  “Perhaps,” said Yamashita, “but leaving Darwin in enemy hands will tempt them to strongly occupy that place as their sole bastion in the north capable or projecting power into the Timor and Arafura Seas, and the Dutch East Indies…or even a return to New Guinea. B-17 bombers are already striking our establishment at Port Moresby—and this from airfields at Cairns and Cooktown on the other side of the Coral Sea! If the Americans put those planes at Darwin, and can protect them with fighters, then they will be able to bomb all the key oil and resource centers in Indonesia—perhaps even Jakarta, and these were our primary reason for driving south in the first place. A child can see this, and the Army must realize it as well.”

  Nagano nodded, his eyes searching, considering. “How many divisions,” he then asked bluntly. “What will it take?”

  “A single division, and I have that in hand now. With that I can secure Darwin, and then raid or occupy most of the minor ports on the northern coast as well. Of course, if the Army can spare me one further division, I can do much more.”

  “And if the enemy sends reinforcements from the south?”

  “Let them try. The roads are abysmal, bare tracks that are all but impassable for half the year. The whole area is wilderness. The distance from Darwin to Stanley is greater than that from London to Moscow! Their supply lines will have to stretch over some of the most barren and inhospitable terrain in the hemisphere. This is why we do not need to operate further south. If I push as far south as Katherine that will be more than enough to provide a trip wire defense should the enemy plan such a reinforcement. If they do so, our planes at Darwin will pound them to dust as they march north, and they will have no bases close enough to provide adequate air cover for their operations. For our part, if the navy cooperates, we can easily keep Darwin supplied by controlling the Timor Sea. With strong bases at both Darwin a
nd Kupang, that will not be difficult.”

  “Where will you land?”

  “A direct assault is feasible, but I will also land troops to the Southwest near the Daly River or perhaps further east. We can launch this operation from Kupang and Amboina now. Give me that second division, and we can strike from Rabaul and Port Moresby and I will take Cooktown, Cairns, possibly even Townsville and secure the Coral Sea.”

  “You are aware that Admiral Yamamoto is not in favor of this plan?”

  “Yes, but perhaps he could be persuaded.”

  “At the moment he has his eyes fixed on another operation aimed at drawing the American navy into a decisive engagement. He has wanted this from the very beginning, and when the operation against Pearl Harbor was canceled, and the Americans declined to rush boldly in with their War Plan Orange to relieve the Philippines, he was left unsatisfied.”

  “What is the target this time?” Yamashita was increasingly frustrated, sighing heavily.

  “Midway Island.”

  “Midway? It is thousands of miles away, a bare speck in the sea! What could he possibly want with that island? It will not prove suitable for a base of operations against Hawaii, and will be impossible to keep well supplied. This is nonsense.”

  “Perhaps, but that is what the Army is saying behind your back, Yamashita, that this plan to invade Australia is gibberish.”

  “They say this because they believe we will need ten divisions, but I have shown clearly how a limited invasion can be successful, and very beneficial to our war aims. Combined with an operation to further isolate Australia, it becomes even more enticing, and strategically sound as well. We should be striking south from the Solomons to capture New Caledonia and even Fiji. Then where will the enemy base his operations? Samoa? You must convince Yamamoto that this operation can succeed.”