Kirov III: Pacific Storm k-3 Read online

  The Kashtans sat like two squat heavy armed robots on each side of the ship. The head was a rapidly rotating radar antenna working in tandem with a larger dish on the unit’s chest. The two arms were the business end of the module. Each had a set of four short range missiles above what looked like a long black steel pipe housed in a sleek metal cage. The pipe was actually the outer casing of a six barreled 30mm Gatling gun, and the whole unit was a self-integrated system, independent of the ship’s primary radar systems that seemed to be completely fogged over. Two other guidance and ranging systems were also built into the unit, one for infrared and another for high powered optics and TV control.

  The unit swiveled rapidly, its big missile laden arms reaching for the sky, and two tiny caps flipped open on the IR and TV sensor tubes. Moments later Samsonov had a real time TV image on an auxiliary screen and he was able to quickly designate targets and fire.

  A full barrage released all four missiles on each robot arm, sixteen in all between the two units. It was much more firepower than they actually needed, but in the heat of a dire emergency with bombs raging down on them, Karpov took the most expedient measure possible and fired everything he had as ready ammo.

  It saved the ship.

  The Aichi D3A1 was the best dive bomber in service during the early years of the war. It had good speed in a dive, with adequate maneuverability in spite of the fixed, non-retractable landing gear, and it could deliver a 250kg bomb mounted on the main fuselage and two smaller 60kg bombs on the wings. As the plane attacked in a steep dive, a trapeze system flung the bomb away from the rotating propeller when released, and the Japanese had developed very good accuracy with the plane. It would end the war as the most successful Axis dive bomber against Allied shipping, killing sixteen warships in the mix of vessels sunk, including an aircraft carrier, the Hermes, three cruisers and twelve destroyers. Even fast agile ships could not easily evade the deadly high angle attack, which was extremely difficult for most gun systems to defeat—but not for missiles capable of vertical launch angles, as the Kashtan was.

  The missiles ignited in a wash of white steamy smoke and danced into the sky above, locking on to any target within their arc of fire. The system could track only eight simultaneous targets, but eight was enough. Within seconds the sky overhead erupted with one explosion after another and the missiles found and killed the relatively slow planes with fragmentation warheads that would create a sphere of shrapnel upon detonation out to a five meter range. The air above the ship was soon a wild spray of shrapnel. Two kills…three…five…Then a another bomb fell just ahead of the ship and sent a wild spray of seawater over the bow. Kirov rolled as she ran over the detonation, her sharp prow cutting through the seething water.

  Karpov’s mind raced. Killing the planes was not enough, he realized! The bombs may have already been released. “Samsonov! Gatling system on full automatic! Now!”

  The snarl of the Gatling guns joined the cacophony of noise as the Kashtans flung thousands of rounds of 30mm shells from their heavy arms, the six barrels rotating rapidly within the long black pipe that housed them with an evil whirring sound, their muzzles spitting out enormous fiery jets of flame. Karpov was filling the sky above the ship with a lethal barrage of metal, and three falling bombs were hit and exploded high above the ship, one too close for comfort.

  That accounted for six of the nine bombs on the planes in Lt. Commander Hayashi’s EII-3 Squadron. Two more died before they could be released, their brave pilots waiting too long as they sighted on the enemy ship beneath them. Yet it was bomb number nine that finally found its target and struck an avenging blow—Hayashi’s bomb, striking the ship and broiling up in thick black smoke and fire.

  Kirov had finally been hit, but not by the 20mm rounds of a British Beaufighter this time, most passing harmlessly through the target that was not quite there.

  This time it was a 250 kilogram bomb.

  Part III

  ENGAGEMENT

  “Although the concept of defense is parrying a blow and its characteristic feature is awaiting the blow, if we are really waging war, we must return the enemy’s blows…. Thus a defensive campaign can be fought with offensive battles… The defensive form of war is not a simple shield, but a shield made up of well-directed blows.”

  ~ Clausewitz, On War

  Chapter 7

  The bomb hit near the edge the aft deck, about fifty feet behind the number three 152mm battery, and abreast and below battery number two. It penetrated the upper deck, killing five men in and near a stairwell and then exploded, the force ripping the overhead deck apart and sending a blast of metal fragments, smoke and fire up into the air in a broiling column.

  It was a dangerous place to be struck, as the underdeck magazines for two of the ship’s three 152mm batteries were only two bulkheads away, and the outermost barrier had been badly buckled. Kirov’s designers had provided 100mm armor plating around all munitions storage areas, and there was no immediate threat of secondary explosion. Fortunately, the attack had come from the other side of the ship and the angle of descent on the bomb actually saw it driving outward towards the exterior hull, and not inward, so most of the damage was in access corridors and the stair well area, though a fire started that could pose a real danger if not rapidly contained.

  On the bridge they felt the ship shake with the explosion, and the Admiral’s eyes darkened with misgiving. Fedorov was quickly to the comm link to get initial damage reports and Karpov was activating the aft Tin Man HD video display to get a good view of the exterior damage. They could see troops of sailors dressed out in their bright yellow vests, with orange helmets and heavy duty mittens rushing to the scene. Unfortunately the bomb had destroyed two of three fire hose mounts in that location, and they were only able to bring one hose to bear on the flames in those early minutes, sending a white jet of water into the breach in the deck, which thickened the smoke and made it difficult to see what was really happening.

  “We were lucky,” said Karpov. “It missed both deck guns and was well forward of the Klinok silos on the aft deck.”

  A call from Engineer Byko quickly confirmed that the hit was not threatening and the damage could be controlled in twenty minutes. “But we lost men,” Byko finished. “I won’t know how many for some time.”

  Fedorov reported this to Volsky while Karpov assessed their present situation. They could still hear the flights of aircraft overhead, though the sound was diminishing. Rodenko’s screens were wavering and generating unclear data, but he was beginning to get close range signal returns again, and could now track the planes that had attacked them.

  “Shall I engage them, sir?” Samsonov asked.

  “No,” said Volsky quickly. “Hold fire. Rodenko tells us they are headed away from the ship, and therefore pose no immediate threat. We must conserve weapons ordinance whenever possible.”

  “They must be headed for Darwin, sir,” said Fedorov. “That’s the only target of opportunity southeast of our position. We shifted into this time frame right beneath them! This could be the Japanese raid on that port we spoke of earlier, though it would mean we appeared here even before we emerged in the Med if that is so.”

  “Just our damn bad luck either way,” said Volsky hotly, staring at the thick column of smoke as imaged on the HD video display.

  “I would not curse our luck just yet, Admiral,” said Fedorov. The Russian psyche, long accustomed to facing hardship and unexpected setbacks in life, had been inured to the whims of fate and fortune for many generations. A man could never escape his fate, they knew, and the vagaries of chance and sheer luck often played in the balance.

  “If I am correct then those planes would have been loaded with incendiary bombs,” Fedorov explained, “not armor piercing. A well placed hit from a heavy armor piercing bomb could have gone right through the bottom of the ship. We’ll have a fire there, but Byko is getting it under control and things could have been much worse. From what I saw we were only attacked by a few
planes—perhaps a single squadron. If the others had come in as well…”

  Volsky shuddered.

  “At least I was not out there on a ladder this time,” he muttered, upset with the smoke and fire aft and the thought that Kirov had been finally struck a hard blow by the enemy. “Thus far much of the damage we have sustained has been self-inflicted,” he said. “We’re missing two helos because of missile misfires and Orlov. But this time they let us know we are in for a fight, yes? They gave us a nice hard kick in the rump to let us know we will find no welcome in these waters.” He shrugged, then looked to Karpov who was huddling with Samsonov.

  “Mister Karpov,” he said in a clear voice.

  “Sir?”

  “Come here, please.” The Admiral waited, a serious expression on his face, and the others on the bridge half turned their heads, thinking Volsky was about to berate the Captain for his actions during the engagement. After all, he had imposed himself, taking control of the engagement as though Volsky were not even there. Karpov stiffened, then approached the Admiral where he now was settling into his chair.

  “Mister Karpov,” Volsky continued. “I gave Samsonov an order to engage those aircraft, weapons free.”

  “Yes, sir, but I thought—”

  “Just a moment, Captain Lieutenant, if you please.” Now Volsky stood up, and reached out, placing his hand on Karpov’s shoulder and speaking in a loud voice. “Look here,” he said “this man intervened in a critical moment, overriding my spoken orders, and he saved the ship just now. My orders were unclear. I specified no weapon system, yet Captain Karpov immediately assessed the situation and selected the only weapon system that could have possibly engaged the enemy given the angle of this attack, and he saved the ship. I have long believed that Captain Karpov was one of the finest tactical combat officers in the fleet. He proved that in the Med, and today he has proved that yet again. I commend him for his action and hereby advance him to Captain of the third rank. Well done, Karpov.” The Admiral broke into a broad smile.

  Several of the men turned and congratulated Karpov now, particularly Samsonov, who nodded his head in affirmation, a look or pride in his eyes.

  “Thank you, Admiral,” said Karpov, clearly pleased. “ I was only doing my duty, sir.”

  “As we all are,” said Volsky. “And something tells me we’ll have a lot more duty ahead of us, so take a lesson from this man,” Volsky shook a finger at the rest of the bridge crew. “Be sharp. Be professional. Think clearly and do your jobs as best you can. With officers like Karpov on the bridge, we are in good hands. And now…” He looked for Fedorov. “We need more situational awareness. Rodenko, does your radar tell us anything?”

  “I’m starting to get intermediate range returns now, sir. I have echoes of the Australian coastline south of our position, the island ahead, and I am still tracking that outbound formation of planes. Fedorov is correct. They are bearing on Port Darwin.”

  “These planes are from an aircraft carrier, Fedorov?”

  “Yes, sir. Japanese naval dive bombers, the Aichi D3A1.”

  “Then where would this aircraft carrier be?”

  “Most likely northwest of our present position, sir.”

  Rodenko spoke up now. “Given their heading I can back trace a probable point of origin if I knew the combat radius.”

  “Figure 350 nautical miles,” said Fedorov. “My best guess is that they are cruising southeast of Kupang, right in the middle of the Timor Sea. There would be no urgent need for them to strike at maximum range, so I would put them about here.” He was at the navigation station and displayed a map on the clear Plexiglas wall, the landforms outlined in neon green. “This position would allow them to strike Darwin, with plenty of time on target for the planes. And there would definitely be two carriers, sir. I counted over fifty planes above us and we were engaged by another nine or ten. A single carrier would not have that many dive bombers.”

  “Two carriers?”

  “Yes, sir. A full carrier division. There may even be a light escort carrier present in the task force, and I must tell you, Admiral, it is not likely they would use their torpedo bombers to raid land based targets unless they felt it absolutely necessary. They know about us now, sir, and those carriers will have twenty or thirty torpedo bombers being spotted on deck by now if I was in command.”

  “Wonderful,” said Volsky, “just what we need with that nice black column of smoke hanging a sign for 150 miles in every direction saying: here we are.”

  “Byko should have that fire out in ten minutes,” said Karpov.

  “I suggest we get north of Melville Island, sir,” Fedorov put in. “We’re too exposed here. There will be screening units associated with that carrier task force, fast cruisers, destroyers, perhaps a battleship as well.”

  “Speak of the devil!” Rodenko put in, his eyes fixed on the surface contact radar screen. “Con, surface contact bearing 295 degrees at seventy-five kilometers and now on a heading due east.”

  “That would be an intercept course based on our current heading,” said Fedorov.

  Volsky looked at the map. They were still cruising due north and he immediately altered course. “Helm, come right to 50 degrees east-northeast. Thirty knots.”

  “Coming right to 50 degrees, sir. Speed thirty.”

  “I would rather go due east as well, but that channel south of the big island looks a bit narrow. We’ll have to get north of that island, as Mister Fedorov suggests, so it’s going to be another race gentlemen. What do you think our prospects are?”

  “It will depend on the composition of that surface action group,” said Fedorov.

  “My systems are clearing, slowly now,” said Rodenko, “just as they did before. I read six contacts, one more prominent, two with weaker signal returns.”

  “A typical screening force,” said Fedorov. “The larger contact is probably a battleship, the weaker signal returns would be destroyers. Everything in between is likely to be a cruiser class vessel.”

  “Will they be able to cut us off before we reach the north cape of that island?” Volsky asked.

  “That will depend on the speed of the battleship, unless their commander is determined to engage us, he will likely keep his task force together. If he sends cruisers out in front, they might make thirty-three knots. The destroyers could be even faster.”

  “Karpov?” Volsky looked to his new Captain of the 3rd rank for a tactical assessment.

  “If they send lighter ships forward our deck guns can outrange them. What is the range of the guns on those cruisers, Fedorov?”

  “We don’t know what class yet, but if they are heavy cruisers they will be carrying eight inch guns that will range out to 25,000 meters.”

  “We can beat that range with our deck guns,” said Karpov quickly. “If they get too close, say 30,000 meters, we can begin discouraging them with the 152 millimeter batteries.”

  “A good plan,” said Volsky.

  “Don’t forget the battleship, it can fire at 35,000 meters, though it probably won’t hit anything at that range.”

  “We’ve had quite a few scraps with battleships in recent days,” said Karpov. “Our best bet if that ship poses any real threat would be at least one Moskit-II targeting their superstructure, and we must do this before the ship gets in effective range.”

  “Agreed,” said Volsky. “I do not wish us to be dancing about in the midst of sea spray from fifteen or sixteen inch shells again.”

  “They’ll probably be fourteen inch guns,” said Fedorov, though he realized the difference was negligible when it came to a round of that size impacting the ship.

  “Very well,” said the Admiral. “I suggest we prepare to possibly repel another incoming air strike from these torpedo planes Mister Fedorov mentioned. And then we will see if our speed can keep us ahead of this enemy surface action group.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid we’ll have to wait for those island girls a little longer. Stay at alert level one, and please check on the d
amage control situation, Mister Fedorov.”

  “Aye, sir. Alert one, all hands stand ready.” The order was passed over ship’s intercom, though the attack had clearly heightened the crew’s awareness of impending battle. They were in it again, facing off against these impossible shadows from a distant past, but yet the explosion of a 250kg incendiary bomb had made these shadows painfully real.

  “Now then,” said Volsky. “What do we do about these carriers? Do you think we are likely to receive another airstrike in the next hour or two Fedorov?”

  “I would plan on it, sir. The dive bombers must have been armed with incendiary bombs. They had no business coming in on us like that at all. But the next wave will most likely be torpedo planes, and the Japanese were very skilled at low level attacks. Remember, they have trained for months to make an attack at Pearl Harbor. They will have to be engaged before they get anywhere close to us.”

  “How many planes can we expect in this attack?”

  “There will be at least eighteen on each carrier, sir. Possibly twenty-seven. I’m going to make a guess that this is Carrier Division Five, with Zuikaku and Shokaku. They were Japan’s newest carriers, big and fast at thirty-four knots. Those ships were active in the East Indies, the Indian Ocean, and the Coral Sea early in the war, though we don’t really know what the date is yet. In any case, the torpedo planes will be carrying the Japanese Type 91. They range out to about 2000 meters after launch. Nothing we want to fool with.”

  “Agreed,” said Volsky.

  “With Rodenko’s radars operating now, we will see these planes well before they pose any threat,” said Karpov. “For that matter, it would not be difficult to scout the location of these aircraft carriers and send them a message.”