The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3)

by Charles S. Jackson

  The tirade was only halted, finally, by Mountbatten himself as he gripped Thorne’s shoulder tightly and spun him completely around, using both hands to steady him and preventing him falling backwards. The movement was enough to blur his vision and cause him to again shake his head in an equally unsuccessful attempt to gather his senses once more.

  “Time we were off, Thorne…!” The vice-admiral shouted, cutting through the fog of Thorne’s concussed hysteria and bringing him back to something close enough to the reality for him to realise that the air was now filled by the ear-splitting shriek of a ship’s alarm. “The ship’s done for and we’ll need to jump for it if we’re to have any chance of getting clear before goes!”

  “Are you kidding?” Thorne bugged his eyes at him in an attempt to focus. “I can’t even bloody stand up straight, let alone bloody swim!”

  “If we don’t go right now,” Mountbatten snarled, slapping a spare lifejacket into Thorne’s hands, “we’ll all be sucked down with her as she sinks!” With an exasperated grunt, he snatched the jacket back from an immobile Thorne and instead began to forcibly stuff his arms into it and jam the thing down over his head.

  I’ll never put on a life jacket again… the silent voice muttered darkly in the back of his mind, managing to rather inconveniently find coherence in that moment and causing Thorne to recall sudden and quite unpleasant memories of Robert Shaw’s chilling monologue from the USS Indianapolis scene in Jaws.

  “Bollocks to that...!” He blurted, belatedly putting up a half-hearted struggle.

  It was to no avail however as Mountbatten had already gotten the jacket over his head by that stage and with the ship’s list now so acute, it was now no great effort to take Thorne by both shoulders and basically toss him straight over the rail into water below that was far closer than it had a right to be, the vice-admiral himself going straight in after him.

  Thorne came up gasping for air, hands clutching tightly at a jacket that was not yet fastened properly and feeling far too loose to someone in his situation. Although still shaken and suffering from a mind-jarring headache, the freezing water had gone a long way toward bringing him at least partly back to his senses. Although he could swim, Thorne had never been particularly good at it and in a situation like this it was impossible for him to be calm, causing him to flail rather than make any real progress.

  Mountbatten was there beside him a moment later, grabbing him by the back of that same life jacket and kicking away from the sinking ship. They could already feel the pull as it began to capsize completely, although fortunately it wasn’t yet strong enough to draw them back in. Thorne finally began to swim also, and although his senses were reeling and he still wasn’t quite be certain of which way was up, he knew enough to kick out and put plenty of distance between himself and the doomed battlecruiser.

  Repulse capsized completely five minutes later, providing sufficient time at least for most of the crew to get away safely. There were plenty of life boats and inflatable dinghies floating about, many only partially full, and it was easy enough for Mountbatten to hand Thorne off to a number of men already aboard one of them before being hoisted into the next boat along.

  A thousand men now sat in or clung to the sides of lifeboats as her stern lifted and she slid beneath the waves, and all now turned to watch forlornly as what was left of another fifteen hundred began to abandon the equally-stricken Prince of Wales. Dead in the water, she was listing terribly herself while fire from one of the torpedo hits eventually a string of huge explosions through her afterdecks in quick succession. With no working damage control, it was no more than a matter of time and the official order to abandon ship was given just fifteen minutes after Repulse had disappeared beneath the sea’s murky surface.

  That the battle otherwise seemed to go completely the way of the Royal Navy was at least some small consolation as the sun settled low on the horizon and evening drew near, bringing with it a chill for those already soaked to the skin during their evacuation. They would be forced to wait another two hours before the surviving destroyers were finally able to mop up the enemy forces and spare one or two ships to collect more than two thousand survivors in lifeboats that had been lashed together in groups, now spread out across a huge area of the Gulf of Thailand.

  Some of the more fortunate few had been close enough to land to eventually row themselves to shore on the Malay Peninsula rather than wait desperately for a rescue in the dark. The huge majority however were forced to hang on as best they could, waiting as patiently as they were able as the beams of warships’ searchlights swept this way and that, responding to a thousand desperate calls at once for aid.

  There were many injured among the survivors and Thorne was one of them; the injuries he’d received from his blow to the head worsening progressively as daylight waned and leaving both his mood and his consciousness erratic at best. Although often relatively lucid, there were been patches of fitful sleep that bordered on outright unconsciousness, during which times he sometimes seemed quite delirious. He would randomly become extremely agitated, barely able to recognise or understand others, before slipping back into unconsciousness and mutter in broken tones that all around found unsettling to say the least.

  Sometimes he would cry out, calling desperately for someone called ‘Anna’, while at other times he would instead simply sit quietly, eyes closed the entire time, and reassure Captain Donelson that ‘everything was fine…’ that it was ‘…going to be okay…’

  It was those moments that the others found most disturbing, and as HMS Wallace finally loomed out of the darkness before them two hours after sunset, all lights blazing, it was Thorne that Mountbatten ordered dragged aboard first, to be taken immediately to the infirmary for urgent examination of the wound to the back of his head. Phillip was there with the rest of Wallace’s crew, officer on watch and reaching out to pull his uncle up onto the deck as he came up one of the rope ladders they’d lowered down the ship’s sides.

  Both of them watched with real concern on their faces as Max Thorne was carted off on a stretcher, now completely still with a face that had turned an unpleasant, ashen grey. Thorne for his part saw none of it. Almost completely comatose by that stage, he remained lifeless and limp as he was taken away, whatever fears or concerns he had now all lost to the oblivion of the all-encompassing darkness that had swept up and swallowed him whole.

  12.Inconvenient Truths

  HQ Gull Force, 2/21st Battalion

  Ambon Island, Dutch East Indies

  December 8, 1942

  Tuesday

  (West of the International Date Line)

  Kormoran passed Cape Batuanjut and entered the Bay of Ambon just after midnight. With her arrival already expected, she was escorted in by a corvette and a small pilot boat, accompanied overhead by an RAAF Chickasaw from Laha airfield on the western side of the bay, circling the huge ship and illuminating it with powerful searchlights.

  Two hours later she was tied up at the wharf near Ambon Township itself. The survivors from HMAS Sydney were provided what accommodation could be found, with wounded and dying from both vessels taken immediately to the hospital at the Tan Tui barracks to be given whatever care could be provided. With precious little accommodation for those already ashore, it was decided by the local commanders that those German seamen not requiring medical attention should remain on board under guard, sleeping in their own quarters for the time being until a more suitable alternative could be found on land.

  Donelson, Lloyd and Langdale were provided quarters of their own at the local HQ, and were finally allowed a few hours’ restless sleep following a short and quite intense briefing session by the commander of military forces on the island, Lieutenant Colonel Joseph Kapitz of the Molukken Brigade of the KNIL (Royal Netherlands East Indies Army).

  Early that next morning, they were taken across the bay by tender and dropped off at the smaller village of Laha, the site for the island’s main airfield and also not far from the command pos
t for the Australian military contingent posted to Ambon, the 2/21st Battalion of the 2nd AIF. The journey across the water had been notable for what Eileen considered a significantly heavy amount of surface traffic, with smaller escorts and anti-submarine vessels coming and going from every direction. Overhead, fighters and light attack aircraft circled about in far larger numbers than any of them would have expected for such a small garrison.

  The airfield itself was a hive of activity with the several RAAF squadrons of fighters, bombers and patrol aircraft landing, taking-off and otherwise undergoing rearmament, refuelling or general maintenance. At least two squadrons of the Royal Netherlands Air Force were also present, their older Brewster Buffalo fighters seeming tiny and fragile beside the Australians’ far larger and more powerful Mustangs and Sea Furies.

  The reasons behind the activity became far clearer as they stepped off the tender and were greeted by a trio of Australian officers in standard tropical camouflage fatigues, the higher ranking of which was a balding lieutenant-colonel in his late forties with a moustache, dark eyes and a serious expression.

  “You’d be Captain Donelson, then,” he ventured with affable gruffness as the two groups met and exchanged salutes. “Leonard Roach, CO of the Second-Twenty-First,” he added, shaking her hand firmly the moment the formalities were out of the way. “May I introduce Majors Ian MacCrae and Mark Newbury, my 2IC and commanding officer of C company respectively… welcome to Ambon,” he continued with noticeable sarcasm, extending an arm toward the airfield as a suggestion to walk in that direction. “Not exactly Raffles, but we make do as best we can.” The rank of naval captain was roughly equivalent to his own and he was happy to treat Eileen accordingly.

  “You seem quite busy here, colonel,” Donelson noted, sweeping her own hand across the vista before them as they walked briskly through the village toward the distant aircraft. “Is there something going on we should know about?”

  “Well, that possible depends on who you are, I suspect,” he replied with an arched eyebrow, a faint gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Not surprised you’re not aware… half the buggers over that side of the bay don’t speak English, and none of them seem at all inclined to keep us informed of anything. The fact is that as of a few hours ago, captain, we’re at war with the bloody Japanese. They’ve sent invasion forces into Thailand, Hong Kong and on the Malay Peninsula this morning, backed up by massive air support. The sketchy reports we’ve received indicate they’ve also attacked the Americans in the Philippines, and near the Hawaiian Islands.”

  “Oh, God…” Eileen breathed softly, halting in mid-step and staring at Roach in shock and surprise. “They still hit Pearl Harbor?”

  “Don’t know anything about the islands themselves,” Roach shrugged, “but we’ve been told there was some huge air battle off shore that sunk a bloody great load of Yank aircraft carriers. There’s also some damned silly rumour about the bastards having blown up the entire Panama Canal with just one bloody bomb, but that can’t be right…”

  “I see…” Eileen managed carefully, throwing a sharp, sideways glare at Lloyd and Langdale and silencing any possible remark either might have made at that point. “I can see how that might seem unlikely,” she added, that glance becoming a worried glance back across the bay toward the distant Kormoran and suddenly feeling very concerned about the device still sitting inside the ship’s hold. “That does however place us in a substantially more precarious position…”

  “You mean one that involves the sinking of an RAN cruiser and being forced to pilot a captured Jerry surface raider to the absolute arse-end of South-East Asia as a result?” Roach observed with a wry, knowing smile. “Welcome to Ambon, as I said…”

  “We have reason to suspect the Japanese will place a priority on launching an invasion against this island, colonel,” Eileen admitted reluctantly, making a snap decision as to whether she could trust the man. “There is a device currently in the hold of the captured raider over there that they want very badly… possibly the same device that they may have used against the Panama Canal.”

  That revelation passed the baton of shock and surprise across to the pair of army officers, Roach narrowing his eyes and fixing her with a sharp glare of his own.

  “You’re saying that rubbish about the canal might be true…?”

  “Unfortunately, yes, colonel, and before you ask… yes, we have a similar device aboard that vessel that could quite easily wipe out the entire town across the bay there and possibly do us some damage over here as well.”

  “Jesus wept…” Newbury muttered softly, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Indeed…” Roach agreed warily. “I can see how the Japs would definitely want something like that bad enough to send some unpleasantness our way. I suppose sailing that bloody thing straight back out of the bay and sinking it in deep water is out of the question?”

  “HQ was quite clear they want this one brought home if at all possible, unfortunately.”

  “Of course they were,” Roach spat with exasperation, not sounding the slightest bit surprised. “In that case, captain, I have to agree: that does place you in a rather precarious position.” He gave a soft snort of derision that was tempered by more than a little disillusionment.

  “Captain Donelson,” he continued, exasperation clear in his tone. “Across the water there we have just under three thousand men of the Dutch East Indies Army, most of whom are inexperienced native conscripts under orders from around three hundred bloody Dutch officers and volunteers. Over here we have another twelve hundred comprising the guts of this unit that some wag has laughingly called ‘Gull Force’. The boys are all well-trained at least, but are unfortunately no better equipped: some still have Lee Enfields, for the love of God, and with precious little ammunition for those into the bargain!”

  “Surely, we have the air force at least?”

  “You’d think so, captain, however most of them received their redeployment orders within hours of the declaration: they’re all being either reassigned to Batavia or Singapore to protect our assets there, or pulled back to Timor and Darwin. By all accounts, the bloody fiasco in North Africa has drained the entire bloody Commonwealth dry of assets, and until we can make good our losses, they’re robbing Peter all over while trying to pay Paul; but then… I don’t suppose I need to tell you about Suez, do I?”

  “How did you know we were there?” She asked, surprised that Roach seemed to be aware of her recent history.

  “A female naval officer leading ground troops against German panzers? That’s the kind of thing that makes the news, captain. When I heard you’d turned up in the middle of the night on a captured German raider, it wasn’t hard to make a connection… there aren’t that many like you about, I should imagine.”

  “So what do we have to work with?” Eileen asked with a simple nod of acknowledgement as they began to walk again toward the airfield.

  “Not enough,” Roach admitted ruefully, “but we’ll make every bit count. A few tanks and armoured cars, but no heavy artillery… we’ve a few anti-tank guns and PITA launchers though, with rounds enough to spare. Limited small arms ammunition, but we’ve been promised another shipment in the next few days to assist with that.” He raised an arm and began pointing out various directions as he spoke. “There’s pillboxes and trenches dug in to the north-east on the approaches to Paso,” he explained, not pausing for a moment to consider they might have no concept of Ambonese geography, “as well as defences along the beach and to the south as well. Kapitz has requested two of my companies on the peninsula across the bay to defend against potential landings there, so I’ll be heading across with them later this morning… Major Newbury will be in charge here in my absence.”

  “Not much to work with,” Eileen agreed dubiously. “Does the War Department not recognise how untenable this position is?”

  “I asked them exactly that question myself, captain,” Roach advised, his tone one of bitterness now. “I’ve sent a number o
f reports over the last few months stating my opinion that the resources we have are insufficient to defend this island and requesting either reinforcement or withdrawal – whichever HQ preferred…” The last sentence was almost spat out, such was his vehemence. “Their solution was to reassign me… they’re sending another officer our as my replacement at the end of the month.” He shook his head, the frustration clear in his expression. “I just hope he has more luck with HQ than I’ve had.”

  As they walked on, the discussion continuing, Lloyd and Langdale followed on behind, bringing up the rear after Newbury and Richardson. Both men trudged along with rifles shouldered, the expressions on their faces indicating there was a lot going on in each man’s mind.

  “This is the Ambon, right…?” Langdale asked softly, gulping dramatically as if forced to swallow something vaguely unpalatable, which in metaphoric terms was exactly the case.

  “Only one I’m aware of…” was the only sour, equally displeased reply he got in return.

  “Ambon Island… Laha… three hundred POWs executed by the Japs... that Laha…?”

  “You know the story as well as I…”

  “You think she knows it…?”

  “You wanna ask her right now… with the other officers here too…?” Lloyd pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Photographic memory, remember? If she knows about it, she knows, right? What good would it do anyway… we’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell of defending this joint against the Japs, and they all bloody know that…!”

  “Not often it’s a bonus only bein’ a sergeant…” Langdale observed softly with a wry shake of his head.

  “How’s that…?”

  “I could be wrong, but I think the commissioned officers got their heads chopped off first… with the size o’ your great scone, maybe they’ll be too tired by the time it’s my turn…”