“This was what I came to realize,” said Karpov. “And there is the Ace I have in hand with this ship. Kirov alone can emasculate this Kido Butai.”
“But yet,” Fedorov held up a finger, “even in defeat the Japanese remained tenacious. They will not yield one island, let alone that port. It is too strategic, and by this time, too much a part of their economic and military infrastructure. They use it to supply their forces in Manchuria.”
“And on the rail line they took from us,” said Karpov sourly. “What you say is very sobering. Yes, I cannot push my eastern Divisions that far from Irkutsk, even if we could defeat their Kwantung Army. Nor can I conduct an amphibious invasion… But the Americans can.”
“Sir? You think you can convince them to take back Vladivostok for you?”
“Consider this,” said Karpov. “The US fought long bitter campaigns through Central and Southeast Asia, throwing their troops at one island outpost after another.”
“The navy’s leapfrog strategy,” said Fedorov.
“Exactly, and it took them at least three years before they could get close enough to the Japanese home islands to deliver that knockout blow—strategic bombing. Wasn’t that what really broke Japan?”
“After their navy was broken first,” said Fedorov.
“Well then,” Karpov rubbed his hands together. “I can offer the Americans another route, the northern route. What about an advance through the Aleutians? They are pointed like a sword, right at the Japanese mainland.”
“They are still too far away to support strategic bombing, sir. Adak is 3500 kilometers from Japan, and Attu is just under 3000. It’s the same distance to Guam and the Marianas, and the Marianas are much more strategically positioned. The B-17s can’t handle that range anyway. Their B-29s could do it, but they won’t have them for another year.”
“Yes, but the Aleutians could become a base to attack Kamchatka.”
“Still 2000 kilometers away.”
“And then Sakhalin Island.”
“But you don’t control any of those territories, sir, except northern enclaves in Kamchatka the Japanese have not yet occupied.”
“True,” said Karpov, “but with the American’s help I could control them, and contribute troops and material to the war effort to take and hold them. Imagine those B-29s basing from Sakhalin island a year from now? We could defeat Japan much sooner—cut years off the war in the Pacific!”
“Assuming the American’s agree. Don’t forget, if Japan takes the Philippines, which is likely, then you’ll have a man dead set on structuring the American war effort to take them back—General Douglas MacArthur. I suppose your plan is worth presenting to the Americans, but it will involve a good deal of diplomatic wrangling.”
“So I need some leverage with the Americans too,” said Karpov, thinking. “A good deal of leverage…” He smiled. “Thank you, Mister Fedorov, you helped me clarify my thinking on all of this. Now to see about getting us into the Pacific as soon as possible. That’s where the action will be.”
Fedorov knew the man well enough to realize Karpov had not yet revealed all that might be clarifying in that mind of his. The Captain has plans within plans, he thought. What did he mean about getting leverage with the Americans? He was a little ill at ease, but decided to say nothing at this point until he knew more. Instead he calculated their ETA in the Bering Strait.
“We should be at Big Diomede in four sea days at ten to twelve knots average speed in this ice.”
That was another good prediction by Fedorov, but he was very wrong. They would get to the Pacific, but much later than they expected.
Chapter 35
By the time they realized what had happened, it was nearly too late. Fedorov had plotted a skillful course through the ice, and they passed through the East Siberian Sea, entering the Chukchi Sea two days later, which brought Sergeant Troyak up on deck to breathe that cold Siberian air that was so familiar to him. He had been born on the peninsula that reached towards the Bering Strait, and so this was a taste of home for him, and many other crewmen as well.
Fedorov had done his best to brief the crew, talking to them in small groups, seeing their astonished faces, hearing their many questions and answering as best he could. It took all of two weeks since they first left Severomorsk to finish the job, and soon the crew settled into a sullen silence. They had lost everything they ever knew, parents, wives, family, friends, and here they were at the edge of the world, being asked to fight a war that had ended long before any of them had ever been born. For some the shock was too heavy, and Doctor Zolkin was a busy man those last two weeks.
Fedorov had also told the Doctor of his encounter with Karpov, and what he had decided to do. “It’s no use trying to split the ship down the middle,” he said. “Trying to stage a mutiny was never something I wanted to do.”
“Yet that’s what he did,” Zolkin protested. “He took this ship from Admiral Volsky, and had no right to do so.”
“I’ll tell you how he would answer that,” said Fedorov. “He would say that might makes right. Yes, I thought I had to entrench here and stand against him, but honestly, what good would that do? I’d be setting one crew member against another. I’d be doing the very same thing we found so distasteful in the way he took command here. But here he is, with Grilikov and 60 men aboard. I once thought that if I could get to Troyak, and win his support, we might have a chance, but think what that would mean.”
Zolkin took a long breath. “It would come to no good,” he said.
“Yes, said Federov, “and a lot more of those bloodied bandages for you to worry about, all so we could say we beat Karpov, and put him in his place. I think my initial reaction was one of survival, and worry that Karpov now had control of the ship again. I had no idea what he might do, but Doctor, something is different about him. He’s quieter, more inward, less boastful, yet still surrounded by this aura of darkness that is difficult to penetrate at times. He offered me a position as his Starpom, and in that moment I realized that I would have much more control over what happens here in that role than I would likely have in the brig.”
“Probably true,” said Zolkin. “But just remember, if it comes down to something like the things you told me about earlier, I’m with you.”
“I appreciate that,” said Fedorov. “But for now, I think it best if you give no indication you know about any of that. Did you hear the news concerning Moscow?”
“How could I not hear it. It’s been all over the ship. Nikolin has been translating the BBC news and spreading the word, and he put Radio Moscow on the ship’s P.A. yesterday. Frankly, that’s good for the men. They heard what the Germans were doing and it brought them together. I think they’ll be spoiling for a fight soon.”
“We may have one for them. Karpov is going to confront Japan.”
“What? Alone? With this single ship?”
“That remains to be seen. Like I said, he’s very careful now, and very calculating. He’s got some plan in mind, and it’s all aimed at recovering our lost territories from Japan.”
“I hope he doesn’t get any ideas about dropping an early nuke on Tokyo!”
“Thankfully, that hasn’t come up. No. I think he’ll show some restraint in that, and as Starpom, I’ll have some say in it all as well.”
There came a tremor in the deck beneath them, a fluttering vibration, and for the briefest moment Fedorov thought the whole scene around him went out of focus. He thought he was having a dizzy spell, until Zolkin expressed the same complaint.
“I must be losing my sea legs!” he said. “Did you feel that too?”
“I did,” said Fedorov, “and I think I had better get to engineering…”
When he got there, his worst fears were confirmed. Dobrynin told him they had another flux event in core number two. “Just the one core,” he said. “The other was stable the whole time.”
Fedorov knew what had happened, the ship had pulsed in time again. Slipping away and back again,
but how long this time. He rushed to the bridge to report to Karpov, and when he got there the Captain was already quite concerned.
“Well Fedorov,” he said. “Your moon has pulled a fast one on us again, and the sea has too! I was out on the weather deck when we got this odd ripple in the ship—a kind of vibration, whisper soft, but clearly there. I was staring right at that moon, blinked, and the damn thing had moved right before my eyes! One minute it was up there,” he pointed, “the next moment it was down there. One minute I’m looking at a relatively clear sea, now we’ve got sea ice all around us!”
“We’ve pulsed again,” said Fedorov.
“That’s what I feared,” said Karpov. “I’ve had Nikolin on the radio the last five minutes, but we’ can’t raise Tunguska. Thankfully that odd interference hasn’t set in on the AM bands. He’s trying to pick up clues as to where we might be, or when…”
As if on cue, Nikolin looked over his shoulder, giving the Captain a thumbs up. He flipped a switch to put the broadcast he had stumbled upon on audio, but it was simply Morse code.
Fedorov listened, thinking, remembering their time in the Pacific. “Nikolin, is that standard Morse?”
“No sir… I think it’s—”
“Kana Code,” Fedorov finished for him. “Probably the Wabun variant. Switch your decoder to that system. It should be in the database. In another five minutes they had deciphered the message. Nikolin could make no sense of it, but to Fedorov it was crystal clear: “Kono junjo wa, 12 tsuki 2-nichi 17-ji 30-bu ni yūkōdearu: Rengō kantai shiriaru #10… Niitaka yama nobore ! 1208, Ripīto, 1208!”
“What does it mean sir? Should I call for Mishman Tanaka?”
“No need,” said Fedorov. “Just run it through the translator here.” They had their answer soon enough: “This order is effective at 17:30 on 2 December: Combined Fleet Serial #10. Climb NIITAKAYAMA! Climb Mount Niitaka! 1208, repeat, 1208.”
“A code within a code,” said Karpov, looking at Fedorov.
“Except it is one of the most famous code signals ever transmitted sir. That is the Japanese signal authorizing the attack on Pearl Harbor. We’ve slipped again! It must be early December. That message was historically first transmitted at 15:00, Tokyo Time, on December 2, 1941. No doubt we may hear others. ‘East Wind Rain’ was the Japanese Foreign Ministry alert code for the start of the war, and ‘The Black Kite Eagle And Hawk Will Fly’ was used for the Army. This one was for the navy, Climb Mount Niitaka, and it took them all night to broadcast it effectively so all fleet assets would get the message.”
“My God,” said Karpov. “We’re late! Where would the Japanese Strike force be on December 2nd when they got this message?”
Fedorov ran to his navigation station, quickly retrieving a pad device where he had stored his research on this campaign. A few taps later he had a map. “About here, sir. The Kido Butai refueled at 42 degrees north and 170 degrees east; at 2000 hours—today, if this is indeed December 2. The fleet rendezvous point on December 6th was at 34 North, 158 West. That’s our best chance to get close. If I punch in our present position, that would put them nearly 4000 kilometers south of us on the 6th. About 2160 nautical miles. That’s 72 hours sea time at 30 knots, but we’ll be lucky to make even half that speed given the ice conditions now. Ice minimum was in September, but it’s been building up ever since.”
“Damn!”
“We have no chance to catch them before the attack sir. Given these sea ice conditions, it could take us a week to ten days to get down through the Bering Strait. Even trying to catch them as they withdraw would be a very close shave. First I’ll have to nail down our exact time.”
“I’ll get that from BBC soon,” said Nikolin.
“Yes, and do everything possible to raise Tunguska,” said Karpov. “But even before that, I want you to send a message. Come with me to the briefing room and we’ll go over what I want.” He looked at Fedorov now.
“Mister Fedorov, the bridge is yours. We’re in a horse race. Ice be damned. Give this old grey stallion the whip!”
*
Kirov would not be able to navigate the thickening ice floes and get up enough speed to cross the enormous distance that separated the two forces. When this was clear, Karpov determined to fall back on his Plan B, or so he indicated to Fedorov. But he secretly had a hidden agenda in these proceedings, one that saw his presence here a two edged sword.
I cannot get close enough to prevent the Japanese attack, he thought, nor did I ever wish to. This pulsing shift into December was clearly unexpected, and hopefully it will not happen again, but I will now make the best of the situation, and follow my plans. Nikolin finally got through to Tunguska, with yet another surprise! They took the ship back to Siberia. Volkov is scheming again.
Information was scattered. Tyrenkov had only been able to speak with him briefly. He told them they waited a week at Big Diomede as instructed, until it became necessary to return to Siberian territory to re-provision. They flew to Magadan on the Sea of Othotsk, and then began to pick up information about unusual troop movements by the Japanese. They were pushing patrols up the northern neck of Kamchatka, and merchant ships docked at Petropavlovsk, unloading fresh troops and supplies. There was also movement in the Kuriles and Aleutians, and so after they re-provisioned, they determined to take Tunguska out there to have a look.
The Japanese had occupied the old outpost at Nikolskoye, and they were building a small airfield. Tyrenkov believed these troops were staging for the seizure of Attu Island, then an American protectorate, and saw this as an omen that war was imminent. Then came the news that German aircraft had been secretly staged through the Caucasus to Astrakhan and were now flying by night to airfields in northeast Orenburg. That raised Karpov’s hackles.
“Where are you now?” he asked.
“Returning to Magadan. Should we alter course to rendezvous with you?”
“No… Take the ship to Ilanskiy.”
“Ilanskiy? What do we do there?”
“Stand on overwatch. I’m suspicious about those German planes. Any information as to type?”
“JU-88 transports, a squadron of Messerschmitts, a few He-111s. Sir… You don’t thing Volkov would dare another operation against Ilanskiy. It’s winter, the weather is unpredictable, the roads are clotting up with snow.”
“No, it does not seem likely, and Germany has still not made a formal declaration of war on Siberia. That is a mere formality, but the presence of those planes in the east is disturbing. I can see them in the Volga district, but not out east. Watch that situation closely. Find out what he’s up to! See that my brother is well briefed on airship battle tactics. Bogrov can help with that. Is all the new equipment working?”
“Yes sir, all installed and ready.”
“Then get to Ilanskiy. Hopefully we’ll stay put now, but be ready to implement Plan 7. Is everything ready?”
“Ready and waiting, sir.”
“Very well… Tyrenkov. I’m relying on you a great deal now, but in my absence, should this damn ship move again, my younger brother has the authority to order Plan 7 to proceed.”
“I understand sir.”
After that Karpov sent his message to the Japanese authorities, a diplomatic nicety, as he really could care less what response they gave. He had it delivered by his embassy in Vladivostok, and Nikolin’s radio signal was just a reminder to indicate he meant business. It was, in fact, the harbinger of his “Plan 7.” He told them that Siberia was fully aware of their plan to strike Pearl Harbor, and even stated the present estimated position of the Kido Butai in his signal to make that stick. He said that unless Japan agreed to cede territories, withdraw south of the Amur River, and relinquish control of the Trans-Siberian Rail Line, that Siberia would have no other recourse but to declare war. As Fedorov had advised him, he did not expect the Japanese to bow to such demands, for that rail line was now vital to Japan’s northern Imperial holdings.
Then, just to stick in a quiet knife, he had Ni
kolin transmit the position of the Kido Butai as they expected it for December 3 and December 6. He knew from his discussions with Fedorov that the American carriers would be too far away to do anything about the matter on December 3, but if they turned after this warning, and sailed east…
The Japanese are likely to achieve at least historical damage on the American fleet, he thought. If my warning prompts them to risk those two carriers, all the better. And if the Americans get lucky, perhaps with a little assistance from my long range helos, they just might put some hurt on this Kido Butai. That failing….
He smiled, for indeed, he had plans within plans within plans.
*
Mount Niitaka was the ‘New High Mountain’ as it was called, on the Japanese possession of Taiwan, was climbed for the first time by Japanese explorers in the year 1900, a most grueling ascent, studded with perilous cliffs, steep stony walls, and slide zones where the risk of avalanche was very great. It was so named because it was even higher than the sacred heights of Mount Fuji on the home islands, and it was symbolic of a great task to be performed.
On the morning of December 2nd, 1941, that was the code phrase that was flashed to Admiral Nagumo’s Kido Butai, Climb Mount Niitaka! Japan was about to embark on their arduous expedition onto the steep, stony cliffs of WWII.
“Climb Niitakayama,” said the Lieutenant. “The operation has finally been approved!”
Vice Admiral Chuichi Nagumo gave the man a quiet look, his white gloved hands still gripping his field glasses as he studied the wild sea. Those last numbers in the signal, 1208, were simply the date, December 8, 1941, which would be Sunday the 7th in Hawaii on the other side of the international date line. Yamamoto’s long planned operation was finally about to reach its terminal phase.
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