Second Front (Kirov Series Book 24)

by John Schettler

  “Explain.”

  “He can’t expend all his ordnance trying to take us out, because if he does, he’s basically just a fast anti-aircraft cruiser after that. In that event, we tell Yamamoto that he needs to hold his carriers in reserve, and then he can go after that bastard with his battleships. I don’t think an S-300 SAM will put much of a dent in Yamato.”

  “Well that’s real creative, Mister Fukada. You want me to provoke him into throwing a basket full of hypersonic missiles at us, just so we can spoil his party here. The only problem with that is we may not be here to give that friendly advice to Yamamoto.” Harada thought, and then decided to raise the stakes. He reached for the handset again, and nodded for Shiota to broadcast.

  “Now hear this, battlecruiser Kirov. This is the IJN, DDG-180, Takami—come back.”

  “BCG Kirov receiving,” came the reply. “Go ahead, Takami.”

  “Captain Harada speaking, and you can tell your Admiral Karpov there that we’re not going anywhere. If you’ve got the SSMs, we’ve got the SAMs, so bring it on. Once we pull your teeth, you won’t be much more than a radar picket here, and that’s as good as a K.I.A. as far as I’m concerned. JS-Takami, over and out.”

  Battlecruiser Kirov, Sea of Okhotsk, 20 May ~ 2:45

  “Looks like they’ve called our bet,” said Fedorov looking at the Admiral.

  “Yes,” said Karpov, “that seems to be the case, but I don’t think it will take all 39 of our remaining SSMs to kill that ship.”

  “True, but if they do have the SAMs then we may have to expend a fairly good number to overcome their defense. They know that, and in true Japanese fashion, they are going to stand there and bar the door, come what may.”

  “You think they’ll sacrifice their ship just to pull our teeth?”

  “That sounds like their plan, sir. How many missiles can we afford to commit here?”

  “As many as it takes.” Karpov was angry now. “Those impudent little—”

  “Con, radar, those airborne formations are coming up on our 40 mile range circle.”

  Karpov pinched his nose, chasing the headache that this entire situation had become. Every time he maneuvered himself to a position where he could make a decisive intervention, something happened to interfere with his plans. In August of 1941, on their first arrival, it had been Troyak and his Marines, just when he was ready to smash the Allied fleet. Back home in 2021, it had been the Demon Volcano, just when he was ready to finish off Captain Tanner and his vaunted carrier battlegroup. 1908 would have been a cake walk with Admiral Togo’s antiquated fleet, but then along came Kazan, and Fedorov had everything to do with much of his frustration. Now, just as he was poised to break the Japanese Northern Fleet, here comes this challenger from his own day, unaccountably here, but as real as the missiles it was firing.

  And when Karpov met with resistance, there was one sure response that he had demonstrated time and time again. He had tried to tell Fedorov he was a chastened and wiser man now, but some problems become nails that stubbornly refuse to be pulled from the beam. And when that happened, Karpov too often did the one thing that was both expedient and certain to resolve the situation in his favor.

  He reached for a hammer.

  “Damn annoying,” said Karpov, looking at the updated position of the air contacts. The predictive plot line was indicating they would be in position to attack the ship in just 12 minutes. “Samsonov—two missiles, Klinok system. Give them a taste of what they’ll get if they persist, and also let our uninvited guests to the south see that we mean what we say. Take down the lead incoming planes.” He looked at Fedorov. “You know, I have half a mind to plop a special warhead right here,” he pointed to the Plexiglass screen. “It would take out their surface action group, knock down all those planes and the EMP and shock wave would probably fry the electronics on that destroyer.”

  Fedorov’s pulse quickened. There it was, Karpov’s old reflex to escalate the situation when he was under stress. “Sir, a nuclear weapon? I hardly think that is warranted here.”

  “You heard that bastard. They’re going to sit there and force me to run missile after missile at them. Our SSMs are valuable. I already regret the thirteen we’ve thrown away here. And who knows how many more it will take to get through their SAM defense? A special warhead would be so much quicker. In fact, on a MOS-III it would get so close that it would probably take them out if we detonate before they try that laser again. It would end this here and now, leaving my SSM inventory strong enough to continue to apply pressure on the Japanese here in the north. Our first order of business will be to find the carriers these bothersome planes are coming from. That will teach them.”

  Fedorov had to think quickly here, because knowing Karpov, he was just one order away from doing what he was suggesting. That would put the two of them head to head in a most uncomfortable way, as protocol held that the Starpom must repeat the Captain’s order, thereby giving his consent, in the deployment of any special warhead. Whether that mattered now with Karpov was debatable, but he needed to intervene here, and quickly.

  “Sir… I understand your logic here, but it has one flaw.”

  “Oh? Enlighten me, Mister Fedorov.”

  “What you say is true. This action would preserve our SSM missile inventory, but for the expenditure of a special warhead? Would you trade that power for those 13 missiles we just fired? I certainly wouldn’t. Those warheads are decisive. Yes, they trump any enemy defense, in any situation we choose on a tactical level like this, but their real power lies in their application on the strategic level. Consider what the Americans did with theirs. They never once thought to develop this weapon for use on the tactical level. It was always a strategic blow they envisioned, and their target selection bears witness to that. Timed appropriately, in just the right situation, those warheads represent absolute power to change the course of events.”

  Karpov pursed his lips. “Yes, I suppose that is true, but if I smash them here, take out these battleships and then find their carriers, I will have effectively broken the back of their Northern Fleet. It would then be impossible for them to interfere with our subsequent landings on Sakhalin.”

  “Sir, I doubt they can do that as it stands. It won’t take much to mission kill that surface action group—just a handful of SSMs, or better yet, we could use the Vodopads. Torpedoes are a much better solution against those heavily armored battleships. Save the SSMs for the carriers, and it will only take one or two hits.”

  “What about that destroyer? Do you think we can leave it to its devices here?”

  “They have virtually no offensive capability now,” Fedorov said quickly. “And they’ve already expended a good number of SAMs here on defense. That’s all they are now, just what they think they can turn us into—a radar picket with good AA defense. In my view, their real military power here is very limited now. In fact, I wouldn’t even waste anything further on them. Yet, if you must, I would think four MOS-IIIs might do the job. Their laser defense may get one of them, but my bet is that one gets through. That said, I would not give this ship the time of day here. They are not a threat to our operations, not even worth those four MOS-IIIs.”

  Karpov waited, thinking, then raised an eyebrow. “Of course,” he said quietly. “I was only thinking out loud, Fedorov, nothing more. Mister Samsonov… I think its time we do make good on one of our promises. Take down that incoming air strike.”

  Chapter 6

  “Sir,” said Otani. “I have missile fire again. This time its directed at the air strike off Kaga. SA-N-92 Gauntlet type missiles are outbound now.”

  “Range?”

  “79 nautical miles.”

  “We’d never hit them the SM-2,” said Fukada. “They’ll be on target before our missiles are even half way there.”

  “A lot of good we’ve done here,” said Harada, somewhat dejected. “If we’re to defend the fleet, we’ll have to have all the eggs in our nest. With missiles as fast as these Russian SSMs,
we can’t even protect Kurita—which reminds me. Have they turned?”

  “No sir, they are still on a heading of 020 degrees north, and at 24 knots.”

  “Well then we need to reinforce our suggestion and get them out of there. Otherwise this Karpov will do exactly what he bragged about a moment ago. Let’s face it, we need to withdraw. We’ve covered the landing of those troops, but this plan to take on that Russian battlecruiser had gone bust. It isn’t a question of us getting him now. It’s down to whether or not we can save ourselves.”

  “What about the rail gun,” said Fukada, pointing to that weapons control station.

  “What about it? Like I said earlier, all we would do is rile them up if we started taking pokes at them with that gun. I say we pull in our horns, make a graceful bow and get the hell out of here. If he continues south towards Hokkaido, then we’ll reconvene this discussion. But at least down south we’ve got more Japanese land based air power. It looks like they’ve called my bluff. We’re finished.”

  “But we might at least get in a few licks, perhaps damage them.”

  “Sour grapes,” said Harada. “No, mister Fukada, it’s weapons tight on the rail gun. That’s an order. And before you get your feathers ruffled about it, I want you to consider the fact that we’ve got just 36 SM-2s left. If we hand on in this scenario, we might have to use them all, and with a very uncertain outcome for this ship. Yet if we keep those arrows in our quiver, we’ve at least one card to play. It’s going to be a very long war….”

  Fukada thought about that, and his own arguments to Yamamoto. He realized that Harada was correct. They had mismanaged their attack. Communications were in place, but the pilots off those carriers had trouble adapting to the last minute change of plans. They were late, and now they die out there alone, with our only consolation being the fact that the Russians have to expend ordnance to kill them. The Captain summed it up pretty good. All we are now is a candle in the wind of this war. Yet he’s right about those 36 missiles. If we hold those, we might make a difference somewhere else, against the Americans. That’s what we should have done in the first place. Why wouldn’t Yamamoto listen to me?

  He knew the answer to that the moment he asked himself the question. They appeared here in a daze, unbelieving, shocked by what had happened to them. Then they hatched this plan to get to Yamamoto. It did one good thing, he thought. It put us on the right side of this argument. We had to stand up for Japan, even if it meant we turned our backs on the allies that designed and built the technology we’re using now. This ship is basically just a knock off for a Burke Class Destroyer, with a few more bells and whistles.

  But look at us now. Our SSMs are gone, and 40% of our SAMs, and all we did was cost the other fellow 13 missiles. We walked into Yamamoto and Ugaki like we were demigods, miracle workers, with the ship that would turn the tide here in the Pacific. I suppose that’s why Yamamoto set us loose up here. He knows that Russian ship, Siberian ship, is his real nemesis for the time being. It will take the Americans some time to get back on their feet after losing those two carriers in the Coral Sea.

  So now we must make a shameful withdrawal here, and then explain all this to Yamamoto. That will be somewhat humbling, won’t it? But at the moment, I don’t see anything more we can do here. “Alright,” he said aloud to the Captain. “I agree with your assessment. In fact, I argued it from the very first. Let’s get out of here, before this Karpov tries our defense again.”

  Harada nodded. “Helm, come about. Make your heading 180 degrees south. Ensign Shiota, advise Admiral Kurita that we are redeploying south—don’t use the word withdrawal or retreat. State that all air assets must return to the carriers immediately. Make it urgent. Send it to Kobayashi, and he’ll deliver it to Kurita.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  When Kurita got that message read to him by the liaison officer, he clenched his jaw. “Redeploy to the south? Why? The enemy is here—somewhere. We must be very close now.”

  “Sir,” said the Lieutenant. “In order to properly defend the fleet against the missile weaponry you have witnessed in play here, it is imperative that we now form a unified battlegroup. We are too far north for Takami to adequately protect us.”

  “Protect us? That is a cruiser! I am sitting on a battleship, and there is a second one off our port bow.”

  “Sir, respectfully, that did not stop the rocket weapons that struck this ship earlier. And you witnessed many such weapons pass our position heading south. They were fired at Takami, and I am happy to report that each and every one of them was defeated by our own rockets. If, however, they had been directed at this task force….” He let a moment of silence underscore his message. Kobayashi was a bright young officer, and he had been selected because of his uncanny way with his seniors, who invariably came to admire him. He seemed to know every nuance of the culture and language, even with these men, ghosts from Japan’s distant past.

  “Respectfully, sir, if we join with Takami as a single task force, then your ships can be shielded from harm, and your guns may then get their chance. Yet we must redeploy south, out of range of the enemy to consolidate. Captain Harada makes this urgent request, and begs you to come to a heading of 180 true south. As for the air strikes, he requests they should be recalled to Kaga and Tosa immediately, the planes were unable to time their arrival properly, and Takami remains too far south to defend them as they approach.”

  Kurita stared at the man, the anger evident in his eyes. Yet he was no fool, and one thing was now perfectly clear to him, this ship—the Takami—was overmatched. Yes, the attack was not properly coordinated. This is what happens when I allow a Captain to dictate deployments here. I should have taken complete charge of this mission, as I was ordered by Admiral Yamamoto. Under these circumstances, however, it would be foolish to press on without support of all our remaining fleet assets, particularly the carriers. As reluctant as I am to do so, the best course would now be to regroup as this Captain suggests.

  “Very well,” he said. “Signal Takami that we are redeploying south as requested, whereupon he will meet with me personally on this ship to explain the incompetence that has put us in this position. That is all. Dismissed!”

  * * *

  When Karpov got the news that the enemy battleships had turned south, he smiled. Yes, he thought, I called their bluff and they folded. Now I savor the satisfaction that comes only to those who truly have power. This unexpected intruder is largely irrelevant. There is no sense wasting more missiles on it, let alone a special warhead. I’ll knock down those planes if they persist, then hasten this other surface action group along, and that alone will show this Captain Harada just how futile his situation is. That ship was never a match for Kirov, but then again, they knew that. This is why they tried to coordinate their surprise attack with these air strikes, but it was badly done.

  We were Achilles here today, they were Hector, but lucky that I spare them. Now all of Troy lies before me for the taking. I’ve beaten the one champion they had with any chance of putting a dent in my armor. There is nothing they can do to stop me now, at least on the sea. The rest will be up to our troops on Sakhalin Island. If they do the job, then we will prevail.

  I tested Fedorov just now to see how he might react to my proposal to use special warheads. While I expected resistance, I must say his analysis was quite sound. Even though he has been a lot of trouble in the past, he can be quite an asset now. He was completely correct in pointing out that while we are harboring tactical nukes in our magazines, their real power here lies in strategic application.

  And there was one other thing that restrained me, even if he failed to mention it—the exotic effects of a nuclear detonation. I mustn’t forget that we still have Rod-25 aboard. From what I can gather in speaking with Fedorov, Time is rather warped and bruised here now. We must be very cautious about putting any more cracks in Fedorov’s mirror.

  This other matter he brought up was also somewhat unsettling. He’s worried
, as he always is, about the history, only this time there is something darker, more frightening in his manner than I ever perceived before. He is thinking our actions here are already starting to migrate forward, changing the history in the far future, in our time. He is worried that we will do something that will completely undermine the line of causality, and render our position here null and void. That would be very inconvenient.

  I like my position here. In fact, I have no intention of ever trying to return to 2021. I saw quite enough of that world, that war. This one I can manage. Here I am a god on the sea, and a real player in these events. Back there, I am just another sea Captain, just another target when the ballistic missiles start to fly. ‘If I hold out here and I lay siege to Troy, my journey home is gone, but my glory never dies.

  If I voyage back to the fatherland I love, my pride, my glory dies . . .’ Words spoken by Achilles, he thought, and so I share his dilemma. Yet Fedorov may be on to something in his fear of tomorrow’s unfolding, and I must heed his warning.

  When the engagement had settled down, his enemy turned south, Karpov gave orders to come about. Even the enemy planes turned to withdraw, and they only had to use those two Klinok missiles to discourage them.

  That was not very Japanese of them, he thought, but someone must have ordered them to break off. Perhaps I will meet this ship again another day, but for now, I must speak with my Starpom.

  “Mister Fedorov, a most satisfactory engagement. Yes?”

  “Any engagement where the ship comes through without harm is a good one,” said Fedorov. “That said, we’re light a baker’s dozen under the forward deck.”

  “Perhaps so, but they are far worse off, and largely irrelevant now.”

  “Don’t discount them,” Fedorov cautioned. “That SPY-1D radar set is enough of a weapon to make a real difference here. Were they worth another dozen SSMs? I think not, but they remain a factor here, and a dangerous one.”