Ride of the Valkyries

by Stuart Slade

  "What will become of him, Sir Eric?"

  "The Prime Minister? Stick a fork in him, he's done. He won't survive as leader of the BJP, not now. There'll be a new leadership election and a new party leader. So even if the BJP did manage to win the coming election, their old policies will be gone."

  "I meant the Foreign Minister. Such a brave gesture to stand against his own party like that."

  "Brave, but politically very foolish. His chances of further high office have just vanished. If he stays in the BJP, he'll spend the rest of his parliamentary career on the back benches. They will never trust him again. If he joins the Congress Party, they won't trust him either. They'll always see him as BJP at heart. So, he's finished there as well. It's a pity, he was indeed a brave man to do what we have just seen."

  Sir Eric thought for a second. "Mind you, it could be argued that he had little to lose. It is fairly well agreed that he'd reached about as high as he was going to go. His faction of the BJP is weak and has little influence. He only gained the Foreign Office because he was seen as a reliable supporter of the Prime Minister. It's always been pretty much accepted that he would be eased out soon and start the long decline downwards. Perhaps he thought it was better to go out with a bang than a whimper. If that was his logic, he's certainly achieved that aim."

  On television, the debate had ended. Long lines of figures rose and headed out to the lobbies. In the rows of seats, the party whips converged on those who seemed undecided or their own members who appeared to be wavering. The minutes ticked by in silence as the members voted and returned to their seats. Then, there was a boom as the Speaker struck his staff on the floor.

  "In the matter of the motion ‘This House has no confidence in the administration of Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee' the votes of the Lok Sabha, the People's Assembly, are as follows. Aye, two hundred and eighty one. Nay, two hundred and sixty four. I therefore declare that having a majority of seventeen, the Ayes have it. The Motion stands."

  Vajpayee rose to his feet. "I accept the verdict of the Lok Sabha. The Government resigns, and a writ for a new election will be moved immediately.'"

  The BJP Party Government had fallen. The Ambassador without giving any external sign of the reaction, sighed with relief. The Seer's words still echoed in her mind. ‘Anyway, your opposition here isn't Chipan, its India. Who else's actions have put you into an impossible position? They've gone ahead and dropped you in it with a vengeance. So they're the opposition here that has to be thwarted.' The American help had been absolutely crucial, if it had not been for their offhand comment "That gives you the perfect excuse to refuse to join the conflict because if you try, the Chipanese won't take your Air Force out, we will,' the conflict would have spread.

  Nobody in their right mind, nobody who had even a vestigial level of intelligence, would believe that the comment was intended as a serious threat. But the very fact that it had been made had given her the excuse to keep Thailand and Australia out of the conflict. And, by doing so, had allowed her to maneuver Vajpayee into the militarily-inevitable but politically-suicidal step of accepting the ceasefire offered by Chipan. Even the timing of the American assault on the Caliphate had been critical. The desperate hours spent waiting while the American bombers had taken off and crossed the Atlantic had created the gloomy atmosphere of desperation that had been instrumental in making Vajpayee fold.

  Only one piece of the puzzle had remained; a fuse to set the explosion off. The Foreign Minister had provided that. A man honorable enough to place his country above his party, highly-placed enough to carry political weight and intelligent enough to understand that, no matter what he did, he had reached the peak of his career and would go no higher. And practical enough to accept the inducements that had been dangled in front of him. A secure, post-political career that would still give him work that would benefit his country, put wealth into his hands and secure his family's future. His political career might be over but his business career was just starting and it would be very remunerative. A few well-placed contracts would see to that.

  "A successful political assassination indeed Sir Eric."

  "Indeed so my dear. And one that means I will never again doubt the wealth of Thailand."

  The Ambassador grinned in response to the gentle, friendly gibe. She should have remembered that the Indian Cabinet Secretary's duties also included supervision of the country's intelligence services.

  CHAPTER TWELVE: EXPLOITING

  Inaguchi 2-chome, Himori, Tokyo, Japan

  Getting to come home in a staff car was compensation, in part at least. Commander Toda Endo got out of the back seat, squared his shoulders and adopted the impassive expression expected of an Imperial officer. Behind him, his driver quietly closed the car door and pulled away. He hadn't been thanked for his services nor did he expect to be. Thanks would have been regarded as a gentle rebuke; he was supposed to fulfill his functions without being seen or noticed. To be thanked would have meant he had been seen and noticed.

  Toda walked towards his home. As he approached, the Chinese maid opened the gate for him. Most Japanese officer's families had a maid these days, brought in from China for the purpose. It is a generous gesture, Toda thought for the war in China has left many widows and many children without parents, providing them with work is an example of the kindness of the new rulers of China. Something uneasy stirred in his mind at that, a thought that quietly slipped away as he tried to get hold of it.

  His family were waiting in the small garden that lay between his home, the street and the rest of the world. His wife was formally dressed in Kimono and Obi to honor his return from the war. His children, wore their best and were waiting quietly beside their mother.

  Then, when he was inside the gate, his wife bowed deeply and his children knelt on the grass, his little daughter was helped by a hand placed gently but firmly on her back. Toda returned the bow gravely, allowing no trace of expression to touch his face. Behind them, the maid closed the wooden gate and the children could wait no longer. They ran over to their father, seizing his legs and burying their faces in his uniform. His daughter was crying; his son wanted to but had fought back the tears and tried to equal his father's stoicism. Toda looked proudly down on him. He was young for such an effort; even making the attempt was praiseworthy. To succeed was a mark that showed great promise of distinction.

  "Welcome home. Welcome back." His wife was also crying now, the tears ruining her elaborate make-up. It didn't matter. She reached out, gently, tentatively, touching the brand-new badges of rank on his shoulder. "Commander?"

  "Commander, Hanaka-chan. My new rank was made permanent today." Then the fighter pilot in Toda burst through. "Seven kills! Five Tigers, two Skyhawks! And the Tainan Kokutai is mine!" Then the matter that was clouding his mind took over again. Instead of speaking further, he slipped his arm around his wife's waist, feeling the soft, firm luxury of the silk kimono. He had missed his Hanaka so much.

  "Our evening meal is ready." Together, they went back to their dining room; a simple place whose clean austerity pleased Toda's eyes after the frenetic improvisations of Naval Base Sugu Bay. There, she served his meal as befitted a wife whose husband had returned with honor from a war. Beautiful rice, snow white and steamed to perfection. His favorite smoked eel, thinly sliced just so, and dressed with his favorite sauce. Fresh shrimp served with more of that beautiful rice.

  Toda told his family how their Indian prisoners had eaten rice, seasoned with strong spices and mixed with other things. They shuddered at the barbarity of people who would ruin the delicate flavor of fine rice that way. While he ate, his wife kept his sake bowl filled. He wouldn't know but she had spent a whole day hunting for his favorite sake so that his homecoming would be perfect. And, underneath it all, she knew that something was troubling him.

  After the family had eaten and the children had gone to bed, Toda and his wife walked quietly in their garden, enjoying the peace and quiet, barely disturbed by the sound of t
he traffic beyond the walls.

  "You will be staying for a while?" The question was gentle.

  "The Tainan will be based not far from here. We are to be equipped with a new fighter, the N6M Tsurugi. Hanaka-chan, it is beautiful. Twin engines, Mach 3, and we can fly high enough to intercept the American bombers at last." Had Toda Hanaka been American, she would have made a barbed comment about boys with their toys, but she was not. She was a well-brought up Japanese wife and she remained quiet, just thinking the comment instead. "It will be for us to bring it into service.. But......"

  His wife said nothing still but gently squeezed his arm. He hesitated for a second then plunged on.

  "Hanaka-chan. I am thinking of resigning my commission. I made my report, all the lessons we learned from the weeks out in Sugu Bay. Everything we learned fighting the Indians, what worked, what did not. Everything that my men lost their lives to learn. To fly in fours, protecting each other, not alone each seeking single combat. To keep half the unit back here, out of combat so they can train replacements. To send the veterans back so they can teach the cadets. Everything we learned I reported, and they," Toda's hand sweep indicated who he meant by ‘they,' "have accepted nothing. Nothing! We might as well not have gone to war. We might as well not have won. Everything will be forgotten and next time around, it will have to be learned again."

  Once again his wife squeezed his arm gently. He stared upwards. "Why is it we hang on to the old ways when we can see they do not work. What is the point of fighting to improve things if nobody will listen to our lessons?"

  They went quietly back into their home. At least, Toda thought, I survived.

  Next morning, the car was waiting for him again. His driver opened the rear door for him and he slid in. The seat was already occupied by somebody Toda recognized. The older of the two Kempeitai men who had visited the naval base at Sugu. Before he could react his partner, the younger man, slid into the seat as well.

  "He's thinking of resigning his commission." The older man spoke sadly to the younger.

  "‘I suppose he thinks he's wasting his time because the Admirals didn't follow his recommendations."

  "As if Admirals would obey the orders of a newly-frocked Commander."

  "And now he's sulking."

  "And thinking of resigning as well. What is the Navy coming to?"

  "I don't know. What are we to do with him?"

  "A good question. Commander, what shall we do with you?" Toda was goggling at the interchange. I havn‘t decided to resign yet and already the Kempeitai know? How? "He's got no ideas on that score either. Or perhaps he thinks he'd be better off keeping quiet."

  "Another bad idea."

  "Commander Toda, your recommendations have been heard. And, yes, ignored. But we counsel patience. The Admirals did not act on them because who could reasonably expect Admirals to turn over the habit of a lifetime on the word of a young commander? But wait, and you will see that step by step, all that you have learned will come to pass. You have the Tainan Kokutai now. You can train it in your image, with your ideas. When your Tainan pilots outfight and outmaneuver all others in training exercises, other units will copy you. When enough do, all that you have learned, every recommendation that you have made will become standard. Others will take the credit but the work will be yours."

  "He never listened to us, did he?"

  "I think you are right. Did you listen to us Commander, when we told you that you had gained important friends? We know where these ideas came from. By the way, Commander, you may be interested to know that the orders to scrap the six remaining aircraft carriers have been signed. The money saved by doing so will be invested in the seaplane fighter units. More fuel for training, more flying hours, more ammunition to practice with. In a few months, the seaplane fighters and the flying boats will be our naval sea-based air arm just as the Navy's long range bombers and the B10N theater attackers will be the naval land-based air arm. The days of the surface fleet have gone. Now we will concentrate on the air and under the sea. Your Tainan will lead the way in that change Commander."

  The two Kempeitai men got out of the car and walked across the road without looking around, ignoring the traffic that swerved to avoid them. Then, they vanished into the crowd. Toda thought for a second then told his driver to wait. They had the time needed for a quick decision. Inside his gate, his wife was still kneeling, waiting for the sound of her husband's car leaving before carrying on with her daily routine. He went over to her and lifted her up by an elbow. "Hanaka-chan. I have made up my mind. I will be staying with the Navy." He stepped back, bowed briefly and left. Behind him, his wife smiled with contentment.

  B10N-1 Shuka Kiku-san, Pattle Island, Southern Pescadores, South China Sea

  The runway was short but Kiku-san had come in with her wings fully forward and her nose held high. A short landing, on an extemporized crushed-rock runway. Few heavy, high performance aircraft could have managed it. Kiku-San had and she was now parked in a revetment at one end of the field. Behind her, Shurayukihime was landing. Captain Genda Minoru watched her come in. Shurayukihime was named after a famous female assassin of the Meiji era, one who had single-handedly wiped out the corrupt leadership of an entire province. There were whispers that she still lived, watching those who ruled her province, ready to slay any that slipped back into the ways of corruption. Pure superstition of course.

  This was a forward base only. Four B10N-Is from the Mihoro Kokutai would be based here, rotated out from the primary base back on the mainland. From here, they could dominate the South China Sea, sweeping out to intercept the ships that brought in supplies for the Viet Minh. If there were any of course. Everybody knew where the supplies really came from but engaging that source of supply meant taking on the Americans. That would be brave but very foolish.

  The noise of Shurayukihime ‘s engines died down as she was parked in her revetment. The airbase was well laid-out. Genda had to give the Indians credit for that; from their point of view he supposed it was a pity they'd never got to use it. The big Arrows and TSR-2s couldn't operate from here; they were American-style aircraft that needed long concrete runways, but their little Gnats could. There had still been some fears that the Indians wouldn't accept they'd lost, especially after their government had collapsed as a result. So the Shukas had flown down in fighter-bomber configuration, bombs in their bellies but Tanto missiles hanging under their wings. The air-to-air capability of the Shuka was still one of its little secrets. It hadn't been needed. The Indians were keeping their word. They were pulling back.

  Out in the bay, one of the H13K flying boats was pumping fuel to the camouflaged rubber bladders. Engineers were already around them, building walls of sand and chipped rock to protect the precious fuel from attack. Others were repairing damage and clearing wreckage from what had once been the Indian base. Overhead, the Ohtoris of the Mitsuko Kokutai were circling. They'd replaced the battered but victorious Tainan Kokutai at the Sugu Bay base but that facility was already being dismantled and moved to Pattle Island. In a war of islands, the big flying boats were worth their weight in gold. Soon Naval Base Sugu Bay would be gone and the seagulls could have their home back.

  Admiral Tanaka was also watching the bombers land. "Captain Genda? Welcome to Naval Base Pattle Island."

  "Sir, thank you sir. We are established then."

  "We are indeed. The first Lajatang batteries are in place. The remainder and the anti-ship missiles will be here as soon as they can be removed from Sugu Bay. The first fighters are here and a seaplane tender is also on its way from Japan. You have heard, approval to build two more has been received?"

  "Sir! It is great news." And so it was indeed. The two new seaplane tenders were the largest ships ordered for the Japanese Navy in many years.

  "You may not have heard this yet, but Nakajima have been ordered to step up production of the B10N. The Mihoro will be up to strength by the end of the year. Even if other groups have to be stripped to achieve that." Tanaka
looked out across the bay again, to where a pair of wrecked Indian ships disfigured the smooth waters. One was a burned-out wreck; the other less mauled but hard aground. "They will make good targets for your training missions."

  "They fought well, Sir, much better than we believed. When we did our first strike, the men on the ground were firing back with their rifles, even as the bombs fell upon them."

  "But they didn't have lead-computing sights on their rifles did they?" Both men burst out laughing. The tale of the old Model 99 7.7mm rifle was notorious, held up to every engineer as an example of how not to do things. Not a bad rifle in itself but ridiculously overcomplicated. It had been fitted with a dust cover on the bolt, a built-in monopod and, most notoriously of all, a lead-computing antiaircraft mechanism built into the rear sight. Only two metal bars certainly but a total of six parts that had no earthly use. It had taken the capture of Russian-made PPSH-41 and SKS rifles from the Chinese to show the Japanese engineers the reality of weapons engineering. Both weapons had been copied and now armed Army units.

  "Captain." The Admiral stopped laughing. "When the two remaining aircraft have landed, equip two with reconnaissance pods in their bellies and start flying sweeps across the South China Sea. High altitude, area surveillance. We've got this base, we'd better start using it."

  Pilot's Mess. Dromodevo Fighter Base, Moscow, Russia.

  "You are walking down the street carrying your Kalashnikov when suddenly there is a loud scream and a German lunatic runs at you from one corner waving an ax. Then there is another scream and a Finnish lunatic runs at you from another corner also waving an ax. You have plenty of ammunition but which do you shoot first?"

  "The German?" Captain George Tarrant guessed.

  "That's right my friend. Business always comes before pleasure!" There was a roar of laughter around the mess as the punchline came out. Still, Tarrant had one of his own.