“Still working late, huh, Doc?”
“Got to. I checked on the wounded, and some are spiking a fever. I’m worried about infection.”
“I hate to add to your work, but could you certify the captain as unable to perform his duties?”
Strong thought for a long second. “No, I can’t. The circumstances are different now. He’s in a lot of pain, but he refuses morphine. His mind is clear, and from my conversations with him, he is clear on our situation. There are no grounds to certify him out of command.”
“Could the pain be affecting his judgment? His plan for tomorrow morning is suicide.”
“I don’t know anything about tactics, but his mind is clear, and the pain is not affecting his judgment.”
“Doc, it’s down to you and me. What the captain wants to do is dangerous, and if my hunch is right, men are going to die. I need a way to stop him.”
Strong rose to face O’Toole. “I may be a simple country doctor, but I think what you are suggesting is mutiny. What’s got into you?”
“I’m not asking for mutiny, I’m hoping there is a valid way we can relieve him of command. The captain’s plan could get men killed.”
“Can you prove it?”
“No.”
“If we do it your way, can you guarantee no one will get hurt?”
“No.”
“So it’s a matter of opinion, but no matter what, his medical condition isn’t affecting his decision. There’s nothing I can do to help you.”
“So be it,” O’Toole said. “Short of mutiny there is nothing else I can do, and mutiny won’t work and is unthinkable. I can’t be certain of the outcome tomorrow, just as I didn’t know Hatfield would be killed, or Hatfield would save the ship. Decisions are so easy to make with hindsight.”
Strong sat back down at his small desk and said, “Your Commodore Barry had to make similar decisions. How did he decide? How did he live with the consequences? He did his job. He put mission first then made the best decisions he could for the men. Imperfect decisions perhaps, but he made the decisions based on what he knew at the time. Sorry, Pat, them’s the rules.”
“Thanks, Doc,” O’Toole said before he headed to the bridge. He was angry and defeated. The defeat tore at him, and he tore back but couldn’t find an alternative. He prayed he was wrong. He couldn’t face another failure.
The captain’s plan might lead to more deaths, but he couldn’t be sure. Other than outright mutiny, he was out of options. But mutiny wouldn’t solve the problem. The captain would have him escorted off the bridge at gunpoint. Strong was right, in the final analysis, he and the captain had different opinions, and no one would know if it mattered until tomorrow.
All I can do is hope for the best.
15
December 17, 1942, 0300 hours
IJN Kamikawa’s; en route to Kogeri Island
The IJN Kamikawa and three destroyers glided through the sultry Pacific night. The bridge of the Kamikawa was quiet except for the ever-present hum of the engines. Captain Kukuta wiped the sweat beading on his forehead and lifted his eye patch to dab the sweat from his eye socket with his handkerchief.
Commander Itou, the executive officer, approached Kukuta and handed him a message. “Our orders, Captain.”
Kukuta pushed the message under a dim red light and read. “Very impressive. We’ve attacked this ship three times in three days and lost twenty-six aircraft without stopping him.”
“The message said the pilots couldn’t identify the ship. It’s a new class of destroyer. Perhaps they have a new secret weapon.”
“I doubt it. I believe, as Admiral Yamamoto does, that we can’t win this war,” Kukuta said.
“How can you say such a thing, Captain? There is no way the Americans can defeat us. We are Bushi, warriors who follow the Bushidō path. How can you believe such things and still serve in the navy?”
“I serve because I love my country and it is my duty. Someday you may understand, but for now there is work to do.”
Kukuta led Itou to the chart table. “The American is coming from the southeast. Send two destroyers down the east coast of the islands to search for him. Send one destroyer down the west coast to do the same. The destroyers are to rendezvous at the south channel opening and await orders. We will swing around and approach the northern opening between the islands from the west then head south toward our destroyers. If the American ship is there, we will find her.”
“Excellent, Captain. If the American is between the islands he will be caught between our hammer and anvil.”
Kukuta said, “I do not expect to find him between the islands as that would be imprudent.”
“Either way, Captain, our task will be easy.”
“Their performance against our aircraft indicates otherwise. Their captain and their gunners deserve our respect and admiration. It will not be easy, Commander.”
“I hope it will be the Kamikawa’s honor to sink the American ship.”
“It is not our honor, Commander. It is our duty.”
§
Displeased, O’Toole made way for the men carrying Shelly to the bridge for sunrise battle stations. Doc Strong followed the stretcher-bearers and walked toward O’Toole.
“I talked with him this morning. He hasn’t been getting any sleep because of the pain, and he can’t afford the energy it takes him to fight the pain. I told him he had to start taking the morphine, and he agreed once this was over he would take my advice. He didn’t put up any fight, but he still insisted someone carry him to the bridge.”
With Shelly too weak to walk, O’Toole persuaded Shelly to put on a life jacket and submit to being strapped into the chair for his own safety.
Strong continued to hover near Shelly, and when O’Toole passed to step to the starboard bridge wing, Strong asked, “What are you going to do?”
“We’re committed. We go in as the captain wanted. If we turn around and go in tonight after dark, we risk running out of fuel before we get back to base.”
No aircraft appeared after sunrise, and no surface contacts appeared on radar, so everyone relaxed, except O’Toole. He couldn’t shake the feeling there was a Japanese ship out there somewhere. When the men finished loading Pip’s gear in the whaleboat, O’Toole climbed down to the main deck to say goodbye.
The Able stood five hundred yards offshore, and the whaleboat banged against the side while the three-man boat crew, led by Nagel, the coxswain, lowered the last crate into the boat.
“Pip, I wanted to say goodbye and wish you well,” O’Toole said.
Pip looked up with a big smile, and reached out to shake O’Toole’s hand. “Thanks for the ride, mate. Next time I’ll take an ocean liner; it’ll be a smoother ride without the excitement.”
“How are you going to move all your gear once you get ashore?”
“The natives here are friendlies. They know I’m coming and will help me with my stuff. I couldn’t do this without them.”
“Be careful.”
“Right.”
O’Toole looked at Nagel and the other two crewmen, Michaels and Harding, and said, “Shove off, and get back here quick.”
“Aye, sir,” Nagel said.
Pip climbed down the scramble net into the whaleboat, and the coxswain backed away from the Able. O’Toole waited until the four men unloaded the crates and the whaleboat was on its way back to the Able. Satisfied, he headed back to the bridge.
We’re going to make it.
Halfway to the bridge, the ship’s speakers bellowed, “Surface action forward!”
When he reached the bridge, O’Toole asked, “Why aren’t we shooting? Why aren’t we moving?”
“Three destroyers at the south opening. They are out of range and not moving our way,” the phone-talker said.
O’Toole grabbed his binoculars and swept the southern opening. To the untrained eye, there was nothing there, but he picked up three small black scratches on the delimiter between sea and sky. Turning no
rth, he couldn’t see the northern opening, but he didn’t spot anything suspicious.
“What has radar got?”
After a few seconds, the phone-talker replied, “Just the three southern contacts.”
O’Toole paused for a second. The whaleboat crew was halfway back, and it would take five or ten minutes to get them back aboard, but every minute counted. If the Able survived, they would come back for the whaleboat crew and worry about the fuel shortage later.
The whaleboat crew is safer than we are.
“All ahead flank. Right full rudder.”
Shelly whispered, “The whaleboat.”
“They’ll fend for themselves; we’re getting out of here.”
The tremble in O’Toole’s legs returned. Just when he had steadied the Able on course toward the northern opening, the phone-talker yelled, “CIC reports a surface contact north, range 29,000 yards.”
Even at that distance, O’Toole found the mast jutting above the horizon using his binoculars. This mast was bigger and higher than those to the south. It had to be cruiser, and in a few minutes when her gun spotter platform got above the horizon, all hell would break loose.
“Cork’s in the bottle, Captain,” O’Toole said, then added, “All stop.”
“What are you going to do, scuttle the ship?” Shelly asked, his voice strained.
Shelly’s question frustrated O’Toole. It was a dangerous thing to say aloud on the bridge in their current situation, even for a weakened man. O’Toole walked to Shelly and whispered, “We’re not going to surrender, and I’m not going to let the crew be taken captive so they can be slaughtered like the GIs on Bataan. It’s going to be bloody, but our chances are better if we fight.”
To the phone-talker O’Toole said, “Ask CIC what the contacts are doing.”
After a pause, the phone-talker replied. “Southern contacts are holding position at ten miles. The northern contact is four miles from the channel entrance and is increasing speed.”
O’Toole stood looking at his feet, wondering what they were going to do. The southern destroyers, at ten miles, were just outside gun range. The cruiser’s guns had a range of fourteen miles, six miles more than the Able’s guns. He guessed the ships were going to stay beyond the Able’s gun range and the cruiser was going to sit back and pound them to death with her eight-inch guns.
The statistics of battle—shell flight times, rate of fire, probability of a direct hit at various ranges, and the effect of target angle on targeting—flooded O’Toole’s mind.
“From here on out, it’s like playing poker; all mathematical probabilities with a bluff here and there,” O’Toole said to Strong. “If we stay here, we’re dead. They’re dictating the battle to us. We’re going to take the initiative. The last thing they would expect is for us to attack, so we’re going to attack them bow on. Our guns are useless at this range. We’re not going to cooperate with their plan, and maybe we can pop the cork.”
“What’re our chances?” Strong asked.
“They got four aces, and we’re drawing to an inside straight,” O’Toole said. In a loud voice to the bridge crew he said, “Surface action forward, torpedo action to port! All ahead flank.”
§
“Captain—”
Kukuta raised his hand to silence Itou. He didn’t want any more of Itou’s glory talk. All he wanted was to dispatch the American ship quickly and efficiently with no damage to his ships.
“Commander, tell the destroyers to move north but stay just beyond the American’s gun range.”
Kukuta was in no hurry. His ships were in no danger. He could shell the American ship at his leisure. “Close to twelve miles, turn us broadside to the American and open fire.”
§
Nagel got the Australian and his gear ashore and headed back to the ship when the Able bolted, did a U-turn, and headed north. “What the hell?” he said, cutting power to the engine.
“Something’s spooked them. There’s gotta be Japs around,” Michaels said.
“He’s either attacking or running. Which way do we go?” Harding asked.
“The captain’s down, so Lieutenant O’Toole’s in command.”
“They’re attacking.”
“What do we do?”
Nagel looked back at the Australian watching from the shore. The Aussie was waving his hands as if to say, “Get out of here.”
Nagel’s response was immediate. “We’re going to follow our ship and find a way to help. I’ll stay close to shore in case we have to ditch the boat.” He gunned the engine but kept the RPMs in the cruising range to conserve fuel.
§
“Spotters report target bow-on. They have a firing solution.”
“Open fire,” Kukuta ordered.
The Kamikawa shook from the recoil of her nine eight-inch guns. Kukuta’s mouth felt dry, and he turned to ask a messenger to bring him some water. He had time to wait. Even though the eight-inch shells left the barrel at a half-mile per second, their arc was high and deceleration significant; he would have to wait almost fifty seconds for the shells to land and get a report. His gunners would refine their aim and fire again. In that time, his eight-inch guns could have fired three salvos, but the Kamikawa was in no danger, and there was no need to waste ammunition.
Kukuta was sipping at his water when the report came.
“Spotters report target still bow-on. Shells splashed behind.”
“Captain, why is the American charging straight at us? Doesn’t he know his ship is no match for our eight-inch guns?” Itou asked.
“The size and reach of our guns are our advantage, and he intends to take the advantage away from us. Once he gets close, our bigger guns may not be an advantage.”
§
O’Toole heard the nerve-rattling scream of the shells going overhead. The shells splashed well behind them. At this range, the shells would be falling vertically. The strategic game of probability had begun.
The cruiser would be able to score one hit out of every thirty shells fired at this range. Firing nine rounds per salvo about once a minute, O’Toole had about three minutes to close on the Japanese cruiser before the laws of probability caught up with him.
He didn’t like the odds. It was time to become an uncooperative target.
“All ahead full, indicate turns for thirty knots,” he ordered.
“Why are you slowing down?” Strong asked.
“Bow-on, the only way I can keep them from bracketing us is to change speed. Soon we’ll need to present our side to them and start zigzagging.”
§
The Kamikawa shook from the jolt of another broadside.
“Gun spotters report target changed speed, they do not have a fire control solution.”
Kukuta never expected this to be easy. The American’s evasive tactics would prevent the Kamikawa from bracketing her target. Kukuta realized his thinking assumed he was fighting a battle between two formations at long range. What he had was a melee at long range. This was not going to work.
“Gun spotters report second salvo short of target.”
Of course.
A battle at this range favored neither side; the American knows this and is closing range. He had to keep pressure on the American and give him something to worry about.
“Continuous fire with or without a firing solution.”
“Captain, this is not a time to think and plan; it is a time for action. Bring the destroyers up to engage the American. He can evade our shells but not the shells of four ships,” Itou said.
“There is no need to risk our destroyers. He will make a mistake sooner or later, and we will destroy him when he does.”
Kukuta pondered his next move. Bow-on, the American had two guns to fire at him. The American’s five-inch shells would be ineffective against his eight-inch hull armor and his five-inch deck armor. Only the superstructure was at risk. He needed to fight this battle at a closer range.
The American’s forward guns opened fire. T
he shells landed two thousand yards short.
“We’ll be in range of his guns in a minute, Captain,” Itou said.
“There is no chance he will hit us until he closes to seven miles. Their captain is shrewd. At this range, his guns are not a threat, and that’s why he’s closing his range. It’s his only hope, but the closer he gets the more accurate our guns become. But what is his next move? Does he have one?”
“He is a fool to attack a cruiser. He should have headed south to do battle with the destroyers.”
“He is no fool. He didn’t attack the destroyers because he can’t outmaneuver three ships. One ship is a different matter.” In a low voice, Kukuta continued thinking aloud, “What is your plan? You are charging to your death. I think not. Your forward guns are puny against the Kamikawa. You know that, but yet you attack.”
Blooms of smoke appeared from the muzzles of the American’s forward guns. Kukuta was unconcerned.
“What are you trying to do?” Kukuta asked aloud.
Kukuta closed his eyes to visualize the ships positions after a minute or two. His mental picture resembled a chart diagram; it made his skin tingle. They would be in range of the American’s guns, and the American would be in an ideal position for a torpedo attack. His eyes snapped open.
If the American fired torpedoes, Kukuta had no choice but to turn toward the American to evade. Turning was the last thing he wanted to do. Bow-on, the Kamikawa was a more difficult target to hit, but it would cut the Kamikawa’s firepower in half and further close the range between them. The result would be a net gain for the American, who would seize control of the battle.
You are a worthy adversary, but doomed.
§
Shells splashed in front of the Able. O’Toole braced himself against another sharp evasive turn on their zigzag pattern. He felt almost safe.
“That was close,” Strong said.
“We’ll continue zigzagging and changing speed. It’ll take blind luck for them to score a hit.”
“We’re not going to get away, are we?” Shelly said.
O’Toole cursed to himself. O’Toole spoke to Shelly almost in a whisper, “If we don’t get away, this will end one of two ways: get sunk or surrender the ship. Our only hope is escape, and I don’t want the crew thinking about anything else.”
Vows to the Fallen: O'Toole (The Marathon Series) Page 13