His cargo, a large black box and two civilians, had prompted intense curiosity and speculation among his crew. Saiki knew they would never know what the flight was about. He was satisfied to be in the sky flying his bomber.
Bang! It sounded like someone was pounding on his bomber with a hammer. The sound brought Saiki out of his reverie with a jolt. He was under attack from behind. He needed speed. He needed to make the attackers overshoot his position, and he needed to get them off his tail. Saiki pushed the yoke forward, and turned hard to the right. His head swiveled. He also needed to find shallow water close to land in case they were shot down.
§
Swede Wallen dove past the covering zekes and lined up on the betty. He squeezed off a burst from his wing guns. He thought he had clipped the betty's wing just before it dove in a tight right-hand spiral. Tracer fire shot past his cockpit window. Over the radio he heard, “Swede, zeke on your six.” Wallen pulled back on the stick to go vertical. “Stay with the betty,” he said into his radio.
§
Feakes didn't need the binoculars anymore; the battle was playing itself out right in front of him. The betty had reacted correctly, rolling into a dive, but when the Hellcat turned skyward and flew straight up, the foolish zeke behind him decided to follow him up the candle.
§
At the top of the candle, Swede Wallen threw his stick over hard so he could come in behind the zeke. Wallen knew the zeke would be below and behind him now, so he kept looking over his shoulder as he leveled out. He didn't see anything.
He jerked his head forward, and there it was not more than five hundred feet away, and just about at stall speed.
Dumb shit.
Wallen dipped the Hellcat's nose squeezed off a burst that shredded the zeke. It exploded in a golden-red ball of flame sending dozens of flaming pieces toward the ocean.
§
Feakes took his notepad, drew a crude map and marked the spot where the first zeke had gone down. The unarmored Jap Zeros were flying gasoline bombs. Jap pilots rarely survived, but he would check nonetheless.
All of the Hellcats and zekes were in a dogfight, and it appeared the betty was getting away amidst the confusion. The Japanese betty pilot was a master at evasion, and by diving and reversing course, he had thrown the other diving Hellcats off their game.
The Hellcats were all engaged, or out of position to pursue the betty which was now headed out to sea; it just might get away.
§
Wallen took stock of his situation. The sky was full of fighters spitting tracers and dodging about in all directions. He found the betty below him, and dove toward it.
§
Saiki thought he might escape. The battle was behind him. If the American planes were low on fuel, he might just escape. His copilot yelled and pointed upward. There were six Hellcats diving toward him from above. He was between a dogfight and certain death. He chose the dogfight, and shallower water. He turn hard to the left to reverse course.
§
Wallen watched the betty turn, but couldn't figure out why it was changing course. This changed his thinking; he had to wait for the betty to get over the Atoll before shooting it down. He feathered back his propeller, and started a slow rolling turn to fall in behind the bomber.
§
“Rosebud-one, this is Rosebud-two, we got the betty,” Wallen's radio declared. Wallen looked up and saw Rosebud-two diving on the bomber, and threw his stick over to clear their line of attack. Three more zekes flamed into the sea. He tried to locate the others; two zekes were trying to escape with Hellcats in hot pursuit. “Let 'em go. We haven't got the gas to chase them across the Pacific,” he said into his radio. Wallen had just become a spectator to the battle, and he had a front row seat. The betty was over the Atoll again.
§
Saiki knew this was the end. For a split second, he considered ditching in the lagoon. That would be the same as surrender, a dishonorable act. Death was preferable to humiliation or defeat. There were three loud metallic bangs, then it seemed he was in the midst of a hail storm. The right wing disintegrated. His bomber nosed over into a tight vertical spiral directly toward one of the small islands. He would die an honorable death. He waited for his moment of purification.
§
Wallen watched the betty spiral into the island. “Regroup. Head back home. Can't wait to ask Halsey if dry land is shallow enough,” he said into his radio. He looked at Olaf and his confident smile. “Good work buddy.”
§
Several small dugout canoes combed the atoll looking for survivors. Fau and Feakes were paddling toward the pyre of smoke rising above one of the islands. When they reached the wreckage the fires had burned down, and it was not difficult to determine there were no survivors. The passengers appeared to be civilians, and there were no high-ranking military officers. This confused Feakes. What had this escorted flight been about?
Inside the fractured fuselage, he could see a large black box. Perhaps that was the treasure. Working to avoid the flames, he and Fau managed to drag the box to safety. It looked like a large shoebox with the top fitting down over the sides. Locks on each side secured the top to the box which was about four feet long, and thirty inches square.
30
April 17, 1943
IJN Kamikawa; en route to Rabaul with the cruiser Atago and the destroyer Okikaze.
Captain Kukuta held the message from Admiral Yamamoto and stared out the bridge window for several seconds. He turned toward Commander Itou and said, “This is serious. The Americans shot down a bomber carrying an important box at Ubella Atoll, and the bomber crashed on a small island. We are to retrieve the box from the crash and take it to Rabaul. Under no circumstances are we to tamper with the box, which is locked. Yamamoto expects American ships are en route to Ubella, and we are to use all means available, including sacrificing our ships, to prevent the Americans from getting it.”
Kukuta absentmindedly handed the message to Itou to read.
Itou read it and said, “This is a great—”
“Don’t, Commander. Plot a course and speed to Ubella. Signal the Atago and Okikaze and tell them of our mission.”
§
USN MESSAGE
1532 19430417
FROM Admiral Garrett
TO USS Farnley
Proceed Ubella Atoll best speed under radio silence. Coast watcher Ubella in possession of new Japanese secret weapon of unknown nature codenamed Dragon. Contact coast watcher 0100 hours April 18 at south point of Ubella Island via flashing light. Retrieve Dragon, return Tulagi immediate. Enemy force expected Ubella by dawn from southwest. Imperative you retrieve and return unknown weapon Tulagi. Use best judgment to avoid enemy forces.
§
April 18, 1943; 0100 hours
USS Farnley; Ubella Atoll
The overcast sky and restive sea mirrored O’Toole’s mood. A pinpoint of flickering light peeked through the darkness off the Farnley’s port side. O’Toole read the message. “Send boat.”
Paxton said, “Stranger and stranger.”
“Well, we’ll find out what’s going on in a few more minutes,” said O’Toole. “Lower a boat and go in with it. Take a full squad of riflemen.”
A half hour later, the motor whaleboat returned with an islander, a westerner, and a large black box. By the time the men wrestled the box on deck, a familiar voice came from behind O’Toole.
“Captain, we need to talk.” It was Piper Feakes.
“Pip! What’re you doing in this corner of the war?”
“Keeping an eye on the Nips for you. Same as usual. You’re coming up in the world. I’ve heard stories of—”
O’Toole held up his hand to cut him off. “You said you needed to talk.”
“Yes, but it will be better if we talk in the wardroom. I told your crew to put a bit of a present there.”
The crew had pushed a black box with locks hanging from each side of the top into a corner, but what intrigued O’Toole was
the strange device in the middle of the deck. It was a teletype mounted on a stout square base painted a rusty red. O’Toole examined the keyboard but couldn’t make any sense of the Japanese glyphs on the keys.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Good question. I thought it was a teletype, but you don’t put a teletype in a locked box and escort it across the Pacific with six zekes. I saw the whole fight. Only one zeke escaped, and it was pure buggers luck the betty crashed on dry land with the goods here,” Feakes replied.
O’Toole turned to Paxton and said, “Get the radio and radar guys down here. Maybe they can tell us what it is.”
Paxton turned to head for the door. Over his shoulder he said, “Bet ya it’s a crypto machine.”
Doc Strong came in and poured himself a cup of coffee. He frowned at the machine for a second before taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. He sat in silence.
The radio and radar technicians approached the machine like a new toy and examined the complex electronics inside the base. O’Toole intervened once to stop them from disassembling it. After thirty minutes, O’Toole became impatient and asked, “What is it?”
The crouching radioman, still eyeing the lower cabinet, replied, “Some kind of crypto machine. Lots of cams, solenoids, rotary switches, and stuff. I recognize those things, but the rest of it is a mystery.”
“You’re sure it’s a crypto machine?” O’Toole asked.
“Can’t be one hundred percent positive, but I’ll put my next paycheck on it.”
O’Toole’s nerves crackled. To the techs he said, “Thank you. This is restricted. You never saw this device. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
O’Toole said to Feakes and Paxton, “If that is a crypto machine, they’re going to want it back with a vengeance.”
“So what are you going to do, Captain?” Paxton asked.
“Don’t know. We need to think this out,” O’Toole said, staring at the machine. After a moment’s thought he said, “Garrett’s messages were cryptic. Garrett doesn’t know it’s a crypto machine, or he would tell us. The question is, now that we know it’s a crypto machine, what would Garrett order us to do?”
“Get the hell out of here with it,” Pip said.
“Follow orders and return the machine to Tulagi,” Paxton said. “The Japs will be real upset once they figure out we have it.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” O’Toole said. “If we keep it, they’ll change it so we gain nothing. The only thing more valuable than an enemy crypto machine is a crypto machine the enemy doesn’t know we have. They will use the crypto machine as long as they think they recovered it.”
“The Japs will come after it,” said Pip, “and when they do, they’ll know we got it. Sorry mate, but you can’t give it to them and keep it at the same time.”
O’Toole thought for a moment and said, “Depends on how they respond. The game is over if the Japs respond in force, but they’ll probably respond with a few ships since it would take time to assemble a large force. They would dispatch whatever ships were within range, like Garrett dispatched us.”
“How does their force size fit into this? They might send a minesweeper or six battleships. Either way, they’ll know we recovered it,” Paxton said.
“Not if we can give them an empty box and then sink it before they can peek inside and report.”
“You’re thinking about disobeying orders, aren’t you, Captain?” Pip asked.
Pip’s and Paxton’s eyes burned into him, waiting for a response. A hundred thoughts flooded his mind. If he put the empty box back at the crash site and the Japs brought a small force, he might be able to sink the ship carrying the box and get away. The Japs would believe they retrieved the crypto device and would never suspect he had it. He would try to escape if they brought a large force. Either way would risk his ship and the lives of his crew.
O’Toole could sense his wall closing in on him.
He could feel Hatfield’s brass balls in his pocket. Decisions like this were the province of admirals, not mere destroyer captains. The decision was not tactical; it was a strategic gamble. If he won, it would shorten the war and save countless lives; if he lost, his crew would die for nothing. They were in enemy waters; there would be no rescue.
What did he owe the fallen? What did he owe his crew? What did he owe his country? He owed them the best decision possible. He owed them the best leadership. He owed them a captain who would gamble the lives of a few hundred men to save the lives of thousands. He owed them the courage to make this decision.
O’Toole glanced at Paxton. “I lost a seaman on the Able. He told me it takes brass balls to fight the Japs. I never knew how right he was until now.”
Turning to Pip, he said, “You were also right, but I’m not disobeying orders, I’m invoking the General Prudential Rule. Gentlemen, it’s time to win the war.
“I need some time to think. XO, go to the wheelhouse and bring the charts down here. Pip, get your man and find Chief Grubowski. We need to put some ballast in the box so it’s heavy enough and get it back to the crash site.”
Pip and Paxton left O’Toole alone with Strong. Doc Strong still sat quietly, sipping his coffee. Strong got up as if he was tired and sore and studied him. “Well, I’m just an old country doctor, but I know you can’t send a duck to eagle school.”
Strong pulled his body up straight and faced O’Toole squarely. “We both knew a respected friend who would say—‘That’s the deal.’” Strong snapped to attention, and delivered crisp, sharp, and perfectly executed salute. “Congratulations, Captain.”
§
Pip and Paxton returned with Skittle, who carried an armful of charts.
“Skittle, we don’t need you in this discussion,” O’Toole said.
“Just keeping my eye on my charts, Captain. Charts are always disappearing.”
He’s trying to do his job, O’Toole thought. No harm in letting him stay.
“Pip, is there a place on the island you can hide the machine where the Japs couldn’t find it, even if they searched for it?”
“I couldn’t, but I am sure the islanders could find such a place,” Feakes said.
The islander standing beside Feakes nodded.
“Here’s what I am thinking,” O’Toole said. “We’ll load the box with ballast and put it back at the crash site, but we will keep the machine and turn it over to the experts to figure out. The trick is to make them believe they recovered the device, so our job is to sink the ship that recovers the box. If they think this machine is at the bottom of the ocean, they’ll keep using other copies of it. If our guys can reverse engineer it, we’ll be able to read their messages as well as they can. It’ll be an intelligence gold mine. Are there any holes in my thinking?”
“Only that it depends on sinking a Jap ship,” Paxton said.
“I haven’t figured that part out yet, but for now I need you to load the box with ballast and return it to the crash site as if nothing happened to it. Pip, hide the machine on the island. No matter what happens to us, make sure the machine gets into Allied hands,” O’Toole said.
“Right, mate, no problem.”
“First things first. How can we re-lock the box without them knowing you broke the locks?”
Feakes blinked. “I didn’t break the locks, I opened them.”
“You found the keys?”
“No, didn’t need them. My father taught me how pick locks.”
“He a locksmith?”
“Well, you could say that. You know, family trade and all that.”
“What was his trade?”
“Second-story work.”
“Where’s your father now?”
“Queen’s Prison, Brisbane.”
Skittle’s eyes grew the size of saucers. “I need to inventory the bridge equipment. May I be excused, Captain?”
§
Five hours later, O’Toole paced the bridge wing in a windless, drenching tropical ra
instorm that made his soaked uniform cling to his body. He was running his tenth battle plan through his head. It was a waste of time and would be until Feakes reported the Japanese force’s composition, but he continued his planning nonetheless.
“Two teenagers and a boy,” the crackling bridge radio speaker announced. Feakes’ Aussie accent was impossible to miss.
“Get Navarro and Mock up here on the double,” O’Toole said to the messenger standing just inside the wheelhouse door next to the phone talker.
Three minutes later Mock, Navarro, and O’Toole huddled around the chart table next to Skittle. “The Japs have two cruisers and a destroyer. We don’t know which one has the box yet. We need to hit them quick and make sure we sink the ship with the box, but we can’t be too obvious and concentrate all our fire on that ship. Navarro, what’s the shortest time to get a torpedo firing solution?”
Navarro shook his head. “In this rain we can’t see them, and it depends on the range and our course and speed as well as theirs. All I can give you is an average: three minutes.”
“Too long,” O’Toole said.
“We need to use our radar,” Mock, who would be manning plot, said.
“Can’t,” O’Toole began, “I’m afraid the Japs will detect it and give us away.”
“No one has reported the Japs picking up our radars,” Mock said.
“Sorry, Mock, I don’t want to be the first one to make that report,” O’Toole said.
Navarro scrubbed his face with both hands and started scratching his head. “So you want us to shoot first and aim second?”
“No, we aim first, but we need to find a way to aim in less than three minutes.”
“We can guess their position, compute a solution, and fire, but all we’ll do is waste torpedoes,” Navarro said.
“What if we didn’t need to guess?”
“Give me twenty seconds, and I’ll have a target solution for you,” Navarro said.
“Let’s turn everything upside down. Normally, we set on a course and calculate a firing solution. What if we calculate a firing solution, figure out where we need to be to make it work, and maneuver the ship to that position?” O’Toole said.
Vows to the Fallen: O'Toole (The Marathon Series) Page 26