Code Name: Infamy (Aviator Book 4)

by Shanle, Leland

  Creeping toward the bow, Kid sensed he would not achieve his required end speed and pushed the throttle past the detent into emergency combat power. Water injected into the cylinders cooling them, while the super charger boosted the pressure to maximum. As he left the Suwannee’s bow, he glanced at his air speed indicator—five slow. He let the nose fall slightly, using twenty of the forty feet of deck height to get the few precious knots he needed to fly. In ground effect, he transitioned to instruments and kept the vertical speed indicator needle on zero.

  His blood surged through the Hellcat, and her red hydraulic fluid flowed through his veins. One instrument. Unified. Each firing of a cylinder or vibration registered in his subconscious. He felt the wind over the wing and knew instantly she would fly. He had raised the landing gear handle as the wheels left the deck; now with them up and locked, the Hellcat accelerated rapidly and ascended off the dark ocean surface as the gear doors clunked shut. Pass.

  Circling overhead the Suwannee, dark specters slowly gathered on his wings. When he counted eleven, he checked his watch, circled once more, and then turned to begin his NAV route. Pushing the power up to thirty-six inches of manifold pressure, he began a slow climb. At 10,000 feet, he shifted the super charger on the R-2800-10W to high gear and snapped his oxygen mask in place.

  Leveling at 25,000 feet, he looked ahead to the dark island of Borneo and then east. Light waves glanced off the atmosphere and reflected off the ocean surface as the day began to wake. In contrast, Borneo reflected nothing, absorbing the light, hording it to heat itself. Its dark outline contrasted with the surrounding water, allowing Kid to easily see the coast. Looking left and right he took an account of his chicks. He was especially concerned with the new guys, the nuggets, so named because of their shiny, new gold ensign bars. He had four in his group, the most junior of which was wobbling on his right wing.

  Glancing past his flight as he turned north, Kid took in the dawn, a shocking display of the color spectrum that never ceased to captivate him. Below him, black gave way to gray and then green as the sun broke the horizon, splaying shafts of red across the sky. Red sky in morning, sailors take warning! He pulled down his goggles and prepared for battle.

  Kid knew he was not the only predator stalking the skies. He knew his Japanese counterpart was already airborne. Each as deadly as the other. The horizon turned blood red in anticipation of the carnage. Red sky in morning, sailor’s take warning, indeed! He contemplated the irony. And that nature, no mere spectator, conspired against them both. Clear skies would ensure the gladiators clashed. Fire would consume them. Gravity would pull them to their deaths when vanquished. Either the sea or the jungle below would swallow them whole. Where nature was concerned, which side was victorious did not matter. The cosmic order was set, the chaos of war would rein no matter which flag was saluted, and the laws of physics were the only laws that would ultimately prevail.

  Kid pushed the power up and accelerated to 250 knots. Detecting movement below and aft, he effortlessly rolled inverted, jammed on full power, and pulled to center stage. Movement metastasized into man and machine as the Hellcats fell upon their prey. A mere six Mitsubishi Zero Sen fighters climbed into the morning. They had gotten off the deck late and now were at a huge disadvantage. Kid slashed through the Zeros with a hundred knots of airspeed advantage. Two Zeros spiraled out of the fight after the pass. Kid and Robbie both scored.

  He zoomed the flight to a high perch and then waited for his last division to come off the targets. In desperation, the Zeros got in a defensive circle to cover each other’s six. Kid rolled back into the fight, converting the altitude to an airspeed advantage. He would not relinquish this advantage by turning with the Zeros. It would not be a fair fight. He would crush them using the weight of the universe, gravity. It was the natural order of the day.

  A third Zero fell as they slashed through a second time. Kid watched as Robbie’s division attacked again, and then saw Bug’s four Hellcats take their turn. He scanned for interlopers but knew this flight was it. He keyed his microphone.

  “Kid flight: Do not, I say again, do not, turn with the Zeros. Slashing attacks from high perch. Kid is in hot.”

  He wanted the flight to seem like a routine gun pattern for his new guys. Just like a training flight, get them all nice and relaxed. Maybe they can learn fast enough to survive. Kid rolled in and watched as Bugs flamed another Zero. He didn’t get a shot and pulled off returning to the high perch. Robbie got another.

  There was only one Zero left, and he was good. He outmaneuvered Bugs, who didn’t get a shot off. Kid rolled in on the sole survivor, but just as he was going to squeeze the trigger, the Zero disappeared under his nose. Immediately leveling the wings, Kid pulled six Gs to get out of the fight. Pushing maximum negative G, the Zero had neutralized his flight. Rolling up on a wing, Kid saw a flaming mass impact the jungle.

  The Zero was still flying. One of the Hellcats had not matched his pull and had floated out in front of the Zero, who reversed the pull and flamed the Hellcat. Twisting in his seat to look left and right, Kid realized it was his nugget. Detached momentarily, he watched as a section of Hellcats missed with long volleys. He transmitted as he rolled in. “Short bursts; don’t waste your ammo.”

  Spiraling lower and lower, the intensity grew to a frenzy as section after section rolled in on the Zero. Usually the Zero would maneuver just enough to defeat the shot and then pull the same maneuver that got Kid’s wing man. After he peppered Robbie’s nugget, Kid radioed. “Okay, let’s go with singles. He is targeting the wing men as they come off.”

  An unrelenting fusillade of bullets tore at the morning sky, and none found their mark. Below, a jubilant crowd of Japanese troops cheered on their squadron commander, Major Jenji.

  Kid couldn’t believe the next thing he heard on the radio. His flight was running out of ammunition.

  “Robbie, you’ve got the lead. RTF.” Kid was going to end this now and wanted the rest of the Hellcats to return to the fleet and get out of the way. Lagging behind the last Hellcat attacking, he rolled in. He was going to wait for the Zero to make its move, then shoot him.

  But Major Jenji refused to be a compliant target. He rolled inverted and did a split-S to the jungle below. Man, this guy is good, thought Kid as he chopped his throttle to idle and followed him down. Barely clearing the aerodrome, Jenji looped back on top of Kid. Suddenly defensive, Kid made the same move. A looping fight just above the runway delighted the cheering ground troops. Neither pilot was able to get an advantage. But Jenji was bleeding off energy faster. He could not loop again. He feinted one and then went to idle and pulled hard into Kid. The last ditch effort flushed Kid in front of him.

  Jenji got a fleeting shot and watched as the powerful Hellcat did a nose-high pirouette and rolled onto his six. He was done. Jenji pumped his stick, but his mirrors were filled with Hellcat. Kid held the piper on the Zero, but did not pull the trigger. Jenji reversed his turn to see that the Hellcat was gone.

  07:45 Local, 1 July, 1945 (22:45 GMT, 30JUN)

  Yokosuka Naval District, Tokyo Japan

  Generalleutnant Wolfgang Walpot von Bassenheim sat across the conference table from Admiral Hiroshi and Lieutenant Commander Atsugi listening to the plan Atsugi laid out. His plan to hold two bombs in reserve had been overridden by Hiroshi. He explained the Americans must be slowed, for political reasons, first. Wolf was silent as Atsugi, who was in obvious pain, got to the time line. Then Wolf interrupted.

  “A robust plan, Commander; however, Infamy must initiate sooner.”

  Admiral Hiroshi, still amazed at the German’s perfect Japanese, raised a hand and then responded. “We have time; the mainland defense can hold out for many months—”

  “We do not have time,” Wolf said emphatically. Hiroshi looked at his unpleasant ally with piercing eyes.

  “Perhaps you will share with us why you are so sure.”

  Wolf straightened the Knights Cross that hung around his neck. “Some mon
ths ago, the Allies successfully kidnapped one of my top scientists. They now have the benefit of knowledge from all of the research programs, including Chosin Korea. We received steady updates of all your work there.”

  Admiral Hiroshi showed no outward emotion; however, he was shocked that the Chosin program had been penetrated.

  “I have calculated that with the benefit of both of our programs, the Americans have not only developed a weapon but also the means to deliver it.” He nodded to Atsugi’s bandaged head. “Bombers roam the skies with impunity. Soon they will risk a nuclear weapon in order to force your surrender. Time is critical, Admiral Hiroshi. We can have two Seirans modified to carry our weapons within a month. I-404 has a much shorter route; they can leave at a later date.”

  The admiral turned to Atsugi who nodded his concurrence.

  “Then it is settled. We launch I-403 on 1 August. There are already whispers of surrender in the palace.”

  06:48 Local, 1 July, 1945 (22:48 GMT, 30JUN)

  Jesselton Field, Borneo

  Major Jenji bounced to taxi speed and then fast-taxied into a revetment. His men swarmed the Zero, bowing and waving as if mere survival was a great victory. The irony saddened him, but he kept it to himself, always presenting the stoic commander to his men. But he knew the truth. He knew the war was lost. They would return in shame, having failed the emperor. Seppuku would be an honorable end; however, it was hardly feasible for the entire military to commit suicide.

  No, they had to return to the mainland and fight the last battle. He struggled to get out of the little fighter. He felt much older than his thirty-two years. His men helped him out, still rejoicing until their cheers were suddenly drowned out by an air raid siren. A lone Hellcat slashed across the field toward the revetment, fire spitting from its wings as the men scattered. A long stream of tracers seemed to be sucked into the mouth of the revetment until it burped out the remains of the Zero. Kid Brennan flashed through the mushroom of orange and black, and, pulling thirty degrees nose up, executed a slow roll in homage and was gone.

  Jenji returned a salute and then walked silently to the ready room.

  07:52 Local, 1 July, 1945 (22:52 GMT, 30JUN)

  Naha Field, Okinawa

  Under the camouflaged net, the P-61 Black Widow appeared to be caught in its own web. Its sand bag revetment was a tight fit, even tighter for the C-46 next to it. First Lieutenant Stoneman sat on the tarmac, trying to cool off in the shade of the P-61’s wing. He brushed at the sand that had come through the perforated steel plating. Leaning back against the main landing gear tire, he closed his eyes.

  “Why don’t you get some shut eye in the tent, Stoney?”

  Stoney looked up at Hass-man.

  “Too damn hot.” Hass-man nodded in agreement. “So what now, Skipper?”

  “We wait for the end of the war.”

  “Oh, is that all? Well then I will go cut us a castle out of the lava rock so we have a cool place to wait.”

  “Funny, Lieutenant, but I suspect we won’t have time.”

  “Really? What makes you think that?”

  “The spy seems to think … no, he seems to know it will end very soon.”

  06:53 Local, 1 July, 1945 (22:53 GMT, 30JUN)

  Jesselton Field, Borneo

  Kid zoom climbed his F6F-5 off the deck and out of small arms range. At the apex of his climb, he rolled toward the RTF heading. His flight controls did not feel right. Lateral control, his ailerons, felt like they were hanging up. As he was looking at his left aileron, an F6F-5 Hellcat elevated from beneath him, taking station on the damaged wing. Robbie smirked at him. Kid returned a smile and then pointed to his damaged wing and motioned for him to move away in case things got worse. Instead Robbie moved in to take a close look at the damage. Returning to a parade position, he flashed a thumbs down and pointed to the aileron.

  Analyzing the position of the bullet hole in his wing, Kid figured it had hit an aileron hinge. Not good! He slowed to minimum cruise speed to reduce the stress on the damaged coupling. His immediate goal was getting feet wet. The U.S. Navy now owned the ocean as well as the air; if he could just get there he might survive. At his new speed, he was a sitting duck if any Zeros jumped him. He pointed to the ship’s direction and kissed off Robbie, but Robbie shook off the signal to return to fleet and instead took up a defensive weave position protecting Kid’s six.

  Stepped up 1,000 feet, Robbie weaved back and forth behind Kid, ready for action. Kid looked over his shoulder at Robbie weaving behind him, and in the distance saw bombs exploding on the Japanese base. Twenty minutes later, he saw the rest of the strike package fly underneath him headed for the Suwannee. He watched as a division of Hellcats detached and climbed toward his stricken bird. They had obviously seen Kid struggling home with his lone protector. Kid felt a mixture of guilt and camaraderie as he watched them take position with Robbie. They could have scooted home and been safe; instead they committed to protecting him and hanging their collective butt in the breeze. Kid knew he would never feel closer to any group than these men, his squadron mates. Their shared experience, punctuated by the daily fight just to survive, could not be quantified.

  Once past the protective picket of destroyers, the Hellcats sped ahead to recover first. Everyone knew the score, most of all Kid. Chances were he would crash and close the deck. His wing men had to get on deck first. But at least he was safe for now inside the fleet’s perimeter.

  Imperial Japan’s once mighty naval aviation arm was no longer capable of even challenging this small fleet. Japan was drawing in tight to protect the home islands. No doubt the assets they had just destroyed were the only ones within a thousand miles. Stranded, the Japanese airmen behind them would have to sit the final battle out, waiting for news of the official surrender—an end that had already come for them.

  Kid knew the end was near for Japan; he could feel it as well as see it. His opponent over Jesselton Field used to be the norm; now his skill was the exception. A buzzing in the control stick brought Kid back to his current situation. His goal in life had changed from vengeance to survival, and that was now in question.

  Focus, get back in the game, he told himself. In the distance he saw the Suwannee. Already pointed into the wind, she was recovering his squadron mates. He carefully lined up on her wake and dropped to sixty feet above the water. The buzzing had changed to binding in his Hellcat’s control stick. Kid struggled against the binding until the stick froze. He was able to maintain line up with his rudders, so he continued the straight-in approach. Closing to a mile behind the ship, he dropped his gear and began to slowly, carefully, feed in flaps in increments. Wobbling only slightly, he was confident he could control the Hellcat all the way to touch down. He could clearly see the LSO’s arms now; they were straight out. He was looking good. Then, just as he crossed the ramp, the aileron broke loose. The Hellcat rolled. Kid got the wings back to level as he hit the deck, but he landed hard in the wires with a sideways yaw. The twisting effect was too much for the damaged bird, and the fuselage tore off just behind the cockpit. With the tail section pulling to a stop, the cockpit and wing continued into the barrier where it careened off the top and slammed into the Suwannee’s island.

  CHAPTER 22

  08:00 Local, 5 July, 1945 (22:00 GMT, 5JUL)

  Yokosuka Naval District

  Admiral Hiroshi sat in the Imperial Japanese Naval Headquarters waiting for Admiral Suzuki, the new prime minister of Japan. At seventy-seven years of age, he still commanded respect when he entered a room. Looking over and seeing Hiroshi, Suzuki advanced on his subordinate.

  “Why do you waste my time, Hiroshi?” he demanded. “You should be preparing for invasion.”

  Bowing deeply, Hiroshi begged for two minutes. Once inside his office, Suzuki spoke freely.

  “It is over, Hiroshi, we are preparing for the best terms possible. That is all we can do. The emperor is ready to capitulate now. I advised against this war from the beginning, as you no doubt kno
w—”

  “We have our own nuclear weapons,” Hiroshi spat out in a rush. Suzuki’s eyes widened, then narrowed. Hiroshi read him instantly. “We only recently acquired them from a German refugee.”

  “A refugee?”

  “An SS general. Wehrmacht Scientific Corps.” Hiroshi leaned forward. “He has delivered us the means to blow a divine wind, a nuclear wind, across the Pacific to American shores.”

  07:08 Local, 5 July, 1945 (22:08 GMT, 5JUL)

  USS Suwannee

  Kid jerked awake from his recurring nightmare to find himself in sickbay with an old man staring at him. He looked around, trying to remember how he’d gotten there. Finally it came back to him, and he focused on the old man. Then the stars on the man’s collar registered—it was the battle group commander.

  “Quite a ride the other day, Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir, sorry about the Hellcat.”

  Laughing, the admiral waved it off. “There’s plenty more of those. I was going through your record for an award your command put you up for.” Kid pushed himself to a sitting position. “You’ve been through a lot, seen a lot for such a young man.”

  Kid let his head lay back against the pillow, his stare distant. “Too much, sir,” he whispered.

  Old enough to be his grandfather, the man patted Kid’s leg. “We are going to be out of the fight for a while, son. Suwannee is headed to the Suez and then Italy to load up some tanks for the invasion.”