by James Young
Or for that matter, before we run out of aircraft,
Not for the first time, he was glad that the IJN had transitioned to sturdier, more modern aircraft based on the lessons the Germans and British had learned in Europe. The losses, at least what the staff had informed him of so far, had been troubling.
Roughly thirty aircraft shot down with another twenty or so damaged. Yes, we have spares, but I hate to lose so many pilots. Especially the ones we will just have to abandon to their fates.
In a perfect world, Yamaguchi would have had enough aircraft or ships to go search for the twenty or so aircrew from aircraft who had ditched on the way back to the Kido Butai. In reality, the best he’d been able to do was send a request back through Combined Fleet Headquarters to have Fifth Fleet’s submarines in the area attempt to find the proverbial needles in the haystack.
“Sir, would you like to have your meal brought to you?” his steward asked. As if on cue from the inquiry, Vice Admiral Yamaguchi felt the first pangs of hunger he’d had all day.
It does neither me nor this force any good to pass out on this bridge, Vice Admiral Yamaguchi realized.
“I will take the meal in my cabin,” he said. “It will have to be fast, I will be meeting with the staff shortly.”
“You are certain?” Yamaguchi asked Commander Fuchida forty-five minutes later.
Fuchida looks like hell. He cannot fly tomorrow.
The CAG had apparently been jumped by an expertly flown Seafire. It was only through pure fate that the Tenzan’s pilot had started a turn just as the British fighter opened fire. As a result, it was only Fuchida’s arm in a sling and his tailgunner’s blood all over his uniform rather than the man dead somewhere in the Indian Ocean.
“Hai, Admiral,” Fuchida said, wincing. “I saw the Victorious explode myself from the second strike’s torpedoes, and Eagle could not have survived the three more hits.”
Those were certainly low numbers given both vessels crippled condition, but should be enough, yes.
“The third strike also scored at least two torpedo hits on what we believe to be Ark Royal, and another four on the Malaya or Warspite, two on the other battleship.”
“Then you saw one of the battleships capsize before the British fighter attacked you?”
Fuchida nodded.
“She rolled onto her beam ends, then her magazines exploded,” Fuchida said. “It is why the pilot banked.”
Yamaguchi stood for a moment, contemplating his options.
Perhaps Kaku is right, I could continue to head south. We lack the ability to seize the Maldives, but if we can finish off the last two carriers then perhaps that would persuade the British to seek terms with us at least.
The Ark Royal and Illustrious were, if Victorious’s demise were correct, the last two modern carriers Queen Elizabeth’s commonwealth possessed. If the former was as badly damaged as Fuchida claimed, then that left only Illustrious.
“Where is Fletcher?” he asked, looking across the table at the staff. “Do we have any word?”
“No, sir, none,” Rear Admiral Kaku replied.
“Well, we do know he did not chase the Italians all the way to Mombasa,” Vice Admiral Yamaguchi said. “But other than that, do we believe the Italian claims to have damaged a battleship?”
There was silence from the staff.
I do not want to insult Fuchida-san publicly, but aviators are known to exaggerate. I would take a grave risk with this force, especially as we do not know what is at Addu Atoll.
“In the morning, we will continue to have the Tone and Chikuma handle search operations,” Yamaguchi said. “We will reinforce their search with aircraft from the Kirishima and Hiei. All sectors will have double the aircraft, and the entire Second Division will provide a CAP.”
As he searched his staff’s faces, Yamaguchi could see that his decision was not popular with Fuchida and a couple others.
I am sure they will tell me I am being far too cautious and that a strong CAP will hurt any strike we launch. Still, Fletcher has only two carriers, so a strong CAP prevents his blow from landing while ours will almost certainly get through.
“Let me know what our aircraft strength is within the hour,” Yamaguchi finished. “But it is past time we get back to Ceylon in case Fletcher has decided to head there rather than attempt to rendezvous with the British first here in the south. In his shoes, given the reports Vice Admiral Ozawa has hopefully generated, it is what I would do.”
With that, Yamaguchi nodded at the staff to dismiss them. To a man, the group bowed in his direction, then immediately set about their tasks.
I cannot help but think I am failing to see something. If only there was a way to speak with our British and Italian allies directly.
Yamaguchi looked at the map, mentally measuring the distance from Mogadishu to Mambasa. It was a long way to run with a fleet. Especially after apparently mauling an Italian force so thoroughly it had ran away rather than fight.
Something must have made a man with multiple battleships and two carriers, albeit small ones, flee like he was being chased by a pack of wolves, Yamaguchi pondered. What was it?
U.S.S. Houston
2006 Local (1036 Eastern)
Indian Ocean
9 August
The knock on his hatch was not unexpected, even if Jacob wished the visit was unnecessary.
Might as well pull this scab off the hard way. Sighing, he braced himself.
“Enter!” he barked.
The hatch swung open to reveal Commander Farmer. The British officer’s face was set in a hard line, his eyes fixed upon the bulkhead behind Jacob. Lieutenant Commander O’Malley, the Houston’s chaplain, followed along behind the British officer.
Guess I get to find out what O'Malley's made of, Jacob thought. He'd been very impressed with Lieutenant Commander Mulcahy, the vessel's former chaplain. Unfortunately, so had
“Close the hatch please, chaplain,” Jacob said, standing and moving from behind his desk.
“Well sir, now I know there’s bloody bad news,” Farmer said, his voice wavering slightly. Jacob went to clasp the man on the shoulder, then stopped as the British officer stiffened.
“I’d rather not, sir,” Farmer said, his voice clipped. “It’s my brother, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Commander, it is,” Jacob replied simply.
“When?”
“This afternoon. The Victorious was lost when her bomb magazines exploded. Your brother was last seen belowdecks attempting to fight the fire.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Vice Admiral Godfrey sends his regrets, and has passed along that if there’s anything he can do for you, do not hesitate to ask.”
Jacob paused.
“I echo that sentiment, Commander.”.
“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Farmer asked, the last part coming out almost as a sob.
“Yes, Commander, you’ve earned it,” Jacob replied.
“I hope you fucking Yanks decide whether or not you want to be a part of this bloody war,” Farmer spat venomously. “My brother might goddamn be alive now if your bloody Admiral had not had his dick up his arse with all the fueling and dawdling.”
“Commander Farmer, that’s not helpful,” Chaplain O’Malley snapped.
“Let him speak,” Jacob countermanded, waving the chaplain down.
Farmer looked at him, his mouth working but nothing coming out. Stopping, he swallowed hard.
“That’s all I had to say, sir.” Farmer stated, then came to attention. “Permission to return to my cabin.”
“Permission granted, and I am sorry for your loss,” Jacob replied. “What was said will remain in this room.”
Farmer gave a short nod, saluted, then quickly moved out of Jacob’s day cabin.
I hope this never becomes routine for me.
“Sir, how did word get to us so quickly?” O’Malley asked.
“Commander Farmer used to be Vice Admiral Cunningham’s aide,” Jacob
replied. “I understand that the reason he was assigned to the Repulse was that his brother had just became the Victorious’ executive officer, and Vice Admiral Cunningham didn’t want them both in the same vessel.”
Jacob looked at the map of the Indian Ocean hanging on the bulkhead behind his desk.
“Vice Admiral Cunningham apparently didn’t make it off the Victorious either,” he continued. ”The British appear to lose an admiral every time they fight Japanese carriers.”
“It’s been a bad last six months for their senior leaders any way you slice it,” Chaplain O’Malley observed. “Phillips, Somerville, and now Cunningham.”
“How is the crew’s morale?” Jacob asked. “I assume scuttlebutt is running rampant.”
“Can’t keep many secrets aboard this ship, sir,” O’Malley replied. “But the crew is ready to scrap with the Japanese again. Having the two big boys along helps with that.”
Jacob chuckled.
“They do certainly look impressive. Let’s hope that translates into them actually being impressive.”
6
Chaos Dawn
It is an invariable axiom of war to secure your own flanks and rear and endeavour to turn those of your enemy.
—King Frederick II, Prussia
Morton Residence
0600 Local (1200 Eastern)
9 August
Once more, someone was knocking on their kitchen door.
“This sort of thing has got to stop,” Patricia said as Jo stepped out of her bedroom.
“We are in violent agreement about that,” Jo replied running her hand through her hair.
We were both up way too late last night. Especially for people who have to keep secrets. They’d sat up with Sam and David as the twins caught them up on everything that had happened in the last few months. The whole time, Jo had been distracted on what was likely happening out in the Indian Ocean. It had been a very sleepless night.
“Were you guys expecting company?” Sam asked lowly as he slid off of the couch bed and sauntered towards the kitchen.
It’s kind of scary that a man that big can move that quietly. Patricia wondered why I asked who won hide and seek in her family. If she wasn’t used to it, she’d know how weird it is that all of her brothers move like Injuns, with Sam the chief.
“No, we’re not,” Patricia answered, looking at Jo speculatively.
“I figure anything that Sam and David can’t handle just might shrug off a shotgun,” Jo said, then stopped.
Goddammit, she thought, relieved when Sam and David both started smiling. Patricia looked at all of them with a questioning glance.
“You want to get the door, Sam?” Jo asked with a giggle.
“Why yes, yes I think I will,” Sam said, walking into the kitchen. She watched as the eldest Cobb threw the door open to look down at his younger brother.
“Didn’t Mom teach you to call ahead?” Sam asked, dragging Nick Cobb into a giant bear hug.
“Agnes!” he said with a surprised smile as Nick’s girlfriend walked into the Morton residence.
“Nick!” Patricia said simultaneously, rushing forward to hug her brother as well.
“What the hell? Is Eric going to show up tomorrow?” David asked, smiling as he also embraced his brother.
I notice he’s not in his khakis, which means he didn’t just get here. Jo met Agnes’ eyes from behind all the embracing Cobbs and gave the secretary a knowing smile. The Portuguese woman just gave a slight smile and shrugged back.
“Well, there’s no more room for anyone else to sleep here, so you guys better start looking for a place to stay,” Patricia said, her smile belying her words.
“I assure you, we’ll find room,” Jo said. “Although it would be very amusing if my father found out I’d turned this into a boarding home.”
“Amusing isn’t the word I think would apply,” Patricia said. “Let me get some coffee started.”
“So now I’m in limbo,” Nick said a few moments later. He glanced over at Agnes before continuing. “There’s apparently been some big shake up at BuPers, which means that the previous order got rescinded.”
Sam and David looked at one another, then at Nick.
“You know about Admiral King, right?” Sam asked.
“I’ve heard rumors that he’s not in charge anymore, but no one’s said anything directly,” Nick said, drawing a startled gasp from Agnes.
“I’m sorry, I thought for sure Commander Emerson told you,” she said. “Nick, Admiral King has been dead for almost two weeks."
Nick looked at her, thunderstruck.
"What?"
"Dropped dead of a heart attack," Sam said. "Scuttlebutt is in mid-argument with Secretary Knox."
"That explains why there’s been some changes at BuPers, as I imagine whomever is going to replace him probably wants his own folks in charge," Nick said, eyes still wider than normal.
“Why would someone change out people in charge during a war?” Patricia asked. “That doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense.”
“The war is going badly,” Jo stated flatly. “So I can imagine that will lead to changes of leadership. Especially since they’ve got a carrier admiral in Halsey who is not someone you chain to a desk.”
“I can’t believe Admiral Jensen’s replacement still hasn’t been named,” Sam said. “I thought for sure that would have been done already.”
“Might have happened and we just don’t know it yet,” Nick said, then took a pull of coffee. “Holy shit, I still can’t believe King is dead though.”
“Language, Nick,” Sam stated lowly.
“Yeah, best watch your fucking mouth,” Jo responded without a moment’s hesitation, drawing a titter from Agnes and a glare from Sam.
“Anyway,” David said, “do you guys care if we bring Major Haynes over for dinner tonight? We’d like you all to meet him.”
Clearly this is a man who has gotten their respect, Jo noted. As well as their friendship.
“Where is Major Haynes from?” Patricia asked. “If we need to make something special for him, I can try and scrounge up some food.”
“Upstate New York,” Sam said. “He was born into money.”
“What kind of money?” Patricia asked, genuinely curious. “Vanderbilt money?”
“He’s kind of reticent to talk about it,” David said. “Doesn’t throw it around, but other people in the squadron said he’s the sole heir to an optics fortune.”
“I bet his family’s just thrilled he’s out here,” Nick said “I imagine his Mom is like ours, just on steroids and with money to interfere.”
Sam and David shared a pained look.
“His mother’s dead, actually,” David replied. “It’s a story he’s best able to tell.”
Patricia, Sam, and Nick all swiveled their eyes towards David with various degrees of shock, then looked at Jo.
I can't believe he just said that, Jo thought as she grimaced. David at least had the decency to look briefly pained before Jo twisted the rhetorical knife.
“Oh, hello Major Haynes. Glad to meet you. Why don’t we quiz you about what is probably the worst thing to ever happen to you?” Jo said sarcastically. "Let me tell you, I'm always happy when people ask me that question."
Self-consciously, Jo touched the burn scar on her arm. Sam reached over and patted her leg in a comforting way.
“Sorry Jo,” Sam said, glaring at his twin. “His mother actually died of cancer last year. Major Haynes was in the Dutch East Indies.”
“What took him to the Dutch East Indies?” Patricia asked.
“Killing Japanese,” Sam replied.
Now I’m starting to understand what you guys see in him as a leader.
Jo reached down slowly so as not to draw attention to her movements. Finding Sam’s hand on her leg, she squeezed it once to let him know it had stayed on her knee too long. He squeezed back, then took his arm away.
Goddammit Sam, I hate the way you make me feel sometimes. I
don’t think you mean to, but Jesus.
Looking across the table, Jo saw Agnes looking at Sam and her speculatively. Before Agnes could say anything, Jo’s alarm clock went off.
“Well, Patricia, if you don’t mind starting breakfast, I’m going to get a shower,” Jo said.
“Wait,” Sam stated, standing up.
“Wait what, Sam?” Patricia asked, then stopped and covered her mouth in horror.
“Wait I have to go use the restroom and don’t think Jo wants to get scalded?” Sam replied. Before his sister could answer, he left. Jo gave him a moment, then followed.
I think that Eric needs to hurry up and get back here. There’s something … different about Sam and I.
A few minutes later, as she was finishing setting out her clothes, there was a knock on the door. She opened it to find Agnes.
This is a surprise.
Jo gestured for the other woman to come in, then closed the door behind her.
“I guess I can ask you—has always been as much a busybody as her brothers claim?” Agnes asked quietly, startling Jo.
“Uh…” Jo started, pondering the best way to answer. Agnes smiled.
"I will take that as a yes."
"I don't think she's a busy body per se," Jo said. "More she hasn't gotten punched in the face by life yet."
I mean, there was poor Peter, but that relationship hadn't really taken off.
A shadow seemed to cross Agnes' face.
"I don’t' think you and I have that problem," Jo continued evenly.
“Yes, like you, I have suffered tragedy,” Agnes said simply. "My father died when I was young, my mother a couple of years ago."
Oh my God, I cannot imagine. With a chill, her mind turned to where her father was. I might not have to imagine soon.
"I'm sorry, I have reminded you of something untoward," Agnes said, starting to turn to go.
"No, please, stop," Jo said. "I was just thinking about my father is all."
"Yes, I remember you mentioned he was in the Navy as well when we first met," Agnes said.
"Yes," Jo replied. "That seems like ages ago. But yes, you and I have both seen different things than Patricia."