by James Young
They’ve got to be breaking every rule in the book inside the turrets, Jacob thought, his ears ringing from the Houston’s most recent blast. Oh well, I’ll risk a mishap rather than getting blown out of the water!
“Captain Wallace is ordering that we switch targets!” the replacement talker reported breathlessly. “He is wondering why we are shooting at the same heavy cruiser as the Australia!”
Jacob looked at the plot, confused.
“What is he talking about?” Jacob asked, aghast. “Belay that order, we’re shooting at a different Jap! Is the bridge taking back control?!”
The talker pressed sound powered phone closer to his ear as Houston’s secondaries continued to fire. Looking forward, Jacob could see that the Houston had almost completed a course reversal.
Sloan has to be hating me right about now, he thought.
Jacob should have been more worried about the vessels behind him. Having started to follow the Houston’s turn, the Phoenix realized the flagship was out of control and came back to starboard to follow the Australia. The decision was nearly a fatal one, as Sloan just barely saw the light cruiser fouling Houston’s firing angle before squeezing off another salvo.
The Houston’s gunnery officer need not have worried about engaging the Mikuma, as the Phoenix proceeded to take up where her older comrade had left off. Unlike the late captain of the Boise, the Phoenix’s master was far more conservative and had directed his gunnery officer to wait until visual identification was achieved before engaging any target. Having received a thorough butt chewing for ignoring this directive with the Asakaze, the young commander in Phoenix’s director made sure that he had not only seen his next target, but had watched Houston put a pair of salvoes into her.
Now, with the Mikuma definitely identified, aflame, and at less than ten thousand yards, the Phoenix opened rapid fire on what her gunnery officer had designated “flaming datum number two.” Like the Boise during South China Sea, the Phoenix seemed to erupt in flashes as all fifteen of her 6-inch guns and secondaries began spitting a round every six to eight seconds. Unfortunately for the Japanese, unlike her late sister the Phoenix had been equipped with radar that provided an almost precise range to her staggering target.
The results were both ironic and hideous. Phoenix and the other cruisers of the Brooklyn-class had been designed in response the 7th Cruiser Squadron due to latter’s large 6-inch armament. The Imperial Japanese Navy, desiring a heavier shell and longer range, had believed that placing five 8-inch turrets in the Mogami-class would be far more effective than their original guns at all ranges. This had been done over the ship designers’ strenuous objections, but the IJN’s senior officers had stated “better a lesser number of decisive blows than a flurry of annoying ones.”
The crew of the Mikuma, had the older admirals been present aboard their vessel, would have been happy to have a discussion pointing out that quantity had a quality all its own. In a cacophony of metal on metal, detonations, screams, and the horrible sound of flames, the Mikuma was pounded into a hulk in the space of three minutes. Suffering over twenty blows that quickly overwhelmed her damage control officer’s abilities shortly before ending his earthly concerns, the disabled heavy cruiser erupted in flames.
The only thing that stopped the Phoenix’s mugging of her assailant was the untimely arrival of the Mikuma and Mogami’s torpedoes. Launched immediately upon being taken under fire, the spread had initially been aimed at the Australia and the Houston. With the former having come hard to port upon seeing the torpedo launch flashes along the Mogami’s flank and the latter having turned completely around, only the Phoenix had the misfortune of blundering in front of a Type 93. The weapon smashed into the light cruiser’s bow a few feet ahead of Turret No. 1 and partially severed structure. The pressure from Phoenix’s full speed passage completed the rest, as with the sound of tortured steel and a horrific vibration, almost the first third of the cruiser peeled back to slam down her port side.
Astern of Phoenix, the Exeter’s bridge crew saw the all too familiar waterspout of a torpedo hit and the Houston seemingly out of control five hundred yards off their port bow. Scanning further left, Captain Gordon saw the Australia continuing a harder turn to port roughly four thousand yards beyond both American cruisers. The Australian warship was continuing to engage an unseen assailant at bearing three four oh from her position while signaling frantically about torpedoes. Barking orders, Captain Gordon directed the Exeter starboard rather than head into what was pretty obviously torpedo water.
The first outcome of Gordon’s decision was a positive one, as he watched the heavy cruiser Kumano come steaming out of the gloom on a reciprocal course, her guns turned to engage the Phoenix even as Exeter sat six thousand yards off her port side. As the Japanese heavy cruiser illuminated the damaged American light cruiser, Exeter’s own guns swiveled to engage the fast moving Japanese cruiser. Both heavy cruisers fired simultaneously, and once more the Exeter’s wartime experience allowed her to get the drop on a larger, heavier opponent.
In the space of sixty seconds, the Commonwealth vessel fired three full salvos. Before Kumano’s captain had time to register just what his lookouts were screaming about, the Kumano’s aft turrets, seaplane hanger, and No. 1 boiler room was knocked out. Having attracted the Phoenix’s attention by hitting with her own first two salvos, the Kumano suddenly found herself caught in a crossfire as the light cruiser responded to this new assailant. Firing a ragged salvo that straddled the Exeter, the Kumano put her helm hard to port and began making smoke as she attempted to reverse course. On her bridge, the heavy cruiser’s captain barked for torpedoes to engage both Allied cruisers while the guns remained focused on the Exeter. It was the man’s last order before Phoenix put two shells into the Kumano’s bridge structure.
That plot has gone completely to hell, Jacob thought.
“Bridge has control!” someone shouted. A moment later the firing gong rang again, as Sloan resumed firing at the blazing Mikuma.
“Cease fire! Cease fire!” the talker shouted. “Captain Wallace is asking the plot room where in the hell the Exeter is!”
“The Australia’s been hit!” someone else yelled.
The Australia had indeed been struck. The fourth and final member of the 7th Cruiser Squadron, the Suzuya, had put her helm hard to starboard when the Mogami had begun taking damage. Listening to the excited yammering on the radio and watching as the three ships in front of him were engaged in turn, Captain Kimura Masatomi, the Suzuya’s master, had passed to starboard of the blazing Mikuma and just missed being run down by the Mogami as that vessel had disengaged from the Australia. The Kumano’s entrance had bought him additional time as well as firing starshells that illuminated the Allied group.
As the Mikuma had been receiving her punishment from Phoenix, Masatomi had been stalking the still firing Australia. As the Allied heavy cruiser had put her helm over to comb the spread of torpedoes that had deprived the Phoenix of her bow, the Suzuya’s own torpedo officers had taken their bearings then fired the heavy cruiser’s six portside Type 93s. Seeing that he Australia was still engaging the Mogami despite that vessel moving ever further away, Masatomi ordered the Suzuya brought back around in a hard starboard turn to unmask her starboard torpedo tubes.
Thus it was one of the Suzuya’s port torpedoes that caught the Australia as she was heading roughly southwards in parallel with the Mikuma and Mogami’s weapons. Distracted both by the Awikaze’s final death throes and her own attempts to hit the Mogami, the Australia’s lookouts never saw the Type 93 coming. One moment the heavy cruiser was firing a four gun broadside…the next her machinery spaces were being ripped open by the 24-inch torpedo’s warhead. Burning oil swept backwards towards the cruiser’s stern, the flames providing illumination even as the Australia’s main lights flickered then died.
Masatomi, hearing his lookouts reports and seeing for himself that the solitary torpedo had seriously injured the Australia, turned to see that the
Kumano and Mikuma were both clearly done for, at least one if not two Allied cruisers were still hammering the former, and that the Northampton-class cruiser his lookouts had initially sighted was now somewhere in the gloom. Just as Misatomi was attempting to figure out which vessel to engage with his guns, there was a large explosion from the west in the direction of the anchorage. Recalling that his primary mission was to protect the transports, the Kumano’s captain barked for the starboard torpedo tubes to finish the burning Australian cruiser.
“Is Captain Wallace injured?” Jacob asked Chief Roberts, looking as the medical teams carried Wedgewood’s body away. He jumped as Houston’s guns fired once more, the nine 8-inch rifles putting three more shells into the hapless Kumano.
“No, and he’s the only person on the bridge that isn’t,” the grizzled noncom replied, listening to the sound powered telephone. “Good thing he wasn’t in the conning tower, as it got ripped up pretty good.”
“Looks like ignoring fleet recommendations on where a ship should be fought from worked out in this case,” Jacob observed.
“Yeah, I don’t see Admiral Hart ripping Captain Wallace’s ass for fighting from the bridge next time,” Roberts stated with a shake of his head. Both men felt the Houston coming around to starboard and pointing her nose to the southwest.
“Captain Wallace is taking us towards the anchorage,” Chief Roberts reported. “The Dutch are asking for immediate assistance.”
Jacob looked towards where the Australia sat fighting her fires and the Phoenix was continuing to barely creep along.
I don’t know what help they’re expecting us to give, Jacob thought wryly.
“All right, everyone except for one talker get the hell out of here and go help with that fire!” Roberts ordered. “We’ve still got more asses to kick tonight!”
As the Suzuya headed southwest towards the transports, she passed her staggering sister. The Mogami was clearly hurt, her aft turrets askew, a fire on her amidships, and her stern visibly lower in the water. Still, as the Suzuya headed towards Balikpapan Bay, she signaled that she had reloaded her torpedoes and stood ready to support Suzuya’s attack. Responding, Captain Misatomi directed her battered sister to ensure whatever vessels were finishing off the Kumano and Mikuma did not reenter the anchorage behind her.
Stationary, with her burning bunkerage presenting a nice aim point, the Australia’s bridge crew could have done nothing about the incoming Type 93s even if they had seen the nearly wakeless torpedoes. While all six weapons had been fired without accounting for the Australia’s residual drift from currents, in the end the Suzuya’s torpedo crews demonstrated the worth of the IJN’s repeated pre-war exercises. First one Type 93 crashed into the Australia’s bow just forward of her A turret, then the second completed the devastation of her engineering spaces. Feeling his ship’s sickening lurch and immediate list, Captain Fitzpatrick immediately knew his command was done for.
Aboard the Exeter, Captain Gordon had reversed course to close back with his fellow cruisers. Seeing that the Kumano had been brought to a halt, her final functional turret silenced by Exeter’s seventh salvo, Gordon gave orders for the torpedo flat to engage the crippled Japanese cruiser, the main battery to cease fire, and for signals to obtain further instructions from the Houston or, failing that, the De Ruyter. It was just as his own torpedos entered the water that the Australia suffered her last two impacts. Cursing, Gordon ordered the Exeter’s crew to stand by to rescue the Australia’s survivors.
“What the hell just happened to the Australia?!” Jacob asked.
I swear I just took my eyes off her for a second, and now she’s looking like she could roll over any time, Jacob thought.
“Lookouts report she took two fish,” Chief Roberts replied. Without warning the Houston heeled into a sudden, sharp starboard turn.
“Bridge lookouts think they saw a fish porpoise just off the port bow,” Roberts grunted, holding on to a stanchion as the Houston leaned into the turn. Jacob held on to the plot table, his wounded leg throbbing even as he tried to avoid putting weight on it.
“Captain Wallace is ordering us to wait on the Exeter,” Chief Roberts stated, then stopped. “Belay that, Sir, we are now going to stand by the Phoenix. Exeter reports she just torpedoed one of those Jap heavies.”
Jacob felt a wave of dizziness pass over him.
“Sir, you’re bleeding again,” Chief Roberts said, his voice alarmed. “Corpsman!”
“I’m fine,” Jacob barked. “Why aren’t we going to go help the Dutch?!”
“Captain Wallace is stating he wants us to be able to see what in the hell we’re blundering into,” Chief Roberts said. “The Exeter is stating she will be taking off the Australia’s survivors.”
Jacob turned to look towards the Australia, the heavy cruisers blazes making her starkly visible in the otherwise Stygian night. Before he could respond, there was large explosion ten thousand yards off the Houston’s port bow.
“What was that?!” he asked, then waited as Roberts listened.
“Phoenix reports that second Jap cruiser just blew up,” Roberts replied. “She’s about to get underway, they’ve shored up her forward bulkheads best they can.”
“What’s going on in the anchorage?” Jacob asked.
“No idea, sir,” Roberts replied. “But the radio room is saying they have not heard from the De Ruyter for the past ten minutes.” “
“We’ve got to head into that anchorage,” Jacob muttered. “We’re never going to get this close again.”
Had Foncier and Jacob had the ability to see events unfolding to their southwest their opinion may have changed. Rear Admiral Doorman, in a maneuver that would have brought an appreciative smile to the shade of his flagship’s namesake, had led his force single file into Balikpapan Bay at slow speed. With the burning flames from Balikpapan’s refineries helpfully backlighting the Japanese transports, Doorman had ordered his force to launch torpedoes as they headed deeper into the Bay, holding their gunfire until sighted or the initial weapons struck. Thus it was only when a 15,000-ton ammunition ship exploded, followed shortly by torpedoes hitting three more transports, that the IJN guard force realized that the rolling gunfire to their northeast was not the only problems to be had that night.
Unfortunately for the Dutch, the IJN’s warships were not the only armed vessels that they needed to be concerned about. The armed merchant cruiser Sasebo Maru, a former whaling factory serving as a converted heavy vehicle transport, was sitting directly athwart the Dutch force’s path as Doorman’s forces opened fire. Surprisingly for a vessel so large, the factory ship was armed only with four old 6-inch guns in open deck mountings, with a number of smaller anti-aircraft guns complementing the main battery. However, the Sasebo Maru was commanded by a former naval officer named Koji Kaneko. A man whose discipline was harsh even by Japanese standards, Kaneko had constantly drilled the four crews during the three months the vessel had been in Cam Ranh Bay. Indeed, so rigorous had Captain Kaneko’s drills become, the Sabebo Maru’s crew had derisively started a wager on how many times the Sasebo Maru would actually fire at another ship once the Southern Operation commenced. Given that Kaneko had shown no compunction in blasting hapless Vietnamese boats, floating pallets, or whatever impromptu target happened to present itself, the gun crews had joined Vietnamese fishermen in thanking their lucky stars when the Sasebo Maru had finally weighed anchor.
This training had quickly paid off when the Dutch ships turned on their searchlights to illuminate targets. Unlike Kaneko’s drills, the explosions of torpedoes and a pair of friendly ammunition vessels had persuaded the crew to move with amazing alacrity. About the same moment that the Australia had begun engaging the Mogami in the Makassar Straight, the Sasebo Maru began shooting at a rate that would have made a regular IJN crew proud. More important than their rapidity, however, was the crew’s accuracy. The De Ruyter, as both the lead and largest vessel in the Dutch contingent, was a natural target. Heading at an angle away
from the Sasebo Maru, the cruiser’s port side was exposed to the whaling vessel, turrets facing to starboard. With the range under three thousand yards, the Sasebo’s crew took full advantage before the Tromp, as the next ship in line, could begin returning fire.
If the Sasebo’s shells had been armor-piercing, the battle would have ended almost immediately. Instead, the older ordnance was pure high explosive, lacking even the benefit of a delay fuse. As a result, the De Ruyter’s minimal belt still served to keep the shells out of the light cruiser’s vitals. However, the Sasebo Maru’s eight shell found the rear of the De Ruyter’s B turret. The effect of the hit against the almost wholly unarmored gun house was devastating, with the the structure suddenly becoming alive with spall that sliced crew, ignited powder bags, and decapitated several of the De Ruyter’s crew topside. Two more shells hit the Dutch cruiser amidships, one blasting the vessel’s Fokker seaplane overboard, the other destroying two of her twin 40mm mounts. The ready ammunition in the destroyed positions began exploding, making the cruiser look like a traveling skyrocket factory.
The Sasebo Maru had made the one critical mistake in all forms of combat—she had drawn attention to herself. The Tromp, sailing behind the De Ruyter, missed short with her initial salvo. Joining the Tromp in returning fire, the destroyer Piet Hein put her shells into the whale factory’s superstructure, starting a fire in one of the galleys. The Tromp regained her honor a moment later, hitting with three of her 5.9-inch shells into the large vessel’s engine rooms. Between the two salvoes, the Sasebo Maru lost power to all of her guns and had a fire start in her galley’s cooking oil. Moments later, the De Ruyter and Java’s guns silenced the Sasebo Maru’s open mounts, killed several of her crew, and ignited another fire amidships amongst several parked and crated light tanks.
