On Seas So Crimson

by James Young

  The Dutch triumph over the Sasebo Maru’s gun crew was short lived. Having seen and heard the ammunition ship blow up, the Japanese destroyers Yunagi and Oite had immediately reversed course. Moments later, as the Dutch force opened fire and dispelled both captains’ assumption that a submarine had snuck into Balikpapan Bay, both destroyer captains fired their torpedoes and came about to port. With the range just over ten thousand yards, the crews of both DDs had time to watch the Sasebo Maru’s brave stand as their older 21-inch weapons covered the distance.

  The Type 91s were neither as fast nor as potent as their larger Type 93 brethren. Against the unarmored, lighter Dutch warships they did not need to be. The destroyer Kortenaer was the first vessel hit, a Type 91 hitting her amidships and snapping her keel in half. The destroyer’s momentum caused the ship to rip in half. Rolling to starboard, the Kortenaer’s fore half flipped backwards as the aft half continued along for a brief couple of minutes before its bulkheads collapsed.

  Seeing the Kortenaer hit, the captain of the Java put her helm hard to starboard to attempt to comb the torpedo tracks. The rudder had just barely begun to swing the light cruiser’s bow around when two of Oite’s torpedoes struck her. Either weapon would have been fatal, as the first bore through the cruiser’s hull into her forward magazine while the second carved out her propulsion. Almost immediately wrapped in flames, with everything forward of the bridge disappearing in the mammoth magazine explosion, the Java served only to split the Dutch formation as the Tromp and every vessel astern of her turned hard to starboard.

  In one of the true ironies of the war, the five weapons that passed through the Dutch formation continued heading up Balikpapan Bay towards the Sasebo Maru. Three of them rewarded the Sasebo Maru’s crew with a blown out side for their good shooting. As the vessel immediately began settling, the crew got to conduct an operation they had not drilled for during their journey—abandoning ship.

  Aboard the damaged De Ruyter, Rear Admiral Doorman reacted to the Java’s demise by ordering his mixed force immediately come about. Those ships astern of the Java, having already reversed course to avoid possible torpedoes, assumed their commander was ordering them to rejoin on the De Ruyter. It was at this point that the Yunagi and Oite briefly continued their counterattack, firing their meager broadsides in an attempt to draw attention away from the transport anchorage. A brave charge, it served its purpose by focusing the remaining Dutch vessels’ attention on the two destroyers.

  The Oite was the first to be hit, her foremost torpedo tubes being destroyed by a shell from the De Ruyter. This hit was followed by a 4.7-inch shell from the Van Ghent, the shell exploding in the destroyer’s wardroom. Disturbed by the Dutch shooting, Oite reversed course and made smoke, moving away from the onrushing Dutch ships. The Yunagi, fixed in a searchlight from the Evertsen, was struck next by a pair of shells that began flooding in her engine room. Following the Oite’s example, the older destroyer reversed course into smoke.

  Realizing that he was losing control of his force as the De Ruyter’s gun crews nearly engaged the Tromp as the latter approached from the direction of Makassar Strait, Rear Admiral Doorman gave the much simpler order of FOLLOW ME to the ships of his command. Heading out of Balikpapan Bay at thirty knots, it was at this point that Rear Admiral Doorman began asking for Rear Admiral Glassford’s forces to rejoin his. Receiving a garbled response in return, Doorman was in the midst of repeating his request when the Japanese struck once again.

  The Oite and Yunagi, fleeing pell mell from the advancing Dutch force, were heading east when they were confronted by the advancing light cruiser Yubari. At the head of four destroyers that had been northeast of Balikpapan as part of the transport fleet’s covering force, the Yubari served as the flagship of Rear Admiral Sadamichi Kajioka. Angrily inquiring as to where the duo of destroyers believed they were going, Rear Admiral Kajioka ordered them to fall in behind the destroyers Kisaragi, Mochizuki, Mutsuki, Yayoi of his squadron. It was this force that, having sighted the Dutch in the light from the burning Java’s hulk, unleashed a massive torpedo spread. Once more, the IJN turned back into the darkness and waited the almost eight minutes for their twenty-eight weapons to arrive.

  Had Rear Admiral Doorman changed his course even somewhat, he might have saved his force. Unfortunately, the perpetually underfunded and obsolescent Dutch East Indies Fleet had never been provided with radar or advanced night glasses. Believing that Rear Admiral Glassford’s cruisers had managed to either attract or destroy the majority of the transport’s escorts, Doorman had no reason to entertain the thought his alert ships could still be surprised.

  As it was, the bugbear of speed estimation once more reduced the IJN’s effectiveness. From Doorman’s perspective, this would be cold comfort as the Tromp, Jacob van Heemskerck, Witte de With, and Evertsen were all hit by one or more torpedoes. For the Witte de With, Evertsen and Jacob van Heemskerck the mergers were fatal, the Japanese tin fish having the same effect as poison spears through a man’s abdomen: certain, albeit not instantaneous, death. The Tromp, on the other hand, took three fish and simply vanished in a brilliant globe of flame and smoke as multiple magazines detonated.

  The Yubari and her companion’s subsequent gunfire only served to exacerbate Rear Admiral Doorman’s shock. Realizing that he was completely outnumbered, and with most of his force either sunk or sinking, the Dutch admiral ordered a general retreat. This was hastened by the arrival of the Suzuya’s reload torpedoes, the Type 93’s passing close astern of the De Ruyter. With the De Ruyter’s own guns struggling to respond to the Suzuya’s first broadside, Rear Admiral Doorman swiftly decided discretion was the better part of valor. For the Japanese, having already been unpleasantly surprised by Allied aggressiveness that night, the decision to not pursue was an easy one.

  “Rear Admiral Doorman is ordering a general retreat,” Chief Roberts said. “He has ordered rafts to be dropped for the Australia’s crew, and all vessels to make their best speed south.

  Looking to where the Australia had disappeared just ten minutes before, Jacob could not argue with the Dutchman’s logic. As Houston continued to zig zag ahead of the plodding Phoenix, Jacob did some quick math.

  Sun will be up in a few hours, Jacob thought. If this crappy weather breaks, we might have to leave the Phoenix behind.

  Balikpapan Airfield

  1030 Local (2230 Eastern)

  “Not only does this area have nocturnal visitors, but the weather is abysmal,” Isoro noted, rain blowing sideways into the edge of their tent.

  “This front should be moved through by this afternoon,” Lieutenant Eiji Makioka, Isoro’s friend and Eta Jima classmate observed. “Our visitors are lucky that the weather gods are apparently taking pity on them.”

  Isoro grunted noncommittally, watching the rain continue to pound the ground outside. The low rumble of an explosion from Balikpapan Bay was a grim reminder of the previous night’s activities and his own lack of sleep. A similar sounding but vastly different rumble through his abdomen served as a less subtle reminder that he and the other members of his squadron were lucky to have a day to rest.

  Four sorties yesterday, he thought. At least it appears that the Allies are finally conceding the landing here. Isoro rubbed his eyes, images from the previous day coming unbidden as soon as he closed them. His first kill of the day, a Lancaster, locked in a flaming flat spin before it hit the jungle. His second, a Douglas bomber, simply falling out of the sky with a shattered cockpit. A Zero exploding as…

  “Isoro, wake up!” Eiji chided, shaking him. Isoro jerked awake, looking at his friend ruefully.

  “Sorry Eiji,” Isoro said.

  “We are all tired,” Eiji allowed. “I’m just glad that soldiers have managed to clear out the last of the snipers.”

  Isoro shuddered. The “sniper” hadn’t looked more than sixteen, his uniform two sizes too large for him. That had not prevented the Army from torturing him, finding out where he lived, and brutally executing his ent
ire family in front of the boy.

  I am certain being decapitated was a relief for him after what they did to his sister, Isoro thought. Part of him could understand the Army soldiers’ frustration, as it had been on of their pilots that the sniper had killed. On the other hand, he wondered how the soldiers slept at night. The distant crump of shell fire from inland ceased his introspection.

  “We are fortunate that the Westerners have been pushed beyond artillery range,” Eiji observed.

  “Especially with your large aircraft, Eiji-san,” Isoro replied, gesturing to the twin-engined Mitsubishi G4Ms at the end of the paved runway. “Even the Dutch cannot miss those when they are on the ground.”

  Eiji gave his friend a harsh glare.

  “You kill the Emperor’s enemies one by one. I kill them by the dozen, if not the hundreds in the case of his ships,” Eiji said stiffly.

  “That will be a great deal more difficult now that your torpedoes are at the bottom of the ocean,” Isoro replied somberly. “It is most unfortunate about the ammunition ship.”

  Eiji exhaled heavily. His bomber group had flown into Balikpapan each carrying a torpedo. The remainder of their ordnance had been embarked in the merchantman whose detonation had sent them all scrambling from their bed the night before.

  “I do not think those Dutch idiots will ever realize just how many of their countrymen they likely saved,” Eiji said fiercely. “Until more torpedoes can be ferried down, we are restricted to only attacking capital ships.”

  “Has anyone thought to use the ones off of the carriers?” Isoro inquired. “From what I have seen they have no use of them.”

  “We have sent a request up through channels back to Tokyo, as Admiral Kondo continues to believe that the carriers will receive new aircraft,” Eiji said, causing Isoro to snort in disbelief.

  “With the losses we took off of Hawaii and in the last few days, Admiral Kondo will be lucky if he gets any reinforcements at all,” Isoro snarled. “Maybe he will get his wish for a surface battle after all.”

  “You speak like a defeatist, Isoro,” Eiji said quietly.

  “No, I speak like a man who an do math,” Isoro replied. “Look at ook at your losses. Look at my unit’s losses.”

  “Our losses have not been excessive…” Eiji snapped.

  “No?” Isoro sneered. “You will be leading one of our vics this afternoon if the weather clears. I am the senior chutai leader on this airfield. We are both mere lieutenants.”

  Eiji did not have an immediate reply to that. He was saved by the arrival of an orderly, the man bowing in deference and averting his eyes.

  “Sir, your presence is requested by Commander Fuchida,” the man said stiffly. “They are beginning the brief for the attack on Surabaya.”

  Isoro was about to respond when there was the sound of wild firing in Balikpapan Harbor. All three men crouched down, as the merchantmen and warships anchored inside the formerly Dutch port were not known for their fire control. As if to prove their prudence, a tight group of shells terminated their parabolic arc in a cluster of explosions at the southern end of the runway. A few moments later, there was the sound of a hollow crump! indicating that Eiji and his comrades were not the only capable torpedo bomber pilots in theater.

  “Those damn Australians,” Isoro seethed. “I cannot believe they are flying in this!”

  “I hear the Army has taken to calling that twin-engined fighter of the Australians ‘The Whispering Death’,” Eiji observed. “Something about not being able to hear it before it has already started its attack run.”

  “How can those bastards even see?” Isoro asked. “First the Ryujo, then these attacks!”

  “Desperation, my friend, desperation,” Eiji replied.

  “Oh to be somewhere far, far away from here,” Isoro replied. “I am sure the cherry trees are beautiful this time of year.”

  “You should worry more about Commander Fuchida than flowers,” Eiji pointed out. Isoro pushed himself off the ground.

  “I sincerely believe people thousands of miles from here have no idea what is going on,” Isoro replied.

  Honolulu, Hawaii

  1630 Local (2300 Eastern)

  14 April

  Jo muttered a very unladylike swear word, fighting to hold on to the pot of noodles as she maneuvered them towards the sink. Setting the pot down, she started the cold water, running her hands underneath the cold tap. The sound of approaching heels meant that the target of her ire was moving within range.

  “Where in the…heck,” Jo said, making a conscious effort not to swear at Patricia, “are my good potholders?!” she asked, screaming nearly at the top of her lungs. Patricia, her hair still wrapped underneath a towel, shrugged.

  “I don’t know, maybe you should have cleaned the kitchen rather than asking someone who just came out of the bathroom,” she returned snidely.

  Okay, I’ve had about enough out of you, Jo thought. Her face must have reflected it as Patricia quickly held up her hands as if to ward off an attack.

  “Jo, I’m just saying everything that looked like it was stained or dirty I put in the laundry,” Patricia said slowly.

  “Is that another one of your ‘Southern sensibilities’, that things we use every freakin’ day can’t be just a touch dirty?” Jo asked archly. Bringing both of her hands out of the sink, she put them to her chest and looked up at Patricia, rapidly batting her eyelashes.

  “Oh my gawd, I can’t have company seeing dirty potholders,” she said in her best breathless Southern drawl. “Since when have you cared about what your brothers see?”

  Patricia looked at Jo furiously, then suddenly started to turn beet red as Jo suddenly struck a pose like she had just had an idea.

  “Oh wait, it’s not your brothers who have you stressed out, it’s the dashing Lieutenant (j.g.) Read,” Jo chided.

  “You are not amusing Jo,” Patricia said seethingly.

  “I’m not the one trying to keep up appearances,” Jo pointed out. “Or hide the fact that I find someone attractive.”

  “Charles is just a…” Patricia stammered.

  “Stop!” Jo said fearfully, throwing both her hands up. Patricia did just that, looking at her like she had lost her mind.

  “Sorry, just didn’t want you to burn in Hell for eternity for telling that big fat fib,” Jo said, her face the picture of concern.

  “Oh I could hit you sometimes,” Patricia said, balling her fists.

  “Yeah, but then you’d feel all guilty for messing up my looks even more than they already are,” Jo replied snappily. Patricia harrumphed at her, turning to stir the simmering tomato sauce.

  “You know, for someone who is chiding me about keeping up appearances, I notice that you’re wearing a dress I’ve never seen before,” Paricia said. “I know it’s not for Sam, bless his heart, so that leaves…oh, wait, Eric.”

  Okay, that’s hitting a bit below the belt, Jo thought.

  “I think that your brothers have all made it clear that I’m the second little sister they wish your mother had,” Jo replied, tone despondent. “Besides, they’re all crazy.”

  Patricia laughed at that comment.

  “Eric is actually the sanest one,” she replied.

  “That’s not much of a stretch in your family,” Jo said drily. Patricia favored her with a dirty look for that comment.

  “Well, you gotta admit, Patricia, Sam and David finish each other’s sentences, Nick goes underneath the ocean in a sardine can, and you’re fanatical about your beau seeing dirty potholders,” Jo replied.

  “He is not my beau,” Patricia replied.

  “Yet,” Jo retorted, “but fine, you ran away from your parents because they wanted to get you married.”

  “To a man who thought my purpose in life would be to sit at home and have his babies,” Patricia replied sharply.

  “Yes, but wasn’t he rich?” Jo responded. “You could have been on easy street for the rest of your life.”

  “Pardon me
if I believe in having a man who appreciates me for having a brain,” Patricia replied. “I grew up reading fairy tales and watching my parents. Someday I’ll find a man who wants me for a partner, and then we will live happily ever after.”

  Well, we sort of thought you had found one, Jo thought. Then he had to go get himself killed by the Japanese.

  “Yeah, well, let me know when you find one,” Jo replied. “Where are your brothers, anyway?”

  Charles could probably be forgiven for thinking that he’s somehow been transported to a hilltop above a certain famous river in Montana, Eric thought, fighting to control his own annoyance as he listened to Sam, Nick, and David. One little night at the church social, and suddenly he goes from being their sorta pal to Public Enemy No. 1.

  The five men, miraculously all on pass at the same time, were making their way to Patricia and Jo’s house for dinner. Sadie had begged off, stating that she really was not feeling well.

  Except Custer probably went quickly, Eric thought, nothing that Sam and David both had his former wingman sort of boxed in.

  “I mean, it’s not that we don’t like you Charles,” Sam explained, his voice somehow menacing in its utter levelheadedness. “It’s just that Patricia’s already had one man not come back, and we don’t want her hurt again.”

  “Shouldn’t Patricia get a say in that?” Eric inquired, drawing a look of ire from both twins.

  “Maybe you should have made sure you didn’t introduce them, Eric,” David snapped.

  “I’m sorry, I was a little bit distracted by the freakin’ holes in my back,” Eric retorted, his tone hot.

  “I would just like to state, for the record, that Toots is going to poison both of you,” Nick stated.

  “No, they have a point,” Charles said, his tone apologetic. “I mean, I’ve already gotten shot down once, haven’t I?”