by James Young
“Don’t laugh too long, Commander Sloan,” Hart said, producing another pair of epaulettes. “Some poor bastard has to take Captain Morton’s place as executive officer.”
Jacob didn’t even try to fight his laughter as Sloan’s face fell.
Unfortunately, this likely means we’ll both be leaving the Houston, Jacob thought. Lots of men in the queue for command back in the States, and I’m pretty sure that BuPers isn’t going to change the seniority rules just because there’s a war on.
Looking across the harbor at the Phoenix as he finished affixing Commander Sloan’s epaulettes, Jacob allowed himself a slight smile.
Although I can handle waiting a few months to take command if it means getting a new cruiser rather than this rather distinguished lady, Jacob thought without a twinge of guilt. I get the feeling that this war will not be over for a couple years at least, and I’d like better odds at surviving it.
“Well Captain, I believe we have some more men to decorate,” Admiral Hart said with a smile. “Adjutant, publish the orders!”
Three hours later, Jacob found himself making his first captain’s call to Admiral Hart’s headquarters. After that afternoon’s ceremony, with the crew dispersing back to their work tasks, the reality of the Allied situation had come pressing back in like a ton of bricks. The Dutch East Indies were officially lost, the last Australian troops evacuating Java a mere three days before.
Strange the Japanese didn’t press the invasion fleet harder, Jacob thought. Of course, having Prince of Wales, Repulse, and Malaya as backup plus the Ark Royal and Biter providing air cover might have had something to do with that. The ACDA’s command intelligence apparatus had been beside themselves trying to explain why the IJN had not forced the issue. There was a whole slew of theories on the enemy’s lack of aggressive spirit, ranging from it being a sign that Japanese losses had been heavier than believed at Second Java to signs that the IJN was preparing for an offensive elsewhere, perhaps against New Guinea.
If the Japs take New Guinea, we’ve got huge problems, Jacob mused. Fortunately he wasn’t the only one who could read a map, the Australians continuing to fortify a moderate-sized town named Port Moresby. With three airfields already having been constructed during the defense of the East Indies and some of the combat hardened troops from those same islands taking up residence, Port Moresby was going to be a tough nut for the Japanese to crack when they got around to it.
Not that stiff defenses stopped them in the Dutch East Indies, Jacob thought. The Dutch resistance had proved almost fanatical, it taking a direct order from Admiral Hart as theater commander to get them to board the evacuating ships rather than fight to defend their families and homes. That order was becoming more and more controversial as reports filtered out of Borneo of the Japanese treatment of prisoners and Dutch families there, with things being done in the name of the Emperor that would nauseate a hardened criminal.
Upon entering the small hotel Admiral Hart was using for his headquarters, Jacob made a beeline for the men’s room. He was just finishing washing his hands when the door to the restroom opened. Turning, Jacob suddenly found himself staring at what he was sure was a ghost, that of one Commander Damien Thomason.
I thought he was dead, Jacob thought, and it looks like I was almost right. Thomason’s empty right sleeve was pinned up to his uniform tunic, and an eye patch covered his right eye. The man’s head was shaven, with a long series of vicious looking gashes running in a half circle through the black eye patch, down past his nose, and out of view around his neck.
“If you are quite done staring, Comm…Captain Morton, I would like to use the head,” Thomason said stiffly. Jacob muttered an apology and stepped out of the man’s way, letting the Australian head for the urinals. Jacob opened the restroom door and moved out quickly, feeling suddenly short of breath and sick to his stomach.
I wonder what in the hell happened to him? The Perth had sunk rather quickly, and while Houston herself hadn’t been involved in rescue efforts, the scuttlebutt had been that less than fifty men had made it from the Australian cruiser.
Although it doesn’t look like Thomason should be too happy about his close shave, Jacob thought as he entered the briefing room. Looking around, he saw that almost every seat was taken, the sole the sole remaining berth being in the front row next to Phoenix’s master, Captain Nathan Beckham.
You know, with the Phoenix heading back stateside for a new bow I wonder if they’ll give Houston to Beckham? Jacob mused. It would probably save them having to ship someone out here. Beckham’s not an Annapolis man, but I imagine BuPers wouldn’t care about that.
“Well, let me be one of the first to congratulate the newest captain in the fleet,” Beckham said, extending his hand. Jacob took it, shaking firmly.
“Thank you,” Jacob replied, still somewhat distracted.
“You look like you just met the Grim Reaper,” Beckham said, his face curious.
“No, just ran into a man I thought was dead and looked like he wished he was,” Jacob replied. Beckham nodded, his face registering cognition.
“Let me guess, Commander Thomason, Royal Australian Navy?”
“Yes, how’d you know?” Jacob asked, surprised.
“Well, that poor bastard is the only man I know of in this headquarters that fits that description,” Beckham said lowly. “Got mauled by a shark right before getting picked up.”
“Yeah, he was the liaison officer to Houston right after war was declared,” Jacob stated in return. “Gave me some good advice on damage control that I’m really glad I took.”
“Oh really?” Beckham asked, surprised. “I’m always looking for ways to keep from going swimming—with your permission, I’d like to send my XO over to talk with yours.”
Jacob was surprised at that one, even more so when he realized other officers were listening to what he was saying.
“Good enough,” Jacob replied. “I’ll let Commander Sloan know that he should expect company.”
“Gentlemen, Admiral Hart!” someone barked from the back of the room. Jacob and everyone else started to come to attention in a cacophony of sliding chairs.
“Have a seat, have a seat,” Admiral Hart said, passing through the group. “I don’t need any more officers in the hospital because someone put a chair into someone’s knees.”
There was a ripple of polite laughter as Hart mounted the stage. He was followed by Admiral Crutchley, and with a start Jacob realized the Commonwealth admiral was wearing the new epaulettes of a Vice Admiral. Whilst there were some who probably thought that the promotion was simply because Admiral Phillips had gotten himself killed, Jacob was glad to see it.
The man got us out of Second Java alive, then went back and evacuated most of the Allied soldiers. He’s a good man, Jacob thought.
“As you gentlemen can probably see, we have Sir Crutchley, the Commonwealth’s newest Vice Admiral, with us,” Admiral Hart said. The room broke into a bedlam of applause and lusty cheers from the Australian and New Zealand contingent. Admiral Hart waited for it to simmer down, then continued.
“Gentlemen, we also have a new captain amongst us. Jacob, why don’t you stand up?” Admiral Hart said.
Jacob was caught by surprise, but not so much that he couldn’t stand and turn to face the room.
“I think I’m going to embarrass Jacob a little bit, but as you know he currently is in command of the Houston,” Admiral Hart said. “What most of you may not realize is that the Houston has fought in every straight up gunnery fight in this conflict.”
Once again, there were cheers and applause. Jacob successfully fought the urge to blush like a young schoolboy, acknowledging the accolades with a simple nod of thanks.
“There has been some speculation amongst members of my staff and various wardrooms around the fleet that I’m going to send ol’ Captain Morton here back to the States to take new construction and let some other lucky bastard get the fightingest heavy cruiser in the Navy. Well, let m
e just put that to bed right now—Captain Sean Wallace was a fighter, and he trained his wardroom to all be fighters,” Hart said fiercely, his face grim.
“Despite the belief of BuPers and some other gentlemen here, I choose the commanders of my vessels, and recent experience has taught me that I need a few more fighters. So, as long as the U.S.S. Houston remains in the Southwest Pacific, Captain Morton will be her master,” Hart finished.
Jacob was stunned in amazement and full of pride at the same time as Beckham and the other U.S. captains sprung to their feet, backslapping him and shaking his hand.
I feel like I just had another baby, he thought, then suddenly felt his bright mood lessen. Shit! This means I’m not going to Hawaii anytime soon.
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
0950 Local (1420 Eastern)
15 May
“Gentlemen, I’d like to remind everyone that this briefing is classified SECRET,” Nick Cobb said quietly as he looked around the small auditorium at the gathered officers. Most of them were Pacific Fleet submarine officers, but in a move that had utterly surprised Rear Admiral Graham and all of his subordinates, Vice Admiral Halsey had decided to attend the situational briefing Nick had put together. The craggy old aviator had come in with little fanfare or staff, bringing only a solitary captain. Indeed, if the Tautog had tied up on time, it was likely Admiral Halsey would have snuck in without being noticed. It appeared to be the man’s style as acting fleet commander.
Of course, that’s how one finds out the true information, by just appearing and listening.
“Gentlemen, this briefing will last forty-five minutes. At the end of this time, you will have an understanding to the strategic situation facing the United States. Most of this, to be frank, is far above our pay grades. However, as you will soon see, the current situation my require some of your reassignment’s to the Atlantic or Indian Oceans—hopefully this will allow you to be in the know when you get there. Lights please.”
The lights went dim, leaving Nick alone on the stage with a projected map of Europe. Most of the continent was covered in black, signifying the advance of the Nazi’s ground forces. Nick felt a strange sense of calm as he regarded the map—he had practiced the briefing five times in the last two days, the final dry run being at 0500 that morning. The first two times, he had felt physically ill at the end—it was not easy confronting the fact that the war was going terribly. However, by the third time he had started to realize there were some hopeful signs of an ultimate Allied victory, or as Agnes had put it, ‘a German overreach’.
Once again, I am glad my girlfriend has a clearance…and doesn’t mind cooking breakfast, Nick thought.
“In the last two weeks, the German Army has finished subduing the Grodno pocket, with the death or imprisonment of over half a million Russians,” Nick began. That number elicited a murmur that was rapidly silenced by each vessel’s commanding officer.
“After eliminating the last of the Russian forces, the Germans advanced across the old borders of the U.S.S.R.. In doing this, it is believed they have suffered heavy casualties despite their advances. The Soviets have decided to trade ground for time, and appear to be doing it fairly well. Next slide, please.”
The next projection was a map of the southwest U.S.S.R., from the Black Sea to Smolensk. Marked prominently was the Ukraine, the region in black and red hash marks.
“They were doing a much better job of it before the Nazis broadcast that, should the Ukraine rebel, they would recognize the nationalist movement of one General Yuris Melnikova. General Melnikova is a traitor, but apparently a popular one since the Ukrainians took the bait.”
Nick brought his pointer to rest over the city of Kiev, which was the lone area in the region to be a solid red.
“The Germans proceeded to drop five airborne divisions in the vicinity of Kiev, and now the region doesn’t really belong to either side. As a result, the Russians have had to retreat to line running from Novgorod, which is north of this map, to Smolensk, through the Ukraine, then down to Odessa on the Black Sea. As you can see, that leaves a dangerous bulge in the southern Russian line.”
Nick could tell he was starting to lose his audience…and he couldn’t blame them.
Heck, I barely care about some ground fight half a world away myself, but it is pertinent.
“This applies to us here in the Pacific for the following reason—it might force Russia to leave the war,” Nick stated forcefully, his tone grabbing several of the more aloof officers’ attention. “ While the Japanese have strangely not attacked the Russians yet, they probably will if and when the Russians move forces from Siberia. If the Russians do not move forces from Siberia, the Germans will likely carve them up and take Moscow—which means we face the damn Krauts by ourselves.”
And this is why Agnes and I got drunk two nights ago, because it looks like the Fascists are winning everywhere, Nick thought. The stories she can tell me from right next door are scary enough as is. I can’t imagine what Europe will be like if the Germans take the Russians—but I know I won’t be visiting there for the next fifty years.
“We kicked their ass once before!” someone shouted in the darkened room, followed by several murmurs of assent.
“Ah yes, I was hoping someone would point that out,” Nick said quietly. “Next slide!”
This time there was a map of the eastern Atlantic, with England colored a neutral blue, but ominously all the rest of Western Europe except Switzerland and Portugal shaded black.
“I think, as you gentlemen probably recall from history, that we had the French on our side,” Nick said. “Once Vichy France threw in with Germany and the Usurper took England’s throne it wasn’t very hard to persuade Spain, Ireland, and Sweden that it was a good idea to join the Nazis,” Nick continued. “Switzerland agreed to stop dispensing occupied nations’ gold reserves, so even though she’s technically neutral her stance means a lot of our allies are technically flat broke.”
Nick paused for a second to look out into the auditorium.
“In short, gentleman, that means we’re not just fighting Germany, but most of Europe,” Nick continued.
The proverbial pin would’ve sounded like a hand grenade in the now silent room. Nick had certainly gotten the gathered groups’ attention with his statement, which had been his intent.
There’s always at least one smartass in the room, and now that asshole’s going to keep his mouth shut, Nick thought. There are lots of things one learns from being the youngest sibling.
“Before you all decide to leave here and go drown your sorrows in whiskey while learning how to speak German, there is good news,” Nick said, gesturing for the overhead to be changed.
A map of the Mediterranean was projected onto the screen. Nick paused a moment to let everyone get their bearings.
“The Spanish ‘encouraged’ the English to give up Gibraltar, and in pristine condition,” Nick said. “From all accounts, the Commonwealth commander was prepared to fight it out—until he was informed that the entire garrison would be put to the sword once the post was captured.”
Given that the good admiral’s family, as well as those of many of his officers, was present, he made a wise decision, Nick thought bitterly.
“As a result, the Axis now have a first rate harbor and fleet facility at the west end of the Med,” Nick continued.
“When do you get to the good news?!” some catcalled from the back of the room. Nick smiled.
“The good news is in their hurry to base the fleet there, the Italians forgot to change the minefields,” Nick said easily. “As a result, the British submarine Upholder slipped into harbor and sank the battleship Andrea Doria at her moorings.”
There were several appreciative murmurs about the the British captain’s skill and some speculation whether his testicles could be used for church clappers. Nick gestured for the next map.
“Moving east, the Commonwealth has conducted several small commando raids throughout the Levant and North Afri
ca,” Nick said. “However, it is unlikely that there will be any major activity in light of recent events in the Dutch East Indies and Indian Ocean.”
He did not need to gesture for the next slide, the map of the Indian Ocean looking as if red ink had been spilled across it.
“The Vichy French have reinforced Madagascar, and South Africa remains neutral at this time,” Nick stated. “The South African ambassador has expressed his regret to President Roosevelt, but with neither claimant to the English Throne recognized by their parliament, they feel compelled to sit this one out.”
Once again there were angry murmurs, but no outbursts.
I think that some folks in Pretoria better hope that the Germans win, Nick thought angrily. I don’t think the Queen is a very forgiving woman.
“India continues to be the scene of unrest given the new government’s decision to back the Allies,” Nick said. “Without getting into details I don’t have, I will merely state that it appears someone named Ghandi is advocating that India remain removed from either Commonwealth or British affairs.”
From what I understand, the only reason the Indian government is allowing the Brits to still use Ceylon is they need grain, Nick thought.
“As you may have heard, there were a couple of fights between the Commonwealth and some Japanese carriers off of Ceylon and again near Australia,” Nick continued. “All that needs to be said about that is the Japanese carriers are no longer operating in the Indian Ocean, and the Commonwealth will not likely tangle with our friends across the Pacific anytime soon.”
Biplanes versus Zeroes ends poorly every time, Nick thought bitterly. Not that we did much better last month.
Agnes, once again anticipating Nick, brought up a map of the Pacific.
We really do make a good team, he thought, fighting the urge to smile at her.
“Finally, we are here in the Pacific,” Nick said. “While many of you know the status of our own fleet, you may not know what has been going on in the Dutch East Indies….”
