In terms of appearance, the two troopers acting as their escorts were as disparate a pair as one was likely to find. While both were in their late twenties, recently-promoted Captain Evan Lloyd of the 1st Australian SAS Regiment was tall and fair, while is long-time compatriot, Sergeant Malcolm Langdale, was short, stocky and of Aboriginal background. Both had been long time members of the SAS, had worked together even before their arrival in the 1940s, and both at that moment felt uncomfortably ‘naked’ without their packs and rifles.
“Didn’t realise it was bloody formal…” Thorne muttered drily, just loud enough for the others to hear and drawing grins from all three. “Should’ve brought the tux…”
“…Still look like a sack o’ shit tied in the middle…” an almost inaudible reply came back, clearly spoken out of the side of someone’s mouth behind him and soft enough to make it difficult to determine its origin.
“I’m assuming that was you, Langdale… only because Evan’s too fuckin’ polite to be that much of a prick…” Thorne growled, pausing long enough to turn and send an evil-eyed glare back in the sergeant’s general direction. “I am a bloody air vice-marshal, mate…” he added, making a half-hearted attempt to pull rank but not having any heart to carry it off.
“That was a particularly insensitive remark back on the plane…” Eileen observed, shaking her head as she recalled a question Thorne had asked without thinking that even she couldn’t believe he’d come out with.
“Look,” he continued, a plaintive note seeping into his tone as he was forced to explain himself for the sixth time that morning, “we were talking about the history of the PLO for Christ’s sake… all I asked was ‘How would you feel if someone came and took over your country…?”…”
“To an Indigenous Australian…?” Eileen pointed out, fighting desperately now to hide the grin that was struggling to spread across her features.
“I’m not saying it was the best choice of phrase under the circumstances,” he conceded, starting to feel uncomfortable over something he considered to be an honest and completely unintentional faux pas.
“Fuckin’ gubbah…” Langdale muttered again, using a generic Aboriginal English term for Caucasians that some sources believed was derived from a term relating to traditional legends of a ‘white demon’.
It was at that point, as he turned back again to address that latest jibe, that Thorne finally caught sight of Lloyd’s shoulders heaving with silent laughter in his peripheral vision, making it fairly clear that the pair of them had been concocting the whole thing to make a joke at his expense.
“Ahh, go and get fucked, the pair of you…!” He snapped in frustration as Eileen also started laughing openly, having worked the whole thing out far earlier in the morning. “Don’t give me that bloody outback, pidgin English bullshit! You grew up in Dandenong for fuck’s sake… you wouldn’t know what a kangaroo was if it kicked you in the arse!”
“The spirit of reconciliation at work, ladies and gentlemen…” Lloyd announced sarcastically between bouts of laughter, giving his partner a fist-bump as Langdale collapsed into a tear-inducing fit of hysteria.
“Fuckers…!” Thorne declared to no-one in particular, losing his own battle against laughter as he shook his head in grudging appreciation of having been so masterfully set up. “See how funny it is when I have you smart bastards posted to Mawson,” he growled, referring to the Australian Antarctic Research Station.”
“I don’t think that exists yet…” Lloyd wheezed between gasps of air.
“You lot’ll be building the fuckin’ thing then,” he shot back, starting to laugh with the rest of them now and unable to help himself. “Bugger me, how’s a bloke supposed to stay sane with you lot around?”
“Oh, Max,” Eileen began, laying a conciliatory arm around his shoulders as she too continued to giggle. “Life around you around is never dull!”
There was barely enough space for the chopper as it settled onto the huge ship’s narrow fantail aft, crewmen ducking forward beneath the aircraft’s scything rotors and securing it to the deck. Thorne exited first, followed by Eileen and the SAS troopers as all four also kept low for the sake of safety. All four were still smiling to themselves over the previous pointless discussion, however that all changed the moment they caught sight of the severe and serious expressions of the men waiting for them beneath the shade of Y-turret’s twin guns.
“Air Vice-Marshal Thorne, I presume…” The ranking officer ventured, taking a step forward before coming to attention and offering a crisp salute.
“Vice-Admiral Mountbatten,” Thorne responded in kind, rather uncharacteristically making an actual effort to present a correct, regimental salute in return. “Thank you for having us aboard.”
“Pleasure’s all ours, I assure you,” Lord Louis Mountbatten countered gallantly, extending a hand and shaking Thorne’s the moment the salute was completed. “Heard a great deal about you and your Hindsight crew, air vice-marshal, and if even half of its true, I suspect we shall have some rather interesting conversations.”
Lord Louis Mountbatten GCVO, DSO, KStJ, second cousin once removed to Princess Elizabeth, had been a naval officer since his posting as a midshipman to HMS Lion in 1916. A career spanning three decades had since seen him rise to the rank of commodore (currently acting vice-admiral), during which time he’d commanded a number of warships with distinction. The most notable of those so far had been command of the 5th Destroyer Flotilla while aboard HMS Kelly.
The flotilla had served with distinction off Norway in the opening phases of the Second World War, and again in the Mediterranean during the opening phases of the Axis campaign in North Africa, during which time Kelly was sunk by Luftwaffe dive bombers. Currently in command HMS Indomitable, he’d also been given overall command of the newly-formed Task Force G, about to depart for Singapore as a show of force in response to aggressive exercises being carried out in the region by the Imperial Japanese Navy.
“I take it then that you’ve been apprised of the unit’s true nature, sir?” Thorne inquired carefully, a little surprised by the man’s remarks.
“Indeed,” Mountbatten nodded sagely, almost seeming for a moment as if he might tap the side of his nose in some melodramatic display of the need for secrecy. “All rather hush-hush, of course, but an intriguing tale all the same…”
“May I introduce my extremely capable 2IC, sir…” Thorne continued, turning toward Eileen. “Captain Donelson, RN… our expert in matters of engineering, small arms and manufacturing…”
“Your reputation precedes you also, captain,” Mountbatten acknowledged as Eileen took a step forward and remained at attention. “I have it on good authority that several of your memoranda on improvements for operations at our new Vancouver shipyard caused quite a stir with the Admiralty… particularly after implementation of those same recommendations increased production rose by twenty per cent.”
“You’re far too kind, sir,” Eileen demurred, humbled to be in the presence of a man who in her time had been a martyr of the British Monarchy. “We’re all just doing our part…”
“And this is a travelling comedy act that doubles as our personal escort,” Thorne added drily, indicating the men behind him. “Captain Lloyd and Sergeant Langdale, First SAS Regiment…”
“Gentlemen…” Mountbatten nodded to each of the men in turn, receiving a crisp “Sah…!” in return from each. “And may I introduce my fellow commanding officers…” he added, having filed away Thorne’s description of the pair with a smile and a raised eyebrow.
“May I present Captain John Leach of Prince of Wales and Captain William Tennant of Repulse…”
“Gentlemen…” Thorne acknowledged, shaking each man’s hand in return.
“Also, we have Lieutenant Phillip Mountbatten of HMS Wallace, one of the air-defence destroyers we’ll have accompanying the task force. The lieutenant is with us here today in a semi-official capacity…” he added, not bothering to mention the fact that the
young man was his nephew.
“Lieutenant…” Thorne nodded again, this time taking longer to shake the man’s hand as he considered the surreal moment he was now experiencing in meeting the man he knew of as the Duke of Edinburgh. “I’ve a letter for you,” he advised quietly, drawing a glance of well-hidden surprise from the younger Mountbatten. “Do remind me to give it to you later…”
“Sir,” Phillip replied crisply, coming quickly to attention but nevertheless smiling at the news.
“If you’ll all come with us,” the vice-admiral requested, “we’ll retire to my quarters. We’ve just received an important communiqué this morning that you’ll almost certainly want to know about. Melbourne has classified it ‘Flag Officers Eyes Only’.”
“Lead on, sir, please…” Thorne agreed, suddenly very interesting in what that message might contain. “We can rest later, but I’d be more than happy to be out of this hot sun.”
The captain’s quarters were possibly the largest single space on the entire vessel dedicated to one individual so far as Thorne could work out. It had been many years since he’d been aboard the USS Missouri, but he nevertheless suspected Repulse had far less internal space, something that logically followed the fact that the battlecruiser he was currently aboard carried a nominal displacement of only 27,000 tons, almost half that of the iconic American battleship he’d toured as a Pearl Harbor museum ship ten years earlier (by his own personal timeline). The interior fittings were luxurious, but not excessively so, and space that was clearly at a premium was certainly used efficiently, with placement and styles chosen that did much to give the impression of spaciousness in excess of the actual area available.
Thorne and Eileen and the four RN officers all took seats on a trio of surprisingly comfortable upholstered leather couches, all placed around a medium-sized coffee table that was already covered by several large maps of the South-East Asian Region. Lloyd and Langdale had been released from duty for the time being and had wandered off in search of the galley and some grub, happy to have a few hours off now that their charges were safe within the confines of the ship.
“We received this a few hours ago while you were all still in the air,” Mountbatten began as they settled into their seats, reaching inside his uniform jacket and withdrawing a few folded sheets of paper. “Eyes Only, as I mentioned, and it was thought better we wait for you to arrive rather than take the risk transmitting to your aircraft over open channels. I think you’ll both find it of some interest…” he added, handing the typed pages across to Thorne on the other couch. He spent a few moments quickly scanning the information held therein, his features turning slowly from a neutral expression to a combination of anger and fear what he was reading began to sink in.
“Pardon the language, vice-admiral, but what the fuck do they think they’re playing at…?” He growled darkly, having neither the ability nor inclination to restrain his speech at that point.
“Don’t worry, gentlemen,” Eileen assured quickly, noting the sudden glances she received following the outburst and recognising the suppressed reactions of the other officers. “He does it all the time: I’m quite used to it. What is it…?” She continued, directing that last query toward Thorne.
“Here…” he said simply, handing the papers across. “Somebody in Berlin appears to have suffered the greatest brain fart this side of actually electing Adolf Hitler…”
“‘From… Imperial General Headquarters… To: Inada Masazumi… Commanding Officer, 3rd Shipping Transport Command, Moen…’…” She read softly aloud, her own brow beginning to furrow as she too began to digest what she was reading. “‘Confirmation received HSK Kormoran disembarked Kiel enroute Tokyo… Confirmation received Oranienburg material in transit… Haguro rendezvous at Diego-Suárez, ETA October 9…’ Oranienburg…” she added, her eidetic memory able to recall the information instantly. “…Where we know the Nazis have an enrichment facility for weapons-grade uranium… ‘Advise Sakamoto – ‘Ronin’ to initiate immediately… Departure for Honolulu no later than September 17… All required paperwork to arrive no later than September 16…’ ‘Advise Sakamoto – ‘Ronin’ to initiate immediately…’ What does that mean…?” she repeated again, looking up at Thorne as if the rest of those men present suddenly ceased to exist in that moment. “It’s a mission name, clearly, but for what…”
“Well, I know what a bloody Ronin is,” Thorne observed sourly. “A rogue bloody samurai with no master… not something I like the sound of. I can only hope they choose their mission names randomly the way we do…!”
“But, this is a German message!” She pointed out, finally reminding herself there were others present and addressing the rest of the room. “A German intelligence communiqué reporting on a Japanese communiqué about what appears to be a German bloody auxiliary cruiser…!” She too had difficulty controlling her language as she thought more on the subject, although she was doing a better job than her compatriot. “‘HSK… Hilfskreuzer… that’s a German word and no mistake…!”
“You’ve never heard of the Kormoran…?” Thorne broke in, actually surprised.
“You know my memory,” she replied with as much disdain as she could manage under the circumstances. “If I remembered, I wouldn’t be asking…”
“Alright, alright…!” He backpedalled quickly, knowing when to retreat. “Yes, Kormoran is an Auxiliary Cruiser… a surface raider… There’s a big bloody story about it in Realtime, but you can act like a hole on that one for the moment…” He paused intentionally for her querying raised eyebrow before replying, completely deadpan, with: “I’ll fill you in later…”
“If you’ve received this message, vice-admiral, I’ll work on the assumption you’ve already been apprised of the current situation regarding the first German nuclear weapon test off the coast of Scotland several weeks ago,” he continued quickly without waiting for Eileen’s exasperated response. “The nuclear material used in that test was almost certainly produced at an enrichment facility at Oranienburg, near Berlin, and this intelligence report we’ve received suggests that Kormoran may be at the very least transporting enriched uranium to the Japanese; worst case, the vessel may even be carrying an actual nuclear devise. I don’t need to tell you all how bad it would be for everyone.”
“This is a transcript of an official Abwehr report,” Eileen pointed out as she checked the rest of the supplied details on that top page. “Have we received this from a verified source?”
“It’s all on the second sheet, captain,” Mountbatten confirmed, nodding at the paper in her hands, and she gasped softly as she flipped over to read further.
“Max, this is from Carl… from Carl Ritter…!”
“Well, no worries about its veracity then,” he shrugged in return. “The real question at the moment, gentlemen, is what the hell we do next…? While it’d definitely of interest, that one message gives us sweet bugger all to work on, and it would really have been helpful if this had gotten to us an awful lot sooner. It mentions a rendezvous with the Haguro: that’s a big-bastard Jap cruiser. Do we know where this vessel is at the moment?”
“We looked into that while we were waiting for you to arrive,” Mountbatten advised, nodding in agreement with Thorne’s line of thought. “John…?”
“Latest intel from Singapore confirms she put into one of their bases in Formosa late last month… alone…” Captain Leach replied quickly, shaking his head. “Intel confirms arrival with two destroyers in escort and no other ships whatsoever. She refuelled overnight and put to sea again the next morning, current whereabouts unknown.”
“Bollocks…” Thorne muttered softly, crestfallen.
“So if Haguro wasn’t her escort,” Eileen mused, thinking things through methodically, “then in all likelihood, Kormoran is still enroute to Tokyo as the report suggests…”
“Probably,” he growled back, “but if Kormoran’s still on its merry way to Japan all by its lonesome, why did the cruiser meet up with it in the first b
loody place?”
“And which ship now has the material we’re worried about, sir?” The younger Mountbatten ventured quickly, obtaining a nod of silent agreement from everyone else in the room before expressions soured as another, darker thought occurred.
“Which one indeed, Phillip,” Mountbatten asked aloud, his tone deadly serious. “Which one, or both…?”
“We need to find both of those ships…!” Thorne declared suddenly, deciding to stop ignoring the proverbial elephant in the room. “One or both of those ships may have a nuclear device on board, and we need to find both of them before the Japs use whatever the hell it is they actually have!”
“Already in the process, man,” Mountbatten assured, grinning broadly and pleased with the initiative they’d already taken. “Naval Intelligence has been looking at a number of possible routes she may be taking, based on the fact that we know she was docked at Diego-Suárez on October ninth…” He glanced across at Captain Tennant this time. “It’s been two months almost, and where has she been since then? We’ve seen hide nor hair of any suspected raiders for most of that time and believe me, we’ve looking everywhere. They should have tried pushing through our lines weeks ago, but we’ve not seen a hint of her.”
“Based on what little information we have, and assuming they follow normal shipping lanes” the commanding officer of Repulse shrugged, taking over immediately as he slid forward in his seat and flattened out one of the maps on the coffee table, “we would have expected the ship to try pushing through somewhere around here…” They all stared down at his finger as it swept across a section of the map covering a huge area of the South China Sea between French Indochina and Borneo. “Only trouble for them is, any attempt to take that kind of direct route to Tokyo would bring them very close to Singapore and we’ve been monitoring everything that comes through, day and night now for over a year. Allied, neutral or Japanese, we watch them all and it’s very rare for anything to slip through unnoticed – particularly anything as large as a twenty thousand ton freighter.”
The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3) Page 43
