Yet Fedorov tells me they’ll keep fighting. He says the Japanese Empire will simply not quit. In fact, that little tidbit he shared the other day was quite revealing. They have no word in their language to describe what we would call a military retreat. The word they use simply means “advance in a new direction.” And any withdrawal they make is simply viewed as a consolidation aimed at preparing for a new offensive.
So I must not underestimate my enemy here. I must think this through from a strategic standpoint, and in doing that, Fedorov has been most useful. He tells me that our occupation of Petropavlovsk may not be as important from a strategic standpoint as I had planned. I wanted to immediately offer those airfields to the Americans, but Fedorov says it is all of 1500 miles from that place to Tokyo, well outside the combat radius of their B-17 bombers, which is under 900 nautical miles with a basic bomb load, and under 700 nautical miles with a maximum bomb load. They could barely reach the northern tip of Hokkaido from there. How inconvenient. Beyond that, we both know weather conditions at Petropavlovsk are miserable most of the time. It’s one of the foggiest regions of the world.
If I wanted to hit Tokyo, I would have to possess bases in Southern Sakhalin, Karafuto to the Japanese, at least until the Americans produce their B-29 bomber, but that is some years off. Fedorov says that the ranges to any targets of value would require a very direct route, and it would force the bombers to fly right over Japanese held territory in Hokkaido, where they would most likely sustain very heavy losses. If I wanted to approach from the sea, then it would mean I have to hold islands in the southern Kuriles, as far south as Ostrov Iturup, which the Japanese call Etorofu, and that’s where my friend the Demon lives. Might it awaken one day here like that monster in the Sunda Strait? Not likely, but always something to think about. I can’t take anything for granted now, not in these Altered States.
So I need that island as an end point of my planned offensive, and I need to drive the Japanese completely off Sakhalin Island. I already have a toe hold in the north with troops I’ve moved in by airship, but that force isn’t big enough to conduct a real offensive south. It will take strong reinforcements, one or two more divisions from Magadan, and I can’t lift them until mid-May, when ice conditions ease up. Even so, the Japanese will reinforce from Hokkaido, so that is likely to be a very bitter fight when we get down south on Sakhalin Island.
As for the Kuriles, my amphibious landing capability is very limited. I have a small transport fleet, and I must protect those ships using Kirov’s AA defense shield at all costs. I thought the Americans could help out with additional shipping, but Fedorov tells me resources were very thin at this time in the war. I’ll prosecute these campaigns, and also have my younger self apply pressure on Northern Manchuria, but so much of our combat power has been sent to Sergei Kirov that we will have real limitations in this theater.
For the moment, I still have Kirov, and we’ll operate from Petropavlovsk, a nice Northern Pacific outpost. I know what the Japanese will be up to soon—Midway and their Aleutian Islands Operation. Perhaps the best way I can hurt them now is to insure that battle becomes the naval disaster it was for them, and help the American fleet get up a good head of steam here. They pulled off their Doolittle Raid, right on schedule. It’s amazing to see how the history walks in its own shadow. So Midway will be the next operation, or perhaps that preliminary carrier duel in the Coral Sea.
I’ve had Nikolin intercepting Japanese military signals for some time now, and Fedorov produced a nifty little program that decodes everything. It looks like Volkov didn’t even have the presence of mind to tell the Japanese the Americans were reading their code. Very well… How to best position Kirov to ambush the Japanese carriers? I thought they would react much more violently to our Kamchatka operation, as did Fedorov, but they’ve been very cagey. It appears they have learned to fear and respect the naval threat I now represent.
As soon as Nikolin informs me that signals traffic for the Japanese Midway operation picks up, I’ll take Kirov southeast from Petropavlovsk. About 1200 nautical miles should do the trick. That will put me a little north of the historical route of approach of their vaunted Kido Butai. This is going to be like shooting fish in a barrel. I can spare the Americans a lot of hand wrenching, take out all four carriers for them in one coordinated missile barrage, and then simply radio the US fleet the position of Yamamoto’s group and the invasion fleet approaching Midway. I’ll let the American carriers finish the job, and that will be that.
Yes, after Midway, Japanese naval power will be a shattered sword. I’ll see to that. Then perhaps they’ll pay just a little more attention when I renew my demands for the return of Vladivostok and Primorskiy Province. Fedorov thinks they’ll just dig their heels in as they did historically, but perhaps I can get them to consider a negotiated settlement with me. Can I afford to consider a separate peace here? How would the Americans view that?
After I win the Battle of Midway for them, they will most likely be very inclined to treat with me as an equal. At the moment, they are open to my proposal to provide airfields on Siberian territory, though Fedorov tells me they are doing so more as a means of opening a new Lend Lease route by air to Soviet Russia. I think I had better watch that closely. I should demand the lion’s share of any supplies that come over Siberian territory. After all, my support for Sergei Kirov has been more than generous.
Alright, it now looks like I can expect the decisive turning point in all this within 30 days or so—Midway. After that it is merely a matter of holding Japan’s feet to the fire until they yelp with so much pain that they will make the concessions I demand of them. After they lose their precious carrier fleet, they may not be so eager to have me as an active belligerent on their northern flank. If I get what I want, then the Americans can handle the rest, and I’ll focus my energy on resettling Primorskiy Province and supporting the Soviets. And I mustn’t forget Ivan Volkov.
He smiled now, thinking of the recent forced withdrawal Volkov made from his Trans-Volga bridgehead. Strange, he thought. This time the Germans got into Moscow, and even took most of that city, but the Soviets still pulled off that amazing Winter Counteroffensive—thanks to the three Siberian Shock Armies I sent to Georgie Zhukov. If I had them here, and had adequate shipping, I could retake Sakhalin Island and the Kuriles in a heartbeat.
So where is the Eastern Front likely to go now? Fedorov thinks the Germans will operate in the south. They already have the Crimea, though the Soviets are still holed up in Sevastopol. Fedorov thinks they will plan and execute an offensive something like their Fall Blau, Operation Blue. That was the drive that took them all the way to Stalingrad—Volgograd now. Sergei Kirov will not give that city up without a major battle, so that is where the real action will be as soon as the weather and ground conditions permit.
I’m told the Germans are introducing new tank designs, and much earlier than they did in the real history. I wonder if Volkov is behind all that? Tyrenkov tells me that the British have a new heavy tank in North Africa as well. It also fought in Syria, and stopped the German intervention there cold, so it must be very good. Yet my intelligence Chief has been unable to get me any real hard information on this development. I must light a fire under him about that.
One day I will need to consider the mechanization of my own forces. Kirov has been true to his word in allowing me to wet my beak as his new T-34s come off the assembly lines. I’ve been able to put together a few tank brigades for my forces around Irkutsk, but they are nothing approaching the tank army strength I will need if I have to really get serious with the Japanese and invade northern Manchuria. Beyond that, I wonder if the Soviets are also working on new designs. I’ve given Sergei Kirov a lot of friendly advice, but suppose I deliver the blueprints for the Josef Stalin Tank? It will have to be called something else of course. Yes, the JS-1 will be rightfully relabeled the VK-1, and they’ll call it “Vlad” for short.
That prompted another smile, though he knew the tank wo
uld likely be named the SK-1 if it was ever designed and produced. Sergei Kirov will want his name on a few more things than cities and towns. But if the Germans are building new tanks, we must do the same. Perhaps I can trade those blueprints for a commitment to bolster my air force. My Zeppelin fleet is very useful, but I need fighters and better bombers as well. I can’t build them here, but the Soviets can, and the Americans. And I have things to trade both parties for the toys I need. For now, however, I must finish up arrangements for Operation Midway. The Japanese are about to get the surprise of their lives!
At that moment, Tyrenkov came in. He had come over from Tunguska to make his monthly report to the Siberian Karpov, relating details of the operations now being coordinated by his younger self.
“Has Baikal shaken the dust off and worked into the fleet yet?” Karpov wanted to know about the latest T-Class airship that had just been commissioned.
“Yes sir, and the Admiral was very pleased with it. He took it out for a shakedown cruise, and it performed as expected. On that note, he has asked if an additional Oko radar panel and radio sets could be sent over, and any light AA missiles that may still be available would be most useful.”
“Yes,” said Karpov. “Every T-Class ship will get Oko Panels.” He had been taking the light SAMs that were in inventory for his KA-40s and sending them to equip Tunguska with a formidable air defensive shield for his Zeppelins. The airships were quite durable with their amazing self sealing gas bags and the inert helium lifting gas making them less vulnerable to incendiary rounds. They could hold their own against most fighter attacks, and dish out a great deal of firepower on defense. With the missiles, and the Oko panel radar sets to see the enemy coming, he could rest assured that his Zeppelin fleet would remain a viable force. Its only real vulnerability in the operations he had been conducting was to ground based heavy flak guns. A 90mm AA gun could wreak havoc on one of those easy targets.
His brother self had been busy coordinating the airlift of troops and supplies to the northern Sakhalin bridgehead. He had a Marine battalion on defense there, and was bringing in additional air mobile troops with supporting heavy weapons by air, mostly flying during heavy overcast days to minimize the threat of enemy air interception.
“The Japanese are bringing in reinforcements from Hokkaido,” said Tyrenkov.
“As we expected.”
“It isn’t much, just one more additional regiment.”
“That should not prove difficult to overcome, but I’ll want a full division in Northern Sakhalin before we make our push. And don’t forget that we have to seize Lazarev on the mainland, and the mouth of the Amur River. That waterway is our route inland in the north. In the south, I’m still pinning my hopes on the planning for the Chikhacheva Bay operation. Once we push as far south as Aleksandrovsk, the time will be ripe for that. It will be quite easy to move west into Primorskiy Province from there, and then we can follow the Amur River for the real offensive push to Khabarovsk. I want to try and get there by July, and clear all of Sakhalin Island as well. Then we plan the Vladivostok operation. For now, I must turn my attention to breaking the back of the Japanese Navy, which should be accomplished in due course.”
Karpov was very pleased with himself, a smug confidence being the outward cloak his darkened soul wore each day. His muse seemed very well reasoned, very logical and precise. But he was very wrong, at least about the battle of Midway. And he would soon find out that the artful stratagem of surprise could be used against him as well.
Chapter 11
Orlov looked at Fedorov, his eyes wide with shock and surprise. The flood of memories now burst through that broken window and threatened to drown him. It all came back, like one dream after another in an endless cascade of recollection. It was as if some heavy concealing fog had suddenly lifted over that stormy sea, and he could now see and know everything he had lived through in the long saga he had endured with the ship.
Just like Fedorov.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” he breathed. “The helicopter. That was how I found myself in the sky, and I jumped, to save my ass because the goddamn ship was firing at me! Karpov! That bastard tried to kill me. Yes, I put my fist in his belly for the bullshit he pulled when he tried to take the ship. He worked it so the whole damn thing would rest on my decision. I can still see that shit eating grin on his face.”
“My god,” said Fedorov. “Then you remember that? You remember it all now Chief?”
“Like that French Cologne,” said Orlov. “Yes…” He looked around him, feeling like an entirely new man. Yet there was the same old familiar ship, and he also possessed the recent memory of the experience they had lived through these last months. “This is crazy,” he said, shaking his head. “This is just goddamned crazy. I must be losing my mind.”
“No Chief,” said Fedorov quickly. “Hold on a second. The same thing happened to me. That’s why I was so shocked when I first saw you on the bridge. That’s why I flat out keeled over when I saw Karpov. I knew there was no way he could be on this ship. Chief! Stay with me. You remember now, don’t you. You remember everything.”
Orlov was so stunned that he reached for the nearest chair and sat down, a confused look on his face, a mix of anger, frustration and profound surprise and awareness. It was too much for him at the beginning, and he closed his eyes, breathing hard.
“Easy does it, Chief. It happened to me as well, but as far as I know, you and I are the only two men on this ship that remember anything of the past. Zolkin showed a few signs of waking up, but he hasn’t really broken through the fog yet. Take it easy. Give yourself a few moments. I’ll help you get through this.”
“Then they weren’t dreams,” said Orlov. “We fought—busted up the British, and then went to the Med. That’s where I got pissed off and jumped ship. Yes, I lied about that, Fedorov. I told you it was all an accident, but I just gave you a shovel full of good bullshit. I jumped ship—had every intention of getting to Spain, and I eventually did, no thanks to that bastard Karpov. He tried to shoot me right out of the sky. I swear, I’ll kill that fucker if it’s the last thing I do!”
“Hold on, Chief—wait a second.” Fedorov could see Orlov was still very agitated, and he knew this was a critical moment. He had to calm him down, reign him in, for he could become a runaway wild steed here, and do anything. “It wasn’t Karpov,” he said at last. “Since we’re telling the truth here now, I gave the order to fire those missiles.”
“What? You?”
“I was Captain. Remember? I was on the bridge and Karpov was second fiddle at that time. He was still trying to atone for his failed mutiny—and yes, we knew he was the one that put you up to it Chief. Volsky and I knew Karpov was behind it all along.”
“Then why the fuck did you want me dead?”
“I had no choice. I was thinking that if you got that helo to the Spanish coast and it was ever found, then all hell would break loose here. They would have all that modern technology. So I did the only thing I could think of. Yes, Karpov pushed for it, but I was the one who gave the order to fire. I’m sorry Chief… Sorry for everything…”
Orlov closed his eyes, hand heavy on his forehead, becoming a fist which he beat slowly on his brow. “Crazy bullshit,” he breathed.
“I’m sorry Chief. I was wrong to do what I did, and I tried to make it up to you. When we learned you were alive, I did everything possible to come after you. I knew we had to find you and get you safely back to the ship. And then I stood on your side of things with Volsky, got you reinstated to your post as Chief of Operations. I knew I was guilty as hell for what I did, and I was trying to fix it. Hell, that’s all I’ve been trying to do here from the first moment this happened to us—trying to fix everything, set it all right again, but we can’t do that any longer. It’s too late now. We’ve ripped the history I knew to shreds, and I’m mostly responsible for that. All I’ve been doing is trying to live it through, like a man riding a wild bull, and half the time I just wind up falling on m
y ass.”
He was pleased to see Orlov offer a grin as he said that. “Alright Fedorov,” said the Chief. “Don’t worry about it. What was done, was done. I understand what you did, but Karpov… That bastard is something else. Are you telling me he doesn’t remember anything?”
Fedorov hesitated briefly… “Not quite,” he said. “I mean… Yes, Karpov remembers. In fact, he’s the only other man on the ship that does. Everyone else is completely in the dark, except perhaps Zolkin. He’s showing signs of coming around. It’s very strange.”
“No shit! Then Karpov knows everything?”
“In fact,” said Fedorov, “he’s the same man that sailed with us from Severomorsk. Yes, he’s the same man who tried to take the ship, and the man we went after on Kazan. Then we thought he was dead for a time, until I got information that he was in Siberia.”
“Then it’s all true? The airship? That thing I found—that’s what you took from me, that thing I found in Siberia? Everything is true? We found those British troops in the desert?”
“Right, all true. It all happened, and I thought I was the only one who remembered it. I took that thing you found—Troyak called it the Devil’s Teardrop, remember? Well I threw the damn thing right off the ship, and into the deepest part of the Atlantic we could get to at that time. Who knows, it may have had something to do with what happened to Kazan. Then we tried that final shift, but things were very weird on the ship before that. We were running right up on the arrival date for this ship—a paradox. Things were very strange on the ship. Remember Lenkov? Then people started disappearing, and by God, you were one of them, Chief. You had been checking the ship to look for other signs of damage from the shift, you know, dented bulkheads, missing ladders. Remember how my shoes got stuck on the deck of the bridge? I almost suffered Lenkov’s fate. Well, you pulled this out of your pocket and gave it to me.”
Steel Reign (Kirov Series Book 23) Page 9
