“Briefly, some asshole general in the Japanese Ground Self Defense Force has gone ballistic and invaded the Kuril island nearest to Hokkaido. The Kuril Islands were formerly owned by Japan, but were deeded to Russia after World War II as reparations for damage done to Russia by the Japanese war machine. You’re getting a fax with all the background on the area, including the anger between Japan and Russia over the islands.
“Our problem is, Japan doesn’t have any kind of force to go in and take the general back home. We may have to. The Monroe has turned, and is now heading for the island of Kunashir, which this general now holds.
He claims he has captured the small Russian military post on the island, and is holding the whole island for Japanese settlers to move in and reclaim ancient family property that was stolen from them by Russia.
It’s not a pretty picture.”
“How many men does this general have on the island?” Murdock asked.
“No one is sure, but the figure of two hundred has been used, that being the number of Defense Force soldiers missing from posts in the northernmost section of Hokkaido. You’ve nothing to do right now but get ready. I’m told by the admiral that it will take the carrier about ten hours to get there at the best flank speed he can maintain under the current weather conditions. He will have aircraft monitoring the area soon, and reporting back. Right now we’re in negotiations with Japan on exactly what they want us to do, what we want to do, and what will be the best for everyone, including keeping the Russians from doing anything stupid.
“As you might expect, the Russians are screaming at the top of their tremendously loud voices about their homeland being invaded, and they want immediate withdrawal. The only problem with that is, the Japanese military has no control over General Raiden Nishikawa, the rogue warrior now occupying the island of Kunashir.”
“Japan doesn’t want to go in shooting down its own troops, is that part of it?” Murdock asked.
“Precisely. It doesn’t want us to waste the Japanese rebel troops either. It’s looking for some other solution before Russia blasts the small force into DNA with rockets, missiles, and strafing attacks.”
“Roger that, Stroh. We’ll put together three SEAL scenarios, and have something to talk about. It’s the island of Kunashir, about two hundred invaders, local Russian military captured or dead, and Russia furious. What are the Russians doing?”
“At last reports they’re sending a battle group out of Vladivostock, including the nuclear-powered aircraft carrier Ataman, NP-400. The name Ataman means ‘ man’ in Russia, usually refers to a Cossack. Our people say its the best-equipped, most powerful carrier they have and with the latest Russian planes in their fleet.”
“How far is it from the island?” Murdock asked.
“We’ve worked that out here, Mr. Stroh,” Admiral Kenner said.
“Vladivostock is roughly six hundred eighty miles from the island. If they can make twenty-three knots, that would mean about thirty hours to get there. Of course, they will have aircraft in the area long before that.”
“So you’ll have the high ground,” Stroh said. “That’s all we know here now, Murdock. We’ll keep you up to date on developments. Our people are faxing you some background on this situation now. It should be there by the time your people can run down to the communications room. Good luck.”
They signed off, and the six men in the room looked at each other.
“We could take out the two hundred men with rockets and missiles, and put a holding force on the island in an hour once we’re there,” Admiral Kenner said. “But that’s not the job they want done. Damned diplomacy again. We’ll never be rid of it.”
“How have the Russians reacted?” Murdock asked.
The admiral frowned. “Our latest report is that they have sent out a flurry of broadcasts aimed at Kunashir Island. They have demanded that the Japanese general pull his troops off the island and give it back to the Russian military. They have warned General Nishikawa that they have a task force heading north from Vladivostock with enough firepower to pulverize every Japanese invader on the island and to thwart any reinforcements that might be on the way from Japan. They are not at all happy, and from the tone of the radio messages we’ve heard, sound just as trigger-happy as all hell.”
“I’m not sure how the SEALs can help,” Murdock said. “Usually we don’t operate against friendlies. That’s evidently what the Japanese government considers this general and his invaders to be. The Russians won’t have any problem with blasting them straight into Hell.”
A captain who Murdock didn’t know spoke up. “We’ll have to consider it friendly territory, and go into a defensive mode against the Russians. That’s going to go over like a fragger with them. We’ll have to put a defensive air cover over the place, then spread out our force off the island where the main town is and the Japanese troops are situated. Sounds damned near impossible.”
Murdock stood. “Gentlemen, I better get with my men and start some advance planning, what we can do and what we can’t. I’ll have some suggestions in four hours.”
A Captain who Murdock figured was the CAG spoke up. “Admiral, weather tells me these strong winds should moderate in an hour. It’s now a little after thirteen hundred. Sunset up here is about seventeen hundred. We’ll have time to get a pair of Tomcats over the site and report back.”
“Do it,” the admiral said.
Murdock left to talk to his men, and try to figure out what they could do to help relieve the situation that had all the elements of an international incident that could pit the U.S. nuclear carrier task force against the Russian group.
The SEALs had been given a large classroom for their operations.
Murdock met them there. Jaybird handed him a big envelope with his name on it.
“Faxes, the messenger told me.”
Murdock told the men the situation. “So that’s the dope. We may have to go in there. If we do, how do we go in, and how do we get this rogue general out of there without shooting half of his command? Work on it. I want to check out these faxes.”
He scanned the six sheets, then figured the men should know about them, and called them around.
“Listen up. This is the situation we’ll be walking into. The Kuril Islands are Russian territory, a string of islands that extends seven hundred and fifty miles from the southern tip of the Kamchatka Peninsula south to the northeastern corner of Hokkaido, the northernmost of the Japanese islands. The chain separates the Pacific Ocean from the Sea of Okhotsk. There are fifty-six islands of any size that cover about six thousand square miles.
“They are part of the Rim of Fire around the Pacific Ocean, and have a hundred volcanoes on them, with thirty-eight still active.
Earthquakes and tidal waves are common.
“The climate is severe, usually long, cold, and snowy winters followed by cool, foggy, and wet summers. Vegetation ranges from tundra in the north to dense forests on the large southern islands. Crab fishing is virtually the only occupation. Some vegetables can be grown on the southern islands.
“The main town is Golovnino on the southernmost island of Kunashir.
“This island chain was part of Japan for centuries. In 1945 the chain was ceded to Russia as reparations for damage done to Russia by the Japanese during World War II. All of the Japanese on the island chain were taken back to Japan, and Russians were brought in to replace them.”
Murdock looked around. “Kind of like if we gave Florida to Cuba because of the Bay of Pigs invasion. The Japanese are ancestor worshipers. Family lines and family graves are of major importance.
Thousands of Japanese lost their family graves when they were forced away from their long-time homes in the Kuril Islands. “As I said, a Japanese general in the Japanese Ground Self Defense Force invaded the closest island, and one of the largest, named Kunashir, with an estimated two hundred men, and now controls the island.
“Russia is really pissed, and is sending a big carrier force
north.
Our carrier battle group is steaming up that way, and should beat them to the island by something like ten hours. Aircraft from both sides soon will be buzzing over the island.
Things could get nasty.
“So to repeat my question: If Japan says we need to go in and solve the problem, just what the hell do we do, and how do we do it?”
Jaybird cleared his throat. “Skipper, we’ve been working on it.
Have to be a surprise move at night, and silent in the IBS. We go in with all weapons with silencers and try to nail down this Jap general.
When we get his ass, his people will fold in a minute.”
“Yeah, might work,” Horse Ronson said. “But why not just drop in a few cruise missiles, blow them all to Hell, and then go in with our platoon and mop up. Fucking lot quicker and easier.”
“You’re forgetting what I told you earlier,” Murdock said. “So far the Japanese government does not consider these men as enemies. They don’t want to simply blow them away and let Russia move back in. They don’t want to lose the troops, or kill off a few hundred Russian civilians who are bound to get in the way.”
Doc Ellsworth groaned. “So what do we do, arm wrestle these guys while they’re shooting at us? How in hell can we do that?”
“Hey, if it was easy, they’d let the Marines do it,” Ed Dewitt said. That brought a round of cheers.
“Now, we get down to business,” Murdock said. “We have to go in silently. The IBS sounds the best for that. We’ll need to know exactly where the military HQ is on the island. They’re probably using the one the Russians built. But where is it? Will the Ground Self Defense Force troops have sentries and men on guard? We’ve got to know a lot more before we can do much more detailed planning.”
12
Tuesday, 20 February
Military Headquarters, Goloino, Kunashir island
Kuril Island Chain
General Raiden Nishikawa hovered over his best radio operator in the communications room of the concrete-block building that had housed the Russian military command on the island. It now served as his headquarters. He had broadcast his demands hours ago, and waited for responses.
Twice already he had seen American jet fighters sweep over the island. He had given strict instructions not to fire at any aircraft unless it fired first. The two twin-tailed planes had made three low-level runs, then climbed high, evidently on a continuing surveillance.
He had no objection to that. He had received another set of orders from his former commanding officer on Hokkaido. They were terse and angry. They told him to cease his aggression against Russia, to disarm his men, free the Russian prisoners, and return to Japanese soil within four hours.
General Nishikawa had not even acknowledged receiving the message.
His proclamation of independence had gone out on the radio more than ten hours ago. He had broadcast it on military frequencies in English, Japanese, and Russian. He was sure that the whole world now knew of his victory in liberating his home island of Kunashir. Already he had found the site of the graves of his grandparents and great-grandparents. The graves themselves had been obliterated, and a school now stood over the spot. He had prayed for an hour over the hallowed ground three times already. He would go again soon.
Others in his command had found the sites of the graves of their ancestors, and had paid their respects as well. More than half of his men here had ancestors in graves on the island.
Capturing the island had been simple. General Nishikawa had planned it carefully. He’d known there would be a U.S. carrier battle group in the Honshu area. He’d also checked the Russian calendar, and had selected a two-day Russian holiday. Three quarters of the Russian military would be on leave; those on duty would be on a traditional two-day drunk. It had looked remarkably simple on paper.
He had landed his two hundred troops on the pier at the island’s largest town, Golonido. The only two military sentries on duty had been so drunk they couldn’t stand. He had tied them up, and left them there.
He and a hundred men had simply walked into the military command post, and found only a dozen Russian soldiers there, none of them with a weapon. The officer in command had been a new lieutenant, and half drunk. Two shots had been fired in the whole invasion. One by an invader not familiar with his weapon and one by a Russian sentry who wasn’t quite as drunk as he seemed. No one had been wounded by either round.
Now General Nishikawa ordered the commo sergeant to bring him a typed report on all radio transmissions they’d received. He marched back to his office, cold and spartan in furnishings. Not at all like his large, comfortable office in Hokkaido. He sat at his desk, looking at the results of his men’s sweeps of the outlying posts. The island was more than 160 kilometers long but never more than fifteen kilometers wide.
Most of it was heavily forested on one side, with little room for any agriculture. There were two military posts, about fifty kilometers apart, but both had been captured by us troops, with only two dead Russian soldiers. He was secure. Until the big powers decided what to do. He was convinced that Japan would not send any force against him.
Many in the government had spoken out about Russia returning the Kuril Islands to their rightful place as part of the Japanese homeland.
What Russia, and even the United States, might do was the problem.
He hoped that the U.S. would steam the battle group northward, and serve as a block against the Russian force. If it came down to an attack by any of the three powers, his small force would be smashed within minutes. He didn’t think that would happen.
There would be a diplomatic settlement. Perhaps Japan would win the southern half of the island chain, perhaps even just take back Kunashir, and let Russia keep the northern, mostly unpopulated, and smaller islands. That seemed reasonable.
All he wanted was to be able to worship at the graves of his ancestors. He was here now, but wondered how long he could stay.
Nishikawa was an inch under six feet tall. The Japanese on Hokkaido had been known for being the tallest Japanese since the start of the century. He knew Ainu blood flowed in his veins, but most of the Ainu characteristics had been lost through intermarriage.
The Ainu were the earliest residents of Hokkaido, the Kuril Islands, and the large Russian Sakhalin Island, and they were not related to the Mongoloid native people of the other Japanese islands.
But none of that mattered now. Now his ancestors were far more important. That, and what the Russians would do when they arrived. He knew they would be coming. A knock sounded on his door, and the communications sergeant came through.
“Sir, a radio message to you from the Russians.” He handed a typed sheet to the general.
“General Nishikawa. We know who you are, and why you have invaded sacred Russian soil. We know of your small force, and how you captured our island. We do not wish to start World War Three. However, you must, I repeat MUST, take your troops off our island and return to Japan.
“We will allow you seven days to do this. Our military forces are powerful. Even now they are heading for Kunashir. Our aircraft will be monitoring your movements. If you do not evacuate our island within the seven days, your force will be crushed with powerful missile and aircraft attacks, and you will be annihilated to a man. There is no room for compromise. You are occupying sacred Russian soil and if you do not leave, you must suffer the fatal consequences.” The message was signed by Captain Admiral Vladimir Rostow.
“Dismissed,” General Nishikawa said, and the sergeant did a smart about-face and hurried out of the room. General Nishikawa opened the desk drawer, and took out a framed photograph. He stared at it, then smiled and touched each of the faces in the picture: his wife and their three children, two boys and a girl. He looked at it again, smiled, and brushed tears from his eyes, then gently put the treasure back in the drawer.
There was still a chance. The U.S. might step in and serve as a buffer between the island and the Russians. The Japanese D
iet might pass some quick legislation to make his move legal. Russia might be willing to back down on its threat.
A slim chance still existed that he might have his dream. He would send all of the Russians on Kunashir Island on to other islands in the chain, then bring in his relatives and as many of those Japanese who had ancestors resting on this hard rock of an island who wanted to come. A chance. Yes, perhaps a good chance.
He called for Major Hitachi, his second in command. He had promoted him the day they embarked for the island. Hitachi was short, a little heavy, a career soldier, and excellent with the men. He also had ancestors buried on this island. They had yet to find Hitachi’s ancestors’ graves, or where their graves might have been.
“Major, I’m taking the utility vehicle and going to the school.
I’ll be back in an hour. Keep track of anything coming in by radio.
Ignore all transmissions from Defense Force’s radio.”
“Yes, Sir,” Hitachi said. “I’ll keep track of it.”
General Nishikawa left at once. He stepped into the Russian-style jeep, and the driver gunned away. He knew without asking where the general wanted to go.
First they stopped at an unused crab processing plant that had been turned into a prisoner-of-war compound. Fifty-six Russian soldiers were held there, including their commander, a Russian major who had suffered a minor injury when he had fallen down in a drunken stupor while being transported from an elaborate party the night of his capture.
General Nishikawa inspected the guards, looked in the large room where the prisoners were held, and then talked to his lieutenant in charge of the captives.
“Yes, Sir. All is quiet. The men seem to think that they will not be held here long. They say in this cold weather it’s much better to be in here rather than standing guard in the snow and ice. They assure me that it will snow again soon, and the temperature will drop well below zero degrees.”
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