Fighting Her Father's War: The FIghting Tomcats

by M. L. Maki

  It takes about 45 seconds before the light turns green. Hughes says, “It reads 9 counts.”

  Klegman says, “That’s not right. It should be above 20. About 20 is background.” His curiosity getting the better of him, he looks up. “Hug…it was calibrated this morning by Sherry and she’s pretty careful. Sorry, guys, I need to calibrate it again. Remove the, um, move him away.” Klegman puts in place a test source and runs a check. It comes out okay, and he notes the calibration card. He changes sources and gets the same result. “Okay, um, let’s do it again.” Forty-five seconds later, it still reads 9. “This isn’t right,” he mumbles, as Warren and Hughes exchange a look.

  Lt. Warren says, “Thank you, Klegman, you’ve been most helpful.”

  “But the machine isn’t reading right, sir.”

  “We have to get the dead guy back to the morgue, thank you, Klegman.” To Hughes, “Let’s go, the RO is waiting.”

  CHAPTER 13

  RADIO ROOM, CARL VINSON, 0550, 21, DECEMBER, 1941

  You should make the call, you’re the radio operator,” says Barr.

  “Which is why I shouldn’t. Any competent radio operator would know what day it is,” replies Denton. “Anyway, you speak all those languages. Let’s put them to use.”

  “Okay, I can do that, alright.”

  “Just keep to the story and someone will bite.”

  Barr sits at the console, “Okay, here goes.” He gets on the radio and transmits in French, “Hello? Hello? Could anyone help me? I’m lost.”

  A reply in an Australian accent comes back, “VK6769 to unknown station, you shouldn’t be playing with your father’s radio.”

  Barr switches to heavily accented English, “My father is, sir, he’s morte, sorry, dead. And I am lost.”

  “Good, you speak English. Your dad teach you?”

  “Yes, sir, my father is, was a sailor and we’ve been sailing since I was little.”

  “You’re on a sail boat?”

  “Yes, sir, somewhere east of the Philippines. I can read the chart and I can use the sextant, but I can’t do the tables because I don’t know when it is to use the declination tables. My father taught me.”

  “You need the date?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How old are you, son?” Barr looks up at Denton, panicking. Denton hold up one and two fingers.

  “I’m twelve years old.”

  “Do you know the Japanese are invading the Philippines?”

  “No.”

  “Head way east before heading south. Get to Brisbane and we’ll take care of you. And son, it’s December 21st, 1941.”

  Barr’s voice cracks for real, “Merci, si’l vous plait.”

  RT CLASSROOM, 0645, 21 DECEMBER, 1941

  Lt. Warren and MM1 Hughes are the last two back. Hughes says, “Sorry boss. We changed clothes to get the dead guy funk off us.”

  Klindt nods as they sit down, “No problem. What did you find?”

  Warren says, “The guy is pre-1945. He had 9 counts, which is 11 counts lower than background.”

  Klindt says, “Good. We now have a body of evidence to bring to the meeting. I know, this sucks, but we need to focus on what is in front of us. I’ll do most of the talking, but expect some tough questions. Give them your best, and remember, ‘I don’t know’ is an answer.”

  “What did we miss?” asks Warren.

  “The date is December 21st, 1941. Richardson has a couple of good histories to guide us, and, well, we are out of time. Let’s go.”

  THE AUSTRALIAN DESERT, DECEMBER 21, 1941

  A Ford sedan and an army truck pull up to a complex of dilapidated old buildings. John Dunham leaves the car, followed by Major Walter Prescott. Dunham looks around, incredulous. “What happened here? Professor? Professor?” He runs toward the largest building.

  Major Prescott tells the soldiers in the truck to dismount. “My God, man, what happened here? A few days ago, it was pristine. Men, fan out and look for survivors.” Grumbling, the men search the complex.

  Dunham and Prescott enter the large building, its door unlocked and partly off its hinges. As they pull it open, it falls with a crash. Walking in, Dunham says, “Major, this is where the cyclotron is.”

  “What is it? I mean, really, what is it?”

  “In essence, it’s a time machine. It sends a signal that has tremendous power, which draws objects back in time.”

  “Did it work? This place is changed, but I don’t see any futuristic military equipment. Where is it?”

  “Most of the power plant equipment is gone. It looks like it was removed a long time ago. The cyclotron is pretty much intact, though. There is no sign of an explosion in the transmission room. Let’s check the office and control room.”

  Circuit panels are in place, but the control consoles are missing, only wiring sticking out of the floor to show where they stood. Prescott says, “What a mess. Mr. Dunham, you worked with the professor, what could have happened?”

  “I don’t know. The receiving antenna is five mile south of here. The reaction must have been must larger than anticipated.”

  “Then let’s go recover our prize.”

  “I don’t get it. Why didn’t they maintain this place? What happened here?”

  They hear a shout, “Major, come out here. You need to see this.”

  Back out under the blazing sun, they follow Corporal Stackhouse to the south side of the complex. There is an old car, small and boxy, the tires tucked within the body of the vehicle instead of having proper fenders. Most of the light blue paint is gone, the windows cracked and hazed by the heat and blowing sand. The corporal points to the grill. It is then they see the word ‘Toyota.’

  ADMIRAL’S CONFERENCE ROOM, 03 LEVEL, 0700, 21 DECEMBER, 1941

  Admiral Ren, Captain Johnson, and all the captains of the battle group, are sitting at the table. Captain Klindt, at the podium, surveys their faces; Captain Tenzar of the nuclear cruiser Long Beach, Captain John Rodgers of the guided missile cruiser Horne, Commander James Lamoure of the Spruance class destroyer Fife, Commander Robert Hilton of the guided missile frigate Jarrett, Captain Dwight Edwards of the supply ship Camden, and Ship’s Master Donald Byron of the supply ship USNS Henry J. Kaiser.

  With the brain trust behind him, Klindt begins, “Gentlemen, our conclusion is we’ve traveled, either back in time, or into an alternate space time continuum. The supporting facts are….”

  Rodgers of the Horne breaks in, “Rubbish, pure garbage. Captain Johnson, is this what passes for intel over here?” Captain Johnson just hold up his index finger and lets Rodgers continue. “It sounds to me like Klindt is writing a novel, rather than investigating facts. Do you have anything of actual value to add to this fantasy convention, Captain Johnson?”

  “Good, my turn. I asked MY people to come up with a conclusion that meets ALL THE FACTS. Captain Klindt, please proceed.”

  Klindt explains the facts and conclusions of the brain trust, “I know it sounds fantastical, but it is the only conclusion that supports the facts we have, sir.”

  “Rodgers says, “This is stupid. There is no way you’re right.”

  Johnson says, “Captain Rodgers, obviously you and your crew have worked out an alternative reason for the Japanese to have attacked United States vessels with WWII torpedoes. If so, quit holding back, and spill it. Meanwhile, I would ask the Captain to be mindful that THIS captain has no patience with posturing and nay saying. We have lost friends, a ship, and are out of contact with higher, so, Captain Rodgers, add something constructive, or stow it.”

  Rodgers glares at Johnson.

  Admiral Ren says, “Well, Captain Rodgers, do you have a theory to counter that of our brain trust?”

  ‘No, sir, but this is stupid,” Rodgers says through clenched teeth.

  Admiral Ren says, “Very well, then, thank you, Captain Rodgers. Now, Captain Klindt, do you or your people have any idea how this happened?”

  “Sir, we know, what, when, and whe
re, but how and why are eluding us so far.”

  “It’s a start. Please, freshen up my history. Who is Pacific Fleet now, and what are the Japanese up to?”

  Klindt points to Richardson, “Admiral Nimitz is already in charge. The Japanese will invade Wake Island on the 23rd, and our Marines surrender after about five hours of fighting. The Japanese invade Luzon tomorrow, the 22nd. They already have some islands in southern PI. They are pushing down Malaysia toward Singapore, and Pearl Harbor is recovering. We have seven aircraft carriers in commission, most of them in the Pacific Theater, eight, counting the Carl Vinson, sir.”

  Ren says, “Thank you, Senior Chief. Okay, people, ideas. What is our next move?”

  Johnson says, “We need to make contact with Pearl.”

  Klindt says, “We’re out here, let’s do something.”

  Lt. Mohr says, “We need to kick some ass, sir.”

  The officers chuckle and Ren says, “Thank you, Lieutenant, I agree. But first, Captain Johnson, how do we make contact?”

  Johnson replies, “Not sure, sir. We can’t just call on the radio, they wouldn’t believe it. We are way out of range to fly there. I guess, fight first, report later.”

  Commander James Lamoure of Fife says, “Sir, we are critically short on ASW with Stoddert and Hewitt both gone.”

  Ren says, “True. We have what we have, though. You’re ASW commander, how do we work this problem?”

  “Sir, we need to fly more helo sorties to make up, and we need to zigzag to screw up their targeting.”

  “That will mess up flight ops, but I see your point.” He picks up a wall phone, “Ren here, start zigzagging 10 degrees from base line as soon as everyone gets the word.” He hangs up, “Next, do we know where their fleet is?” I want to sink some aircraft carriers.”

  In the silence, all eyes turn to Senior Chief Richardson, “The invasion of PI is the biggest thing happening in the next few days, with more than 100,000 Japanese soldiers landing. I have found only one carrier, the Ryujo, in the area. There is mention of a third carrier division, but I can’t tell what ships are in it. According to accounts, more than 300 Japanese aircraft took part in the invasion. They had to come from somewhere, maybe Taiwan. It’s the best I have, sorry.”

  “Thank you, Senior Chief,” Johnson says. “Sir, could we hit PI, then Wake on the way back to Pearl?”

  “Ren asks, “What’s the size of the Japanese force attacking Wake?”

  Richardson says, “The Japanese had about 2,500 men, 2 carriers, with some cruisers and destroyers.”

  Ren asks, “How about the fleet attacking PI? Do we know where they are at?”

  Richardson replies, “The book is vague, and I’m still researching. According to one map I found, they attacked from the South China Sea off Lingayen Gulf. With the short legs of WWII planes, they would have to be within about 300 miles of Luzon.”

  Ren says, “Okay. Seems to me the fight in PI is more important than Wake. We hit PI and then, if we can find them, we hit the forces around Wake.”

  Captain Tenzar of the Long Beach asks, “What about paradox, sir.”

  Klindt replies, “As Lt. Mohr pointed out when I brought it up, we’ve already sunk a Japanese sub. So, that ship has sailed.”

  Ren says, “This isn’t a war we expected to fight, gentlemen, but it is the one in front of us, and we have our duty. I know it’s a lot to take in and believe, but, under the circumstances, we have to try.” Turning to Klindt, “One last thing, sir, are we going to be able to go home?”

  Klindt looks at his team, and Lt. Hunt says, “What do you mean by going home, sir?”

  “I mean, back to our own time.”

  Hunt says, “We don’t know, sir. We don’t know how we got here.”

  Tenzar says, “Admiral, what would you recommend we tell our crews? I prefer the truth, but this truth is hard to swallow.”

  “Hard or not, the crews deserve the truth as we know it. Break it to them nice, maybe after a good meal and ice cream. Until the captains make their announcements, this meeting is classified.”

  Hunt says, “Sir, they will know something is up.”

  Ren smiles, “That is true, Lieutenant, but it is harder to get pissed with a bowl of rocky road in front of you.”

  She smiles, comprehending, as the senior officers’ nod.

  Ren the says, “Okay, dismissed. I have an alpha strike to plan. Captain Lamoure, get your ASW plan on my desk soonest. Captain Klindt, I want your brain trust meeting once a day. Try to keep ahead of this. Thank you.”

  HOKKAIDO JAPAN, ARMY INTELLIGENCE STATION

  21 DECEMBER, 1941

  Ichiro Nagasawa is tied to a chair in a room with bare walls, save for a picture of Emperor Hirohito. There’s a table with another chair facing him. His right eye is nearly swollen shut and he has welts on his torso. Finally, the door opens, and his interrogator walks in with a major. The uniforms are from WWII, as is the attitude of his jailors. The major sits down in the empty chair, and his interrogator, a captain, walks behind Nagasawa.

  “Mr. Nagasawa, what year were you born?” asks the major.

  “I told the captain, 1947. Why did you arrest me?”

  “Please, Mr. Nagasawa, where did you attend university?”

  “The Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I completed my master’s degree three years ago, in 1987. Why is this important?”

  “Mr. Nagasawa, I ask the questions. What did you do before going to university?”

  “I was a fighter pilot with the 305th squadron out of Hyakuri. I flew the F-4 and F-15 fighters. I was a test pilot for the F-15J when we received it from the Americans. I do not understand why this is important?”

  “You tell me the wonderful planes at Chitose were given to us by the American government?”

  “No, of course not, we bought them.”

  “How much did we pay for them?”

  “I’m not sure, two billion Yen a piece, or so.”

  The captain says, “Cannot be. We could buy three battleships for less.”

  The major hisses at him to be silent, “How long has Japan flown the beautiful planes at Chitose?”

  “We’ve had jets since 1953, but we’ve only had the F-15s since 1978.”

  “How long has Japan and America been friends?”

  “This is ridiculous! Have you lived under a rock? Since we lost the war.”

  “And when was that? When did we lose the war?”

  “After the Americans destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August, 1945.”

  “You mean we gave in after just two cities were bombed? That cannot be true!”

  You’re serious? You do not know? How can that be?”

  “It’s is December 21st, 1941, Mr. Nagasawa. You tell me how it is you are here?”

  Ichiro stares at him, shocked. “That cannot be! My wife, Kaoru, my little Kenji!” He bursts into tears, hanging his head.

  “It is, Mr. Nagasawa. Can you explain why?”

  Looking up at his tormentor, despair in his eyes, “No, I have no idea how such a thing could happen. There was a large lightning storm, such as I have never seen before. After the storm cleared, I recall seeing a Rei-san A6M abort a landing, which I thought was odd. Chitose is exclusively a military field. I went back into my office. I tried to call…I tried to call home. I couldn’t get through, so I continued working at my desk. Then your soldiers arrested me.”

  “You know how to fly the planes at Chitose?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “You know how they are built?”

  “It’s why I want to school.”

  “You will fly against the Americans so we may defeat them.”

  “No.”

  “I was not asking.”

  “I care not. We should beg forgiveness of the Americans before they reduce out islands to radioactive cinders.”

  “We could force you to.”

  “No, you cannot. I have no family to threaten. You can beat
me. You can starve me. You can put a gun to my head. I will not contribute to the destruction of the home I love. We cannot defeat the Americans. For every aircraft we shoot down, they build two; for every ship we sink, they build three. They will have nuclear weapons soon, if they do not now.”

  “What is this weapon you speak of?”

  “One bomb, from one aircraft, will obliterate a city in a ten-mile circle. In my time, the Americans have thousands of them, more than anyone in the world.”

  “And how many to we have in Chitose?”

  “None, we do not use them. We do not have them. They are terrible beyond comprehension.”

  “If they are so horrible, then why will you not help us defend our home from them?”

  “If you carried a bucket, could you stop a tsunami? With a shovel, could you stop an earthquake? It’s as much folly trying to stop the Americans.”

  “You would rather die, than fight?”

  “I will die either way. Can you imagine watching a child slowly die as her skin rots and falls off? Her face disfigured by burns? Skin draping like curtains from her little arms? It is the nature of atomic weapons.”

  “You have knowledge we need. Perhaps, we may expand our territory, as we must, and then sue for peace. It is the plan, after all.”

  Ichiro hangs his head for a moment, then looks up, “I do not know how it is I have come back in time. It bewilders me. But, if I did, is it not conceivable that some American Air Force base did as well?”

  “Yes, that is why we need your expertise.”

  “Even now, they could be loading nuclear bombs aboard their aircraft and preparing to attack us. It would be a disagreeable mission for the Americans from 1990, but not as much as it would be for a Japanese.”

  “Mr. Nagasawa, already we are at war. No matter your wishes, that cannot change. Help us end it well. Save that little girl you spoke of. What is you need to be convinced?’

  Ichiro is silent, then says, “I need to speak to the Emperor. That is my price. If I may speak with the Emperor first, only then will I help.”

  CHAPTER 14