Against the Tide Imperial: The Struggle for Ceylon (The Usurper's War: An Alternative World War II Book 3)

by James Young

  "Sir, our strike reports they struck the Illustrious…and another British carrier," Rear Admiral Kaku continued with his report.

  I must get control of my emotions.

  His hands still shook in helpless rage as he studied the two massive columns of smoke to the Akagi's west. The one receding into the distance was basically a grave marker for the Taiho, as it was clear the IJN's newest carrier was going to succumb to the massive fires raging in her hangars. Shokaku, on the other hand, was somehow keeping pace with the formation despite her own flames and occasional secondary explosions.

  There is still a battle to be run.

  Closing his eyes, he forced himself to regain his calm. After a long two minutes of having indulged his rage, The Kido Butai’s commander turned back to Kaku and nodded his understanding.

  "How soon until the strike returns?" Yamaguchi asked, stepping back into the island. He squared his shoulders and looking at the clock on the flag bridge's aft bulkhead.

  "It will be another forty-five minutes to an hour," Kaku replied. Yamaguchi did some fast math in his head.

  "Why so long?"

  "The British were further south than we believed, sir," Kaku stated. "Roughly one hundred miles."

  This morning gets better and better. We will be lucky to get the fighters back, and will certainly lose most of the damaged aircraft.

  The Chief of Staff seemed to have still more news.

  "Out with it," Yamaguchi seethed, then stopped to calm himself.

  If I lose my head, everyone else will start to lose theirs.

  "There were land-based fighters," Kaku said stiffly. "American and British two-engined models and very large single-engined planes."

  "Thunderbolts and Lightnings, sir," a staff commander interjected. This drew a glare from Kaku, and the man bowed in apology then moved back to arranging the plot.

  "Sir!"

  Vice Admiral Yamaguchi turned to where the same messenger from earlier stood in the hatch attempting to get his attention. The man gave both of the admirals a neck bow, clearly waiting permission to speak.

  "I assume this message is important?" Kaku asked, his tone clearly promising dire consequences if it was not.

  "The Soryu's search aircraft have reported finding and attacking an enemy task force," the young officer stated. "The squadron commander perished, but his wingmen stated he managed to torpedo a Renown-class battlecruiser."

  Well, there's only one vessel that could be after Java Sea. Guess we have found Vice Admiral Godfrey.

  "What else?"

  "They reported at least three American battleships, South Dakota or Idaho-class," the man stated. Bowing apologetically again, he pulled the message flimsy back out of his pocket and read the coordinates, his hands shaking.

  "Did they say there were carriers?" Yamaguchi asked archly, striding to the map. A chill ran down his spine.

  Those battleships will catch the Soryu before nightfall if we do nothing. If we have any more cripples, they'll catch those too.

  "No, Vice Admiral," the ensign replied.

  How did we get our intelligence so wrong? Fleet intelligence said that there should only be two American carriers out there, but surely that many planes means three. Now there's additional battleships. Likely modern, fast ones.

  Another report interrupted his ruminations.

  "Sir, signal from the Soryu."

  Yamaguchi considered that the ensign was starting to look drenched in sweat from running up and down the stairs.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "Divers have cut away her number two prop," the young man replied. "Her fires are out, and she will be able to make twenty knots shortly. Captain Yanigamoto reports the pumps are staying ahead of the flooding, but just barely."

  "How many torpedoes did she take?" Rear Admiral Kaku asked incredulously.

  "Three, and three bombs also," the ensign replied.

  "That should have sank her!" Kaku said, taking a step back in horror.

  "Clearly the American torpedoes leave something to be desired," Yamaguchi said. "Or more likely, she was extremely lucky."

  "Probably the latter given the bombs that hit her as well," Kaku stated. "If all three had detonated in her hangar deck, she'd look like Shokaku."

  The ensign looked nervously between the two officers, not sure how to react to the senior officer's comment.

  "Thank you, Ensign Takara," Yamaguchi said. The ensign beamed at being recognized by his task force commander, then saluted and left.

  "Shokaku is basically a beacon pointing directly at the task force," Kaku said grimly.

  "Are you advocating we scuttle her along with Taiho?" Yamaguchi asked. "I am not prepared to write off a carrier that can still steam, even if she is having difficulty with her fires."

  Kaku nodded, making his face blank.

  "Speak freely, Kaku-san," Yamaguchi said. "But we have already paid a dire price today, and I do not think the Americans will have difficulty finding us again regardless given Soryu's reduced speed and the oil she is trailing."

  "We need to ask for help from Vice Admiral Ozawa," Kaku said, his tone making the words sound like bitter poison.

  "I am sure that Vice Admiral Ozawa is already taking steps to send us aid," Yamaguchi said. "In case the enemy is monitoring our communications, I do not want to remind them that they have several carriers to their northeast."

  Kaku pursed his lips, but nodded.

  "Ozawa would not be in range until late this afternoon at the earliest," Yamaguchi continued, looking at the map. "We know the Americans are in range, the only question is whether they will continue to close."

  Yamaguchi pondered for a few moments, his state akin to a man who suddenly had a knife pressed against his spine.

  "The battleships are their plan to close with us," he stated aloud.

  "Sir?" Kaku said, his expression confused.

  "If it was Halsey, I would worry about him rushing in to finish the job," Yamaguchi said, thinking of the intelligence dossiers he'd reviewed in the previous months. "He'd attack us without question, without respite, and Ozawa be damned."

  Yamaguchi joined his hands, thinking through the geometry.

  Having Nagumo-san go to England after the Treaty of Kent continues to pay dividends. Who could have thought that the Royal Navy’s evaluations of flag admirals would come in so handy? I wonder what mine said?

  Pushing that thought from his head, Yamaguchi continued to mull over what he remembered about Fletcher. Suddenly it was so apparent to him what Vice Admiral Fletcher was attempting to carry out, and what had to be done to stop it.

  I must make Kaku and the staff understand. Especially with our limited assets.

  "Fletcher is a cautious, studious man," Yamaguchi began. "In some ways, he reminds me of Vice Admiral Nagumo."

  That brought a chuckle from Kaku which stopped as soon as Yamaguchi looked at him.

  "The difference is Fletcher's caution is probably based on his unfamiliarity with carrier operations," Yamaguchi said. "Unlike Nagumo, he will not dither and consider things over and over again. No, he will now await our strike while constantly glancing over his shoulder to make sure Ozawa is not going to surprise him."

  There is only one way out of this trap if I want to save any portion of this force, Yamaguchi realized.

  "Thus, we must give Fletcher a reason to be cautious, with or without Ozawa. Prepare to strike the force that the Soryu's torpedo bomber found."

  "But sir, that means Fletcher will attack us again," Kaku said, aghast.

  "We do not know where he is, and we are rapidly running out of aircraft," Yamaguchi snapped. "If we are able to damage his battleships while we still have the Kirishima and Hiei, he will break off pursuit."

  Kaku considered arguing then thought better of it.

  "Unless you can think of a way to figure out where the Americans are in the next thirty minutes, carry out my orders," Yamaguchi said.

  Kaku looked over at his intelligence offi
cer, then back to Yamaguchi.

  "We may have something yet, sir," Kaku stated. "The destroyers have picked up several Americans from their rafts."

  "Can you get me the information before the strikes are ready to launch?" Yamaguchi asked. Kaku and the intelligence officer looked at one another.

  "Unlikely," Kaku said finally.

  "Then begin spotting the attack against the battleship," Yamaguchi stated, his tone brooking no argument.

  "Hai," Kaku said, bowing.

  "Kaku-san, I want to find the carriers as much as you do," Yamaguchi stated. "However, two modern battleships and a British battlecruiser are a threat to annihilate this entire force. We must get Fletcher to slow down, if for no other reason than to make it easier for Ozawa to hit him."

  8

  A Diminished Riposte

  Whether I float as a corpse under the waters,

  Or sink beneath the grasses of the mountainside,

  I willingly die for the Emperor

  —Japanese Warrior Chant, 1932

  Shuttle Bus #5

  Oahu

  1830 Local (0030 Eastern)

  9 August (10 August)

  "Patricia? Patricia Cobb?"

  The feminine voice that called her from the back of the bus sounded familiar, but for the life of her Patricia could not place it.

  Wonderful, someone else who probably thinks I'm an insufferable bitch.

  Patricia forced her face into a study of politeness as she looked past the sailors at the short, brown-haired woman in a nurse's uniform. The sandy-haired doctor sitting next to her promptly stood, offering his seat. Patricia nodded appreciatively as the soldiers, sailors, Marines, and pair of civilians standing in the bus's center aisle parted like the Red Sea. She took a seat beside the woman, then noted the pair of sailors in front of them had stopped their conversation. The darker-haired of the duo seemed to be the most befuddled until his straw-haired companion elbowed him in the ribs.

  Well at least the blonde one has some sense.

  "Thank you, uh…" Patricia started, suddenly drawing a blank at the familiar woman's name. The nurse smiled.

  "Jennifer," the woman replied. "Jennifer Zempel. I helped in your brother Eric's ward."

  Patricia’s exhaled, embarrassed.

  She was such a nice woman, I cannot believe I forgot her name!

  "I'm so sorry," Patricia said, holding out her hand. "I feel as if it's been ages."

  Jennifer shrugged with a smile.

  "Well, I certainly feel as if I've been aging in dog years," the woman replied as the bus began pulling away from the station. For a moment, an expression of pain and grief passed over Jennifer’s visage. "At least we had our last patient leave the ward three weeks ago."

  Patricia sensed the doctor shift beside her, then diplomatically clear his throat.

  Oh you silly man. I'm pretty sure the Japanese are well aware that they haven't attacked Hawaii in five months.

  That thought turned her mind to Charles and Eric's current location. Her eyes started to burn, and suddenly she was fighting against tears.

  Goddammit, I feel so ridiculous.

  "Are you all right?" Jennifer asked quietly, reaching into the handbag beside her before Patricia could reach into her own clutch purse.

  "I'm fine," Patricia replied, taking the offered tissue. Jennifer gave her a skeptical look.

  "Right," Jennifer said, her voice carrying much more than she probably realized. "I believe that as much as I believe the last woman who said it to me just thirty minutes ago."

  Patricia thought the doctor accompanying Jennifer was going to have a stroke. Patricia looked up at him, smiling, and he quickly turned away.

  "Captain Morrison doesn't like to talk about what we've gotten ordered to do," Jennifer whispered conspiratorially. "He's a bit of a prude. Probably that Catholic upbringing."

  I'm going to regret asking this, I'm sure. But with a lead in like that…

  "Just what exactly have you been ordered to do?" she asked slowly.

  Jennifer made sure the two sailors in front of them were still locked in an animated conversation about the relative superiority of Flash Gordon vs. Buck Rodgers.

  It's like the universe has set out to remind me of my siblings at every turn.

  "We've been doing health and welfare checks on the working girls in the Vice District," Jennifer answered, her smile impish.

  "What?" Patricia asked, aghast.

  "You know, the 'Patriotutes?'" Jennifer clarified, deadpan.

  "Oh, I know," Patricia whispered fiercely. "I'm just shocked that the Navy sends a doctor and a nurse down to check on them!"

  Jennifer shrugged.

  "Well, it's either have us check them or have some working girl put an entire destroyer out of commission," Jennifer stated. "Hell, the woman I was mentioning who was 'fine' was lucky we didn't take her word for it."

  Patricia was at a loss for words, something that caused Jennifer to actually giggle.

  "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh," the nurse said. "But the look on your face right now is priceless."

  Patricia suppressed a sneer, or at least attempted to. Jennifer looked at her knowingly.

  "We're trapped on an island with thousands of men who are afraid they're about to die," Jennifer observed. "I, for one, am glad that the authorities have provided an 'outlet' for their urges."

  She may have a point, but I don't have to like it.

  "You don't have four brothers and a fiancée here on the island, Jennifer," Patricia returned, her tone somewhat icy.

  "With the exception of the fiancée, I don't think I would particularly care what my brothers did."

  Patricia looked at the nurse in shock as Jennifer continued.

  “The whole 'maybe possibly dying' thing. Plus let’s be honest: everyone here is someone's son, father, or brother. Doesn’t make their needs less valid."

  Patricia opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and just as suddenly her tears started anew..

  "Oh my gosh," Jennifer said, her voice suddenly panicked as she pulled out more tissues. "Did something happen to your brothers?"

  Patricia laughed bitterly.

  "Yes, but not what you might think," she replied, then proceeded to talk about her night. The words came out in a rushed whisper, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed quietly. To her surprise, Jennifer put her arm around her shoulders in a side hug about halfway through.

  "So, yes, I guess I am just that stuck up bitch no one likes to have around because her nose is in other people's business," Patricia observed.

  "I know it might not be much consolation, but I think your brothers are all capable of figuring out a way you didn't have to be there tonight," Jennifer observed. "They clearly wanted you to be there."

  "Yeah, they just didn't want me to interfere," Patricia seethed.

  "Well, would you have if you'd known?" Jennifer asked.

  Patricia opened her mouth to protest, then thought about it.

  "I…I honestly don't know," she said. "I feel like Nick was rushing horribly into things and hardly knows the woman. Who apparently has been engaged before, and Lord knows mother and father won't approve of that when they find out."

  Patricia realized how manic she was sounding when there was a bit of silence in their corner of the bus. Jennifer turned from regarding her with a slight smile to the two men in front of them, both of whom had stopped talking and were clearly listening to Patricia ramble.

  I have the urge to scream.

  Looking at Jennifer and making a shushing motion, Patricia glared at the back of the sailors' heads. Watching the light haired one start to blush, Patricia had an idea.

  "Dale Arden," Patricia said brightly, her countenance in no way reflecting the homicidal rage she could feel rising.

  "Excuse me?" the dark haired sailor asked, whipping around before he realized his mistake. He looked sheepish for an instant, and Patricia pressed her advantage.

  "Well, I of course figured if you were going to
be nosy about our conversation we should actually join yours," Patricia continued sweetly. "So Wilma Deering is, by far, the superior heroine to Dale Arden, if for no other reason than Ms. Deering actually does something besides go, 'Oh Flash, save me!'"

  "Wait a second, that's not…" the blonde sailor started to say, then stopped as he too realized he'd made an error. Patricia, having already noted his drawl, recognized a fellow Alabaman when she heard one.

  "Well, while I cannot account for your friend's upbringing, I can tell from your accent that you were certainly raised better," Patricia stated.

  It was only when she saw half the bus turn and look that Patricia realized about how loud she'd inadvertently become.

  No matter, this young man is going to get the scolding of his life.

  "So, I trust that you will now mind your own business and leave me and my friend to continue our conversation like your mother taught you some manners."

  "No, I can't see why your brothers were scared at all," Jennifer muttered lowly as the chastised sailor brushed to the roots of his hair. Thankfully, the bus began slowing to a stop as the bus driver called out the next destination.

  "Pearl Harbor!" the man shouted. "All off for Pearl Harbor!"

  The bus began to empty in short order.

  You know, improving shuttle bus system was one of the few smart things that idiot Admiral Jensen did.

  Jennifer and Patricia were the last to step off.

  "Well Nurse Zempel, I don't need you for anything else," Dr. Morrison said. "Sorry that took longer than expected."

  "I'm just trying to figure out where the houses seem to be getting these new women," Jennifer replied. "I thought there was a moratorium on new mouths to feed coming to the island?"

  Morrison shrugged.

  "General Short's been more focused on getting troops to Australia than he has been dealing with some of the administrative stuff here," Morrison said. Belatedly realizing he'd said too much, he looked at Patricia.

  "I assure you, Doctor, if I'm a spy then I'm very poor at my job," Patricia said drily. "Mata Hari is surely not rolling in her grave at my powers of perception or garnering of intelligence."