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

by James Young

  "In any case, since President Roosevelt has forbidden the imposition of martial law there's not a whole lot he can do about civilians coming and going," Morrison continued. "It's the same reason the blackout and curfew weren't vigorously enforced after the first month."

  Patricia shook her head.

  I suppose there's no real fear of the Japanese swooping down upon us given all the fighting has been on the other side of the Pacific.

  "In any case, I'm going home to take a hot shower in disinfectant," Morrison said. Patricia looked at him in shock as he turned to leave.

  "I swear that man is scared of women," Jennifer said, shaking her head. She then turned to Patricia. "I've got a fifth of Scotch back at my place and my roommates are both out with their boyfriends if you want to talk about it."

  Patricia was about to protest about the time, then thought better of it.

  Let my brothers worry about me for a change. I'm off tomorrow.

  "That sounds like a splendid idea," Patricia replied. "If I hurry, I can probably make it to my place and then meet you at yours?"

  "Excellent plan," Jennifer said. She reached in her purse and pulled out some paper, then scribbled an address.

  I.J.N.S. Akigumo

  1015 Local (0045 Eastern)

  Northern Indian Ocean

  10 August

  Isoro finished hauling himself, dripping, up onto the I.J.N.S. Akigumo's deck.

  "Ah, the great Isoro Honda, ace of aces," a sarcastic officer said, standing at the top of the line Isoro had just finished climbing from his dinghy. Isoro squinted, the sting of saltwater in his eyes making him momentarily regret that decision, before his face broke into a wide grin.

  "Yuta Nomiya, you swine!" Isoro said, stepping forward towards his Eta Jima classmate before both legs swiftly reminded the pilot of the last hour's exertions. Two ratings quickly stepped forward and grabbed Isoro before he completely fell to the deck. Yuta let a brief moment of concern cross his face before once again adopting a faux haughty expression.

  "Once more you have cost me a couple dozen yen due to a bad bet," Yuta said, shaking his head. "As it was at Kure, here it is again far from home."

  Isoro's grin grew wider.

  Give some man bad advice on a horse race and he never forgets. I blame the sake.

  For a moment, he basked in the memory of a far more peaceful time.

  "I bet our captain we'd haul more Americans than Japanese out of the sea today," Yuta continued, gesturing towards the destroyer's stern. "You would have been American number six."

  Isoro looked over at his classmate, surprised.

  "Just how many Japanese have you pulled out of the water?" he asked.

  "There are a couple more of you fighter pilots down in the wardroom," Yuta replied. "The captain ordered we give them warm tea and some food. After we're done talking to the Americans, you can go below and liven up the place a bit."

  Isora was about to respond when a low BOOM brought both of their attention towards the Akigumo's starboard side. Approximately eight miles away, a massive mushroom cloud was erupting from the burning Taiho.

  "Could be worse," Yuta observed grimly. "We could be involved in that goat screw."

  "They need to just scuttle her and be done with it," Isoro said bitterly. "In about two hours she's going to be a nice, big arrow pointing the way to the task force."

  Yuta turned and pointed astern, in the direction of the sailing away Kido Butai. Smoke from the Shokaku could be seen on the horizon, billowing up like an accusatory finger.

  "I do not think we're going to be hard to find," the destroyerman replied. "Plus that sounded like her magazines, which means she won't be around much longer.

  Both men braced themselves as the Akigumo began to get under way, lookouts scanning the water to see if there were any more dinghies.

  There are a lot of men from both sides who are going to die alone and in the middle of this damn ocean. I was lucky I ditched within sight of the destroyer.

  "But, anyway, I'm glad you're aboard," Yuta said. "You can help me question our American friends."

  Why do I get the feeling this is not going to be conducted over a nice cup of tea? Isoro thought, feeling a slight wave of apprehension.

  "Come, let us not tarry," Yuta stated, gesturing aft towards the destroyer's fantail. The vessel was starting to accelerate, smoke pouring from her twin stacks. With the wind starting to freshen from the southwest, the destroyer was starting to pitch slightly in the gathering swells. Isoro felt a chill, and was unsure if it had anything to do with the breeze hitting his wet clothing.

  "After our questioning during Hawaii," Yuta began, his tone as if he was discussing a new recipe, "I realized that we were rather inefficient in questioning the two men from Hornet. There were so many more things we should have asked them."

  "Two men from Hornet?" Isoro asked, not understanding Yuta's reference.

  "Yes, the two aviators from Hornet that we captured," Yuta replied proudly. "How do you think you aviators knew where to strike off Hawaii? Divine intervention?"

  Isoro moved past several of the destroyer's crew scrubbing down her deck. The red-tinged water and visible bullet impacts told him all he needed to know about what had likely happened.

  "I didn't give it much thought, to be honest," Isoro replied. "That was…that was a busy day. Much like this one. What happened there?"

  "One of the American fighters strafed us," Yuta replied angrily. "Killed most of a gun crew and our torpedo officer. We were too busy trying to stop the torpedo bombers attack Soryu to get the fighter."

  The duo reached the Akigumo's fantail before Isoro could respond. The feeling of nausea in his stomach increased as he looked at the five standing men surrounded by several glowering members of the Akigumo's crew. All five men had clearly been beaten, and the largest of them was being held up by one of the men next to him. Looking at the insignia, Isoro noted that two of the men were ensigns, two were enlisted, and the large man wore the silver oak leaves of a commander.

  "Good morning, gentlemen," Yuta said, his words slow as he tried to remember his years of English. "I am Lieutenant junior grade Nomiya, gunnery officer of the destroyer Akigumo."

  One of the two enlisted men glared at Yuta, then slowly and deliberately spat upon the Akigumo's deck in his general direction. A chief petty officer stepped forward to deliver a blow to the man's face.

  "Stop!" Yuta barked in Japanese. The petty officer immediately followed orders, turning towards the lieutenant with a questioning look on his face. It was an error, as the American chose that moment to spit again directly into the man's face. Enraged, the Japanese NCO immediately turned to strike the American once again, then remembered his orders.

  "Your monkey's pretty well trained," American enlisted man sneered.

  Yuta ignored the man, looking at the commander.

  "I have demonstrated that I will control my men," Yuta said conversationally. "Will you do the same courtesy, commander..?"

  The senior American officer started to crack a smile, but the pain of moving his visibly bruised jaw stopped the gesture. Instead, he opted to shake his head.

  "Sure, complain about a little spit in the face after your sailors worked us all over," the man replied angrily.

  He has a point. Still, it is dishonorable to allow oneself to be captured. The man should not be surprised at his treatment.

  A runner came rushing back from the Akigumo's bridge and bowed to Yuta, then approached to talk lowly. The officer nodded grimly twice, then spoke rapidly in response to whatever he'd been told. The petty officer bowed, and turned to move back towards the destroyer's bridge.

  "Well, commander, it would appear that the time for niceties is over," Yuta said apologetically. "Vice Admiral Yamaguchi is demanding we obtain information regarding your forces."

  Isoro watched as the American officer's eyes narrowed. Behind him, the man who had spat in the petty officer's face sneered in contempt, even as the other three
Americans began to look on in apprehension.

  "Commander Joshua Jacobs, service number 724…"

  The man's recital of his name, rank, and service number was interrupted by a sudden, violent punch to the kidneys. In moments, the scene on the Akigumo's stern was bedlam, as the two enlisted Americans immediately attacked the nearest Japanese sailor and one of the ensigns screamed in terror.

  What kind of men are we?

  The sick taste in bile in his mouth increased as he watched the spat upon petty officer kick his assailant repeatedly in the groin. The American shrieked, clutching himself as he fell to the deck with a two burly sailors grabbed his shoulders.

  "Bind them this time!" Yuta shouted angrily.

  Isoro stomach turned as the petty officer took a step back then savagely kicked his target again, causing the other man to begin vomiting. Even as rope was brought forward, the petty officer produced a pair of pliers from his pocket.

  What are you doing?

  Isoro watched in horror as the man grabbed the American gunner's hair and pulled his head back. Before he even realized it, Isoro strode forward and punched the petty officer hard in the face, stopping him from whatever he was doing. The man flew backward in shock, eyes wild as he began to step forward then suddenly realized what he was about to do. Coming to attention, he quickly bowed to Isoro.

  "The man is no good to us if you rip his tongue out," Isoro snapped. Even as the words left his mouth, he considered his justification.

  Yes, what a brave samurai I am.

  "I see you have a knack for this," Yuta said from behind him.

  Isoro tried to ignore the sound of the youngest ensign sobbing uncontrollably in fear as it carried across the stern. Several of the Japanese sailors chuckled at the man, his flight suit obviously soiled from where he had wet himself and eyes wide with fear.

  "What is your name?" Isoro asked, his English halting.

  "Sir, don't tell them shit," the man lying on the deck in front of them gasped. "Let the little yellow bastards figure it out."

  Before Isoro could reply, Yuta gestured with a grunt. The petty officer he had struck nodded, dropped the pliers, and produced a small knife. Before Isoro's horrified eyes, the petty officer sawed off the enlisted sailor's pinky. The American let out a hoarse gasp, then to Isoro's amazement started laughing.

  No one will mistake that for humor.

  Seeing blood start to pour from the man’s hand, Isoro looked away so that he did not vomit.

  "Fuck you, you little Jap bastards! Fuck you!" the man screamed before someone shoved a gag into his mouth.

  "M-m-my name is Ensign Stan Van Horn," the soiled officer said, his voice quiet. The man licked his lips as he looked at where Commander Jacobs lay prone.

  I hope he is not dead, or this was an exercise in futility.

  A Japanese sailor came rushing from belowdecks with a pail attached to a rope. Isoro watched the man throw the metal bucket into the Akigumo's wake, only to have the object yanked from his hands by the water pressure from the destroyer's passage. A nearby petty officer screamed at the sailor, striking him with an open slap across the face that made Ensign Van Horn jump.

  "Will you stop hurting these men if I tell you what you want to know?" Van Horn asked, looking at where one of the other ensigns was attempting to scream past his own gag. The two sailors gleefully attempting to dislocate his shoulder seemed focused on their task, and Isoro was surprised that Van Horn's accosters were not similarly attempting to harm him.

  Wait, they are deferring to me.

  "Yes, yes we will," Isoro said.

  I am now not just a bystander, but an accomplice.

  "But only if you are quick about it."

  "There are four carriers," Van Horn began.

  "Yuta, stop your men!" Isoro shouted in Japanese, then turned back to Van Horn.

  "Go on," he said as the destroyer officer came over. The American sailor who had lost his pinky attempted to yell something past his gag, but was immediately silenced by the knife being placed next to his eye.

  "Go on," Isoro repeated quietly, using the tone one would to calm a scared child. He locked eyes with the petty officer holding the gunner's head.

  Over the next five minutes, Isoro quickly came to realize just how grave the Kido Butai's danger was. Quickly explaining the important things to Yuta, he questioned Van Horn with a level tone, double checking the ensign's answers by asking things a slightly different way. Even as Commander Jacobs was brought back to consciousness from the contents of a second pail, Isoro realized there was really nothing more they needed from the men.

  "Let us go talk," Isoro said calmly to Yuta. "Thank you, Ensign Van Horn."

  "Remember, you promised not to hurt me or my companions anymore," Van Horn said nervously, seeing the feral looks that several of the Japanese sailors were giving him.

  "You have my word, Ensign Van Horn," Isoro replied.

  "Do not do anything while we are gone," Yuta said in Japanese. "Do you understand?"

  "Hai," the senior petty officer said. "We will only gag them, nothing more."

  "See that is so," Yuta replied, motioning for Isoro to follow him towards the destroyer's nearby superstructure.

  "You must signal the Akagi quickly," Isoro said, fear coursing through him as they stood in the aft turret's shadow. "The Americans will have a second wave ready by midday, and there are not nearly enough fighters remaining to deal with a second strike."

  Yuta looked at him, realization starting to dawn.

  "But how can there not be enough fighters?" he asked.

  "Because they caught us by surprised," Isoro replied, then gestured at the Taiho and Shokaku's smoke plumes. "Two carriers are out of action."

  "Three," Yuta said grimly.

  "What?"

  "Three," the destroyerman repeated, then pointed off to the Akigumo's starboard side. Isoro turned to follow his finger and felt a brief pain in his chest. The Soryu, with two of the Akigumo's fellows in attendance, was visible several thousand yards away. Now that he was focused on the carrier, Isoro could also smell the bunker oil that visibly trailed the vessel like a blood trail. Wordlessly, Yuta handed over his binoculars.

  She's smoking heavily from her stacks. Isoro wordlessly scanned the vessel. But it looks like the smoke is mainly damage to the stacks, not the engine room on fire.

  "Can she fly off any aircraft?" Yuta asked.

  "There are men working on the holes in the flight deck," Isoro answered. "With her flight deck canted like that, even if the managed to repair the holes, Soryu will have trouble conducting flight operations."

  "I imagine they'll have to counterflood," Yuta replied.

  Isoro shrugged as he handed the binoculars back.

  "I am not a damage control expert," Isoro said simply. "But if she cannot get off her aircraft and she cannot steam, she's as good as dead when the Americans return."

  The sound of aircraft engines caused both men to turn and look skyward in alarm. Their fear was eased a moment later as they both realized the large gaggle of aircraft was heading east to west.

  Looks like the three remaining carriers have launched their strike. It was a mixed blessing that the Americans caught the vessels that had already sent a strike south.

  As he counted the aircraft, Isoro gave a grim nod.

  "We launched everything," he said.

  "Hmm?" Yuta asked, puzzled.

  "We did not split our strike between the carriers as we normally do," Isoro said. "I suspect so we would have decks free to handle the strike we launched against the British."

  Isoro could tell that the destroyer officer only partially understood what was being said. Both men turned as a runner came down from the bridge.

  "Sir, the captain has ordered us to execute the prisoners," the petty officer said.

  Isoro looked at the man in shock.

  "I'll need the standard work party," Yuta said without missing a beat. "Please have Petty Officer Harikawa fetch me my swor
d."

  Isoro looked from the petty officer to his friend.

  "I gave the ensign my word we would not harm him or the group any further!" Isoro shouted, causing several nearby sailors to look at him. Yuta gave the men a withering look, and they immediately turned back to their work.

  "You were serious?" Yuta asked, incredulous.

  "Why wouldn't I be serious?" Isoro snapped. Yuta raised an eyebrow.

  "He is a coward," Yuta replied. "You saw him, he was literally wetting himself rather than trying to resist. This is the man you would argue with the captain for?"

  Isoro picked up the subtle warning in his friend's tone.

  A captain is absolute master of his vessel during time of war.

  Isoro was despondent at the thought. While it was not likely, it was entirely possible the Akigumo's skipper would have him killed alongside the Americans for having the temerity to question a direct order. Moreover, by the IJN's regulations and discipline, no one would question it.

  The 'great' Isoro Honda's head split like a melon for some stupid Americans. No one would remember it was a question of honor.

  A junior petty officer, one who Isoro could only assume was the aforementioned Harikawa, returned with a silk wrapped bundle. The man bowed deeply, extending his arms with the rolled package in hands while still casting his eyes downward. Yuta bowed slightly in return, then took the item and unwrapped it.

  We are ritualizing murder! This is not the way of Bushido!

  "Isoro-san, thank you for your help," Yuta said as he solemnly buckled the sword to his uniform. "You may go below."

  How dare you? I will not be dismissed like some rating.

  "I will not," Isoro replied firmly. "If you are going to murder a man who I have promised to protect, I may as well be looking at him when you do so."

  The petty officer briefly glanced at Isoro, then back down at the deck. Yuta looked as if he was going to say something, then stopped. Impassive, he simply nodded, then began proceeding toward the Akigumo's stern. Isoro followed along behind, his chest growing tighter with every step.