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

by James Young

  In Jacob’s professional opinion, it took Clancy longer to describe the Trenton’s end than it had taken the light cruiser to die. The ensuing fifteen minutes was some of the most harrowing narrative Jacob had ever heard. As with Houston, the two German raiders had ran up the German navy ensign before opening fire. Their first salvo had been aimed at the Trenton’s superstructure. Jacob doubted the light cruiser’s captain had lived past the fight’s first sixty seconds. The cruiser had managed to get off maybe one salvo, then a pair of torpedoes had knocked out her power. Clancy had struggled his way to the deck just as Trenton was starting to capsize.

  The Omaha-class might need to function in pairs. That was not a battle, it was an organized murder.

  As soon has he had the thought, Jacob thought back to the Italian cruiser they’d jumped seemingly a lifetime ago.

  Or maybe the real lesson from this is what I said to Farmer about paranoia and longevity being intertwined.

  “Thank you Lieutenant Clancy,” Jacob said. “Do you have anything else that you think might help a Board of Inquiry?”

  “No, sir,” Clancy replied.

  “You’re dismissed,” Jacob said. The young officer stood up and saluted. Jacob returned the gesture, then waited for Clancy to be led out by O’Rourke. He looked at the gathered officers, many of their faces ashen.

  “Gentlemen, let’s get back to work,” Jacob said simply. “It’s going to be a long war.”

  Ratmalana Airfield

  0940 Local (1640 Eastern)

  15 September (14 September)

  "Sir, is it true that this was one of the British squadron's ready rooms?"

  Isoro turned from the window to look at the young petty officer who had asked the question. The man was languorously laying on a chaise lounge, munching on cookie he'd taken from a tin liberated upstairs. The small living area was filled with the sounds of Chopin, the short wave radio still tuned to whatever frequency the British Exile Government was using out of Sydney.

  Isoro smiled at question. The petty officer looked concerned at the expression, unconsciously sitting up straight.

  There is something wrong with our Navy that a non-commissioned officer thinks I'm going to beat him because I smiled. That or I'm no further from a breakdown than I was two weeks ago and it shows.

  Commander Fuchida had drawn lots for which pilots would remain on Ceylon and which would accompany the Kido Butai back to Singapore then onwards to Japan. Isoro suspected some trickery, but he had been selected to lead the contingent of Shiden that were to remain until the Army showed up.

  Ah, as if on cue, he thought, hearing the distant thrum of propellers. Or at least, I hope that is the Army, and not the British, Germans, Americans, or all of the above.

  That Isoro worried about possible Nazi aircraft spoke to how crazy the war was getting. Although he was certain the rumor was wild, allegedly their erstwhile allies in Berlin had not taken kindly to Vice Admiral Yamaguchi's…direct methods of negotiating. Isoro wasn't sure of the details, he had just been advised not to assume any German aircraft sighted on patrol were friendly.

  I hope we didn't pay so dearly for this island just to sell it dearly with our blood to some other colonizer.

  Shaking his head, Isoro remembered he hadn't answered the question.

  "One of their night fighter units, allegedly," he replied simply. "The Army never got this far south before the surrender, and the Rikunsentai just occupied the perimeter without checking the buildings."

  The petty officer stopped, looking at the cookie in his hand. His companion laughed.

  "Yes Heike, that means you could be eating a poisoned cookie as we speak," the thinner, taller noncom said.

  Murakami. Both of them off of Taiho. I hope they haven't used up their luck.

  There was a peal of thunder. Isoro glanced out the window into the gloom.

  They'd better land fast or there's going to be an accident.

  Monsoon season had officially begun a few short days before, and the rain gods had not disappointed. Isoro was pleasantly surprised that the bombers were all able to put down quickly, the complete squadron landing in a matter of minutes just as the rain began to cascade down in sheets.

  "Sir, are we going out in this?" Heike asked as Isoro walked towards the door. The rain beating down on the roof was strangely relaxing, and he took a moment to just listen.

  "No, I think our Army friends can come to us," Isoro said, opening the door. The dropping temperature made it feel as if a cool breeze was blowing into the humid building. As he watched men dash through the rain around the bombers, Isoro listened to the shortwave radio in the corner.

  Those bomber pilots probably did not ever expect themselves to be sitting here, on Ceylon, as a hedge against treachery from a nation that no longer even had colonies before the Treaty of Kent. I can only hope that they enjoy their stay.

  A formerly British lorry rolled down the runway towards the bombers. One man, clearly the squadron commander, waved wildly for it to come towards his aircraft. As the truck slowed, the squadron commander turned, saw Isoro, then gestured for one of his officers to head towards the opened door. Noting Isoro's naval uniform, the designated officer strode slowly and deliberately towards the squadron shack.

  Ah yes, cannot have the Navy think that Army pilots are averse to a little rain.

  A short, squat man, the young Army lieutenant's eyes narrowed as he regarded Isoro upon reaching the doorway. The officer then turned towards the two petty officers lounging on the couches and his face started to darken.

  Why no, I am not wearing any of my insignia on my flight suit.

  He gestured for the Army officer to step inside just the radio began to play Mozart.

  Let's see how good you are at picking up on social clues, idiot.

  "Are you the liaison officer who was supposed to be meeting us?" the lieutenant asked, his nostrils flaring as he removed his sodden helmet. "What are you doing in here?"

  "What does it look like?" Isoro asked. "Not getting wet."

  Locking eyes with Isoro and seeing no fear there, the Army officer gathered he was at least talking to a peer. The man began removing his gloves, wringing them out on the floor.

  "I would think you'd be in a hurry to get back to your clean bunks and silverware," the Army man said disgustedly. "Heaven forbid the Navy have a little hardship."

  "Both of these men are from a carrier that is on the bottom of the ocean," Isoro replied coolly. "I lost both my wingmen wresting this island from the British. What have you done in the last month?"

  "Bombed Darwin," the Army pilot responded grimly, his demeanor relaxing somewhat. "Nice place to visit, if you don't mind Spitfires."

  Isoro gave the man a nod of respect, and the Army officer returned it.

  "I am to show you the ready room and the rather austere amenities," Isoro said. "Thankfully the British claimed to have thinned the snake population, so you don't have to worry as much about having a viper under your pillow."

  The Army lieutenant looked at Isoro worriedly.

  "Yes, that happened," Isoro said, shrugging. "Thankfully the pistol works on them."

  The Army officer shuddered. Before he could respond, there was a fanfare from the radio in the corner. The man's eyes narrowed.

  "That's the British Royal Family fanfare," he said, then looked back at Isoro with a raised eyebrow.

  "We haven't changed the channel since we got here," Isoro said. "According to one of our prisoners, every pilot in this squadron died. Figured keeping the ghosts happy with their choice of music was a good plan."

  The Army pilot laughed at that one.

  "I understand mollifying ghosts," he replied grimly. "I am Lieutenant Hirohata, by the way."

  "Lieutenant Isoro Honda," Isoro replied. The Army officer came to attention and saluted, which Isoro waved away.

  "No, sir, please do me the honor," the man said, his eyes wide.

  Oh shit, not this again.

  Isoro returne
d the salute.

  "The papers back home have talked a great deal about your exploits," Hirohata said. The man was clearly awestruck.

  "I am sure they embellish some things," Isoro replied.

  "Honorable sir, the Queen is apparently about to speak," one of the petty officers said.

  Isoro and Hirohata turned to look at the radio, finally paying attention to what was being said.

  "…Her Majesty's speech to both houses of the United States' Congress will begin at the top of the hour," the British radio announcer said. "Our Washington office has assured us that it is critical to the continued war effort in light of recent events. To our listeners around the Indian Ocean and in Australia, you may be hearing history."

  "Maybe they are going to announce peace talks," Hirohata noted. "The Australians and Americans have been much less active attacking the East Indies since the operation here."

  That's probably because someone believes we have the strength to attack Australia proper. Or they're just preparing to take this place back.

  "We go now to our Washington Office and Mr. Denis Johnston, BBC."

  There was a brief pause, the rain continuing to pour down on the roof as the four men looked at one another.

  "Good evening from Washington, D.C.," Mr. Johnston's voice came over the radio. "Her Majesty has entered the American capitol building, where she is being escorted by Mr. Harry Hopkins and several armed agents of the FBI. We are told that these men are allowed here at the express permission of the Speaker of the House, Congressman Rayburn of Texas."

  "Interesting that the Americans would need an armed guard for a foreign leader in their legislature," Isoro observed.

  "Have you not heard what happened to the British Prime Minister?" Hirohata asked. Isoro shook his head.

  "Americans shot him while trying to kill the Queen," Hirohata stated.

  I missed so much here while we were on operations, Isoro said. Before he could speak, he could hear a gavel being banged on the radio and several shouts."

  "As you can hear, ladies and gentlemen, there is a commotion from the Republican side of the Senate," Johnston said. Isoro noted the man seemed distressed and angry. Cursing his memory, he tried to recall how the American Congress was organized. His old school lessons were still evading capture when the Queen began speaking.

  “Thank you, Speaker Rayburn, for inviting me to speak today."

  She sounds so reserved and calm for someone who was just delivered a grave insult.

  "Gentlemen, I pray you will forgive me for speaking plainly, as time is short. I come not to you today not, as some of your more intemperate members have recently called me, a beggar princess."

  I recognize that tone. That is a woman who is deeply, irrevocably angry but is being polite. Several of those men have made an implacable enemy.

  "As you can see I have not been, as Senator Taft stated yesterday in this very hall, rendered incapable of independent thought and movement due to Prime Minister Churchill's death. While Lord Churchill was my advisor, my tutor and, in his last act, my protector, I assure you that the woman who stands before you is a sovereign, not a 'puppet.'"

  Indeed, if I were any of the men who were so insolent, I'd hire a food taster immediately.

  He glanced over at Hirohata. The Army officer was pensive as the broadcast continued.

  "Instead of a child's toy, let me introduce myself properly. I am Queen Elizabeth II, rightful ruler of the British Isles. A ruler who has now not only lost my father to fascism, but buried one of the greatest statesman my nation has ever known to radicals within in your own midst. Still, even to the last, Prime Minister Churchill considered the United States the key to the entire world's salvation."

  There was a pause as someone shouted something indistinct. Whatever was yelled was immediately met with calls questioning the rude individual's courage and manners. The banging of Congressman Rayburn's gavel brought the bedlam under control, at which point Queen Elizabeth continued.

  "As many of you, to include the gentlemen being escorted out, have taken every opportunity to remind me, my right to speak here was revoked by the events of 1776," the Queen stated.

  She has become even calmer. Resolute to the level of being frightening.

  "If it pleases you and allows you to consider my words, do not think then of me as a sovereign nor an empress. Indeed, as I informed President Roosevelt just over an hour ago, the Court of St. James has renounced any and all claims to overseas colonies.”

  Wait, what?

  Isoro could hear that this statement had similarly shocked the Americans listening in the chamber. Giving them a moment to collect themselves, Queen Elizabeth continued.

  “Instead, consider my statements those of a herald and beloved friend. If need be, think of me as someone who has suffered mightily at the hand of terrible people. A woman who is now beseeching you and your constituents to learn from the ruin that has befallen my own nation."

  There was again murmuring, but the Queen's tone powered through the noise.

  She has such power without seeming the least bit shrill.

  "Before you today is a bill, brought by the President, seeking further loans to Great Britain so that we may continue this conflict. In opposition, many of your body have pointed out that the Atlantic and Pacific serve as natural depredations to the scourge of fascism. That despite your countrymen who have died and continue to perish alongside my own, the price is too great."

  Yours are not the only people who are dying, Your Majesty.

  For a brief moment his eyes burned, thinking about his dead wingmen.

  "These naysayers sing to you soft songs of isolation, of an easier path than President Roosevelt has asked you to set yourselves upon. ‘Let us build up our Navy and turn to our own affairs in this hemisphere,’ Senator Lindbergh has stated, as if he himself has not flown from this land to Europe. ‘We can reach accommodation with Himmler as we have with other nations in the past,' says Senator Taft, as if the path of appeasement has not been attempted before."

  On the last, Queen Elizabeth's voice briefly faltered before she regained her strength.

  "I more than anyone in this room understand the sweet succor that seems to be offered by these words. As we speak, Nazi forces have laid siege to Leningrad and begun reducing that city’s defenses. The Red Army is in retreat on all fronts after the debacle in Poland and the eastern Soviet Union. Premier Stalin lies stricken by a stroke and their government appears in disarray. In the Indian Ocean, Japan has laid waste to the Royal Navy and forced Vice Admiral Fletcher to retreat to Australia."

  "Hai!" Isoro shouted at the radio, the defiant call surprising even him.

  "The situation is dire, the way ahead dark," Elizabeth intoned. "It would, given the circumstances, make perfect sense for your nation to deny my government additional resources and thus, by extension, seek a separate peace."

  There was a long pause, enough for Isoro to wonder if the connection had failed.

  “It would make perfect sense, that is, if you were not dealing with monsters. Monsters who have attempted to assassinate me, a young woman who is here as a guest, on your own soil. Men who have repeatedly brutalized unarmed women and children in every one of their conquests, then murdered prisoners with glee."

  Isoro's stomach turned at those last words. Knowing it was his imagination, he still imagined everyone present was looking directly at him.

  "Fascism is an ideology that will brook no remaining dissent, no further opposition, no possible threats until this entire globe is under their control," Elizabeth said. "As you look to your east and west to take comfort in the vast tracts of ocean that lay there, recall that the English Channel served as my realm’s bulwark for almost nine centuries. Varied French kings, Napoleon Bonaparte, and the Kaiser were all stymied in their attempts to bring Great Britain to heel by that body of water. Ten miles of ocean backed first by wooden, then steel hulls of the finest navy in the world."

  Unsurprisingly, that co
mment also brought some dissent, but Queen Elizabeth ignored it as she pressed her point.

  "It was not only our fleet, of course. With our success in 1940, my nation grew complacent at the strength of our air force. Grudgingly, we made peace in the face of continued adversity once Herr Hitler had gone to his just reward. We had no idea of the depths of Himmler’s depravity, nor of the devastation modern airpower has made possible."

  Once more there was the long pause.

  "I will leave you with the thought of how quickly doom befell my nation as you consider whether to remain our ally and supporter as we fight on," Queen Elizabeth stated. "For make no mistake, regardless of the vote here today, the Commonwealth will continue to fight against the darkest manifestations of our humanity, as our dead demand this of us."

  Again, the strength of her words comes through even though she is thousands of miles away. This is a woman who will not rest until she is dead or she has regained her throne.

  "Although your citizens of my generation will appreciate the peace, the Commonwealth will continue to fight bravely on. Our ships will gradually fall into disrepair. Aircraft will grow obsolete. Courageous men will die. Despite this, we will continue to do our duty with the hope that we so harm Fascism that it will come for you in decades, not years. For we know that trouble exists now, in our time, and wish that all our children will know peace in theirs. Thank you, and I bid you good evening"

  Ironic she speaks of us as part of a group coming for others when her 'empire' has colonized so many.

  He saw the other men in the room similarly sneering at the sentiment as they stood on Queen Elizabeth's former property.

  "Do you think they will vote to continue the war?" Hirohata asked, as applause from the American Congress spilled from the speaker.

  Isoro looked at the radio, then at the Army pilot. With a start, he noticed that several more Army pilots had come into the room during the speech.

  "It matters not whether they vote to help the British or decide to cower in their cities and farms," Isoro said. "I serve as the Emperor's blade. If they wish to send their pilots to challenge His Majesty's will, I shall continue to meet the challenge until I breathe no more."