Kirov III-Pacific Storm (Kirov Series) (11 page)

“We don't know what class yet, but if
they are heavy cruisers they will be carrying eight inch guns that will range
out to 25,000 meters.”

“We can beat that range with our deck
guns,” said Karpov quickly. “If they get too close, say 30,000 meters, we can
begin discouraging them with the 152 millimeter batteries.”

“A good plan,” said Volsky.

“Don't forget the battleship, it can
fire at 35,000 meters, though it probably won’t hit anything at that range.”

“We've had quite a few scraps with
battleships in recent days,” said Karpov. “Our best bet if that ship poses any
real threat would be at least one Moskit-II targeting their superstructure, and
we must do this before the ship gets in effective range.”

“Agreed,” said Volsky. “I do not wish
us to be dancing about in the midst of sea spray from fifteen or sixteen inch
shells again.”

“They'll probably be fourteen inch
guns,” said Fedorov, though he realized the difference was negligible when it
came to a round of that size impacting the ship.

“Very well,” said the Admiral. “I
suggest we prepare to possibly repel another incoming air strike from these
torpedo planes Mister Fedorov mentioned. And then we will see if our speed can
keep us ahead of this enemy surface action group.” He shrugged. “I'm afraid
we'll have to wait for those island girls a little longer. Stay at alert level
one, and please check on the damage control situation, Mister Fedorov.”

“Aye, sir. Alert one, all hands stand
ready.” The order was passed over ship’s intercom, though the attack had
clearly heightened the crew’s awareness of impending battle. They were in it
again, facing off against these impossible shadows from a distant past, but yet
the explosion of a 250kg incendiary bomb had made these shadows painfully real.

“Now then,” said Volsky. “What do we
do about these carriers? Do you think we are likely to receive another
airstrike in the next hour or two Fedorov?”

“I would plan on it, sir. The dive bombers
must have been armed with incendiary bombs. They had no business coming in on
us like that at all. But the next wave will most likely be torpedo planes, and
the Japanese were very skilled at low level attacks. Remember, they have
trained for months to make an attack at Pearl Harbor. They will have to be
engaged before they get anywhere close to us.”

“How many planes can we expect in this
attack?”

“There will be at least eighteen on
each carrier, sir. Possibly twenty-seven. I'm going to make a guess that this
is Carrier Division Five, with
Zuikaku
and
Shokaku
. They were
Japan's newest carriers, big and fast at thirty-four knots. Those ships were
active in the East Indies, the Indian Ocean, and the Coral Sea early in the
war, though we don't really know what the date is yet. In any case, the torpedo
planes will be carrying the Japanese Type 91. They range out to about 2000
meters after launch. Nothing we want to fool with.”

“Agreed,” said Volsky.

“With Rodenko's radars operating now,
we will see these planes well before they pose any threat,” said Karpov. “For
that matter, it would not be difficult to scout the location of these aircraft
carriers and send them a message.”

They all knew what he meant.

“It will come down to a choice then,”
said the Admiral. “Which missiles do we use, our dwindling anti-ship weapons,
or our air defense systems? Diminishing the strength of either inventory is not
a happy prospect.”

“I suggest we wait,” said Fedorov.
“Let's see what they throw at us. Only then can we determine what weapon
systems would be best. But I think we should conserve our anti-ship missiles at
this point and use them only if absolutely necessary.”

Karpov expected this from Fedorov. The
young ex-navigator was still cautious, and on one level he perceived that
Fedorov was still very reluctant to target ships, planes, and men that had
glowed in the soft light of his history books for so many years. Karpov had no
such scruples, and looked at the matter solely from a military point of view.
If the carriers were threat they could be dealt with, but he decided that they
could just as easily handle an air strike as long as their air defense missile
systems had ammunition.

“If each carrier has twenty-seven torpedo
bombers,” he said. “That will be a big drain on our SAM inventory if they
attack in force. I would hate to have to be forced to make that decision when
we might use one or two missiles to forestall such an attack. We have only to
locate these carriers, and if they are beyond our surface radar range at this
juncture we should use the KA-40. That failing, then we can wait and receive
the blow, and deal with it when it comes, but we both know that the best
defense is a good offense.” He folded his arms having given the assessment that
he felt was most tactically sound for the situation. The rest would be up to
Volsky.

“I'm not surprised that you both have
differing views on this,” said the Admiral, thinking. He took a long breath and
then gave an order. “As we do not now know the location of the enemy carriers,
we must wait. But I want better situational awareness. I want to know exactly
what we are facing, because Fedorov here says we can no longer rely on his
books. For that matter we don't even know what
year
this is. Is it 1942?
1943? I think Captain Karpov’s suggestion on the use of the helicopter is
prudent, and I want the KA-40 ready for immediate operations. Once we know what
we're dealing with I will make a final decision.”

“Very good, sir.” Fedorov gave the
orders and the word was soon passed down to the helo bay to prepare for
operations.
Kirov
had again been surprised just at the moment of her
arrival in the dangerous and unfriendly waters of the Pacific region. They
would not be surprised again.

The ship was going to war.

Chapter
8

Admiral
Chuichi
Hara received the news of an enemy surface ship with some surprise. He was
steaming with Carrier Division Five, his flag aboard
Shokaku
, and her
sleek sister ship
Zuikaku
was a thousand meters off his starboard beam.
Zuiho
was in the van, selected to participate in the next strike mission with her
CII-3
Datai
and 12 fresh torpedo planes
commanded by Lt. Commander
Kasi
Matsua. Five
destroyers formed a small fan ahead of the three carriers, a fairly light
escort considering the value of these ships to the empire. His heavier ships
were already seventy-five miles out in front, screening the approach to Darwin
with orders to follow-up the air strikes with a good saturation bombardment—all
save one. The heavy cruiser
Tone
had been left behind to ensure the
safety of the carriers from any surface action. Hara had not expected any
Allied naval activity in this sector, but was cautious nonetheless, and
followed protocols. Now he was surprised to learn that a sizable ship had been
spotted by one of the screening submarines,
Torisu’s
I-63
.

What could be out there, he wondered?
An Australian cruiser out of Darwin? The initial reports from the first strike
wave aimed at Darwin came in soon after. They had spotted what looked to be a
large cruiser class vessel steaming north. Strike leader Sakamoto had detached
a single squadron of nine dive bombers to deal with it.

The reports were sketchy, but it now
appeared that a hit had been scored and the ship was seen to be on fire, a
thick column of char black smoke staining the clear blue sky. But Sakamoto’s
men had paid a very high price, losing 8 of 9 planes to intense enemy
anti-aircraft fire. Squadron leader Hayashi had been the only survivor, but
this shame was mitigated by the fact that he had been the only plane to score a
hit. The rest of Sakamoto’s planes had continued on to Darwin, being armed with
incendiary and HE bombs, not suitable for naval action. Hayashi’s reports on
the radio spoke of some new weapon engaging his planes, but made no sense. He
was ordered home and told to land on
Zuiho
instead of his home ship, and
ordered to brief the strike wave forming up there even now. It was a not so
subtle indication of Hara’s opinion on the strike he had just led. There was
nothing of his squadron left now on
Zuikaku
. He was an orphaned plane
and pilot.

Sakamoto was too eager, thought Hara.
I would've just reported the ship and continued on to Darwin. Doesn't he
remember that I have torpedo bombers waiting here? Angry at the loss of the 8
planes and pilots, he turned and gave the order that everyone on the bridge
expected.

“Signal
Zuiho
. Lieutenant
Matsua’s CII-3
Daitai
is to be spotted for
immediate air strike against this naval target. Arm with torpedoes. We will
keep our planes in the nest for the moment. Matsua’s twelve torpedo bombers
should be sufficient to handle a single ship, particularly if it is just an
Australian cruiser. But tell them to be ready for heavy flak. This may be an AA
defense cruiser.”

*
* *

Lt.
Commander Matsua received the news with much excitement
and was soon up on the flight deck, pulling on his leather flight gloves and
adjusting his goggles and ear flaps. He surveyed the planes already spotted on
deck, six from 1st Squadron with the first planes of 2nd squadron already on
the elevators. It would be another ten or fifteen minutes before the remaining
planes were ready, their pre-flight checks completed and communications with
the air bridge underway for takeoff. In the meantime, he watched the slow
approach of a plane, which he soon recognized as a D3A1 dive bomber. It was
trailing a thin wake of light smoke, and he presumed it was from Sakamoto’s
group, a wayward flyer with engine trouble who had been sent home.

He watched as the plane lined up for
landing, looking somewhat shaky as it came in, touching down with a bump and
then finally hooking up with a secondary retaining line and skidding to a loud
stop, its engine spinning fitfully in the light wind. There were no other dive
bombers assigned to
Zuiho
, his CII-1 Squadron was all for air defense
operations with twelve A6M2 Fighters.  A smaller ship,
Zuiho
could
carry no more than thirty planes. Why didn’t this plane land on its own mother
ship?

Flight crews ran to maneuver the plane
off the main flight deck to keep it clear for Matsua’s torpedo bombers. Yet as
the pilot of the D3A1 slid back his canopy, he could immediately see that
something was wrong. He squinted, then noted the plane number and realized it was
Squadron Leader Hayashi, an old friend, his face ashen as he eased himself out
of the pilot’s seat. There was no movement from the rear of the canopy where
the radio man should be, and Matsua had a sudden strange feeling of dread as he
watched the flight crews ladder up the plane and climb to assist Hayashi. He
rushed to the scene, waiting below as the men brought the pilot down. One man
called up to the still open canopy for the second crewman serving as radio
operator and gunner, but Hayashi tugged at his sleeve, shaking his head. Matsua
could see blood on Hayashi’s flight jacket.

“Hayashi! What happened? How were you
hit? Did you come all the way from Darwin?”

Hayashi looked at him, his eyes
distant and glazed over with pain. Then he recognized Matsua, and forced a wan
smile.

“Matsua…No, we never made it to
Darwin. There was an enemy cruiser about a hundred and twenty kilometers off
the coast and Sakamoto sent my squadron after it.”

“Yes! Rumors say you scored a hit!”
Matsua looked over his shoulder thinking to see the remainder of Hayashi’s
squadron coming in for their recovery. “Where are the others?”

Hayashi looked down, his eyes dark
with fear and his spirits dampened with shame. “No others,” he said quietly.

“No others?”

Hayashi looked at him, his face almost
pleading as he spoke. “I have never seen such a defense,” he quavered. “My men
pressed home the attack…Two scored near misses. A third put his bomb right off
the enemy’s bow and they ran right over it. Then something came up at us...” He
covered his eyes, then composed himself and stared at Matsua, clearly shaken.
“It was like we were flying through hell itself, a rain of metal… steel
serpents that hissed in at our planes like demons! My men were cut to pieces. I
released my bomb and veered away, and when I looked over my shoulder to see the
hit on the enemy ship, all the others were gone. I saw the last two go into the
sea…”

Matsua waited, allowing his friend the
time he needed now. He was
buntaicho
,
Squadron
Leader. Sakamoto had chosen him to make the attack, and he was now responsible
for the result. The hit he scored was commendable, but in the balance he would
come to the briefing room when he eventually returned to his ship and find
eight empty chairs where his men should be seated, their cheeks red with
energy, faces alight as they readied for battle. He put his hand on Hayashi’ s
shoulder.

“We have been ordered to find this
ship and sink it,” he said firmly. “We will avenge you, Hayashi. By all Gods
and Kami, we will make certain your men died with honor. I
swear
it, my
friend. I will put my Thunder Fish in this ship’s belly! Or die trying.”