Winter Storm (37 page)

“Get hold
of that crazy cruiser Commander on Lady Lex! Looks like this is no goddamned
drill! Then get word down below. I want Bombing Six up on deck in fifteen minutes!”

Those
orders were stiffened further in a Fleet Signal, where Halsey ordered all
torpedoes to be rigged with warheads, all dive bombers armed with bombs, all
fighters to be ready for action, and the destroyer screen was to immediately
attack any submarine spotted. The battleships were ordered to load all main
guns, for real this time, and ready ammunition was to be moved up from the main
magazines. The American ships at sea were to lock and load for action. Halsey
had orders that he was to “intercept and destroy” any enemy force encountered,
so there was no question that his carriers had been ushered off to ferry planes
simply to remove them from harm’s way.
Enterprise
and
Lexington
were out there to fight, even if the odds were stacked very high against them.

At
07:10 it was Saburo Shindo’s three Zeroes who thought they saw something out of
place in the second wave of planes forming up. There was one stray goose, and
it seemed to be edging around the flank of the main carrier fleet, dipping in
and out of the few clouds puffing up in the rapidly brightening sky. He banked
right, taking his whole
Shotai
with him to investigate, and was soon
surprised to see what looked to be an American fighter!

The
word was flashed to
Akagi
, and then he immediately dove on the enemy,
sending Ensign Teaff into a banking dive as he tried to evade. The first air to
air duel of the Pacific war saw hapless Teaff pounced upon by three well
trained Japanese pilots, and he and his radioman Jinks would become the first
American casualties.

Captain
George Murray was at the Admiral’s side, worry in his eyes as the ship was
jolted into full battle readiness. “Don’t forget those three fat pigs up north
of Kauai,” he said. “What’ll we do about them? The Japs will find them sooner
or later. Should we have the battleships turn east and rejoin us?”

“All
they’ll do is slow us down,” said Halsey. “Yes, the Japs may find them, sooner
or later, so I’d rather make it sooner, and ram them right down their throats.
Signal Van Falkenburgh on the
Arizona
. Make sure he got that enemy
sighting report, and tell him to get up there and give ‘em hell.”

Murray
gave Halsey a look, seeing the fire in his eyes now, the grizzled war face he
would become famous for. He knew the Admiral’s order was going to send those
ships into harm’s way, and possibly to their doom, and he said as much.

“Well
hell, Captain,” said Halsey. “We call them battleships for a reason! If this
isn’t the fight they were built for, then what is? That order stands.”

Aboard
Arizona
,
Officer of the Deck, Ensign Henry Davidson handed Van Falkenburgh the signal,
who read it silently before handing it off to Lieutenant Commander Samuel
Fuqua, the ship’s First Lieutenant and Damage Control Officer, and third in
line of command. “Shall we sound battle stations again?” asked Fuqua.

“Better
make sure they know it’s not a drill this time,” said the Captain.

Fuqua
nodded to Davidson, who went off to sound the wooping alarm signal, and Fuqua
was already heading to his station at Central Control in the conning tower. The
fate of BB
Arizona
was going to be much different this time out.

*

Admiral
Nagumo was equally stunned by the news signaled by Lieutenant Shindo’s
fighters. The breach of radio silence was only permitted in this extreme case,
and the moment the breathless Lieutenant rushed in from the radio room, Nagumo
knew the worst—they had been discovered. His precious
Kido Butai
had
been certainly spotted now, and radio operators on the
Akagi
also heard the
frantic enemy sighting report go out in the clear. The lines on his forehead
deepened with concern, for his orders were to abort the mission should he be
discovered here—yet now that was simply too late. The first wave was on its
way. To call it back now and attempt evasion would be extremely dangerous. So
instead his mind turned to the nature of this sighting. Was this a land based
plane searching north off the islands, or could it have come from an enemy
carrier?

He
remembered the briefing file Yamamoto had shown him, indicating the enemy should
be far to the southwest on this day. He did not give it much credibility then,
nor would he do so now. If that plane was off an enemy carrier, then that ship
had to be within 150 miles. He immediately turned to his Fleet Air Officer,
Masuda Shogo.

“The second
strike wave is spotted on deck and about to launch, but that plane could have
been from an enemy carrier. In this event, should we hold back the planes from
Zuikaku
and
Shokaku
?”

“That
would weaken the second wave considerably!”

“Yet I
am inclined to order this. We have been spotted, and the enemy may be closer
than we realize. To set loose all our arrows on Pearl Harbor would mean we have
nothing left to defend the
Kido Butai.”

“But
sir, Genda insists we can organize a third wave.”

“Only
after recovering planes that are already in the air,” said Nagumo. “Kusaka?”
Nagumo wanted the opinion of his 1st Air Fleet Chief of Staff, who had been in
the thick of the planning for this attack.

“The
seaplanes off
Tone
and
Chikuma
can launch an immediate search to
the south and west. And the twelve fighters that were to accompany the planes
off
Zuikaku
and
Shokaku
can be placed on fleet overwatch at once.”

“And if
we do find the enemy close enough to attack us?” Nagumo continued to press.

“We can
order the second wave planes from the other carriers to depart on schedule.
Those from Hara’s 5th Carrier Division can delay their launch if necessary.
Then, if nothing is found, they can either be sent on behind the second wave,
or held for the third wave Genda has planned.”

Nagumo
had never warmed to the idea of a third wave, but this suggestion achieved his
purpose in leaving something in the fleet to strike a seaborne enemy if one was
found close at hand. “Very well,” he said. “That will be the order. See that Air
officers Wada and Shimoda are informed at once—but by flag signals. Even if we
have been sighted, fleet units will continue to maintain radio silence.”.

Quick
orders were sent to the fast scout cruisers
Tone
and
Chikuma
.
They were to mount an intensive air search in a 180 degree arc north, west and
south of the fleet’s position. Nagumo would take Yamamoto’s advice to keep one
eye over his right shoulder as he continued south, and this caution would begin
the first carrier to carrier battle in history. As an additional measure, he
ordered his escorting battleships,
Hiei
and
Kirishima
to move out
ahead of the carriers with an escorting screen of destroyers.

That last
ship, the
Kiroshima
, had a most interesting fate line, for somewhere in
the skewed nexus points of Dorland’s time travel theory, it had encountered a
strange beast of a ship from another world, chasing it fitfully through the
Timor Sea, only to be mined and beached on a razor sharp shoal near the Torres
Strait on the 26th of August, 1942. Yet that whole line of causality was now
coming unraveled, save one steely thread that would remain strangely entangled
with the monster
Kirishima
had faced. It was embodied in the raging soul
of a man named Sanji Iwabuchi.

He had
graduated from the Naval Academy several years after Yamamoto, and ended up
also serving on the armored cruiser
Nisshin
for a time before moving on
to an assignment aboard
Hiei
. There his irascible disposition soon saw
him sent off to command shore batteries and seaplane tenders, a rather ignominious
demotion that he resented for some time. When he learned that there was a
secret operation known as Plan Z going on, he wanted in very badly, longing for
another at-sea assignment on a real fighting ship.

It was
just his luck that the screening force needed men who were familiar with the
two
Kongo
class battleships assigned to the
Kido Butai
, and with
seaplane operations being planned from the cruisers
Tone
and
Chikuma
.
Iwabuchi’s experience in both finally paid off, and he was given a post on
Kirishima
as an aviation liaison officer. The Lieutenant was overjoyed, particularly
since his post would put him on the bridge as liaison officer for sighting
reports received from cruiser
Tone
. That was where he had transferred
his flag after Kirishima sunk on his ill fated pursuit of
Mizuchi
, and
so the strange bridge that connected the two ships was already being built, and
under the surly supervision of Sanji Iwabuchi.

Events
were developing rapidly. A signal had been received from Strike Commander
Fuchida—
Tora! Tora! Tora!
In spite of every warning, the Japanese had
achieved surprise. The reports were soon coming in from the first wave striking
Pearl Harbor where the planes were swooping down on battleship row. The clear
skies over the harbor were soon stained with the ugly black smoke of fires from
the first hits, and daring Japanese pilots raced in, twenty or thirty feet
above the water, to deliver their specially modified torpedoes. Fighters danced
above, some sweeping down to ship level where they flashed past the stunned
American crews, guns blazing.

The
absence of Battleship Division 1 saw the berthings in the harbor changed.
West
Virginia
was berthed where
Arizona
might have been, about 75 feet
astern of
Tennessee
. The open water off Ford Island where
Nevada
should have been was now empty, and the
Oklahoma
, which had berthed
outboard of the
Maryland
, was also gone, exposing the latter ship to the
devastating torpedo attack Japan was now delivering. In those first five
minutes, 40 torpedoes were launched, and 23 of them scored hits.

All of
Pye’s battleships, save Pennsylvania, which was berthed across the harbor on a
protected dock, were gutted by multiple hits. The target ship
Utah
was
not overlooked either, and was soon to be logged by the Japanese as a killed
battleship. The eager Lieutenants crowded onto the
Akagi’s
bridge were
making notes on every hit being reported, with newly arriving signals stacked
up on the clip boards.

And so,
as the Kates, Vals and Zeroes continued to tip their wings and dive, Battleship
Division 1 turned north with
Arizona
,
Nevada
and
Oklahoma
,
into the winds of uncertainty. The crews were ready and standing to arms, while
pilots on both
Enterprise
and
Lexington
were already climbing up
onto their wildcats and SBD Dauntless Dive Bombers.

Far
away, across the vast frozen stretches of Siberia, engines on other planes now
sputtered to life. They were lined up in long rows on Volkov’s forward
airfields at Kochenevo, Shakalovo and Povarenka, just west of Novosibirsk on the
Ob River line boundary. The pilots and service crews were German, but the
troops now loading onto the planes were the men of Volkov’s newly renamed 1st
Guards Air Mobile Division. Miles to the west, well hidden from enemy eyes, the
airships of Orenburg hovered low over clearings in the forest, their troop
lifts and sub-cloud cars hoisting up the last of the men and equipment of this
same division.

The
weather had been sour for days, and Volkov thought he might miss the stroke he
wanted to time with Japan’s devastating entry into the war. But finally it
cleared, and the operation was on. Soon the ships of his fleet would cast their
long shadows over the taiga, rising up and up like a pod of great silver whales
in the sky, and following the stiff winds at the trailing edge of the winter
storm that was now moving east. His men, planes, and airships would soon be the
lightning and thunder at the trailing edge of that storm, bound and determined
to settle the score at Ilanskiy once and for all.

And
just as Admiral Pye’s battleships waited silently that morning to meet their
ordained fate, the three airships now standing garrison watch at Ilanskiy
hovered in the cold winter air over their mooring towers at Kansk. Off to the
northwest, one more was hastening to the scene with all engines full,
Tunguska
,
flagship of the fleet. She had been rigged out with
Oko
radar panels
that were now deployed on the forward nose platform on the brow of the ship,
and manned by two engineers Karpov had assigned there from
Kirov
. Up on
the high central platforms, other men stood with needles of death, the secret
weapons he had filched from Troyak’s larders. If
Tunguska
was a
formidable ship before, it was far more dangerous now, and standing on the main
gondola bridge, his face and eyes set with the grim look of battle he always
wore in combat, was Vladimir Karpov, the younger brother, former Captain of the
battlecruiser
Kirov
.

His
elder self was also standing to arms, hands clasped behind his back on the
bridge of that ship, which had finally freed itself from the wintery grip of
the ice in the Bering Strait. Now the monster the Japanese would come to call
Mizuchi
was racing south at 30 knots into the storm of steel and fire that would soon
become the greatest naval conflict of all time.