Kirov III-Pacific Storm (Kirov Series) (20 page)

“Fedorov,” said Volsky. “How long
before that pursuit force might get in range to cause us any concern?”

“All they need to do is get inside
30,000 yards to start lobbing shells our way again, sir. That would be a little
under fifteen nautical miles out. So they only need to cut twelve miles off our
lead. At our present speed of twenty knots, they will do that in about ninety
minutes. They can probably see our position now with the smoke column, and I
have little doubt that they are heading this way.”

“Ninety minutes,” Volsky mused.
“Considering the damage we have already sustained, I will take no chances with
these ships. Mr. Karpov, the instant that pursuit force puts rounds within a
thousand meters of this ship, use your best judgment and hurt them. Hurt them
badly. We cannot have this madman in a battleship on our heels at the moment.
Understood?”

 “You can rely on me, sir,” said
Karpov, and every man on the bridge knew it was no boast.

*
* *

For the
Japanese the price of Hayashi’s
second hit was higher than any expected. Of the 67 planes that formed up over
Hara’s carriers that morning, only seven would return to land on the forsaken
decks of
Zuikaku
and
Shokaku
. For
Zuiho
, not a single
plane would return. Sakamoto and Ema were among the survivors. Two more planes
would ditch close to Iwabuchi’s pursuit force and he would send his destroyers
to the scene of the attack to look for pilots. Only twelve were found still
alive. The Japanese had lost sixty planes and forty-six precious pilots, a hard
and stinging blow.

When Admiral Hara finally got the news
from a haggard Sakamoto on the bridge of
Shokaku
, his face was grim and
set. His carrier task force was now little more than a fast scouting unit. He
still had eighteen B3N2 torpedo bombers that had been held back, yet all his
D3A dive bombers were gone, save the seven that barely survived the attack.

“Hayashi had it right,” said Sakamoto,
his face grim and downcast. “This is a demon from hell!
Mizuchi
is not
half a word for what this ship did to our squadrons. I lost half my planes
before we ever set eyes on the target! The range and accuracy of these rockets
is astounding! It was as if they had eyes—yes, Admiral—they were not merely
fired with the hope of striking us. It was a certainty! In the second wave
every single rocket fired was able to find one of my planes. A sane man would
have called off the attack after that first barrage, but I do not have the
luxury of such sanity in the heat of battle, and with orders to strike our
enemies.”

“You did all that any man could,” said
Hara. “Look what Hayashi did! Two hits, and one he strikes with his own life in
the bargain. Such bravery will be remembered.”

“Shall we spot the remaining planes
for another strike, sir?” Sakamoto said bravely.

“No, Sakamoto. It is yours to suggest
this. Honor demands it. But I will be the one sane man here today and refuse to
send the last of my pilots to their doom against this ship. If what you say is
true it would be foolish. We hit them with over sixty planes just now. What
good will an attack with our last eighteen torpedo bombers and these seven
surviving D3As do? The British have trumped us today. This new anti-aircraft
rocket system you describe is truly formidable. I must immediately inform
Admiral Yamamoto. If the Americans have these weapons as well, then our string
of victories could reverse itself very quickly. A single ship with these
weapons can render our entire naval strategy based on aircraft carriers
obsolete overnight.”

 “Yet our primary mission was
accomplished successfully,” said Sakamoto. “We have troops at Darwin and will
have that in hand soon enough.”

“Indeed, but we were to take the Fifth
Carrier Division through the Torres Strait, along with
Mutsu
and
Nagato
of the bombardment group. Yamamoto will be expecting us in the Coral Sea in a
few days, but what use will we be to him now?”

“The pilots, sir. We must do
everything possible to rescue the pilots. Many died when those rockets came in
at us, but a good number may be in the water still, and alive if we can get to
them before the sharks. The Navy can always get us more planes.”

“Destroyers are racing to the scene
even now,” said Hara.

Sakamoto shrugged. “How do we fight
this demon if our planes cannot get through, Admiral?” He had a vacant, empty
look in his eyes.

“With battleships,” said Hara, an air
of finality in his tone. “Only a battleship has the armor to close with this
monster and grapple with it. We will see what Iwabuchi can do. He is right on
this ship’s wake, and we will detach
Tone
and three destroyers, and send
them after this enemy ship as well. The battleships from the bombardment group
will rendezvous with us soon and we will have them for more than adequate
escort.”

“Sir, there were two
shotai
of D3As at Kendari training there. They could
fly out to reinforce us, and we can also get fighters from Amboina and arm them
with bombs. Rabaul will also have a couple of dive bomber squadrons they can
transfer to us if need be.”

“They are not carrier trained,
Sakamoto.”

“Yes sir, but we can put men in them
who
are
trained. All they have to do is land on our carriers.”

Hara nodded. “Here we are trying to
scrape up enough planes and pilots to make at least one of our carriers
operational again.” He was deeply distressed. “It is even more likely that we
will be recalled to Kure when they hear what has happened this morning.”

“I will apologize—”

“You will do nothing of the kind,”
Hara cut in sharply. “The responsibility is mine. I will do my duty with
whatever we have, and I must return
Mutsu
and
Nagato
to Combined
Fleet as well. In the meantime, let us hope Lieutenant Hayashi’s bravery has
slowed this demon down.” He turned to a signalman. “Get a message to Captain
Iwabuchi aboard
Kirishima
. Tell him I am sending him another heavy
cruiser. The honor now falls to him. He must find and kill this ship as soon as
possible!”

He gave Sakamoto one last look,
pointing. “Get those dive bombers from Kendari,” and he said nothing more.

 *
* *

When
the message came in Captain Sanji Iwabuchi smiled for
the first time in many days. He had little to be joyful about. The air strike
had been a complete disaster, but ahead on the horizon he could see a column of
thick black smoke, and it seemed that it was growing ever larger, ever nearer
as
Kirishima
pressed on, her old engines straining to keep up the speed.

They had slowed down slightly, but
were still making 28 knots, and he could see that the lead the enemy had
managed to open in the long overnight chase was not so fat after all.

“Koshino!” he said, elated as he
called for his gunnery officer.

“Sir?” Kimitake Koshino was at his
side with a hasty bow.

“I trust the guns are ready.”

“Yes, sir. Everything is in order.”

“Good, because from the look of that smoke
we will be up on this enemy ship in little time. Sound battle stations. Signal
Captain Kiyota aboard
Nachi
. His cruisers are to fall off and join us as
one group for this action. We will not have the destroyers, as they have been
sent to look for downed pilots to return to Hara’s carriers. He is sending us
Tone
in their place.”

“That will be more than enough, sir.”
Koshino considered the addition of
Tone
, with eight more 8 inch guns and
more than enough speed to run this enemy down. She could easily reach 36 knots.

“Ono!” Iwabuchi called for his
Executive Officer, and Ono was quickly at his side. “Study that smoke. How long
before we sight that ship and get in firing range?”

“Ah, it looks like Hara’s planes have
done us a real favor, sir. The ship was gradually slipping away, but our
seaplanes now report it has slowed considerably. We are closing the range now.
I make it no more than two hours and we should be able to engage.”

“Excellent!” said Iwabuchi. “A fine
morning as well. Soon we will see what has been giving Hara’s pilots their
nightmares, neh? They are calling this ship
Mizuchi
, the sea dragon, and
from our rescue operations it is killing planes and pilots like flies. Yet we
will have something more to say about it in due course. We are going to attack
at high speed, all our heavy ships in line abreast, and we will not break off
until this ship is sunk, is that understood?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Good, then. We’ve had this
Mizuchi
by the tail all night. Now we will see if this ship really breathes fire as
Kiyota’s claims. Soon we will be breathing fire ourselves. Where will this
engagement be fought?”

Ono walked to the map table and placed
a thin finger there. “About here, sir. A hundred miles west of the Torres
Strait.”

Chapter
14

It was a
long hour fighting the fires aft
before Chief Byko reported they had the matter under control. Three more men
were injured in the fight, scalded in spite of their heavy gloves and damage
control aprons. They had rigged the external pumps to bring in long jets of
seawater, and the fire teams bravely held a line just forward of
Kirov’s
second 152mm battery, and the vital ammunition magazines beneath it.

On the old
Kirov,
the place
struck by Hayashi’s plane had once been a series of small towers where the
Volna
‘Top Dome’ and the 3R95 ‘Cross Sword’ fire control
radars had been installed. In the major refit that produced the new ship, these
older radars had been removed, replaced with alternate systems located forward,
and the small towers had been re-metaled into a squarish structure that became
the aft battle bridge. It was a spitting image of the main bridge, which had
been moved well above and behind the old forward bridge, high on the main mast.

The equipment destroyed in the aft
citadel would remove their primary backup should any damage ever occur on the
main bridge, but the ship could still function efficiently without it. The fact
that the facility was completely redundant, with its own unique cabling, wire
and power leads, limited the damage to the rest of the ship’s power and
electronic systems.

Byko did have one concern while the
fires were still being fought. The Vodopad torpedo launchers had been located
directly beneath the aft citadel, just below the main deck level, where long,
sleek weapons were also stored in underdeck magazines. Were it not for the
second barrier of the aft citadel floor, another 200mm thick reinforced armor
plate, Hayashi’s plane might have plunged right on through to those magazines
and set off an even greater explosion.

By the time the fires were finally
out, and Byko could get men up on the pyramid of the aft mast, the pursuing
enemy had slowly made up half the long lead
Kirov
had built up with its
small two knot speed advantage overnight. The ship was just over the horizon,
her main mast perhaps not even visible to the enemy yet. Byko reported he had
divers ready, but Volsky was concerned and wanted to increase speed as soon as
possible. He decided to postpone the undersea hull inspection, and ordered a
small increase to 25 knots.

It was either that or they would soon
have a gunfight on their hands, and he was again hoping that speed could be
used instead of vital missiles. The Torres Strait was just under a hundred
miles east, and Fedorov advised that they would have to be cautious in those
reef-infested waters where the main sea channels were very shallow. Speed now,
caution later, thought Volsky. Then he relinquished command to Fedorov and went
below to check on the men. After a hit like the one they had just experienced,
he thought it best to see to his human assets as well. Morale was also a vital
part of his ship’s fighting quality, and he wanted to take the measure of the
crew and give them heart.

The infirmary was a natural first
stop, and the Admiral was disheartened to see the long line of men waiting for
Doctor Zolkin’s attention. They all smiled, saluting crisply when they saw him,
at least those with good right arms. A few looked fairly well bruised, but
their injuries were not serious. Volsky spent time with each man, walking the
line and thanking them for their service, promising them better days ahead.
When he finally reached the sick bay he peered inside to see Zolkin attending
to a man prone on his surgery table, his face masked, intent on his work. The
blood stains on his jersey were evident, and for a brief moment their eyes met,
though no words were exchanged.

The Admiral moved on, heading aft
until he finally neared the section where the damaged battle bridge would have
been. He was a deck below the aft citadel, but the ladder up opened to clear
sky now. And he could see all the way up through the open hatch into to the
citadel and noted the gaping hole in the armored roof. 200 millimeters of
armor, almost eight inches of hardened steel, had once seemed a safe and sturdy
barrier to him, but when he saw the sharp edges of the twisted metal, blackened
with fire and soot, he realized just how vulnerable the ship was to any weapon
their enemies could deploy against him.