Kirov III-Pacific Storm (Kirov Series) (9 page)

“I’m afraid all we can shoot with is
our radio this time,” said
Toriso
. “Send the signal.
This is what we are here for—to spot enemy shipping. And from the looks of this
ship I only hope it does not spot us! Quite the ghost dancer! It moves in and
out of shadows on the sea, but it looks powerful, and very fast.”

The message was tapped out at once,
quickly received by Hama’s carriers, but it was not necessary. The sharp eyes
of a Japanese squadron leader had already seen the ship, and he was eager to
attack.

 *
* *

Lt. Tamotsu
Ema was glad to be airborne again,
riding his favorite warhorse into action at long last. He was leader for the
EII-2 squadron of the carrier
Zuikaku
, flying his lucky plane, number
235. His formation was well up, at 15,000 feet, cruising at 240kph with
twenty-seven planes spread over three full squadrons of nine planes each. Lt. Akira
Sakamoto led 1st Squadron, on his left, and Lt. Hayashi had 3rd Squadron on his
right. He was privileged to assume the role of
buntaicho
and lead in second squadron, in the center position, the place of honor
that Lt. Sakamoto had been kind enough to grant him as a reward for scoring the
first hit on the Americans three months ago.

It seemed such a long time since that
first wild clash with the Americans in the Coral Sea and he was eager to get
back in the fight. Admiral Hara’s 5th Carrier Division, comprised of
Shokaku
(White Crane) and her sister ship
Zuikaku
(Lucky Crane), and
Zuiho
(Lucky Phoenix) now occupied a prominent place in the Combined Fleet. They were
first to find and blood the enemy carrier groups in the Coral Sea, sinking the
USS
Lexington
two months ago during Operation MO and insuring the
successful landing that had secured Port Moresby.
Ema’s
Aichi D3A1 dive bombers had scored three hits on the big flattop, smashing her
flight deck and igniting a raging fire when the aviation fuel ignited below
decks. Lt. Commander Matsua’s torpedo Bombers off
Zuiho
had finished her
off.

Now the sky was clear and bright
ahead, though behind them came the burgeoning white clouds of a thunder storm,
grey-white fists rising on the far horizon, where the carriers were laying in
wait and running before the rising wind. Today they would be
Jinrai
Butai
—the
Thunder Gods at the edge of a storm, and they would bring their anger to their
enemies and herald the imminent invasion that would soon follow on their heels.

Ema looked down, noting something off
his right wingtip, a strange shadow on the sea below that soon glinted in the
bright sunlight—a ship! He thumbed his short range radio, calling the
hikotaicho
formation leader and reporting the contact.

“Lieutenant Sakamoto. Ship below at
three o’clock. It looks like a big cruiser!” Even as he reported he wondered if
the Australians had somehow learned of the operation and sortied a screen of
fast cruisers to look for signs of the attack. If so, they would soon find more
than they bargained for.

“Shall we attack?” he asked his
hikotaicho
again.

“Hold formation,”
Sakamoto returned.
“I will send
Hayashi on the right. His squadron is in better position to make the attack.
Hayashi, are you reading this? Get down there and give them hell!”

A moment later Ema looked and saw
Hayashi peel off, the planes of his 3rd Squadron following in three neat
shotai
, the three plane units that would make up
each squadron of nine. The drone of their engines filled the air and got his
blood up for action, and now he wished he had been posted on the right, and
that it was his planes diving on the enemy from above. Naval combat was what he
and his men had trained for, and lived for. Yes, they would strike Darwin and
soften the enemy up for the invasion, but sinking a cruiser would be so much
more satisfying.

He smiled, hearing the cheers of the
nine pilots as they
dove
to the attack, and sighed.
Who knows what is good or bad, he thought. He would press on at altitude with
Sakamoto’s group and pound Darwin to dust instead. After all, none of the
planes had armor piercing bombs at the moment. They really should not be making
this attack on a ship with incendiaries, but  the cruiser could not pass
unchallenged.

Above them he saw the A6M2
Rei-sen
fighters streak ahead on top cover, the
vanguard of the formation, clearing the way for his dive bombers. Far to his
left he could see the planes off
Shokaku
, another formation of
twenty-seven Aichi D3A1 dive bombers with many fighters in escort. The torpedo
bombers were not deemed necessary on this ground attack mission, and were still
waiting aboard the carriers. He looked at his comrades diving, expecting to see
the smoky white puffs of flak at any moment as they closed for the kill, but
what he saw instead would haunt him for the rest of his days.

*
* *

The sound
seemed to be coming from all around
them now, faint and far away at times, and then ominously close, wavering in
the still air above the Timor Sea. They had been steaming north for thirty
minutes in an utterly calm sea until a watchman on the bridge reported seeing
something on his starboard quarter. Rodenko thought he saw something as well on
radar at that same moment, and then his screen seemed to crackle with
interference.

Volsky was in his chair, Fedorov at
the navigation station where he kept his history reference materials, and there
came a sudden vibration, increasing as the sound around them wavered in and
out.

“Something is happening,” said Fedorov,
eyes wide as he looked to the condition of the sea, but all seemed calm.

Admiral Volsky had a grim expression
on his face, brows lowered, eyes intense as he listened. “What is that sound?”

It was a long distended drone,
quavering in and out, and multiplied ten and twenty times in a welter of
dissonance. Behind it all was a low rumble, deeper, more pronounced, and with a
more steady rhythm.

“Mister Fedorov, call engineering and
see if we have any problems there.”

“Aye, sir.” Fedorov made the call. “Dobrynin
says he heard something earlier, sir, and he still has some odd flux readings,
but the reactor is stable.” Even as he finished he was distracted when he saw
something in the sky above them, strange shadows moving in the vibrating air.
Then he caught the wink of sunlight on metal in the sky and turned quickly to
Rodenko. “Any signal data?”

“I have nothing on radar.” Rodenko
spoke up over the growling noise, a confused look on his face. His systems were
now unreadable.

“Look!” Fedorov pointed.

All eyes followed his arm, but Volsky
could see only shadows, high overhead, as if a flight of storm clouds had
joined in formation and were moving impossibly fast on a windless day. The
droning sound settled on a lower, more sustained note that was now clear and
recognizable. It was the sound of aircraft engines—propeller planes, and it had
a powerful and dangerous overtone.

“God almighty,” said Fedorov. “We’ve
shifted again, and right into the middle of a strike wave. Look!”

Now when he pointed the others could
see the shadows slowly dissipate and become silver crosses in the sky above and
well off their starboard side. They suddenly sharpened, as though a camera lens
had focused, and now they were clearly silver-white planes with bright red
meatballs painted on each wing, and prominent unretracted landing gear.

“Battle Stations! Alert one! Those are
Japanese dive bombers—right on top of us!”

*
* *

Karpov
heard the second alarm, and was now
rushing to the bridge, making his way through the long corridors and up ladders
to the command level deck and the armored citadel.

“What is happening, Captain?” the men
asked as he passed. “More fighting?”

“
Spakoyna
.
Nye
Boytyes
” he said, “Stay calm. Don’t be
frightened. Just man your post as always. Admiral Volsky is on the bridge, and
we will handle matters.”

He pressed on, but caught a
matoc
seaman mutter that at least the Admiral was
not locked up in sick bay this time, and his eyes darkened. They have every
right to feel as they do, he realized. One day I may win back their respect
again, but he gave it no more thought.

As he worked his way to the upper deck
heard the loud drone that had spooked the crew and set them on edge. What was
it? By the time he reached the bridge he could hear the low thrum of distant
engines and then a long wailing scream of something coming at the ship from
above. He burst through the hatch, sealing it behind him quickly, and seeing
Fedorov and Volsky gaping out through the forward view panes. What was
happening?

The sudden geyser of seawater
exploding up off the port side told him all he needed to know. The shock of the
abrupt appearance of planes right on top of the ship had stunned the bridge
crew, but Admiral Volsky was suddenly animated, turning quickly to Samsonov.

“Engage all airborne targets,” he said
gruffly. “Weapons free!”

Samsonov stared at his board, eyes
wide as he looked for data points that were simply not there. The Admiral’s
orders had not been clear and specific. No weapon system was named, and he
hesitated. “Sir—I have no radar locks!”

“Nothing?”

“No data, sir.”

“What are we fighting, Fedorov,” said
Karpov coolly, his eyes set and a fierce expression on his face.

“Aichi D3A1,” Fedorov started, then
realized this would make no sense to Karpov. “Dive bombers! High angle attack.
They will come in from a cruising altitude between ten and fifteen thousand
meters. Right on top of us!”

The drone of the diving planes grew
louder, and a second bomb splash fell closer, an angry geyser of seawater not
fifty meters off the port side of the ship.

Karpov reacted immediately. Striding
quickly to the CIC, his eyes alight. The AK-760s will not elevate high enough,
he knew at once. They had been designed to defeat sea skimming missiles coming
at the ship on a low attack trajectory. He needed to use the an older system.

 “Helm, ahead full battle speed!”
Karpov shouted. “Samsonov,
Kashtan
system! High azimuth arc. Target zone
zenith plus and minus ten degrees and fire all systems. Full missile barrage!
Use infrared!”

“Aye,
sir!”
Samsonov shouted,
and his hands moved like lightning over his system board, toggling switches
until they heard the high swish of missiles firing. Thus far the older CADS-N-2
Kashtans
had not come into play in their many
combat scenarios. Their ancestor ships in the original
Kirov
class had
up to six of these weapon systems installed, the earlier CADS-N-1 system. When
the AK-760 Gatling guns replaced their older counterparts, it was decided to
leave at least two of the
Kashtan
units in the order of battle for
Kirov
,
adding just a little more defensive coverage for arcs of fire not well served
by the AK-760.

The
Kashtans
sat like two squat heavy armed robots on each side of the ship. The head was a
rapidly rotating radar antenna working in tandem with a larger dish on the
unit’s chest. The two arms were the business end of the module. Each had a set
of four short range missiles above what looked like a long black steel pipe
housed in a sleek metal cage. The pipe was actually the outer casing of a six
barreled 30mm Gatling gun, and the whole unit was a self-integrated system,
independent of the ship’s primary radar systems that seemed to be completely
fogged over. Two other guidance and ranging systems were also built into the
unit, one for infrared and another for high powered optics and TV control.

The unit swiveled rapidly, its big
missile laden arms reaching for the sky, and two tiny caps flipped open on the
IR and TV sensor tubes. Moments later Samsonov had a real time TV image on an
auxiliary screen and he was able to quickly designate targets and fire.

A full barrage released all four
missiles on each robot arm, sixteen in all between the two units. It was much
more firepower than they actually needed, but in the heat of a dire emergency
with bombs raging down on them, Karpov took the most expedient measure possible
and fired everything he had as ready ammo.

It saved the ship.

The Aichi D3A1 was the best dive
bomber in service during the early years of the war. It had good speed in a
dive, with adequate maneuverability in spite of the fixed, non-retractable
landing gear, and it could deliver a 250kg bomb mounted on the main fuselage
and two smaller 60kg bombs on the wings. As the plane attacked in a steep dive,
a trapeze system flung the bomb away from the rotating propeller when released,
and the Japanese had developed very good accuracy with the plane. It would end
the war as the most successful Axis dive bomber against Allied shipping,
killing sixteen warships in the mix of vessels sunk, including an aircraft
carrier, the
Hermes
, three cruisers and twelve destroyers. Even fast
agile ships could not easily evade the deadly high angle attack, which was
extremely difficult for most gun systems to defeat—but not for missiles capable
of vertical launch angles, as the
Kashtan
was.