Authors: John Schettler
“Consider
this,” said Karpov. “The US fought long bitter campaigns through Central and Southeast
Asia, throwing their troops at one island outpost after another.”
“The navy’s
leapfrog strategy,” said Fedorov.
“Exactly,
and it took them at least three years before they could get close enough to the
Japanese home islands to deliver that knockout blow—strategic bombing. Wasn’t
that what really broke Japan?”
“After
their navy was broken first,” said Fedorov.
“Well
then,” Karpov rubbed his hands together. “I can offer the Americans another
route, the northern route. What about an advance through the Aleutians? They
are pointed like a sword, right at the Japanese mainland.”
“They
are still too far away to support strategic bombing, sir. Adak is 3500
kilometers from Japan, and Attu is just under 3000. It’s the same distance to
Guam and the Marianas, and the Marianas are much more strategically positioned.
The B-17s can’t handle that range anyway. Their B-29s could do it, but they
won’t have them for another year.”
“Yes,
but the Aleutians could become a base to attack Kamchatka.”
“Still
2000 kilometers away.”
“And
then Sakhalin Island.”
“But
you don’t control any of those territories, sir, except northern enclaves in
Kamchatka the Japanese have not yet occupied.”
“True,”
said Karpov, “but with the American’s help I could control them, and contribute
troops and material to the war effort to take and hold them. Imagine those
B-29s basing from Sakhalin island a year from now? We could defeat Japan much
sooner—cut years off the war in the Pacific!”
“Assuming
the American’s agree. Don’t forget, if Japan takes the Philippines, which is
likely, then you’ll have a man dead set on structuring the American war effort
to take them back—General Douglas MacArthur. I suppose your plan is worth presenting
to the Americans, but it will involve a good deal of diplomatic wrangling.”
“So I
need some leverage with the Americans too,” said Karpov, thinking. “A good deal
of leverage…” He smiled. “Thank you, Mister Fedorov, you helped me clarify my
thinking on all of this. Now to see about getting us into the Pacific as soon
as possible. That’s where the action will be.”
Fedorov
knew the man well enough to realize Karpov had not yet revealed all that might
be clarifying in that mind of his. The Captain has plans within plans, he thought.
What did he mean about getting leverage with the Americans? He was a little ill
at ease, but decided to say nothing at this point until he knew more. Instead
he calculated their ETA in the Bering Strait.
“We
should be at Big Diomede in four sea days at ten to twelve knots average speed
in this ice.”
That
was another good prediction by Fedorov, but he was very wrong. They would get
to the Pacific, but much later than they expected.
By
the time they realized what had happened, it was nearly
too late. Fedorov had plotted a skillful course through the ice, and they
passed through the East Siberian Sea, entering the Chukchi Sea two days later,
which brought Sergeant Troyak up on deck to breathe that cold Siberian air that
was so familiar to him. He had been born on the peninsula that reached towards
the Bering Strait, and so this was a taste of home for him, and many other
crewmen as well.
Fedorov
had done his best to brief the crew, talking to them in small groups, seeing
their astonished faces, hearing their many questions and answering as best he
could. It took all of two weeks since they first left Severomorsk to finish the
job, and soon the crew settled into a sullen silence. They had lost everything
they ever knew, parents, wives, family, friends, and here they were at the edge
of the world, being asked to fight a war that had ended long before any of them
had ever been born. For some the shock was too heavy, and Doctor Zolkin was a
busy man those last two weeks.
Fedorov
had also told the Doctor of his encounter with Karpov, and what he had decided
to do. “It’s no use trying to split the ship down the middle,” he said. “Trying
to stage a mutiny was never something I wanted to do.”
“Yet
that’s what
he
did,” Zolkin protested. “He took this ship from Admiral
Volsky, and had no right to do so.”
“I’ll
tell you how he would answer that,” said Fedorov. “He would say that might
makes right. Yes, I thought I had to entrench here and stand against him, but
honestly, what good would that do? I’d be setting one crew member against
another. I’d be doing the very same thing we found so distasteful in the way he
took command here. But here he is, with Grilikov and 60 men aboard. I once
thought that if I could get to Troyak, and win his support, we might have a
chance, but think what that would mean.”
Zolkin
took a long breath. “It would come to no good,” he said.
“Yes,
said Federov, “and a lot more of those bloodied bandages for you to worry
about, all so we could say we beat Karpov, and put him in his place. I think my
initial reaction was one of survival, and worry that Karpov now had control of
the ship again. I had no idea what he might do, but Doctor, something is
different about him. He’s quieter, more inward, less boastful, yet still
surrounded by this aura of darkness that is difficult to penetrate at times. He
offered me a position as his Starpom, and in that moment I realized that I
would have much more control over what happens here in that role than I would
likely have in the brig.”
“Probably
true,” said Zolkin. “But just remember, if it comes down to something like the
things you told me about earlier, I’m with you.”
“I
appreciate that,” said Fedorov. “But for now, I think it best if you give no
indication you know about any of that. Did you hear the news concerning
Moscow?”
“How
could I not hear it. It’s been all over the ship. Nikolin has been translating
the BBC news and spreading the word, and he put Radio Moscow on the ship’s P.A.
yesterday. Frankly, that’s good for the men. They heard what the Germans were
doing and it brought them together. I think they’ll be spoiling for a fight
soon.”
“We may
have one for them. Karpov is going to confront Japan.”
“What?
Alone? With this single ship?”
“That
remains to be seen. Like I said, he’s very careful now, and very calculating.
He’s got some plan in mind, and it’s all aimed at recovering our lost
territories from Japan.”
“I hope
he doesn’t get any ideas about dropping an early nuke on Tokyo!”
“Thankfully,
that hasn’t come up. No. I think he’ll show some restraint in that, and as
Starpom
,
I’ll have some say in it all as well.”
There
came a tremor in the deck beneath them, a fluttering vibration, and for the
briefest moment Fedorov thought the whole scene around him went out of focus.
He thought he was having a dizzy spell, until Zolkin expressed the same
complaint.
“I must
be losing my sea legs!” he said. “Did you feel that too?”
“I
did,” said Fedorov, “and I think I had better get to engineering…”
When he
got there, his worst fears were confirmed. Dobrynin told him they had another
flux event in core number two. “Just the one core,” he said. “The other was
stable the whole time.”
Fedorov
knew what had happened, the ship had pulsed in time again. Slipping away and
back again, but how long this time. He rushed to the bridge to report to
Karpov, and when he got there the Captain was already quite concerned.
“Well
Fedorov,” he said. “Your moon has pulled a fast one on us again, and the sea
has too! I was out on the weather deck when we got this odd ripple in the
ship—a kind of vibration, whisper soft, but clearly there. I was staring right
at that moon, blinked, and the damn thing had moved right before my eyes! One
minute it was up there,” he pointed, “the next moment it was down there. One
minute I’m looking at a relatively clear sea, now we’ve got sea ice all around
us!”
“We’ve
pulsed again,” said Fedorov.
“That’s
what I feared,” said Karpov. “I’ve had Nikolin on the radio the last five
minutes, but we’ can’t raise
Tunguska
. Thankfully that odd interference
hasn’t set in on the AM bands. He’s trying to pick up clues as to where we
might be, or when…”
As if
on cue, Nikolin looked over his shoulder, giving the Captain a thumbs up. He
flipped a switch to put the broadcast he had stumbled upon on audio, but it was
simply Morse code.
Fedorov
listened, thinking, remembering their time in the Pacific. “Nikolin, is that
standard Morse?”
“No
sir… I think it’s—”
“Kana
Code,” Fedorov finished for him. “Probably the Wabun variant. Switch your
decoder to that system. It should be in the database. In another five minutes they
had deciphered the message. Nikolin could make no sense of it, but to Fedorov
it was crystal clear:
“Kono junjo wa, 12 tsuki 2-nichi 17-ji 30-bu ni
yūkōdearu: Rengō kantai shiriaru #10… Niitaka yama nobore !
1208, Ripīto, 1208!”
“What
does it mean sir? Should I call for Mishman Tanaka?”
“No
need,” said Fedorov. “Just run it through the translator here.” They had their
answer soon enough:
“This order is effective at 17:30 on 2 December:
Combined Fleet Serial #10. Climb NIITAKAYAMA! Climb Mount Niitaka! 1208,
repeat, 1208.”
“A code
within a code,” said Karpov, looking at Fedorov.
“Except
it is one of the most famous code signals ever transmitted sir. That is the
Japanese signal authorizing the attack on Pearl Harbor. We’ve slipped again! It
must be early December. That message was historically first transmitted at
15:00, Tokyo Time, on December 2, 1941. No doubt we may hear others. ‘East Wind
Rain’ was the Japanese Foreign Ministry alert code for the start of the war,
and ‘The Black Kite Eagle And Hawk Will Fly’ was used for the Army. This one
was for the navy, Climb Mount Niitaka, and it took them all night to broadcast
it effectively so all fleet assets would get the message.”
“My
God,” said Karpov. “We’re late! Where would the Japanese Strike force be on
December 2nd when they got this message?”
Fedorov
ran to his navigation station, quickly retrieving a pad device where he had
stored his research on this campaign. A few taps later he had a map. “About here,
sir. The
Kido Butai
refueled at 42 degrees north and 170 degrees east;
at 2000 hours—today, if this is indeed December 2. The fleet rendezvous point
on December 6th was at 34 North, 158 West. That’s our best chance to get close.
If I punch in our present position, that would put them nearly 4000 kilometers
south of us on the 6th. About 2160 nautical miles. That’s 72 hours sea time at
30 knots, but we’ll be lucky to make even half that speed given the ice
conditions now. Ice minimum was in September, but it’s been building up ever
since.”
“Damn!”
“We
have no chance to catch them before the attack sir. Given these sea ice
conditions, it could take us a week to ten days to get down through the Bering
Strait. Even trying to catch them as they withdraw would be a very close shave.
First I’ll have to nail down our exact time.”
“I’ll
get that from BBC soon,” said Nikolin.
“Yes,
and do everything possible to raise
Tunguska
,” said Karpov.
“
But
even before that, I want you to send a message. Come with me to the briefing
room and we’ll go over what I want.” He looked at Fedorov now.
“Mister
Fedorov, the bridge is yours. We’re in a horse race. Ice be damned. Give this
old grey stallion the whip!”
*
Kirov
would not be able to navigate the thickening ice floes and
get up enough speed to cross the enormous distance that separated the two
forces. When this was clear, Karpov determined to fall back on his Plan B, or
so he indicated to Fedorov. But he secretly had a hidden agenda in these
proceedings, one that saw his presence here a two edged sword.
I
cannot get close enough to prevent the Japanese attack, he thought, nor did I
ever wish to. This pulsing shift into December was clearly unexpected, and
hopefully it will not happen again, but I will now make the best of the
situation, and follow my plans. Nikolin finally got through to
Tunguska
,
with yet another surprise! They took the ship back to Siberia. Volkov is
scheming again.
Information
was scattered. Tyrenkov had only been able to speak with him briefly. He told
them they waited a week at Big Diomede as instructed, until it became necessary
to return to Siberian territory to re-provision. They flew to Magadan on the
Sea of Othotsk, and then began to pick up information about unusual troop
movements by the Japanese. They were pushing patrols up the northern neck of
Kamchatka, and merchant ships docked at Petropavlovsk, unloading fresh troops
and supplies. There was also movement in the Kuriles and Aleutians, and so
after they re-provisioned, they determined to take
Tunguska
out there to
have a look.
The
Japanese had occupied the old outpost at Nikolskoye, and they were building a
small airfield. Tyrenkov believed these troops were staging for the seizure of
Attu Island, then an American protectorate, and saw this as an omen that war
was imminent. Then came the news that German aircraft had been secretly staged
through the Caucasus to Astrakhan and were now flying by night to airfields in
northeast Orenburg. That raised Karpov’s hackles.
“Where
are you now?” he asked.
“Returning
to Magadan. Should we alter course to rendezvous with you?”
“No…
Take the ship to Ilanskiy.”
“Ilanskiy?
What do we do there?”
“Stand
on overwatch. I’m suspicious about those German planes. Any information as to
type?”
“JU-88
transports, a squadron of Messerschmitts, a few He-111s. Sir… You don’t thing
Volkov would dare another operation against Ilanskiy. It’s winter, the weather
is unpredictable, the roads are clotting up with snow.”
“No, it
does not seem likely, and Germany has still not made a formal declaration of
war on Siberia. That is a mere formality, but the presence of those planes in
the east is disturbing. I can see them in the Volga district, but not out east.
Watch that situation closely. Find out what he’s up to! See that my brother is
well briefed on airship battle tactics. Bogrov can help with that. Is all the
new equipment working?”
“Yes
sir, all installed and ready.”
“Then
get to Ilanskiy. Hopefully we’ll stay put now, but be ready to implement Plan
7. Is everything ready?”
“Ready
and waiting, sir.”
“Very
well… Tyrenkov. I’m relying on you a great deal now, but in my absence, should
this damn ship move again, my younger brother has the authority to order Plan 7
to proceed.”
“I
understand sir.”
After
that Karpov sent his message to the Japanese authorities, a diplomatic nicety,
as he really could care less what response they gave. He had it delivered by
his embassy in Vladivostok, and Nikolin’s radio signal was just a reminder to
indicate he meant business. It was, in fact, the harbinger of his “Plan 7.” He
told them that Siberia was fully aware of their plan to strike Pearl Harbor,
and even stated the present estimated position of the
Kido Butai
in his
signal to make that stick. He said that unless Japan agreed to cede
territories, withdraw south of the Amur River, and relinquish control of the
Trans-Siberian Rail Line, that Siberia would have no other recourse but to
declare war. As Fedorov had advised him, he did not expect the Japanese to bow
to such demands, for that rail line was now vital to Japan’s northern Imperial
holdings.
Then,
just to stick in a quiet knife, he had Nikolin transmit the position of the
Kido
Butai
as they expected it for December 3 and December 6. He knew from his
discussions with Fedorov that the American carriers would be too far away to do
anything about the matter on December 3, but if they turned after this warning,
and sailed east…