Struggle Pacific, page 11
part #3 of Pacific Alternate Series
The next one hit was not what you could call a fast ship. The French Battleship Courbet, a World War One dreadnought, could not make more than 21 knots, so it could not dodge the fast Type 91 fired at it. It was hit to port, aligned with the funnel. The hit rocked the dreadnought, and tons of seawater gushed in from the impact. But miraculously, no major damage was reported apart from tons of seawater and a mega hole. The ship’s speed was thus reduced to 15 knots.
Two torpedoes were “stopped” by destroyers which did their job to protect the light carrier charger. Both small ships were obliterated and sank in a few minutes. Three more missed Charger as its skipper masterfully handled it and dodged. The last two torpedoes were for Dunkerque and Indomitable. The French battleship was lucky and only got grazed by the Type 91 that exploded at a weird angle as the big vessel was trying to dodge. Apart from a deep gouge on its armor, the ship was unscathed. The last Japanese torpedo hit indomitable, destroyed one of its two plane elevators, and opened the ship's hull to seawater. A major fire also started in the plane hangar, effectively reducing the carrier’s capability to take back its aircraft and or operate more operations.
Allied fighters shot down a few more Japanese bombers on their way back, but the Imperial Navy pilot had done a good job of seriously damaging Admiral Leahy’s fleet.
The score for the day seemed even. The Allies had pretty much sunk a carrier with its crippling damage to Unyo, while the Japs had done the same to Ranger that looked like it would sink as well.
Some other surface ships had been damaged, sunk, or seriously crippled, but the main aspect of the fight was that both carriers' forces were spent. Not only did they both lose a ship and the aircraft going along with them, but the aircraft were depleted.
Admiral Inoue, hearing the results of the strike, grunted. It was the news he’d hoped for. As his planes landed in the waning light (several would either crash on landing or never find the fleet in the dark), he decided to use darkness to make a dash for Port Moresby. It was not a decision that he took lightly, as he would have to leave a light cruiser and a light carrier behind (the two were still burning and dead in the water). He’d already ordered the full evacuation of all sailors from both stricken vessels and decided that his mission was more important than two ships that looked like they would sink anyway. He hoped that Navy command would see it the same way as they didn’t like to lose ships…
The moment the last plane landed on Zhuiho and Taiyo’s decks, the Japanese 2nd fleet sailed for Port Moresby and a new battle.
On the other side of the battle, Admiral Leahy also had to contend with major problems. His only main fleet carrier (Ranger) was damaged beyond repair, and it looked like it would have to be scuttled, for the fire could not be controlled. The Indomitable had lost its hangar because of an explosion and raging fire, so it could not operate any more planes. It was at least able to get many aircraft on its deck as the Ranger’s returning pilot could not land on it. The Admiral was only left with the light carrier Charger, and in the American’s mind, it just didn’t cut it. Going for another round would be problematic, at best.
Leahy’s second strike never found the Japanese fleet. Instead, it found the still-burning Unyo and the Katsuma light cruisers. They attacked the defenseless ships and sunk them with a few bombs and torpedoes. At least that was that for the Allies.
Leahy waited for his aircraft to return, and then he decided to also make a dash in the darkness. Keeping his primary objective in mind (blocking the Japanese fleet from attacking Port Moresby), he decided to go northwest toward the city and challenge the Japanese with his big guns. He figured there would be land-based planes to protect his fleet. He had no idea what the Japanese Admiral would do. He hoped that the damned man would turn tail and return to Rabaul.
Finally, he decided to abandon Ranger to its fate and ordered a few of the destroyers to torpedo it, as it was beyond repairable. After taking in the survivors, which took some time, the Allied ships finally sailed to their new objective. A few ships detached from the main body to return to Brisbane to escort the seriously damaged Indomitable, and Charger was filled to the brim with whatever planes could still be landed on it. It saved the pilots, at least. And made for Charger to have its full complement of aircraft (30), albeit from three different ships.
Bomber training
Anchorage, Alaska, September 16th, 1942
The big plane took speed as it rolled on the runway. The four mighty engine’s power made the aircraft shake slightly. Harry Bergman, fighter pilot, then a dive-bomber pilot, and now B-17 captain, was taking his care to the sky.
The Flying Fortress continued on its course, and the airfield tarmac started to blur. It was almost time; the plane was reaching its lift-off speed. The big bombers took nearly two kilometers of runway to take off, even more if it was fully laden with bombs or other cargo.
“Here we go,” said Harry to no one in particular, but everyone heard him over the internal radio. Beside him, Gerry Mcklutsky, his co-pilot, smiled at him. “One last training mission, and we’ll finally get to know what all this ruckus is about,” “Indeed, lieutenant,” said Mcgyver, one of the side gunners. Everyone was dead curious about the mission. They all volunteered back a few weeks ago when Doolittle asked them, but they had not yet been told where they would be going. Tons of bets were made. Some said Hawaii, although the range to get there and back didn’t make sense. Some others bet on a transfer to Australia. Others on a transfer to China. And there were, of course, bets on Tokyo, but that also was out of range.
“I got my money on China,” said Bass, the bomb bays operator. “We’ll know soon, guys,” said Bergman happily. “Now, concentrate on the mission.” “Yes, sir,” was their collective answer.
They were supposed to fly to a small, deserted island called Attu, at the very end of the Aleutian Islands. In the middle of nowhere. They’d been asked to bring all their mission gear, as it was supposedly a live exercise. Even General Doolittle was with them this time and the rest of the special bomber unit.
They flew in the formation they trained on. The formation was for a new technique called “carpet bombing,” where the bombers tried to saturate an area with as many bombs as possible to maximize the chance of hits and damage.
The radio crackled to life. It was General Doolittle. “Listen up, men. Just to confirm, we are indeed going to Attu, but it is to land and stay there. Our mission will be from that island. For those who bet on Tokyo, you have won. Doolittle out.”
For a moment, everyone was speechless. So, they were going to bomb the emperor himself, after all. The rest of the men talked about the mission, for the bombers did not have the range (according to the navigator that plotted the course from the remote island to the Japanese capital). This meant they were either on a suicide mission or would land somewhere else.
They guessed the General would tell them soon.
Battleship Yamato
Pondering, September 16th, 1942
Grand Admiral Yamamoto dropped the report he had just received on his desk. He was in his lavish Yamato cabin and was alone again. He’d just finished a long discussion with Genda on the matter of the upcoming battle with the Americans. Both men had discussions on the two possible scenarios. The Yankees would give battle and attack the islands themselves or try a hit-and-run style move like the previous attacks. Genda was of the mind that they would try to strike Peal Harbor and disable it, while Yamamoto thought that they would not come near land-based aircraft range.
In either one of the scenarios, both men agreed on one thing. The Americans were coming. They had some solid piece of intelligence that pointed toward it. They just didn’t agree on the form their attack would take.
He was alone in his cabin when a telegram from Truk arrived a few minutes after Genda had left Yamato altogether. Another carrier battle had been fought in the Coral Sea. The enemy had ambushed Admiral Inoue’s fleet with more ships than had been reported previously. The enemy had again been able to reinforce Australia through the route that circumvented the defensive perimeter he’d set up at the war’s start with the conquests of Hawaii, Samoa, New Caledonia, Gilberts Fijis, and New Hebrides.
The fight's result was somewhat even, with Japan losing a carrier and the Allies apparently one as well. Several smaller ships were also sunk. Yamamoto was okay with a few losses for this operation, as it was expected to storm the stubborn Port Moresby. He was also happy that Inoue had decided to continue the operation. Many Japanese Admiral would have just gone back to base, too afraid of getting in trouble for losing more capital ships.
The Admiral understood the importance of Port Moresby for the overall campaign against Australia and the Allies in general, so Isoroku was satisfied with his decision. He now hoped that the Imperial forces (Army and Navy) could storm that damned city together.
He decided to cable back some congratulations for the battle to Inoue and to watch for the Allied fleet, for there were no guarantees that it had headed back to Brisbane or Cairns.
He moved his line of thoughts back to the strategic situation and on how MacArthur was getting his supplies. His recent move to the Cook Islands was a step in the right direction; the islands were now under Imperial Navy control. But it didn’t seem to be enough. The Allies were getting ships and supplies through; that was obvious. Their air strength was growing weekly, and they now had more ships. The Grand Admiral doubted they sailed from Chile. He was certain they went through Tahiti. Thanks to Admiral Mikawa’s brilliant success in the Cooks, the French territory was now only another 1000 kilometers away. He decided that he would talk about it with his chief of staff and a few planning officers. Samoa and the Cook Islands were already at the extreme range of Japan’s supply capabilities. Hell, there had not been any resources to send to Samoa, but three or four planes and a cargo that had been sunk anyway. Yes, they sent a surge to the island for Mikawa’s operation, and now the Admiral’s small fleet was still based there. Still, just getting the oil for their ships was a challenge. He did not even know if he could maintain them there for long.
Yamamoto put his head between his two hands as he had a developing headache. He had so many things on his plate that it was mindboggling. He could feel the Empire stretched to its limit. And he feared for it. Something stretched to its limit could snap at any time.
Washington D.C.
Rose Garden, September 16th, 1947
The White House Rose Garden was a garden bordering the Oval Office and the West Wing of the White House in Washington, D.C. The garden was approximately 125 feet long and 60 feet wide. It balanced another garden on the east side of the White House Complex. It was commonly used as a stage for receptions and media events due to its proximity to the White House.
On this bright morning of September, President Roosevelt was taking a stroll in the trees and flowers. It was on his good old wheelchair, and his assistant pushed it. Most of the flowers were waning as the fall was well on its way. But the leader of the United States was vibrant with energy. Right beside him walked both General Marshall and Admiral King.
Roosevelt held up his right hand and started to talk. “So, Admiral, the latest Coral Sea Battle is yet another draw?” King crossed his arms behind his back before answering. “It appears so, Mr. President. We’ve lost the Ranger, and the Japs also lost one; we believe it’s the Unyo, one of their newer class of smaller flattops.” The President took a rose in his hand, smelled it, and then continued to talk. “Well, on a one-on-one basis, we can win this war easy; we’ll outproduce the bastards soon.” He paused, giving the flower to his assistant. “So, gentlemen, what now? Will Port Moresby hold?” King continued: “Nothing is certain, Mr. President.” “Indeed,” added Marshall. “General MacArthur tells me that he expects the Japs to appear in front of the town with their fleet and continue to pound the place. Leahy’s fleet is also sailing north. If we make it, sir, it will be a very close call.” Marshall then went quiet.
“Admiral King, have you talked to Admiral Nimitz on the upcoming Hawaii Operation?” “Yes, Mr. President. Everything is ready; the ships are repaired and fully operational. The operation starts in three days, and we hope to attack Oahu on the 21st.” “What are our chances?” King hesitated a moment before answering. “Well, Mr. President, the enemy fleet is powerful, but we have equivalent numbers apart from aircraft carriers. They also have their land-based planes, but maybe we can lure them into attacking us out of range from the non-carrier planes.”
“Nothing is certain in war, Ernest,” said Roosevelt enthusiastically. Both the General and the Admiral were against an attack on the Hawaiian Islands since they considered it too risky. Still, the U.S. leader was dead set on attacking the Japanese wherever they were located.
“What of our other attack, General?” “The bombers have landed on Attu, Mr. President. We are set to attack at the same time as our Oahu operation.” “Well, that’s good news,” said Roosevelt, with a large smile. “The emperor will get a taste of his own medicine for a change.”
The men continued talking, but the subject moved to the European theater of operation, but that was for another story.
The 2nd Imperial Navy Fleet arrives in Port Moresby
Battleship Washington’s destruction, September 16th, 1942
For the second time in a few weeks, the Japanese Navy sailed in front of the beleaguered Australian town of Port Moresby. The city was in flames, as both sides were entrenched in front of each other and lobbing all the ordinance they could on their hated enemies. The Allies stood no chance and would get pounded by the great ships that traversed their guns toward their positions.
But the beached battleship Washington was there and was ready for a fight. Being already sunk, the only way the Japanese would get rid of it would be by demolishing it so thoroughly that it wouldn’t be able to fire its big guns. The numerous Allied air forces were also slowly gaining air supremacy over the Japanese Imperial air force. The Nipponese were still good, but they were starting to get overwhelmed.
Admiral Inoue, having finally reached his objective with his wounded fleet (the battle at the Coral Sea’s entrance had been difficult), ordered his ships to prepare to fire and start targeting Washington. The damned unsinkable dreadnought could really hurt his fleet, so he resolved to get rid of the big bastard right from the start. He took about a minute to look at the battle lines. Both sides were battling hard as General Harukichi Hyakutake’s forces were about to launch an assault. The attack was timed for about two hours in the future when Inoue would be done shelling the Allies into oblivion. In the meantime, the Imperial Army fired everything it had in a powerful artillery barrage. The outlook was not good for the Australo-Americans.
He swooped the coastline with his binoculars and only saw flames, explosions, and desperately fighting men. He finished his visual inspection of the Washington’s ignominious silhouette. As he looked at it, he saw the enemy ship’s gun muzzles blossom in fire and smoke. The bastard had fired before his fleet. “Incoming,” said one of the sailors. The big powerful American shells landed amongst the Japanese fleet, but luckily Inoue’s men were sailing at top speed and able to dodge the Yankee ordinance.
“Now it's our turn,” said the Japanese leader. “Ensign, signal the rest of the fleet. Battleships concentrate their fire on the Washington, cruisers and heavy cruisers attack the ground troops, and the rest stays around the fleet as protection.” “Yes, Admiral.”
And then, all the ships fired simultaneously, making for an impressive display of firepower. In one moment, the world around the Japanese ships seemed to blossom into one big firestorm. Led by the mega 460mm guns of the super battleship Musashi, Admiral Inoue’s 2nd Fleet dumped a deluge of fire on Port Moresby. The shells landed in cacophonic explosions, concentrating around Washington, rocking the ground. The water around the beached vessel towered in high pillars while shells slammed on its superstructure, causing more explosions. Great gouts of dirt rose in the air. It seemed like the whole harbor area was catapulted in the air as it exploded in a fury. The great battleship was suddenly gripped in fire and surrounded by an irruption of blasts. The mighty American ship could not do much. It rapidly got crushed under the weight of Nipponese guns and shells. For a moment, it seemed that the great vessel would hold its own against the deluge of fire raining down on it, but then a second and a third salvo from Musashi hit it. Once its armored decks were pierced, its interior started to get hit by the Japanese battleships’ ordinance. And then one last salvo from Hyuga finally penetrated it all the way to its ammunition magazine. The beached ship exploded in a colossal explosion that showered debris and fire all around the harbor area and on the troops trying to defend it. The infantry from both sides was knocked flat on the ground as it shook horribly, and the sound of the explosion reverberated all the way to the towering Owen Stanley Mountains.
From his vantage point on Musashi, Admiral Inoue grunted in satisfaction, seeing Washington’s destruction. “Order the fleet to fire at the enemy troops and tell General Hyakutake that his assault can launch in an hour.” The ensign that received the order bowed in respect and returned to the radio room.
Once the smoke cleared and the dust finally settled, whistles on the Japanese sides started to be heard, and the Nipponese soldiers rose from their trenches to make their assault.
The 67th Division attacks
Assault on Port Moresby September 16th, 1942
General Harukichi Hyakutake was near the frontline, just about to launch what he hoped would be the final attack on Port Moresby. The campaign against the city had been one of the most grueling of the Pacific War to date, and his forces had endured much hardship in order to get to this moment. The Kokoda track battle, one of the worst places in the world for armies to fight, had been a terrible time for him and his men. Now the siege of Port Moresby wasn’t easy either.
