Rising Sun

On the flag bridge behind Oldendorf, Tim Dane shivered, and not just from the cold. He hadn’t had time to draw cold-weather gear before being sent up north, and the jacket he wore was too thin.

“Tell me again how I got here,” Dane asked.

Lieutenant Commander Mickey Greene smiled benignly. His face was a mass of red and healing scars and, like Tim’s, his head had been shaved, but he was upbeat. Perhaps the thought of striking back at the Japanese helped.

“Because Oldendorf asked for you after I told him you could speak Japanese. Nobody else in the squadron can perform that trick.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“He was also impressed that you’d saved Spruance and had led that raid on Anchorage, which means you know a little about the area.”

“Damn little and I didn’t lead any raid. I just flew along as a spectator and was as useless as when I was on the Enterprise. We flew over the Jap base at a hundred miles an hour and at a height of only a few feet. It was just a blur of trees and people shooting at us.”

Greene chuckled. “Well, that still puts you miles ahead of anybody else.”

* * *

As with his impression of the Enterprise, Dane was overwhelmed by the size of the Colorado and her monstrous sixteen-inch guns. At just under forty thousand tons, the battleship was much larger than any carrier in the U.S. Navy, including the Enterprise. More than two thousand men were on her and they all seemed to have a job and know what they were doing, which, once again, was more than Dane could say.

Dane had to admit that battleships, however obsolescent they might be, looked more like warships than carriers. Greene concurred.

“Oldendorf’s a big-gun man,” Greene said, “but he ain’t no fool. The days of the battleship are numbered and he knows it. It’s just that we have a chance to strike back at the Japs and we don’t have any carriers to play with anyhow. I guess the Sara’s too valuable to risk right now, wherever the hell she is.”

Greene reminded Dane that the U.S. Navy hadn’t won a surface battle since the Spanish-American War, and that the only time they’d tried it in this war, it had met with defeat in the Java Sea. Dane wondered if this coming fight would be the last naval battle that didn’t involve carriers.

Greene continued. “Don’t forget that these are old ships, at least two decades old. Yeah, they’ve been updated, but they are still at least a generation behind the newer battleships in technology and, most important, in fuel efficiency. These two battleships are real pigs when it comes to guzzling fuel and they have to provide fuel for short-legged ships like destroyers. New battlewagons like the Washington are not only far more fuel-efficient, but a helluva lot faster and better armed. It’s too bad, but this is likely the last ride for these old warriors. Oldendorff wants to make it a ride to remember.”

Dane had briefly met Oldendorf, who asked him to confirm that he indeed spoke Japanese and then told him to stick close to Greene. Dane’s job would be to listen to Japanese radio transmissions and try to figure out if they had any idea what was going to hit them. The admiral was in his mid-fifties and this was his first combat command. He had a craggy face that made him look tougher than he was, but Greene had told Dane that this was probably Oldendorf’s last hurrah as well as his first.

“But two battleships against four heavy cruisers and one light? Isn’t that overkill?” Dane said.

Greene smiled and rubbed the scars on his cheeks. He’d said he was glad to go to sea so he wouldn’t scare little kids until he got better. Dane wondered if he would be so calm about life and his future if he’d been burned like that.

“The admiral said it would be wonderful if a couple of arthritic old battleships could give the Japs a bloody nose. Besides, my friend, the odds aren’t so well stacked in our favor. Heavy cruisers still pack a helluva kick.”

Dane thought about the bloated and mangled bodies he’d seen floating around the dying Enterprise. “I’d like to give them more than a bloody nose.”

* * *

Oldendorf planned the attack for four AM, a time when it was believed that people were drowsiest and least on their guard. The American force moved in single file, again with the two radar-equipped battleships slowly leading the way up Cook Inlet.

American observers near Anchorage had reported that the transports were unloading cargo while the warships were arrayed in a loose defensive perimeter. Ominously, their cargo was confirmed as disassembled airplanes, and were the Type 43 fighter code-named “Oscar” by the Americans. The Oscar had a range of a thousand miles and could carry a pair of two-hundred-fifty-pound bombs. The Oscars would be able to blunt future bomber attacks and hinder naval assaults like the one coming down the inlet.

Dane was able to listen to radio chatter between the various Japanese ships and quickly confirmed that nothing unusual was happening. Chatter was in the clear and not encoded, which was normal for talk between ships. It took time to encode a message and more time to decode one; since most message traffic concerned mundane matters such as supplies and mail, very few messages were coded.

Dane turned to Greene. “Tell the admiral that it’s the middle of the night and the radio operators are simply killing time. They think it’s funny that Admiral Hosogaya asked Colonel Yamasaki if there were any decent restaurants in Anchorage. Apparently, he inquired before actually seeing the place. One can only imagine his disappointment.”

Greene nodded and reported to Oldendorf, who laughed harshly.

Spotters on the hills overlooking the town reported that the transports were clustered near the limited docking space and struggling to unload their cargoes. The space was so cramped that only one transport could unload at a time and then with great difficulty. Large ships were infrequent visitors to Anchorage.

The destroyers were farthest out and the cruisers about a mile offshore. Two destroyers were patrolling while the rest of the flotilla was at anchor.

“Do we have any other ships in the area?” Dane asked.

“A sub’s been spotting for us as well, but she should be well to our north and west and lying low so she doesn’t get mistaken for a bad guy.” Greene reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. “Here, have some ear plugs. You’re going to need them when the big guns fire, unless you want to wind up deaf for the rest of your life. And, by the way, hang on to something sturdy. The blast could also knock you silly.”

Dane paused. The tone of Japanese radio communications had changed. Now there was the sound of worry. One of the patrolling destroyers had reported strange ships approaching through the light fog.

“Are we in range?” Dane asked.

“Of the destroyers that spotted us, yes,” Greene answered. “So put in the damned ear plugs.”

Dane complied and, seconds later, the forward guns of both battleships opened fire, violently shaking the ship and, despite warnings, almost causing Dane to fall. Even with the ear plugs, the sound was deafening.

A moment later, someone yelled that the shells were short. Corrections were made and another salvo was fired, and one of the destroyers simply disappeared. One moment she was a blip on the radar, the next, nothing. The second destroyer was racing at high speed toward the rest of the squadron.

The cruisers were the battleships’ primary targets, while the American destroyers streaked in to rake the Japanese destroyers with gunfire and torpedoes. Each battleship carried three floatplanes and these had been launched to aid in targeting.

The heavy cruisers had been identified as the Nachi and Maya, and the light cruisers as the Tama and Abukuma. Dane wondered how they knew that for certain. Greene told him that observers all along Cook Inlet had confirmed it. He added that some were retired navy and even had their own copies of Jane’s.

Distant flashes showed that the Japs were firing back. Their shells, however, landed well short, although they did create mighty plumes of water. Without radar and in the dim light, the Japanese weren’t all that certain where the Americans were. The Americans fired a big gun salvo at the cruisers, and spotters reported they too were short. Oldendorf raged while adjustments were made. Dane thought he could see the faint shapes of the Japanese ships against the shoreline, and wondered if that was confusing the fire-control radar. The Japanese were beginning to move.