Rising Sun

Another salvo and Dane watched incredulously as the glowing red shells, each the size of a small car, sped through the sky. False dawn was rising and with his binoculars he could indeed see the enemy ships just as the second salvo impacted.

A plane reported. “Hit! We got a hit on the Nachi.”

Japanese cruisers were big, but they couldn’t stand fourteen- and sixteen-inch shells ripping through them. The Nachi’s superstructure collapsed on her forward turrets as near misses sent columns of water higher than the ship.

Another plane reported. “Nachi’s on fire and the Maya’s trying to get underway.”

The Colorado turned violently to port. “What the hell?” asked Dane.

Greene laughed harshly. “Torpedo. Remember them? This one missed.”

A second torpedo didn’t, and the battleship shook as a plume of spray shot to the sky. A few moments later, damage control reported water, but that it could be contained. The Japs had teeth, but the battleships were not going to succumb to their bites.

Another report came in. “Nachi’s burning and slowing down. Maya’s hit, too.”

A bright light flared in the distance. After a minute it was reported that the light cruiser Tama had blown up and that the Abukuma had taken a hit that had blown one of her stern turrets completely off the ship. The spotter quickly added that the Maya had capsized.

On the Colorado, men were cheering, Dane among them. The rational part of his mind said he shouldn’t exult because men were dying. The emotional side, however, said they were Japs who’d invaded and massacred, and deserved what they were getting.

In a matter of moments, all four enemy cruisers had been destroyed. Oldendorf ordered the battleships to focus on the remaining Japanese destroyers. One of them was already burning, but so too was an American destroyer. The big guns of the Colorado and Mississippi turned on the surviving enemy ships with a vengeance. One Japanese destroyer managed to make it through the gauntlet of fire and out toward the ocean end of Cook Inlet.

The sun was up and the small city of Anchorage was in plain sight. The transports were huddled like sheep waiting to be slaughtered and Oldendorf accommodated them. The battleships cautiously moved through shallowing water to near point-blank range where their secondary batteries of five-inch guns ripped through the transports’ thin hulls. In short order, they too were exploding, burning, and sinking. Naval fire was then lifted to targets of opportunity, including trucks, buildings, and anything that looked like it might be useful to the Japanese. The recently offloaded supplies received special attention and were blown to pieces, including a half dozen Oscars that would never get off the ground.

Finally, the slaughter was over. A very satisfied Oldendorf had his victory, and the U.S. Navy had finally defeated a Japanese surface force. It didn’t take back the sting and shame of Pearl Harbor, Midway, the Philippines, and the Java Sea, but everyone in the task force was pleased, and the American public would rejoice once the news got out. Four Japanese cruisers and four destroyers had been sunk, along with half a dozen transports. One enemy destroyer might have escaped, but so what, was the consensus. One American destroyer was badly damaged and would be scuttled. It would be too time-consuming and dangerous to try and tow her all the way back to Puget Sound. Fifteen were dead aboard her, along with forty wounded. Apart from bumps and bruises, there were no other casualties on the other ships. The admiral announced that it was time to leave.

Motion was seen in the ruins of Anchorage. At first scores, and then hundreds of people could be seen running toward the shore, frantically waving their arms.

“What the hell is going on?” Oldendorf asked.

Dane had binoculars on the throng. “Those are civilians, sir. They want us to pick them up.”

Oldendorf shook his head grimly, “Can’t do it. We’ve stayed long enough.”

Dane was appalled at the answer. “Sir, those are the Americans the Japs have been torturing and using as slaves. Admiral, if you don’t save them, the Japs will likely kill them in retaliation for this disaster. Their commander, Colonel Yamasaki, is a real fanatic and he will want revenge for what we’ve done. He will have them all beheaded or shot, or maybe used for living bayonet practice.”

Oldendorf looked stunned. He nodded grimly and made his decision. “That will not happen on my watch. Get the destroyers in close and everyone launch boats. We’ll pick up every goddamned one of them.”

An hour later, a score of lifeboats had each made several trips to the shore, returning with as many civilians as they could find. Without exception, they were dressed in rags and showed signs of starvation. Multiple bruises were evidence of repeated beatings, and some looked maddened by their ordeal, especially the women. Many of them were nearly nude despite the worsening weather. Hundreds of helping hands lifted or carried them onto the warships and hardened sailors were moved to tears by what they saw. Finally, there was nobody else, only dead Japanese, although they could sense the angry survivors among the enemy invasion force glaring at them through the woods.

“Now it’s time,” Oldendorf said grimly. The sight and condition of the civilians had shaken him. “Let’s get the hell out of this place. But first, let’s lob a few shells into the woods and maybe we’ll get lucky and hit something Japanese.”

* * *

A few miles north and west of the fighting, the Shark remained submerged. As the morning brightened, Torelli could see smoke coming from the Anchorage area. He could also see a ship heading for him and racing at great speed.

He grinned. “Damn if it isn’t a Jap destroyer,” he announced after carefully checking his Jane’s. “And he’s running like a bat out of hell, which means we probably won the fight, and damned if we aren’t going to sink the fucker.”

“Want me to put that in the log, sir,” Crowley asked innocently. “I feel that using exact quotes are best for historical purposes.”

“Screw you, Mr. Crowley,” Torelli said amiably. “We will fire when she’s broadside to us. I don’t want any misses running toward any of our ships that might be coming out of the fight.”

He also added that, when the four torpedoes were fired from the Shark’s bow tubes, the boat should turn as quickly as possible so the stern torpedoes could be fired. Torelli had no confidence in his torpedoes and wanted to minimize the chance of a thoroughly pissed off Japanese destroyer commander running up the torpedoes’ wakes and depth-charging them. The Jap might be fleeing, but who knew how he might react if he thought he could sink an American sub.

They fired at a thousand yards. Four torpedoes streaked toward the destroyer and this time fate smiled on the men of the Shark. Two of them exploded against her hull, shattering her and breaking the destroyer in half. Both parts floated for a while and then slipped beneath the sea.

“No lifeboats,” Crowley said as he took his turn at the periscope, “and nobody swimming in the water. I guess that means no prisoners.”

Torelli recalled his conversations with Dane. “From what I hear, young Lieutenant, the sons of bitches would rather die than be taken prisoner.”

Crowley grinned. “Sounds good to me, Skipper.”

CHAPTER 11

JAP FLEET SUNK

REVENGE FOR MIDWAY—NINE JAP SHIPS DESTROYED

FINALLY! WE WIN A BIG ONE!