The Hawke vs The Condor - Sc 17

[LordHawke]

Signals Room, HQ 8th Area Army, Rabaul, Japan. May 13th 1942. 1900h.

"Message from White Crane, sir."

General Imamura, looked up, roused from his reverie, like a lion after sleeping off a satisfying meal.

"Read it."

"
To: Lake Suwa
From: White Crane

The Crane has spread its wings.
"

"Good, good."

The Signals officer smiled. Lea Lea had fallen. The operation must be going well. But then, there was something else.

"There's more, sir. It says, in addition, 'Believe Sparrow has flown.' What does that mean? It's not in the code books."

Imamura sat up. "What's that? Read it again."

"Believe Sparrow has flown." In a more nervous tone this time.

"The mantis stalks the cicada; forgetting the sparrow behind," mumbled Imamura.

"Sir?"

"A Chinese proverb. Don't just stand there, contact Truk at once!"

He turned to the radio set, then stopped.

"What shall I say, sir?" Imamura was already scribbling a message on a piece of paper as fast as he could...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AFTER ACTION REPORTS FOR 05/13/42

Weather: Thunderstorms

Ground combat at Lea Lea

Japanese Deliberate attack

Attacking force 808 troops, 6 guns, 0 vehicles

Defending force 0 troops, 0 guns, 0 vehicles

Japanese assault odds: 11 to 1 (fort level 0)

Japanese forces CAPTURE Lea Lea base !!!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Shadow of the Condor]

13 May 42
Wx: Thunderstorms

0822L…onboard PBY Catalina A24-10…call sign Shepherd six seven…150 miles NNE of Townsville…

Charlie Kilgore was a veteran of the old Qantas days and flew the old Empire passenger boats. Now assigned to 11 Squadron and in control of his PBY flying low over the Coral Sea…looking for submarines. He was cautioned to not attack the American submarines bringing units in from New Guinea, and had been given the lane they would be using. In a break in the weather, he had taken a moment to try to work out a cramp in his shoulder when the call came into his headset.

“Submarine, sir…three o’clock!”

Both Flying Officer Kilgore and his co-pilot looked right, and his co-pilot spotted the wake first.

Finally…after almost a week of nothing…a bloody Jap sub…cruising on the surface!

Banking right, he brought the lumbering plane on a course to overfly the sub. The sub, however had seen the plane…but Kilgore knew he could drop his bombs before the sub could dive to safety…

“ ‘ere ya go, you bastard…’ow do you like……THIS!!!”

Flipping the toggle switch, he released his two bombs from either side of his wings…

Nothing happened.

Glancing at the wings, the bombs were still there.

By that time, the plane was past the sub, who was just now slipping below the surface.

Nobody spoke for an eternity. Finally, Kilgore keyed his mike…”Edwards, get on the wireless and tell them what happened. Tell ‘em we’re commin’ home.”

His first attack of the war and it never happened. All he could do was stare at the little silver toggle switch...a piece of metal costing a few pennies at most and wonder at the folly of it all. That switch might have just saved the lives of the men on the submarine, yet cost the lives of the sub's targets. A switch.

“Bloody ‘ell…”

1400L…Noumea, New Caledonia…operations building briefing room…

“When?”

“Sir, the reports are still coming in, but the Japanese have landed at Port Moresby, and have taken the site at Lea Lea. The 111th base force and two AA units are trapped. Reports from Port Moresby indicate the planes trapped on the ground were able to get back to Australia carrying wounded and whatever non-combatants they could load.”

Another commander spoke up. “Sir, that carrier task force spotted NE of Townsville is now headed back towards Gili Gili. Our subs just missed contacting it.”

“Thank you, gentlemen.” Turning his back to face out the window, all but one of the staff began to leave.

“Admiral! The men at Port Moresby…shouldn’t they be told…?”

Without turning, the Admiral replied, “Dismissed.”

Had he done the right thing? Had his decision to abandon New Guinea been the right one? Would those men ever forgive him? Would they understand that their sacrifice might be the key to a successful operation in the entire southwest Pacific theater?

Would they care…?

1700L…Officer’s club…Noumea, New Caledonia…

White sat back, waited his turn and sipped on a beer. The contingent of Americans, Australian Army officers and the New Zealand naval officers good-naturedly jest with one another. A ping-pong game was going on with side bets punctuated with groans and cheers. The arrival of that Australian infantry division had done quite a bit to lift the spirits of the men and women here. His little ship, SC640, and the rest of the sub-chasers were being overhauled, along with the Kiwi Navy (he liked that term for some reason) patrol boats. The three original patrol boats were now joined by Swan and Warrego (which he learned was the name of a river) after they escorted the troop ships from Brisbane. He was on the shore for another night, with the notification that his ship was one of those who would put back to sea tomorrow for ASW “exercises”.

“ “ere now, Yank…it’s your turn..”

White looked up from his reverie and grinned, taking the darts from the Australian captain.

“Double seventeen,” he announced and aimed for the outer ring of the board. He squeezed his eyes a couple of times to focus and let the dart fly……

[LordHawke]

On a H6K2 flying boat, near Townsville. May 14th, 1942. 1700h.

PO Watanabe banked his plane gently for his photorecon run. At 10,000 feet, on a cloudy day like this, the shots were not going to come out so good. But that was fine for him and his intrepid crew. If enemy fighters appeared, they would have plenty of hiding places.

Below him, Toshi, the navigator got the camera ready. The rest of the crew were on alert at their posts. The skies seemed eerily clear.

"Target coming up."

Down below, Townsville seemed asleep. Even from this height, Watanabe could make out the empty port and airfield. A few scattered anti-aircraft bursts came up, but the altitude setting was too low.

It seemed an eternity before Toshi called out that he had run out of film.

"Alright. Let's go home."

Within a few minutes, they were out over the open ocean again, cruising back to their base. To the west, the red glow of the setting sun bathed the sea and sky in bright crimson. They all admired it briefly, before resuming their vigil for enemy fighters once more.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AFTER ACTION REPORTS FOR 05/14/42

Weather: Overcast

Sub attack near Port Moresby at 10,40

Japanese Ships
AP Chowa Maru
DD Uzuki

Allied Ships
SS S-44


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ground combat at Port Moresby

Japanese Deliberate attack

Attacking force 22598 troops, 252 guns, 0 vehicles

Defending force 3181 troops, 42 guns, 0 vehicles

Japanese assault odds: 20 to 1 (fort level 2)

Japanese forces CAPTURE Port Moresby base !!!


Japanese ground losses:
Men lost 44

Allied ground losses:
Men lost 2895
Guns lost 9


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[neuromancer]

Wow! Did you ever land in strength!

[LordHawke]

Well, like they say it ain't over till the fat lady sings. [:D]

I believe Condor is about to pay me back on your behalf for that Noumea move. [;)]

More sparks flying soon...watch for it!

[marky]

nice capture lord hawke [&o]

[&o][&o][&o][&o]all hail hawke [&o][&o][&o][&o]


[:'(]

[Philwd]

Hmmm. I see Condor did NOT try Operation Rose in this game.[:D] Well done Lord Hawke. Now let's see you take TV[;)].

Cheers,
Quark

[Shadow of the Condor]

15 May 42
Wx: Thunderstorms

0700L...Maintenance hangar #2...Noumea, New Caledonia...
The ground crew had just finished painting the squadron "Hell Hounds" emblem on the fusalage of the new F4F-4 Wildcats that replaced the older F4F-3s. Lt. Parker was anxious to get into his and begin his patrol. In spite of still being an undermanned squadron, the pilots of VMF-212 now had 24 upgraded aircraft to protect the vital base with.

Now if they only had the men to fly them with...

1400L...onboard S-44...Port Moresby, New Guinea

Commander Moore wasn't very happy today. Or yesterday. Or the day before that. Ever since the botched attack on the fat transport bringing the invaders into Port Moresby, there had been absolutely no contacts. Not only did they miss the transport, but they had been depth charged again...and this time they almost hit the sub. As it was, a few bolts had popped and some decks had gotten wet with high pressure sprays, but everything was dry again and he was aching to get another shot at the transports he knew still had to be at the Jap base. It even made him wince to think of Port Moresby as an enemy base, but there it was. At least he had managed to get a full load of torpedoes back on board and his fuel topped off before the base went under new management.

"At least," he absent-mindedly muttered out loud.

Chief Matson stared hard at his commander for almost ten seconds before ushering the sailors back to work...

[LordHawke]

Aboard the Yamato, Hashirajima Bay, Japan. May 17th 1942. 2100h.

The weather report mirrored the Admiral's demeanor. Rain over much of the South Seas. Heavily overcast for much of the South Pacific.

"There'll be precious little intelligence at this rate," he muttered.

Not that the information they had at present was any good. The enemy had abandoned New Guinea and most of Northen Australia. The intelligence staff had been most embarassed. After all, they had been the strongest advocates for an aggressive enemy course of action. To that end, they had even produced purported enemy plans, codenamed 'Rose', which they claimed were recovered from an abandoned submarine.

Certainly no one expected the enemy to have folded so quickly.

Then there had been that mad rush over fears of an invasion of Truk. A joke, yes. But not a funny one.

"No Allied ships have been sighted for the past 72 hours, sir." Commander Keijiro of the Intelligence Section had been the butt of all the staff officers' derision these past 3 days. He didn't like it one bit, but tried not to show it in front of the Old Man.

"Well then, gentlemen, the danger is passing. Signal Yamaguchi tomorrow." The Admiral's tone was terse. His thoughts were clearly elsewhere. "What now?"

"Let's go for the kill, sir. Hit them while they're retreating." Commander Toyomi, Operations Section. Always the most aggressive. "We can take Townsville in a week. Build it up and then on to Brisbane!"

"What're you going to build it up with, Toyomi?" Commander Yuhiro, Logistics Staff. As usual, the devil's advocate, holding everyone back with calculations about bombs, fuel and rice. Universally hated at wargames. "Sir, we need a stronger commitment from the Army. We can't run supplies over such a long route without some intermediate bases to guard the route."

"The American carriers are still out there somewhere." Commander Saito, Air Operations. A taciturn, thoughtful man, despite his reputation as an ex-fighter pilot. A training accident had cut short his fighting career, but the Old Man had discovered his talents for planning and took it upon himself to groom him as a staff officer. "We need to find them."

"Bah, when we have Townsville in our hands, the carriers will come to us all right." Toyomi snorted in disgust.

As the 'discussion' continued, getting ever heated. The Admiral leaned back on his seat, his eyes sweeping over the chart of the South Pacific on the table, his ears taking in the key points being argued over, his mind sifting the alternatives, one at a time...


-------------------------------------------
AFTER ACTION REPORTS FOR 05/17/42

Weather: Thunderstorms

[Philwd]

LOL!!

[&o][&o]

Quark

[Shadow of the Condor]

(note: sorry for the delay...a monitor failure kept me down for a bit, but we're back in buisness)

20 May 42
Wx: Clear

0430L…onboard submarine S-44…at sea…

Chief Matson was relieved when the orders finally were decoded on the wireless. His commander had been pushing too hard after the debacle at the IJN base at Shortland Island. Then the missed attack on the Jap troop transport had a few of the crew whispering among themselves. Matson even heard the doubts from Commander Moore himself – something about “his” transport. The chief had seen this before, and he tried to remind the captain of that, but overtures leading up to an actual conversation were politely rebuffed.

This crew and its captain needed to put back to shore. And that’s where they were headed.

0800L…onboard PBY Catalina callsign “Shepherd six seven”…

Flying Officer Charlie Kilgore could have not been more alert. He desperately wanted to make up for the botched attack on the Japanese sub earlier. And now there was a sub contact 30 miles from Townsville itself! Flying at 1000 feet over the water as slow as he dared, he only checked his instruments out of sheer necessity. His eyes were glued to the ocean surface as he scanned for “his” sub…

0933L…Koumac airbase…New Caledonia

Capt. Eddie Baker listened as the major outlined the search pattern for the next 48 hours. With only seven aircraft, the 28th Bomb “Squadron” was barely over half strength. And no replacement aircraft were due in for quite a while. To further limit the “squadron’s” effectiveness, only himself, the major, and 2Lt. Henry ‘Hans’ Andersen had flown search patterns over the Pacific with any regularity. Today, Baker, Andersen, and one of the new pilots would fly sector searches from this new base. The facilities were adequate for the big bombers, and the engineers were working almost round the clock to continue improvements to the airbase. The previous residents, a squadron of Navy Catalinas, also had the range necessary to search out vast areas of ocean. “Why,” Baker wondered, “couldn’t they stay here and search?”

1212L…onboard HMAS Arunta…at sea…

Lt. White felt a bit out of place on the big destroyer. His own ship, SC640, was docked back at Noumea, while ever-present maintenance needs were being tended to. He was here, at the “request” of one Admiral Callaghan. This admiral was announced as the commander of TF201. Being part of a task force made White take notice. The newly arrived destroyer also brought with her six new sub chasers, and they now had a force any sub commander might think twice about engaging. The destroyer led three patrol gunboats and 8 sub chasers on this run to now familiar Mouly Island.

White took all of this in. The additional sub chasers meant that ships could be rotated in and out of the TF when their systems needed maintenance while all the while keeping enough ships in the TF to give them a chance of successfully engaging a submarine.

He wondered just how many subs were out there…

[LordHawke]

On the flight deck of the Shokaku. <location censored>. May 21st 1942. 1000h.

Lieutenant Hoshi paced impatiently in front of the line of replacement pilots standing rigidly at attention. Behind them, their shiny new Zeroes were being loaded by crane from the port onto the weather-beatened carrier.

"How many hours on Zeroes?" The query was sharp and demanded immediate response.

"50, sir!"

"40, sir!"

"46, sir!"

"47, sir!"

"49, sir!"

Hoshi shook his head. The average flying hours had gone down again. He remembered with a shudder how, when he was still a wet-behind-the-ears trainee at the Academy, the Old Man had made him do 20 loop-the-loops every morning on his Zero until he reached the 100-hour mark. That was now ancient history, before the China Incident.

"We're in the middle of a war here and Kasumigaura* sends me a bunch of half-baked idiots." He thought to himself.

"Tadao." He turned to his XO.

"Sir?" Lieutenant (JG) Tadao looked up from the clipboard, where he had been writing down the new pilots' details on the squadron register.

"I don't care what their Academy grades were, or who they are related to. I want their section leaders to take them up in their shiny new machines every waking hour. Give them tactics lectures, formation drills, night training, the lot. And I don't care how much fuel it takes either. Find it."

"Yes sir." Tadao never argued with Hoshi in front of the men. He made a mental note to have a little chat with him little later in the privacy of their cabin.

Hoshi had already turned back to the line of replacements, who by now were looking pretty apprehensive. "You lot have a lot to learn. And you better learn fast. Or you'll be getting on-the-job training from the blasted gaijin!"

He look resignedly at Tadao, then walked away. "That is all."

Tadao stood to attention. "Dismissed!"

The morning sun was shining brightly in the clear skies overhead.

"Perfect flying weather", Tadao thought.

*Kasumigaura Aviation Corps, naval pilots training academy

--------------------------------------
AFTER ACTION REPORTS FOR 05/21/42

Weather: Clear

[Shadow of the Condor]

24 May 42
Wx: Partly Cloudy

0720L…onboard B-17E “Lefty”…codename Bulldog-Four…

Tim Greer adjusted his seat and reached for the strap to adjust his seat harness. Ever since take-off from Garbutt airfield, his shoulder had been complaining. At about 240 miles out from the base, clear weather allowed his crew a virtually unobstructed view of the water’s surface. Muttering to himself, and playing with the buckle, he finally released the strap and he could feel his shoulder sigh in relief. Leaning back, he relaxed a bit. A veteran of 10 search missions, he knew the day’s flight was going to be long. One had to fight the boredom and ever-unchanging view outside the plane that threatened to lull one to sleep. Glancing rightt, he spoke to his copilot.

“Thanks, Phil. I’ll take her ba……”

A voice over the intercom cut off Greer.

“Sir…Jenkins. Dead ahead …ships.”

Greer scanned forward, and saw the dots on the surface of the ocean. His bombardier in the nose of the plane called out four ships he could make out through his bubble.

“Look alive guys…” Greer knew where there were ships, there were usually also planes.

Throughout the interior of the bomber, 7 men began to once more check their .50-caliber machine guns. The eighth, radio operator Sgt. Wilson, got out his pad, strapped it to his thigh and got ready to copy the contact report.

Greer dove towards the ships. There was nowhere to hide on such a clear day, so he decided to get the best look as possible at these ships. Wakes became visible north of the ships, who were coming into focus in the classic wedge shape of a task force.

Jenkins began calling off types as best he could. He counted four cruisers, one battleship, and several escorts around the perimeter of the force. Greer confirmed the contact report through the intercom and Wilson began keying the transmitter.

Explosions started to occur around the bomber, and Greer vectored the big aircraft away from the ships at a ninety degree angle, trying to give the ships as little of a target as he could. Two shells did hit the bomber, but its massive bulk simply absorbed them and continued away while the airspeed climbed towards, but tantalizingly close to 300 mph. Greer climbed up to 35,000 feet as the crew donned oxygen masks and turned on their suit and compartment heaters. He wanted to be above any fighters that happened to show up. He knew they would.

0744L…Townsville Command Center…

Major Jefferies showed his ID to the guard at the steel doors, and received a salute and entry into the Center. Walking through the airlock of this building always gave him the shivers. Claustrophobic at heart, he didn’t care to be anywhere where there weren’t at least windows.

Shoving that thought aside, he descended the stairs and entered the plotting room. A large sheet of Perspex showed the immediate area of the city, as well as the approaches offshore. About 240 miles out from the shore, he saw a large red arrow…

“Jefferies!” The colonel handed him the contact report. “From one of your “bulldog” aircraft on search. It looks like a bombardment group headed this way – maybe even the same one that blew the ‘ell out of the chaps in New Guinea.”

“Was the bomber intercepted, sir?” Jefferies knew what the bombardment force could do, but knew Townsville was in better shape to repel the force than Moresby ever could have been.

“No, he reported some ack-ack, but no fighters. He’s trailing force now.”

They were both interrupted by an announcement and a corporal making another red mark on the clear map.

"Enemy gound forces at Cairns."

Jefferies watched the corporal make the second red arrow further west along the coast road, and picked up the phone himself.

0747L…Aitkenville Weir airbase…near Townsville…

The klaxon had been going for some thirty seconds by the time Lt. McGee had clambered into his P-39D. While he was being strapped in by his ground crew, he ran through his orders mentally…not that there was a lot to them.

“Hit the nips while they’re out at sea. I don’t know why they sailed in this close. Maybe someone on their side screwed the pooch. Maybe we got lucky…I don’t care. You can bet your backside they’re going to try and high-tail it out of there now that they’ve been found.”

McGee looked left and right. With his engine running and the ground chocks cleared, he began to taxi towards the runway. The rest of the 36th Fighter Squadron’s “Flying Fiends” followed him.

1010L… engaging enemy task force…200 miles north of Townsville…

McGee led his section in at 100 feet. At this height, it was hoped he would remain under most of the enemy’s guns, yet still be able to hammer the ships with a variety of 50 caliber machine guns along with 20mm and 37mm cannon shells.

Unfortunately for McGee, and the others, the ships they targeted were heavy cruisers, designed to withstand assaults with armored decking. Still, they were there, they had bombs, and they pressed the attack. The squadron had trained for this kind of mission, and would strafe the target until they had to rise up to lob their bombs at the ships. McGee’s wingman, who had just joined the squadron two days earlier, pulled up too early, and drew the fire of almost every AA gun on the cruiser, with predictable results. This did, however give McGee an almost free pass as long as he did not fly to the other side of the ship. He banked and released the bomb a split second later. He vectored away from the ships at low altitude for a count of fifty, then climbed back to 6000 feet. Amazingly, no fighters were on hand to interfere with the planes.

The bombs, however, did not produce spectacular results. Hits were scored, although none of the bombs found their way to the vital innards of the ships. Still, two ships were set afire, and one had slowed considerably. The planes reformed and flew back home, hoping to get another chance at the ships while light was still available.

1400L…Aitkenville Weir airfield…near Townsville…

McGee had counted noses when he returned, and found two missing. His wingman, who had been blotted out of the sky when he exposed his underbelly to every AA gun on the cruiser was one. His plane had been reloaded and refueled, but this time, when he tried to start the aircraft nothing happened. Cursing loudly, he waited while the ground crew tore apart the plane searching for the reason for the failure. Finally, the crew chief clambered up onto the wing and leaned in the cockpit.

“It’s no good, sir…The shaft has been hit, and it warped against the housing. She won’t turn.”

“Fix it now man, I need to get airborne!!!”

But the chief had already hopped off the wing, and was motioning the crew to put the chocks back on the wheels.

McGee yelled after him, but the NCO never looked back, running to another plane whose tire exploded while taxiing.

McGee fumed while the others in his squadron were taking off. He never got out of his cockpit until they returned…

1700L…briefing room…operations building…Noumea, New Caledonia…

“Troops ashore at Cairns, another expeditionary force. Not this time, tho. We have an entire brigade waiting for them. Enemy strength estimate less than a company ashore. I guess they figured we left Cairns as well.”

The admiral wasn’t looking at the Australian coast on the map. His eyes went from the action reports back to the map.

Finally, he asked the obvious question.

“The enemy ships had no fighter cover?”

A young commander spoke a little too quickly.

“No sir!! And the Army’s aircraft hit them good! One cruiser was seen to have slowed considerably, with two more on fire. They may have even blunted the attack. We anticipate this was a bombardment TF, ordered to hit Townsville to protect the invasion forces at Cairns.”

“With no fighter cover?” The admiral tried to keep his voice level. “I don’t think so. Barely 200 troops in an enemy landing…I don’t think so at all.”

Another admiral in the room picked up on the thought. “Pretty expensive bait though, sir.”

“Yes it is. So expensive we would be foolish to think it was anything other than a main threat axis. But I just don’t think so. It’s too easy.”

The young commander in the room wondered just what he had said that was so wrong……

The CR:

AFTER ACTION REPORTS FOR 05/24/42

Weather: Partly Cloudy

Air attack on TF at 13,55


Allied aircraft
P-400 Airacobra x 14
P-39D Airacobra x 21
P-40E Kittyhawk x 16


Allied aircraft losses
P-400 Airacobra x 1 destroyed
P-400 Airacobra x 1 damaged
P-39D Airacobra x 1 destroyed
P-39D Airacobra x 1 damaged

Japanese Ships
CL Yubari, Shell hits 4
CA Aoba
CA Myoko, Shell hits 20, Bomb hits 6, on fire
CA Kinugasa, Shell hits 24, Bomb hits 2


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Air attack on TF at 13,55


Allied aircraft
P-400 Airacobra x 10
P-39D Airacobra x 3


Allied aircraft losses
P-400 Airacobra x 1 damaged

Japanese Ships
CA Myoko, Shell hits 12, Bomb hits 1, on fire
CL Yubari, Shell hits 4
CA Aoba, Shell hits 8, Bomb hits 1
CA Haguro, Shell hits 8


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ground combat at Dobadura

Japanese Deliberate attack

Attacking force 441 troops, 0 guns, 0 vehicles

Defending force 0 troops, 0 guns, 0 vehicles

Japanese assault odds: 9 to 1 (fort level 0)

Japanese forces CAPTURE Dobadura base !!!



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[Shadow of the Condor]

25 May 42
Wx: Thunderstorms

0025L…Vana beach…

Lt. Powell and the rest of the “Black Cats” of VP-11 were about ready to take off for a harassment raid on the ports of Lunga. Supporting the squadron was the converted destroyer McFarland. The tender, however was having trouble finding a suitable anchorage. Operation Pacific Panther had not gotten off to a rousing start. Making matters worse was the fact that the supplies that were to be flown in by another PBY squadron never made it to them and were probably on a deserted island somewhere among the hundreds in the general vicinity.

To that end, one PBY flew back to Noumea and reported in person the problem, and the Mahan-class destroyer Perkins was tasked with a fast transport run carrying supplies.

That was two days ago. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the destroyer was alongside McFarland, transferring supplies to the tender. The storms had abated, and for the time being, the clouds parted and a full moon illuminated the ocean. Being spotlighted like this, alone and far from home, neither captain cared for the break in the clouds.

Neither did the Japanese.

The loading was interrupted when two enemy destroyers appeared in the area. McFarland was able to get underway, but Perkins was having a more difficult time of it. The next ten minutes were a crystal clear example of confusion, luck, and the completeness of wartime chaos.

Commander Berg had gotten his ship up to 22 knots and immediately began to head out to sea, away from the intruders. A sharp-eyed lookout reported the lead ship had two stacks, separated from each other. That was all Berg needed to hear. He knew his ship and Perkins were the only ones supposed to be in the area. And he also knew his ship, lightly armed and armored, loaded with aviation fuel and 100-lb bombs was not the best choice for a surface duel.

So he ran.

The enemy, however chased McFarland. They had started to chase the tender when the American had a lead of almost 7000 yards. Within two minutes, they had closed the gap to 5000 yards. McFarland had one 3-inch gun trained aft, but the gunner was one of the holdovers from the ships days as a destroyer. He knew to aim short, and as soon as he opened fire, he had trained the gun up a fraction. Seven seconds later, a second shell was fired. The first salvo landed a bit short, but – seven seconds later – the second round fell squarely onto the deck of the lead destroyer. An explosion was seen and the enemy had begun to break off from the chase. They then turned towards Perkins, who was just now getting underway. Perkins was infinitely better able to defend herself, but the Japanese destroyers had hit Perkins with one shell, starting fires and slowing the destroyer down to 27 knots. Perkins responded and scored a hit of her own before both sides had enough and retired.

Lt. Powell had watched with fascination. Most of the PBYs had taken off when the enemy approached. Their cover blown, Operation Pacific Panther was compromised and everyone was running for home.

Powell, however, was left ashore with five other crews. Their planes were supposed to get spare parts to get airborne. The parts were delivered. And they were onboard McFarland…bound for Noumea.

0211L…Townsville, Australia…

The enemy TF came into harbor and opened fire on the base. S-37 had tried to intercept, but she had been chased away by the destroyers escorting the cruisers. The bombardment, however, caused only minor damage to the base.

0600L…onboard B-17 “Lefty” code name Bulldog four…

Greer finally caught up with the retreating TF, but they were already over 300 miles out to sea. There would be no retaliatory strike from the P-39 and P-400 aircraft today…

0611L…Cairns, Australia…

The major of the 36th battalion, 14th Infantry brigade didn’t really enjoy what he was about to do. The enemy had landed just over a reinforced platoon of infantry using a fast transport ship. The enemy forces never made it off the beach before searchlights illuminated them earlier in the morning. Plaintive calls in their native language asking for their surrender and promises of good treatment were not answered, until…as one man the entire platoon rose up and charged inland. The major had almost all of the brigade’s artillery at his disposal, already trained on the beach. He had three full companies of infantry in defensive positions. He wanted the enemy to understand they had no chance at all. When they charged, he realized he had no choice. He spoke into the handset.

“Fire.”


The CR

AFTER ACTION REPORTS FOR 05/25/42

Weather: Thunderstorms

Night Time Surface Combat, near Vana at 52,44

Japanese Ships
DD Mutsuki, Shell hits 1, on fire
DD Mochizuki

Allied Ships
AV McFarland, Shell hits 1


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Night Time Surface Combat, near Vana at 52,44

Japanese Ships
DD Mutsuki, Shell hits 2, on fire, heavy damage
DD Mochizuki

Allied Ships
DD Perkins, Shell hits 1, on fire


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sub attack near Townsville at 10,62

Japanese Ships
CA Kinugasa

Allied Ships
SS S-37


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Naval bombardment of Townsville, at 10,62


Allied aircraft


Allied aircraft losses
P-39D Airacobra x 1 destroyed
P-39D Airacobra x 1 damaged

Airbase hits 1
Runway hits 12


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Ground combat at Cairns

Allied Shock attack

Attacking force 4419 troops, 40 guns, 0 vehicles

Defending force 132 troops, 0 guns, 0 vehicles

Allied assault odds: 154 to 1 (fort level 0)


Japanese ground losses:
Men lost 132


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[LordHawke]

Aboard the Mutsuki, off Guadacanal. May 26th 1942. 1900h.

The sun was already setting, but they, the crew of the beleaguered Mutsuki, scarcely noticed. It had rained all day, and the rough seas did not make the job of saving their luckless ship any easier.

Commander Hatano, arm in sling and bandages swathed over his head, stood stoically on his shattered bridge, overlooking the shambles of what had been his vessel. They'd probably relieve him of his command when he got back, but till then he tried as best as he could to stay focussed and encourage his men. Half the crew were casualties in the night action against the American seaplane tender and her single destroyer escort. Twice, they had managed to get manoeuvre to launch their vaunted Type-93 torpedoes, only to have them miss. The gaijin had had better luck with their shells, though. Hatano shook his head, pushing away the self-incriminations.

"Time enough for that when we get home," he thought.

There were still small fires aboard the ship, but they had managed to work her back up to something like 15 knots. The hull leaks were a bigger worry. The best damage control team was the reserve X-turret gun crew. The whole lot of them had been killed when the 25mm ammo store was hit. The remaining teams were newer, and less experienced.

"How's things below, Togo?" Hatano turned to Lieutenant Togo, temporary XO, formerly Gunnery Officer 1. He moved up the chain last night when Lieutenant Shinai got killed by a shell splinter. He was young and energetic, but the destroyer's struggles was pushing his limited experience to the edge.

"The port leak is under control. We're still working on the stern one. Engine room has been pumped out and another boiler has been relit. We might get more speed in another hour or so. And, uh...sir?"

"Yes?"

"It's a risk but I think we should jettison all our depth charges to get up more speed."

"Interesting suggestion. And what if we meet a sub on the way home, hmm?"

"Well sir, we've hardly any speed or manoeuvrability left to begin with. If we meet anything we're doomed anyway. We've nothing to lose." In any other situation, Hatano would've thought Togo was merely out to impress. But not tonight.

"Alright. Defuse the depth charges and jettison them."

"Yes, sir." He turned to go.

"Togo."

"Yes, sir?"

"If we make it back, I'll buy you all the beer you can drink at the Officer's Club, deal?"

"Yes, sir." He walked out, before Hatano could see his tears.

ORIGINAL: Shadow of the Condor

The CR

AFTER ACTION REPORTS FOR 05/25/42

Weather: Thunderstorms

Night Time Surface Combat, near Vana at 52,44

Japanese Ships
DD Mutsuki, Shell hits 1, on fire
DD Mochizuki

Allied Ships
AV McFarland, Shell hits 1


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Night Time Surface Combat, near Vana at 52,44

Japanese Ships
DD Mutsuki, Shell hits 2, on fire, heavy damage
DD Mochizuki

Allied Ships
DD Perkins, Shell hits 1, on fire


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[Shadow of the Condor]

26 May 42
Wx: Thunderstorms

1200L…briefing room…base operations building…Noumea, New Caledonia

“They found what?”

The admiral listened intently as Major General Allen’s intelligence officer repeated the report from the action the day before at Cairns.

“Currency, admiral. The Japanese soldiers at Cairns had Australian currency. Pound notes, shilling notes…this may not have been the prelude a landing in force after all, sir.”

Major General Allen, commander of the 7th Australian Infantry division tasked with buttressing the defense of the important Allied base, spoke up.

“Probably a recon, spy around a bit, do a little damage to radio stations and the like. And the big prize, of course, would be the Navy ammunition dump at Woree. AAII is chasing after sympathizers in the area but we believe this was a straight-forward military operation. If they thought the base was abandoned, they could start to get a military airfield in place to support a move against Townsville.”

The admiral mulled that one over. Getting a free airbase would be a big incentive, and the IJN staff may have believed they had to act quickly.

“They saw us pull out of New Guinea so naturally we would pull out of Cairns……it fits. And if they can ‘do a little damage’, as you say General, then they would have us reacting all along the coast highway. Our forces would be all over the place.”

“Exactly, admiral. Clever little op. Whoever came up with this one knew what they were about.” The general sounded genuinely impressed.

1500L…Aitkenville Weir airfield…near Townsville…

In the squadron ready room, the new arrivals were welcomed into the “Flying Fiends” and assigned to their section leaders. The 36th Fighter Squadron operated twenty-four planes in two sections. Each section had three elements of four planes each. Of the seven new arrivals, Lt. McGee got two of them in his element. One of the new arrivals was a lieutenant named Horace Daniels from Wetherfield, Connecticut. A mail pilot, Daniels had an idea of what flying here was like and was regaling a few other of the newcomers about how he would outfly those “little yellow people.”

“You try to outfly a Zero and those little yellow people will turn you into a little red spot on the ocean.” McGee had seen the bravado before, and he wanted to make sure the newcomers knew what they were capable of, and – more importantly – what they weren’t capable of.

Daniels looked back to McGee and was about to say something when he noticed the nametag.

“Lt. McGee, is it? You’re the element leader, right?”

“That’s right Lt. Daniels. I would recommend a bit of caution about trying to “outfly” a Zero. The P-39D isn’t made for that. The Zero is a lighter and faster plane. They can fly higher than the P-39. Their pilots have been flying combat missions for over two years. The only advantage we have is better armor and two more guns. Period.”

Daniels responded with the New England accent heavily lacing his words.

“You haven’t seen my flying yet. I’ve been flying for over a year now, and can make that P-39D do anything!”

McGee was already picturing this man’s replacement but gave one last attempt to bring Daniels back to the realm of common sense.

“Can you make it swim?”

[neuromancer]

Ah the joys of commando recon raids.

Sucks to be them.

[Shadow of the Condor]

29 May 42
Wx: Overcast

0944L…briefing room…base operations building…Noumea, New Caledonia…

The admiral addressed the assembled officers.

“At 0411L, our radio receivers picked up a coastwatcher message of a Japanese carrier with escorts, at least one of which is a heavy cruiser, at their base in the Shortland Islands. This is the second day the ship has been there. The question before us is what do we do about it?”

“Sending our carriers, admiral, against this lone contact is out of the question. We know the IJN has at lease two, and more likely 4 or 5 first line carriers somewhere in the theater. Plus, Shortland is far too deep into the IJN LBA range. As you said, sir…we have to counter, not jab.”

Vice Admiral Pye was considered to be cautious to a fault, but his reasoning seemed sound here.

The admiral looked to ComSubPac, Vice Admiral Lockwood, who simply shook his head.

“Sorry, admiral, nothing within three days. And I don’t like running boats into ports, though a carrier might be a good enough reason…”

The admiral nodded. “Very well, we wave off on this…next?”

An orderly spoke up from the doorway.

“Sir? Colonel Finely is here to see you…?”

“Show him in.” The orderly retreated, while the admiral continued. “Gentlemen, we now have tank support for our troops.”

The lieutenant colonel entered, saluted, and announced himself.

“Lieutenant Colonel Finley, 754th tank battalion, sir.”

“At ease colonel, we’re very happy to see you.” The admiral motioned to General Allen. “Colonel, for the time being, you’ll be attached to the 7th Australian Infantry division in defense of Noumea. This is General Allen.”

“Very happy to have you aboard, colonel.” The general shook the American’s hand, and then excused both of them as they headed out to see where the tanks were to be deployed.

[LordHawke]

Aboard the Mutsuki, Shortlands. May 30th 1942. 1000h.

The morning sun was shining through the scattered clouds as the crew sailed their battered destroyer into harbor, in the company of the assembled fleet vessels. All round the spanking new port, the Army and Navy personnel gathered on the pierside to cheer and welcome home the Mutsuki.

Commander Hatano was still in the same combat fatigues he had worn throughout the past 3 days. Neither he nor Lieutenant Togo had slept a wink during their ordeal. But they were home, and that was enough.

"Sir," Togo was grinning from ear to ear. "You owe me a few beers, I think."

Aboard the Shokaku, <location censored>. May 30th 1942. 1130h.

Tadao leaned back on the deck chair on the flight deck. "A rest at last." he thought.

They had stood down for a little R&R this Saturday. A well-earned rest, for all their exertions this month. The pilots were exercising or playing basketball games with the mechanics.

He wondered what Hoshi was doing. "Probably writing letters home to his wife."

(continued in next message; see editor's note below)

[LordHawke]

(Editor's note: I erroneously created this extra message, and the forum d/n allow deletion by author. So I've spread the AAR for this day over two messages. Apologies to the fans.)

Aboard the Yamato, <location censored>. May 30th 1942. 1700h.

The big battleship cut gracefully over the waters, escorted by its smaller brethren.

The Old Man was smoking at Turret A, under the big 18-inch monsters, as he normally did before dinner. There had been little to do this day, while the Operations Staff was sweating over the details for Operation Gunsen.

"A quiet day," he thought wistfully. In his heart, he wished the war was over. He'd retire and spend the rest of his life with Chiyoko as a gambler in Monte Carlo...

Irau, SE of the Solomon Islands. May 30th 1942.
As they splashed ashore on the beach of the little island, the men of the Special Naval Landing Force nearly missed the campsite of the Allied Coastwatcher party. But the tell-tale signs of a fire, and an empty ration tin gave it away.

Lieutenant Shingo did not expect to be left alone on this island. He sent out patrols immediately, and began to dig in...

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AFTER ACTION REPORTS FOR 05/30/42

Weather: Partly Cloudy

Ground combat at Irau

Japanese Deliberate attack

Attacking force 290 troops, 4 guns, 0 vehicles

Defending force 0 troops, 0 guns, 0 vehicles

Japanese assault odds: 4 to 1 (fort level 0)

Japanese forces CAPTURE Irau base !!!



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