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24 June 1942, South China Sea

Shark has reached her patrol zone. The hope is that they will be able to intercept some of the Japanese convoys hauling material out of the Enemy's newly conquered territories in Borneo and Sumatra. The transit to the area was uneventful. The sub moved up through the Straits of Macassar where they had run afoul of a convoy a few weeks ago. They then moved through the Celebes Sea once again but this time did not linger.

LT DJ Haskins is on the bridge for the Morning Watch as the boat moves slowly NNE. The end point for this leg will be just west of the entrance to Manila Bay. It is an odd thought for him to digest. For more than a year, USS Swordfish had been based at Manila. She had patroled some of the same areas of ocean where Shark is heading many times. The fact that it is now an enemy base is a testament to how much DJ's world has changed in the past eight months. He thinks about the Filipinos that got left behind. Were the groups of small children still gathered around the entrance to Cavite Navy Yard plying the Japanese sailors the same way the did US sailors? He'd like to think that but his heart tells him that would be a dillusion. No, from everything he had heard, the Japs were brutal conquerors where ever they went. He fears that the natives of Manila are experiencing the same fate that the Chinese have for ten years now.

He has heard that the Filipinos are organizing a resistance movement. Several USN subs have already delivered equipment to help in those efforts. DJ is not sure how good of an idea it is for them to try to fight the Japs. They could just be bringing down even more harsh treatment from their conquerors upon the populace. Still, DJ can understand their desire to fight. Afterall, as LT Phelps had pointed out not so long ago, he would have pretty strong motivation if the Japs had occupied Califronia. Yes, he was sure, if the situation was reverse he would be doing everything he could to make the Japanese stay on his homeland as difficult as possible.

26 June 1942, near Norfolk Island

You'd think somebody had a baby. Every man in Enterprise's Air Group is all excited about the new arrivals. Not the least of those are the pilots of VS-6, the carrier's Torpedo Squadron. The new arrivals are fifteen brand spanking new TBF Avengers. The dive bomber pilots were happy about the upgrade to the SBD-3, but that was nothing compared to the outright giddyness the torpedo plane pilots are showing about their new planes. Everything that was wrong about the TBD seems to have been corrected in the TBF. It is big, fast for an attack aircraft, long ranged, and can carry a huge amount of ordinance. The 0.30 cal defensivine machinegun has been replaced by a 0.50 cal in a stabilized turret. A turret on a Navy plane? Even the men of the two SBD squadrons are jealous of that little addition.

LT(jg) James west is walking across the hangar deck to “check in” with his plane captain about the condition of his SBD. Oddly, most of the pilots in the squadron have found the sudden urge to take a more personal interest in their aircraft's maintenance. James is walking across the deck in the general direction of his plane when he hears LCDR Gallaher's voice from behind him.

“West, get over here,” the CO yells.

James turns to see not only Gallher but the rest of the pilots of VS-6 gathered behind him.

“The maintenance people are bitching about how they can;t get their work done because the pilots in this squadron are all suddenly overly interested in their work,” Gallaher says. “In order to get them off my back, we are all going on a little tour so you and the rest of the screw balls in this outfit can see what you are really down here to see.”

With that, the Commander leads them over to one of the Avengers parked nearby. First of all, the thing is huge. No one would refer to its lines as sleek or elegant, but there is something beautiful in its utilitarian design. The internal bay is very roomy being able to hold a 2000 lb bomb as well as the standard Mk 13 torpedo. The big R2600 Twin Cyclone is the same engine used on the USAAF's B-25 which is to say it was very powerful. Unbelievably, the plane has a rear hatch the the rear gunner used to access the turret. So many things about this plane are firsts for the Navy. The entire center section of the crew compartment is taken up with radio gear. James figures this would come in handy on strike missions as the dedicated Radioman in the Avenger will be far more capable of monitoring communications. Gallaher says that VT-6's CO, said the plane “flew like a truck”. James isn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. After twenty mintes they all head back to the Ready Room having their curiosity satisfied. The maintenance crews are grateful to say the least.

Authors note: I have fallen hopelessly behind the game action in my Dog's writing. Rather than fill space with short mindless posts, I decided to skip forward at two day intervals at least until I can catch up a little. That will be broken by game action as necessary.

28 June 1942, South of Noumea, New Caledonia

After the leisurely cruise to the South Pacific including the long layover at Atui, the Surface Action Group (TF22) seems to be constantly on the move. They have already made three trips from New Zealand to Noumea and are heading back for the next convoy now. Now that there are fighters based at Noumea, there is much less threat from an enemy carrier strike, but the threat of submarines remains high. Hardly a day goes by without a submarine sighting some where nearby. When the weather permits, even the cruiser's float planes are launched to aid in the never ending search for the submerged predators.

LT Greg Cummins finds his hatred of submarines to not have lessened at all. The fact that he is now worried more about I-Boats instead of U-Boats makes no difference to him. In his mind, submariners are still a bunch of sneaky low lifes who lack the courage to take on their opponents man-to-man. No, they skulk around in the water trying to weasel their way into a convoy to torpedo nearly defenseless merchant ships. They are not warriors; just cold blooded killers. He makes no effort to hide his feelings from his fellow officers.

“You know, Greg, you are a bit obsessive about submarines,” LT(JG) Larid offers.

“Its my job to be obsessive about submarines,” Cummins responds

“True, but your emotional involvement may get in the way if you are not careful,” Laird says.

“I fail to see how wanting to detect and eliminate a threat to every ship in the US Navy is getting emotionally involved,” Greg says

“If you say so, Captain Ahab,” Laird say smiling

“Ahab?” Greg says thinking. “The submarine tasks me; he heaps me. Yet he is but a mask. 'Tis the thing behind the mask I chiefly hate; the malignant thing that has plagued mankind since time began; the thing that maws and mutilates our race, not killing us outright but letting us live on, with half a heart and half a lung.”

“Yeah, like that,” Laird says shaking his head.

30 June 1942, Southwest of Noumea, New Caledonia

The men of VS-6 sit in the Ready Room waiting for the order to man planes. A Hudson patrol bomber from the RNZAF squadron based at Noumea has spotted some shipping northwest fo the Island. The planes have all been prepped and loaded with 1000lb bombs. LCDR Gallher informed the pilots that information is sketchy as to the nature of the threat, and a small strike from Lexington's VB-2 has been sent out to investigate and attack whatever is out there. The men are tense. Even the usual card games are missing. There is too much nervous energy to sit still and concentrate at the moment.

LCDR Gallaher leaves periodically to find out what news there may be, but returns each time with nothing to help clarify the situation. Was there a Jap Task Force out there trying to hit Noumea and the shipping there? Already both sides had been able to interfere with the other's unloading of merchant ships by sneaking some cruisers and/or destroyers into a port. This is the very reason the carriers have been patroling the waters South of New Caledonia. The morning passes without further sightings or additional information being passed down. Finally, at 1230, Gallaher returns with news.

“It seems the Japanese force was a single ship only,” the CO says. “It was their version of a Q-boat, a merchant ship secretly armed as a surface raider.
Lexingtons group put one or two 1000lbers into it and she is a goner.”

“Just our luck,” LT(jg) Carey says. “We can't even get in on a lousy milk run against one lightly armed ship”

“Our day will come, Bob,” LT(jg) James West says. “Its only a matter of time now.”

Sorry about the lapse in this AAR. The intense action in the game has taken up all my time of late.

2 July 1942, South China Sea

“How come every time we show up, the Japs seem to run away?” LT(jg) OJ Moss asks

“Maybe our reputation proceeds us,” LT DJ Haskins answers.

“Yeah, 'cause we're the scourge of the Japanese navy,” Moss says sardonically.

The Shark has made exactly two attacks since DJ has been aboard for the net result of no hits. For the most part that has been simply because they have only encountered Japanese shipping twice. Secretly, DJ is beginning to wonder if it may have to do with LCDR Shane's cautious nature. He seems very unwilling to put the boat into harm's way. Anytime they even get a sniff of a patrol aircraft, he changes course to put as much distance between him and the aircraft's potential source. DJ wonders if it ever occurred to the skipper that the reason the Japs are patrolling a certain area is because they are protecting something valuable. He wisely keeps his thoughts to himself, but he knows he is not alone in his feelings. No one would dare speak anything allowed against the CO; no one is interested in starting a mutiny.

DJ does wonder if there may eventually be a reckoning. Every day they pick up sighting reports and reports of attacks by both USN and RNN submarines. Is their going to be a point where COMSUBFORCESWPA is going to question Shark's “poor luck”. He just hopes no one ever asks his opinion. He does not want to be put in a place where he has to choose between disloyalty and the truth.

He thinks back to his conversation with Artie Floyd before he left Melbourne. His misgivings about LCDR Shane had already began to form back then. Nothing he had seen so far had alleviated his concerns. The man was a capable seaman; he had shown that in getting Shark back to Perth after being damaged. He just seems to lack the killer instinct.

4 July 1942

Lt(JG) Hank Tyler is celebrating this Independence Day by flying a patrol out to the North of Suva. CDR Underwood had told him not to share what had happened with the Intelligence weenies. Hank had followed the order, almost. Mike Page had run into him the day Mowery and McElroy had interviewed him. He told Mike everything but something in the back of his mind caused him to make the Ensign keep it just amongst the two of them. He told the CO that Page knew. The skipper called Mike in immediately and put the fear of God into the poor kid. Hank was sure Page would keep his mouth shut.

Flying was a nice break for Hank. The constant adjustments to the aircraft plus the extreme vigilance it took to properly patrol the assigned sector took about all of his mental facilities. He still loved flying. He loved the feel of controls in his hands and the fact that the plane felt like an extension of his being. The mental and physical challenge of even a routine flight still gave him a thrill. Most of all, he still loved the view of the world from high above and the odd sense of power it gave him.

The thought that it could all be taken away from him is amazingly frightening to him. If some one had told him a month ago that the two things he loved most in this world could potentially be at odds with each other, he would not have even considered that a possibility. Yet, now here he was facing that exact circumstance.

What he didn't know was that far away from where he was, things were already set in motion that would change the whole situation.

6 July 1942, North of Auckland, New Zealand

“Once more into the breach eh Greg?” LT Faber says

“I think we are going to dig ruts into this section of ocean if we are not careful,” LT Greg Cummins says.

Task Force 22 was once again escorting another convoy into Noumea. The whole process was becoming routine to the crews. Run up to Noumea, wait while the transports unloaded, then run back to Auckland. In fact, LCDR Ford had called an officers meeting before their departure. He was concerned that the crew may be becoming complacent. He warned them that just because things had gone so well in previous trips, the dangers were still very real. He charged each of them with seeing that their departments were at top readiness.

Greg had taken the CO's words to heart and personally conducted an inspection of the torpedo mounts, K-guns, and Depth Charge rails. As usual, they were all in top condition. His section had learned very quickly that he was not going to accept “just good enough”. Having found everything to his satisfaction, he returned to his cabin where Faber had just arrived after completing a similar walk through of the ship's Main and AA guns.

“Well, everything in my department is good to go,” Faber says, “though I doubt we will need it.”

“Definitely quiet down here,” Cummins says. “perhaps its too quiet.”

“Nah, except for subs, I don't think the Japs would send anything this far South.”

“You're probably right,” Cummins says, “but I got a weird feeling about this particular run North.”

8 July 1942

Moving day once again has arrived for the Marines. This time it will be just a short hop over to Oahu. The Division will eventually make its way south, but for now they are just repositioning. Thankfully, there will be no mock invasions with this trip. CPT Brett Castlebury is happy to avoid another possible day like when they arrived at Hilo. The sound of CPL Lewis' leg snapping is still a little too fresh in his mind. There is insufficient lift to move the entire Division; so, there will be two trips to get everybody over to Oahu. The 6th Marines will go on the first convoy along with the 2nd marine RGT. The rest of the unit will follow in a few days.

“Well, Joe, it looks like we are finally going to get into this War for real,” Brett says as he stands on the pier waiting to board

“Yup, Cap, the Powers That Be must have finally come up with a good use for us,” 1stLT Broadway says

“You mean besides guarding coffee plantations and cattle ranches?” Brett says. “Oh, and don't forget icy Fjords in the middle of the goddamn Atlantic Ocean"

“Well, the American public does need its beef and morning Joe, after all” Joe say laughing

“The 2nd Marine Division, protectors of America's breakfast,” Brett says mockingly. “the Japs may be running wild in the Pacific but at least we still got our steak and eggs.”

“Well, its nice to know the REMFs have their priorities straight,” Broadway says

The loading continues without incident. It will take less than a day for them to arrive at Pearl Harbor.

10 July 1942, South of Noumea

The USN carriers are once again protecting a valuable troop convoy into Noumea. They have taken up a position South and West of the port , but still close enough to provide CAP over the unloading troop ships. It has been another mundane day for the men of Enterprise's air group. Nothing but routine patrols over empty ocean. There have been a few submarine sightings but no reports of action from any of the carriers. It is just another quiet day in the South pacific.

The men of VS-6 stand down with the sun's departure to the West. The grab supper on the mess deck before retiring to their cabins. Even though there has been no combat, they are still tired from the day's flying. Even without enemy action, the stress of being constantly at combat alert is wearing on the pilots. It will all start again early tomorrow morning.

“I wonder if the Japs have any idea what we are up to,” ENS Stone says.

“Well, there haven't been any reports of search aircraft,” LT(jg) West says

“Yeah, not even any of those sub based float planes,” ENS Jaccard says

“Well we can worry about that tomorrow,” LT(jg) Carey says. “I, for one am whipped.”

“Me too,” Stone say

“Me three,” Jaccard adds

The men strip down and climb into their bunks. The fatigue of the day weighs upon them, and they will all sleep well.

“Hey, James,” Stone says, “how about some words of wisdom before we go to sleep.”

“I'm too tired to think,” James says

“Oh, come on, James,” Carey joins in.

“Yeah, Daddy, ready me a bed time story,” Jaccard says

"Ok, something short and sweet,” James finally relents.

A Lion used to prowl about a field in which Four Oxen used to dwell. Many a time he tried to attack them; but whenever he came near they turned their tails to one another, so that whichever way he approached them he was met by the horns of one of them. At last, however, they fell a-quarrelling among themselves, and each went off to pasture alone in a separate corner of the field. Then the Lion attacked them one by one and soon made an end of all four.

“United we stand, divided we fall, shipmates,” West concludes.

“I like that one,” Stone says. “Thanks, James”

With that the four men fall asleep. Without knowing, it is the last night they will ever spend together.

11 July 1942, near Noumea, New Caledonia

(This excerpt will be told in the first person from LT(jg) James West's perspective)

Lt(jg) West rises at 0430. He dresses and shaves before making his way to the mess deck. The rest of the pilots in Enterprise's air group all sit quietly eating their breakfast of powdered eggs, bacon, fresh baked biscuits, and coffee. No one is particularly talkative this morning. A few men discuss the baseball season that is now at it's peak. Fans of various teams sing the virtues of their guys. Down here below the Equator, most of the news is weeks old at best. The men still use the presence tense while talking about their teams ignoring the fact that the games they are talking about happened a month ago. Being from the South, baseball has never been of much interest to James. Most people in South Carolina pay much more attention to college football and basketball. He still knows the names of the top players and teams like any American. He finishes breakfast and heads for the Ready Room.

West is not assigned to fly a scout mission this morning. Instead he sits with the rest of the pilots while LCDR Gallaher briefs the squadron as to the days activities. He starts with the weather which is surprisingly bad for the South Pacific. The sky is the usual broken clouds but there is a larger than normal chance of thunderstorms today. The pilots of VS-6 have gotten quite used to this pattern. Hardly a day goes by when they don't have to alter their flight plans to avoid a locally intense thunderstorm. While it usually is no more than a nuisance, occasionally it has been a real problem. There is nothing worse than trying to find a carrier with a empty fuel gauge while dodging lightning bolts.

The first sign that anything is up comes when word reaches the Ready Room that an enemy float plane has been spotted near the US carriers. West and the rest of the pilots dismiss the report at first. They are quite used to the Glen float planes from IJN submarines shadowing them. That changes quickly when word comes down from the CIC that they are tracking multiple aircraft approaching the Task Force. The Japanese have no bases in the area. This many aircraft can only mean that the Japanese carriers are some where nearby.

“Where the hell are the Jap carriers?” James says to himself.

The answer to that question comes at 1018 when the shocking news is passed down. PBYs out of Noumea have found multiple enemy carriers 300 NM NE of New Caledonia. That puts them almost 400 NM from the US carriers' present position. This is the edge of the SBDs range. If they are ordered to attack, they will only be able to take 500 lb bombs with them when they go. The Ready Room is suddenly abuzz. LCDR Gallaher is called to the CIC with the rest of the squadron commanders. He returns in a little more than ten minutes.

“All right,” he says. “we are going to load up for a max range strike. The search planes have already been recalled. Once they are back on board, we will spot the rest of the aircraft while they are being refueled. Its safe to say the Japs know we are here. We need to get the strike off as soon as possible.”

“At that range, sir, the F4Fs won't be able to escort us,” James says.

“No, they won't,” Gallaher says. “We hope to be able to pick up some escort from the VMFs based at Noumea. We still have more than an hour before launch; so, that may change between now and then.”

“Change for the better or for the worse?” James wonders to himself.

The pilots sit and fidget for the next hour. The news only grows more concerning as reports now indicate that over ten Japanese carriers are Northeast of Noumea.

“Jeesh, do the Japs have that many carriers?” ENS Stone says

“Dunno, maybe they are counting the same ones twice,” James says wondering if that is reality based or just wishful thinking on his part.

Reports filter down that the Japs are hitting shipping anchored in the harbor at Noumea. They all know that it won't be long before they come for the US carriers. Finally at 1130, the order is given.

“Pilots, man your planes,” a faceless voice comes over the 3MC.

Before the sentence is complete, the pilots are practically running for the door resulting in pile up as they try to squeeze through the narrow hatch. The go up a short set of stairs and they are on the flight deck. James makes his way to his plane. The plane captain gives him a leg up onto the port wing as he fights the weight of his parachute. He climbs into the cockpit and adjust his position until the chute slides into the hollow in the back of the seat. The plane captain makes sure he is well secured even as he has already starting the pre-flight. Behind him, his gunner, Wilson, is also getting settled in.

“Ready to hunt some, Japs, Wilson,” James says testing the intercom.

“You betcha, Sir!” the excited airman responds.

West flips the magnetos to the “on” setting, check his fuel mixture, and throws the starter switch. The big Wright Cyclone stutters at first but then roars to life. The plan is for the SBDs to take off first and wait for the TBFs to form up behind them. The hope is that the torpedo bombers will catch up on the way to the last known position of the Jap carriers. James is watching the gauges to make sure everything is normal as the engine warms up. Suddenly the radio breaks his concentration.

“Pelican Squadron, this is Pelican lead,” LCDR Gallaher says. “Noumea just reported a large Jap raid is passing to their West heading out way. We will launch now and make best speed to our target.”

James cannot help but notice that the CO failed to mention anything about fighter escort. The Enterprise turns into the wind and the squadron takes off in quick succession. They form up quickly and head Northeast. They haven't been in the air for twenty minutes before the airwaves are filled with reports that the Japanese raid has found the US Task Force. Gallaher orders the Squadron toward Noumea in hopes that they might be able to pick up some fighter cover while passing over the base. The good news is that the position of the Jap carriers is well known. The PBY pilots have been dodging the Zeroes all morning doing their best to keep tabs on the enemy's position. One good thing is that with their own strike aircraft in the air, the Japanese are unlikely to make any radical course changes for fear that their pilots won't be able to find their way home.

The pass over Noumea forty minutes after take off. Gallaher tries to contact the base but it is in chaos. James can see smoke billowing up from several ships in the harbor including what appears to be CVE Long Island.

“Well at least she delivered the fighter squadron she was carrying before they got her,” James thinks to himself

There will be no fighter escort. What few fighters that are left at the base are tasked to protecting it. The men of VS-6 continue on alone. There is no sign of VB-6 or VT-6. In the rush to get everybody airborne, there simply was no time to coordinate the strike. Instead, each squadron will make it's way to the last known Jap position alone. James surveys the skies around him. He cannot help but feel the eighteen dive bombers are like sheep to the wolves. It is indeed a very lonely feeling.

Nearly two hours pass before they finally catch sight of the enemy. At first they are just black dots on the surface of the sea with white tails behind them. Very quickly though the dots evolve into ship shaped objects. It is not hard to figure out which ones are the carriers; they are the ones in the center of a wide ring of other ships. Gallaher orders the squadron to attack the group nearest them. He barely finishes issuing the order when the Zeroes appear. The CO tries to keep the group together, but it doesn't take long before the cohesion breaks down.

Wilson calls out that there is a Zero on their tail. James spins his head over his shoulder and catches sight of the plane above and to his right. He pulls the stick hard right and practically stomps on the right rudder pedal. The plane heels to the right violently. Wilson opens up with his machine guns, but James' radical maneuvering foils any hope of him hitting the fighter. The SBD shutters as machine gun bullets penetrate the left wing. The Zero zooms past to James' left. He struggles to reorient himself and try to locate the carrier. All around him his squadron mates are in similar fights for survival. Some have already lost their battle as their SBDs are falling away trailing smoke. James finds the carrier again and turns the plane towards it. Within seconds Wilson calls out another Zero this time at seven o'clock high. West heaves the plane to the left as his gunner opens fire. Tracer bullets whiz past the cockpit as he tries in vain to shake the Zero. The tracers quickly converge with the edge of the fuselage and tear into the Dauntless. Suddenly James is blinded by a bright flash and goes blank for a moment.

When he gathers his senses, the plane is nearly out of control. The port side of the canopy is smashed and the wind screen is covered with oil. He fights the controls as he tries to regain some form of controlled flight. The altimeter is spinning downward at a frightening rate as the plane spins towards its left heading for the sea surface. James applies right rudder and stick with all his might to try to try to pull out of the death spiral. The only way out of this is for him to recover the aircraft. There is no way the could bail out even if the had to right now. Finally the plane responds to his inputs and stops spinning. He now is confronted with an even more frightening prospect: the plane is in a near vertical dive and is quickly running out of altitude. Suddenly, the thought hits him that the SBD is still armed with 500 lbs of dead weight that is slung beneath its belly. He pulls the bomb release then places both hands on the stick and pulls as hard as he can. Fortunately for West, the SBD was designed to recover from such a dive from the get go. The nose slowly raises and he pulls out with 500 feet “to spare”.

It is only now that James realizes he is hurt. His left arm is a mess and blood is clouding his left eye. In fact the entire left side of his body is in searing pain. He lets out a moan.

“You all right, Lieutenant?” Wilson says

“I've been better,” James says, “How about you?”

“Nothing bad, just a few metal splinters,” the gunner says

James now has time to survey his situation. He has a vague idea of his position going by where they were before the melee began. He turns the plane Southwest. He hopes they will at least make Noumea. He looks over the gauges. Not to his surprise, the oil level is nearly zero and the pressure is failing visibly.

“Wilson, we're not going to be able to even make it to Noumea,” James says. “There is no way I can bail out with my injuries. I'm gonna have to ditch. I'm gonna try to get some altitude so you can bail safely before I take her in”

“Don't bother, Sir,” Wilson says firmly. “I'll take my chances with you. Don't try to talk me out of it. Just do it.”

James considers debating the issue, but the oil pressure is falling fast now. He doubts he could get enough altitude for Wilson to bail out safely now if he tried. He eases back on the throttle and the plane slowly settles. He tries to lower the flaps but they won't move. The plane quickly loses altitude and the sea surface is now rushing by. He tries to squint the blood out of his left eye but it is a useless attempt. He eases the throttle back a little more as the last few feet of altitude bleed away. Just before the plane hits he pulls back slightly on the stick to flare it out then

SMASH.

James tries to tell Wilson to get out but his words fail him as he consciousness fades into blackness.

12 July 1942, Near Norfolk Island

“General Quarters, General Quarters, Air,” LT Doyle's voice booms over the 1MC.

With the rising of the sun, TF 22 goes into air defense mode. The results of the previous days battle are still confused, but one thing is for sure: the USN is bugging out. The men aboard USS Perkins are still reeling from what just unfolded literally before their eyes. The details are sketchy to say the least, but no one doubts the US Navy just lost it's first carrier battle. They had seen the small carrier USS Long Island blown to shreds right in front of them. Word is that USS Wasp met a similar fate. The condition and location of the rest of the US carriers is unknown for now. Before the Japanese strike aircraft had withdrawn, the TF had been ordered to pull back to New Zealand at max speed. By first light, they had already put more than 300 NM miles between the last know position of the Japanese carriers and the Task Force. Now, all they could do is wait.

LT Greg Cummins is in the CIC monitoring the RADARS. At this speed, the SONARS are useless. The only good thing is that the ship's present speed almost makes it invulnerable to sub attack. A sub would have to be fortunate enough to be lying directly across their path to even hope of getting a shot off. Cummins hopes there are no lucky Japanese submariners out there today.

“Did you even know the Japs had that many carriers, Greg?” LT(jg) Laird asks.

“Not exactly,” Greg says, “but it is not that outlandish when you think about it. We knew they used six carriers at Pearl Harbor. There were also reports of several small carriers near the Philippines when the war started. Doesn't take a math genius to add it up to ten or eleven.”

That was the number that had everyone so concerned. Four USN carriers were off Noumea when it all went down. Somewhere out in the vast Pacific there are two more. The old carrier, Ranger is in the Atlantic as far as anyone knows. Even if the USN had mustered its entire carrier fleet, they would be at nearly a two to one disadvantage. The loss of Wasp only adds to the problem.

“How we going to deal with all those carriers?” Laird asks

“Above my pay grade,” Cummins answers. “My guess is we will have to rely on land based aircraft to make up the difference.”

“Numbers are definitely not in our favor right now,” Laird says.

“We need an equalizer,” Greg says absently.

“Maybe our subs can pick off a few,” Laird says

That thought is particular distasteful to Greg. He had spent the entire War working on better ways to kill submarines. The fact that they now may indeed be the USN's best hope is just too hard to swallow.