The little ship that could.

[1275psi]

It is the 15th of March, 1945.

Hosho, and his Division have reached the front
For three exhausting days, they have battled the ever rising road, and the mud

For three days , it has rained. Not your gentle English rain, but rain the Somme would know.
It has rained, and rained, and rained, water flowing, running, churning the poor excuse of a trail that 55th Division's maps call a road

It has not taken long for 15000 men to churn what surface there was into a treacle, boot sucking morass.
But they have not let it slow them down.
The Kokoda track, the burma road. The march to dadjangas..............epics now of endurance, of perserverance, of pain.
They have cursed the rain. Cursed it bitterly.
But now, now perched here on the ridge, this treeless, rocky barren moonscape, with the sun beating down, they wish for its return

For the rain, is of course water. And up here, shags on a rock, in the blazing sun, there is already pitifully little.
And there is also this.
The rain has hid them
They try to dig in, as the droning grows louder in the sky overhead

The bombers are coming.

[1275psi]

Ogowa curses the rain too.
It pours at tacolaban still, great sheets, beating at the canvas of his tent.

he stares at the map on the table, water dripping down in a dozen places, his feet literally underwater, the streams of water gurgling through this "HQ".
It rains.
here, at dajangas, every bloody where. Little in three days has flown, what has, has bombed blindly.

But rain does not stop bulldozers.

If the field is repaired.............

[1275psi]

Destroyer Susuzuki , with eight companions, sails

3 CVE, 20 escorts, 24 tankers.

Not since the golden galleons of the Spanish main's sailing, has such a glittering, precious prize sailed.

men have died many a time for the allure of gold

Now, perhaps, many will die for the liquid, black one

[1275psi]

Some of you dear readers, may know of Garden island naval base in Sydney
Its a bussling place now, the great dockyard is complete. The new workshops hum. The many wrecks of Zuiho's triumph so long ago, are long salvaged and removed.

Its a busy, but quiet place

The island nestles at the bottom of a long point, a steep road winding down nearly a mile to the gates from Sydneys red light area, - Kings cross.
A more disreputable place cannot be found in all of australia, especially since darwin lost its last pub.
Every evening, swams of sailors stride purposedly up that hill, and many hours later, weave unsteadily back down it.

few sailors escape the clutches of the Cross.
In the middle of the cross, is a fountain. A large fountain, a place where you sit, smoke, drink, avoid the police, drink some more.
Its the gateway to the strip.

The time is 9PM, and two world weary airmen stand at the gates of GI, and wonder about that hill ahead
A delivery truck pulls past, its a laundry van, wardroom whites, no doubt.......
"want a lift mates?"
"Why yes, old man, that would be wonderful" Bigglesworth answers
"No worries, hope in the back, don't mind the sheets, they aint that smelly"

The two men climb in. With a clater, a grating of gears, a whine of transmission, the van begins the slow climb up the hill

"hey bigglesworth"
'Yes, Longpig........."
'What are you sitting on?'
'
"i think its a bag of detergent powder old boy"

Long pig grins, and eyes glint

'I have an evil plan....you in?"

For a moment Bigglesworth considers the obvious no..............but has that ever stopped him?"

"In for what?"

"never you mind, just make sure when we get to the top, you bring it with you.................."

[kaleun]

[:)]I remember just such an evil plan, long, long time ago....

[1275psi]

16/3/45

Ogowas eagles are waiting, blades already spinning, the mud splattered on wings, when the word flashes through from HQ
"Mission scrubbed, stand down"
The steady roar of 100m plus engines fades away, splutters to a stop.
Annoyed, actually, beyond annoyed Ogowa strides to the tents.
Commander Kuri, Nominal commander of this air war in the southern phillipines answers his phone call.
'I was expecting you, Ogowa!"
"This is shameful!...............you do know how quickly the allies repair fields do you?"
Over the crackle, hiss of the phone, the reply almost radiates confidence "that is not the issue.........we are hitting even as we speak"
The voice hardens
"The enemy fleet approaches.............a resupply effort no doubt..........carriers, lots of carriers"

And hellcats, and corsairs, no doubt..................

"I understand"

Carefully Ogowa replaces the phone. Diogowa chooses this moment to enter the tent 'And?"

Ogowa merely shakes his head
Its always a game to you isn't it my friend...............God, I wish i could think that way.

[1275psi]

25 kilograms of laundry powder
One fountain


Drunken sailors, drunken women, foam everybloody where
And two jaded airmen, grinning at the madness of it all.

Life, is always worth living.

[1275psi]

17/3/45

Tacolaban again, is socked in.
Thunderstorms over Dajangas, where a growing CAP, plays lethal tag with the nimble oscars and light bombers amongst the towering mountains of cloud, the curtains of rain.

The fleet does not advance past Sangi, and several squadrons of TBD's valiantly impale themselves upon them, or so it is assumed, for none return...........

This, it seems, is a resupply effort, transports, fleets of light landing craft can be expected in the bay tomorrow.

Trite words must follow
'They must be stopped"
Late in the evening, the sun finally breaks over Ogowa's soggy, soggy field.
Tomorrow, they will fly.

[1275psi]

18/3/45

The ridge Hosho's men occupy, is getting satisfactorily crowded. 109th division arrives, much artillery arrives.
The allies are passive below them, although daily the sounds of armour can be heard.

The bombers have bombed, but not here, not effectively.
The days have been quiet, digging into the hard earth and rock, keeping ones head down, doing what soldiers must do, staying alive, trying to kill the other barsted........

Today, there is a brief action, japanese mortars try a barrage, seeking some sort of counter battery, testing the strength of the marines, the aussies, the dogfaces opposing them.

There is none.

Alright then. Tomorrow, all guns will fire. If you want to be pounded, good.

(my AV now 2653 to his 1280)

[1275psi]

18/3/45

DD Susuzuki and all her friends ride steadily south, smack in the middle at the moment of the south China sea.
The watches pass steadily for Hirate and Okano, 4 hours down below, 2 hours in the damage control station number 1 and three (Hirate FWD, Okano aft), 6 hours off.
OPf course, many of those 6 hours off are not theirs, there is cleaning, maintenance, and drills. daily Susuzuki slips away from the convoy, then when at 30000 yards range, turns back in, and builds to full speed, .
At 10000 yards, she "launches" a spread of her deadly fish, and the men race to "reload".........running the fish out of the tubes, running them on the trolley to the storage, running them back, "reloading them"
They have to be ready for a second salvo before the tankers, the "targets", are at 5000 yards.

They are good at this, are the men of Susuzuki.


Its a pity that radar controlled gunnery means 5000, maybe even 10000 yards is suicide................

[1275psi]

18/3/45

Pre dawn

Calm, cool. Quiet. The insects have not begun their song.
Ogowa's eagles sit around the camp ovens, the camp rice boilers, sipping tea, finishing their breakfasts.

Already they are fully kitted out, flying suits, parachutes, clipboards.
A wide and very interesting range of small arms decorate every hip. The natives, outside the wire boundries of the base, are now beyond restless.
And no man here, will ever submit to capture.

Ogowa studies his map,, refreshing land marks, rally points, alternative fields in his mind
Diogowa sits beside him, wistfully eyeing Ogowa's half finished, and now forgotten breakfast.

'Don't you know the way to the bloody place yet Ogowa, we have been there enough times"
Ogowa nods in agreement. "Hiei!..but.........its not getting there that worries me, its getting back"

"Oh for Truk sake, thats easy, open the bloody cockpit and sniff, the stink of this place will lead you home"
There is no reply to that, its a painfully true comment.

Casually Diogowa steals Ogowa's unfinished breakfast , such a common occurance that Ogowa barely notices."In all seriousness though, I would hate to get lost out there, I am told its where the wild things are............."

Ogowa stands, folds his map. Checks the time. 0355 hours.
"Time to go men...good hunting"


In the silence, somewhere beyond the wire, the faint sound of shooting...........partisans, no doubt

No, it would not be a good idea to get lost at all.
No more than they are now................

[1275psi]

People faced with stark realities, adopt, or die

Miori, Mioko, Uzuwa, adopt.
In fact, many about them, are taking life into there very own hands, and to hell with "the system"

There is no fuel to be had in japan, no buses, empty shelves, no coal............
The boat, that little thing, keeps many alive.

There is no fuel.................or is there?
Their neirbours husband may be of the Kempati...............but even he needs to eat. And the Kempati know almost everything.
And one
Weekly now , in the deep of the night, an army truck pauses briefly...........and fuel arrives, beaten up jerry cans maybe, but preciuos liquid gold nevertheless

The boat sails.
Fish are distributed, and vegatables grown in many hidden places, are exchanged................

They have adopted. They cannot work (for so many factories now lie quiet, starved of fuel and materials), but they work nevertheless, work at the only thing that matters.

Staying alive.

[1275psi]

401st sentai , 27 eagles strong, snarls towards Dajangas

The clouds still climb high, they weave about them, seeking the enemy

The enemy find them


They are out numbered , these enemy, but emboldened maybe by the easy kills against the oscars, the zeros they have had these last days, , they turn into the attack.


401st accept the challenge, and soon, so soon, the sky is filled with the wheeling, circling fighters, the chatter of guns, the deeper thudding of cannons.
Ogowa wheels in amongst them, straining hard, a 51 dancing, dancing maddingly just out of range, just out of his aiming ring...
The 51 weaves , he weaves.
he fires, the 51 screws itself, he misses.
A hellcat fills his miror..there is no time for another shot, now Ogowa has to waeve, and dance, the tracer passing harmlessly past.
he out climbs the shining blue hunter, corkscrews, fires again at a fleeting 51.........and his guns hiss empty

hauling about, taking in the bay below..burning ships..again..........

And the shells rip into his plane with stupifying violence...............shattering the canopy, ripping holes ahead of him, through the cowling...........
Smoke fills, briefly the cockpit, instinct flings the rudder, the stick, he is alive............

But his bird is not..........

The engine shudders, shudders, and stops, the great blade frozen


In stunned silence, the eagle stalls, and ogowa falls from the sky

[1275psi]

The george is a great fighter, powerful, strong, much like a brick in strength
Without power, it flies much like one

Ogowa does not hesitate, he steadies the spin into a steep dive, swiftly (more haste, less speed my friend) releases the straps, rolls her onto its back, and falls free

he tumbles down,, down, , to float down from here under silk is to invite a dozen vulures to the feast.
The ground is rushing up , horribly close before he pulls, he has almost misjudged it............

The descent under silk is but 1000 feet long, it sounds a long way, unless you have ever had the pleasure of descending it under silk

The ground rushes up that last twenty feet.............he hits, and hits hard...and blackness claims him

[1275psi]

19/3/45
The B-29's are over Singapore daily now, small in numbers still, but operating almost obliviosly to the Tonies vainly trying to stop them.

Singapore is no longer safe, not for the tankers approaching it now across the south china sea.
Butwar calls for desperate acts.
The tankers have to go elsewhere. the troop carriers risk it.

This is the great, great gamble. Near Georgetown, the allied steam roller, dinted, bashed up, is creaking back into gear, threatening to come crashing south.

How to stop it?

Every man that can be spared, which in reality, is almost all of them, are being stripped now from Soerabaya, maccassar, kendari.
We went to war over these islands, these lands, now we risk them all, merely to buy time in Malaya.

The men of Susuzuki are coming south , barely aware, I am sure, at just how desperate things may become....................

[1275psi]

Hi guys, page 2 purgatory, visitors at home, but writing at the moment!

[1275psi]

Ogowa awakens lying upon his back, conscious immediately that whatever he is lying on iss moving, and hard.

The sky above is bright blue, and for a moment he remains still, taking in the world
Clatter of hooves, the creak of wheels. he is lying on a cart.

Alarmed, he attempts to rise, his vision is filled with a Fillipino face, old, care worn....
Ogowas action is immediate, he reaches for his gun, ............a steady hand siezes it, surprisingly strong for such a face
And ten startling, the man speaks in Japanese......'easy my friend...........you are not in danger, but you will be if some one see's you"

"Who are you?" croaks Ogowa..............gods, my head...........

But the man turns away, and speaks to a second man who sits ahead, guiding the mule that pulls them down the dusty, jungle lined track..........the language is foriegn........
The second man turns, .....a priest................a large cross dangles, bright in the sun
the face turns back to him.........."It does not matter who I am, its the priest who found you..........."

Ogowa falls back..............he feels aches, pains, everywhere.............
The man leans down, fiddles with something on his head............a bandage?
"You have recieved a nasty gash............'
"Where am I?
The priest, with out turning speaks again, the Fillipino song like

The man smiles, replaces the bandage, and sweet heavens, presents a canteen to Ogowa.
"The priest says you are lost, like many of his sheep, but not to worry, the shepherd has found you.............."

[1275psi]

South China sea

Just after midnight

Hirate and Okano are sitting under the starboard bridge wing, on what the men of Susuzuki call the starboard veranda.
They are both of them, utterly exhausted.
Sweat is slowly cooling on their bodies, and burning limbs are are slowly recovering.

Its been a brutal watch. Boiler swings, soot blows, bottom blows. The whole kit and caboodle

"This is no bloody way to earn a living brother"
"Agreed'

"After the war, I am getting an office job"

Hirate turns to Okano, takes his shoulder, and stares intently into his face

"No you are not"
'I'm not"

No, your are not. We are going to russia my friend, you and I........north...........for that bloody gold"

"You are joking"
"I am not..............think about it......who else in the bloody world remains with knowledge of those crates.............no one came back, the Chiburi is sunk, (and I got rid of that barsted herbiesan)..........its still out there, you know it"

Okano stares out over the mirror calm sea, at the half moon, the faint shadows of the convoy about them.

Its a thought, isn't it?

But we have to survive the war first, yes?

[1275psi]

20/3/45

Fighters sweep Singapore, twin tailed devils, shining glittering P 51's

Clearing the skies, sweeping away the Tonies

The bombers follow.


Palembang is bombed, the first raid, only 12 strong, with 5 downed by the swarms of fighters that rise enraged.

The allied carrier fleet returns to south of dajangas, japan does not take the bait

So the carriers strike the armies around Hosho, 230 bombers strong, straffing, bombing, bombing, a nightmarish day of snarling engines, screaming iron, thudding explosions, of dust, of eating dirt, of keeping down and hidden.

Its a furious day..............

But japan loses just 20 men..........carrier pilots are not skilled in this art it seems.............

[PaxMondo]

Still pumping oil from the DEI in '45 ... fantasitc job ...

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