THE FORESIGHT WAR (38 page)

The Prime Minister’s first sentence had covered a minor epic, Don thought.
 
Realising that there were no invasion ships to attack but only a large and hostile heavy cruiser force bearing down on them, the mixed British and Commonwealth fleet had turned back to Singapore.
 
It would have been a relatively simple exercise if it were not for the torpedo damage sustained by the
Newcastle
.
 
It would have been easier to have abandoned the vessel, but the fleet commander decided to fight for it.

The night action which followed had been intense and relentless.
 
The Japanese ships were more powerful and numerous and were well trained in night fighting, but the British had the huge advantage of gunnery radar which enabled them to detect and hit their targets at long range.
 
RAF Hampden torpedo bombers had also flown many sorties in support of the
Manchester
’s radar-equipped Beauforts.

The end result had been a battered but intact fleet which had eventually crawled into Singapore Naval Base on the morning of December 11th.
 
Behind them lay a mauled Japanese cruiser force, of which two or three were believed sunk by aerial torpedoes.
 
Losses among the British aircraft had been heavy.

‘We may have kept the Japs out of Malaya, but the situation elsewhere is difficult.’
 

Harold Johnson’s judicious words were, as usual, a model of understatement, Don reflected.

‘Taylor’s reports from Singora indicate that the invading force has been pushed further back into Siam, to join up with the smaller forces landed further north at several points on the Isthmus of Kra.
 
A notional front line has been established with the Japanese defence centred on Nakhon, but the jungle means that the line gets a bit fuzzy inland.
 
There are widespread reports of small-unit engagements across the isthmus as each side probes the other’s defences, and there has been unremitting air fighting.
 
There are some concerns about the attrition rate among our aircraft, although more supplies of Brigands are due from Australia.’

Churchill nodded.
 
‘The Army and the RAF are doing well, although they will be further stretched if the Japanese drive west from northern Siam into Burma, as predicted.
 
But so far the Navy has achieved little apart from the initial air attacks on the Singora invasion fleet, and the Americans are in dire trouble.
 
We must help, especially since we must keep Roosevelt on our side in the hope that sooner or later America will be at war with Germany as well.’

Quite, thought Don.
 
The American side of the Japanese operation was going to plan, apart from the more limited damage inflicted at Pearl Harbor.
 
Japanese landings had already been made on some of the smaller Philippine Islands and air attacks had destroyed many American aircraft.
 
Peter Morgan and his AEW Warwick, en route from Oahu to Singapore, had been on hand as planned to sound the alarm, so the contest had been less one-sided, with the Japanese also suffering heavy losses.

‘What do you think?’

Churchill’s question jolted Don out of his thoughts.
 
‘There is no doubt that
our
 
Eastern
Fleet is the biggest piece on the board at the moment.
 
The IJN will be anxious to come to grips with it before the USN can recover from the Pearl Harbor damage.
 
It could be a mistake to go out and fight them until we are ready to coordinate with the Americans.
 
After all, they know exactly where we are and you can bet they’ll have minefields and submarines in position to block any likely routes from Singapore. I think the main need is for aircraft to defend the Philippines and to attack the various Japanese invasion forces heading for it, or around it to Borneo and the Dutch East Indies.
 
If the Philippines fall, the East Indies will follow and Malaya will become vulnerable again.’

Churchill gestured in exasperation.
 
‘Aircraft, aircraft, that’s always the problem.
 
The Soviets are screaming for as many aircraft as possible, so are the Americans, yet we really need all we can make for ourselves.’

‘The key to using our fleet,’ Don mused, ‘is to find an opportunity to strike when the Japanese will be most vulnerable – when they are about to launch another invasion.’

‘Can you recall the sequence of events?’

Don shook his head regretfully.
 
‘I wrote down all I could remember in the mid-1930s, but South-East Asia wasn’t a particular specialism of mine.
 
In any case, the changes which have already taken place will be bound to affect Japanese planning.
 
The best approach will be to make use of our radar-equipped reconnaissance planes to cover the area and give advance warning of the next attacks.
 
We have a squadron of Sunderlands at Singapore as well as Peter’s Warwick.’

‘Then we’ll send some of the Sunderlands to Manila, with a couple of squadrons of Spitfires to defend the area.’

Don stirred uneasily.
 
He well remembered the bitter arguments with Fighter Command, who had been keen to hang on to their squadrons in England, justifying their retention by sending them on largely pointless and expensive ‘rhubarb’ raids over occupied Europe.
 
Four squadrons for Singapore
was
all the Spitfires that could be released.
 
‘That could be leaving Singapore very exposed to daylight attack.’

‘I know, but some risks have to be taken.
 
The loss of the Philippines and the East Indies is a more immediate danger than bombing raids on Singapore.
 
I will inform the Joint Chiefs of my decision.’

‘That’s more like it.
 
A long hot soak, clean underwear and a large scotch.’
 
Geoffrey Taylor settled luxuriously into the liberally cushioned chair with every sign of having settled in for the duration – of the bottle, at least.

‘I hear you’ve been having some exciting times.’
 
Peter Morgan had been considerably cheered to see his old colleague again.
 
At last, he had someone to whom he could talk freely, who would understand the tension and the constant, underlying guilt which had racked him since Pearl Harbor.

‘I thought it better to get some first-hand information about what was going on.
 
Very difficult to form a clear view from several hundred miles away.’
 
And it had certainly been first-hand, he thought wryly.
 
The fluid ‘front line’ combined with the Japanese tactic of small-unit penetration meant that there were no safe areas anywhere near Nakhon.
 

He shivered briefly at a sudden, intense memory; darkness, confusion, screams and shots sending a surge of adrenaline through his sleep-befuddled mind, the weight of the Solen in his hands, the bucking, hammering recoil, the contorted Japanese faces close enough to be illuminated by the flickering muzzle flashes.
 
He abruptly shook his head and took a large swig of scotch.
 
‘Meanwhile you, I suppose, have just being playing the tourist in your personal chauffeur-driven transport plane.’

Morgan grinned lazily.
 
‘Something
like
that, yes.’
 
The Warwick had been on duty whenever the weather permitted, ranging far across the South China Sea towards Borneo, constantly watching for the movement of Japanese ships; a duty which had only recently become less hazardous with the arrival from England of some Reaper aircraft for escort duties.
 
‘Off to Burma soon, are you?’ Morgan teased.

Taylor groaned.
 
‘Give me a break.
 
I’ve had enough of jungle for the time being.
 
Anyway, they seem to be doing well enough without me.’

This time, the British had been expecting the Japanese to thrust westwards across the Siam-Burma border and had been able to call on well-equipped troops and air cover, aided by the American Colonel Chennault’s ‘Flying Tigers’, to repel the initial attacks.
 
As in the Isthmus of Kra, the jungle hid a conflict mainly consisting of a continuing series of intensely bitter engagements between relatively small numbers of troops.

‘At least we don’t have to worry about defending Hong Kong.’

Taylor nodded.
 
The position of the colony would clearly be hopeless once Japan entered the war, so after a brief argument with a belligerent Churchill, Don Erlang had secured agreement to withdraw all regular forces the previous November.
 
The local defence volunteers had followed instructions and surrendered after a brief token resistance in order to minimise casualties.
 
‘The place seems a bit emptier than I remember?’
 
Taylor’s remark was a question.

Morgan nodded, serious.
 
‘Singapore’s defences have largely been stripped to support Burma on the one hand and the Philippines on the other.
 
There are only a few Spitfires and Mossies available on the island – as well as the carrier planes, of course; the fleet refused to give them up.’

The war of attrition was continuing in the Philippines, with General MacArthur doggedly blocking the Japanese advances, greatly helped by the influx of British and Australian air power to supplement his own depleted defences.

‘I hear fleet leave has been cancelled.’

Morgan
nodded,
his face suddenly sombre.
 
‘There’s every indication that the Japs are going to move south.
 
And our cryptanalysts have identified their new flagship – the
Yamato
.’

Taylor winced.
 
They had all been warned by Don about the massive Japanese battleships under construction, which dwarfed the treaty-limited ships being built by the other naval powers.
 
At seventy thousand tons,
Yamato
displaced twice as much as the new British battleships.
 
Her nine eighteen-inch guns fired shells weighing nearly one and a half tons – two-thirds heavier than the British fifteen inch – out to a range of twenty-six miles.
 
Her armour protection was equally massive.
 
No ship was unsinkable, but the
Yamato
was by far the most formidable battleship ever built.
 
Her sister-ship –
Musashi
– was due to be commissioned later in the year.
 
‘Rather them than me,’ he muttered, thinking of the British crews.

Morgan raised his glass.
 
‘Amen to that,’ he intoned. They continued to drink in thoughtful silence.

Yamamoto had made his decision, not without some anguish.
 
The American carrier force still lurked intact in the Pacific, a threat to Japanese operations against Midway and other Pacific islands.
 
However, the need to secure the East Indies, with their oil and other vital resources, was paramount; and this was being blocked by the British Eastern Fleet.
 
The Royal Navy must be forced to come out from the protection of Singapore and fight.
 
The Pacific would have to wait.

From the cruising Beaufort, the South China Sea stretched like a vast steel sheet, gleaming in the evening sunshine.
 
A pattern of markings marred the smoothness, white-streaked trails running in parallel.
 
At the head of each was what looked like a small, pointed
stick.
 
From this altitude, the massive Eastern Fleet looked insignificant indeed.

The plane lost altitude, shaping its flight to head for the boxier stick which was its home,
HMS Manchester
.
 
As they approached, the crew began to identify the ships.
 
The four new fleet carriers,
Illustrious
,
Invincible
,
Inflexible
and the
Ark Royal
, were in a loose group in the centre of the fleet, with the smaller
Manchester
a couple of miles ahead.
 

Surrounding them were the massive shapes of the battleships: the flagship
King George V
, which had given its name to the class of ‘KGVs’, with her sisterships
Duke of York
,
Prince of Wales
and the new
Anson
, on her first commission.
 
Ahead of the formation came the surviving cruisers:
Canberra
,
Australia
and
Glasgow
,
joined by the
Dutch De Ruyter
and
Java
.
 
Newcastle
was absent, still being repaired in dock.
 
In a screen around the fleet was a circle of Dido class frigates, and further out still were the lithe, restless destroyers.
 
All in all, the pilot of the Beaufort reflected, it was the most impressive fleet the United Kingdom and Commonwealth had sent into battle since the Great War.

Admiral Somerville did not share the Beaufort pilot’s complacent pride.
 
The fleet had successfully negotiated the minefields, albeit with the loss of a minesweeper and a destroyer, and the circling Beauforts had suppressed any enemy submarine activity, but he was well aware that the worst was yet to come.

Long-distance radar contacts made by patrolling Sunderlands had been followed up by a photo-reconnaissance plane.
 
The sweating
pilot had flown his Reaper straight over the Japanese fleet, spearing through the swarming Mitsubishis at well over 400 mph with Merlins howling and boost
gauges in the red.
 
He had been too preoccupied to notice much about the ships, but the photographs he brought back sent a chill through the intelligence officers who examined them.