Читать книгу Prohibition of Interference. Book 6. Samurai Code - Макс Алексеевич Глебов, Макс Глебов - Страница 2

Vice Admiral Gun'ichi Mikawa stared intently into the night sea. Today his luck had smiled on him. In the difficult battle just ended, his squadron defeated U.S. and Australian allied forces covering the landing of the American troops on the island of Guadalcanal.

The Solomon Islands were one of the most important points in the Pacific Ocean. With the airfield already nearly completed on this strategically important island, Japanese aviation would be able to control considerable water space and operate on convoy routes connecting the United States, Australia and New Zealand.

The Americans also understood the importance of Guadalcanal and were not going to let the Japanese gain a foothold on the island and build an air base there. The Allied amphibious landing began on August 7, and attempts to prevent it with air strikes had only limited success. As darkness fell, however, the Imperial Navy entered the fray.

Allied ships covering the landing fell into the trap set by Mikawa off Savo Island. Their four heavy cruisers went down. Another cruiser and two destroyers sustained serious damage, while not a single ship in the Imperial Navy even lost combat effectiveness[1]. It was an undoubted victory, but it was no less important to make the next decision. It was now, after the destruction of the cover ships, that the way to the American landing zone was open, Mikawa's cruisers could reach the defenseless American transports unloading equipment and ammunition on the island shore. However, somewhere in the darkness of night the American aircraft carriers were hiding, and if morning caught the Japanese ships in range of their planes, this victory could turn into a catastrophe.

It was a difficult decision. Vice Admiral Mikawa understood that his ships would need time to regroup, eliminate the effects of enemy shells and to reload torpedo tubes, which was a laborious and time-consuming procedure. The Japanese ships had few shells left, and there was no air cover. The few seaplanes based on the cruisers don't count – they're just scouts. A brief meeting with members of the staff only confirmed Mikawa's near decision not to risk the squadron, and at two hours and twenty minutes he ordered his ships to begin withdrawal.

Suppressing a heavy sigh, the Vice Admiral temporarily turned over command of the squadron to the commander of the cruiser Chōkai and headed for his quarters. The victory warmed his soul, but the decision made did not give the squadron commander peace of mind and brought unpleasant thoughts.

The first months of the war brought a number of resounding victories for the Land of the Rising Sun. After the tremendous success in attacking the U.S. fleet at Pearl Harbor, the destruction of two British battleships in the South China Sea, the capture of Burma, Malaysia and the Philippines, the successful landing of General Yamashita's army at Singapore followed, as did the landing at Bali and the capture of the islands of Sumatra and Timor.

In the battle in the Java Sea, Rear Admiral Takagi's squadron sank five enemy cruisers and five destroyers, almost completely destroying the Anglo-American squadron that was trying to prevent the Japanese from taking over Java Island. As early as the eighth of March the garrison of Java surrendered and thereafter the entire Dutch East Indies were seized by Japanese troops almost without resistance. Then, in March, they occupied the Andaman Islands.

Japanese-controlled territory moved close to the shores of Australia. On the nineteenth of February their aircraft bombed Darwin, and on the third of May the island of Tulagi was occupied without a fight, and a major battle for New Guinea and the Solomon Islands unfolded.

Nevertheless, the first failures appeared in the victorious expansion of the Empire of Japan. On May 3 a battle took place off the coast of Australia in the Coral Sea in which the Japanese failed to achieve a decisive victory, and in early June the Imperial Navy lost four aircraft carriers in a battle off Midway Atoll, which was a real disaster. Naval aviation suffered irreparable losses, losing its most experienced and trained pilots.

And now the Americans and their allies became so bold that they decided to launch a counteroffensive by landing on Guadalcanal Island. And he, Vice Admiral Gunichi Mikawa, had a real opportunity to disrupt this enemy operation, but he limited himself to winning the sea battle, and, with his tail between his legs, turned his ships around, afraid of aircraft attacks from American aircraft carriers.

To distract himself, Mikawa sat down in a chair at his desk and turned on the radio, trying to tune in to the Tokyo radio wave. Soon he heard the familiar callsigns of "Kyokai Hoso" of the NHK Japan Broadcasting Corporation. Through the usual rustle of interference the announcer was talking about the weather, and the Vice Admiral grimaced, realizing that in the next few minutes he would not hear anything important. At that moment, Mikawa didn't yet know how badly he was wrong.

The slight crackling of the air suddenly turned into an unpleasant screech, which was almost immediately replaced by an unfamiliar silence, and then it was cut through by a distinct and somewhat lifeless voice, speaking Japanese clearly, but with a strange, unnatural accent.

“Vice Admiral Mikawa, if you would be so kind as to give me a few minutes of your time…”

Mikawa twitched with his whole body, staring at the radio receiver like it was a poisonous snake.

“Don't worry, Vice Admiral. Unfortunately, our communication is one-way, so just listen to me. If you want details about who I am, I will explain, but not now, because it is not so important at the moment.

What is important is that the enemy aircraft carriers that you feared when you decided to abort the operation had, the night before, withdrawn from Guadalcanal and have left the Solomon Islands area. Yesterday your aircraft attacking the U.S. landing zone inflicted serious casualties on their deck fighters, and Admiral Fletcher decided that if your planes from Rabaul base attacked his ships, the deck aircraft would not be able to repel them effectively. As a result, he gave the order to withdraw the aircraft carriers from the possible strike zone. I understand that you have no reason to believe me, but you have seaplanes, and you can at least partially verify my words, and so that you do not doubt, I will first give you the exact coordinates of the point where the American destroyer is drifting, which has become dead in the water as a result of damage, and also indicate the anchorage of the unloading transport ships. The decision is yours, Vice Admiral, but if I were you, I wouldn't pass up the chance. One more thing. The situation, as you can imagine, is constantly changing, and if you want to keep up with these changes, don't forget to turn on your radio regularly.”

* * *

On August 7, the weather was inclement, and Japanese patrol planes were unable to fly a reconnaissance flight over the waters of the Solomon Islands, which played a key role in the initial phase of the battle. Guadalcanal and several smaller islands nearby were the target of the U.S. landing party. If the slow transport ships had been detected on approach to the landing point, the chances of the landing party reaching the islands would have been reduced to a minimum. However, it happened as it happened, and eleven thousand Marines under Brigadier General Alexander Vandergrift landed almost unhindered. Their main objective was to take over the unfinished airfield at Cape Lunga.

Japanese units, taken by surprise, came under fire from the ship's guns and bombing strikes by aircraft from U.S. aircraft carriers. Panicked, they offered little resistance and the next day, after an arduous march through the tropical jungle, Vandergrift’s paratroopers took control of the airfield. The Japanese withdrew in disarray, abandoning construction equipment, vehicles and food supplies.

The General was pleased with the start of the operation. He accomplished the task with minimal casualties, something he had not expected at all. Nevertheless, the situation in which the Marines found themselves could not be called simple. The enemy quickly recovered, and numerous Japanese aircraft appeared in the sky, but the real problems began on the night of August 9.

The lightnings of gun salvos blazed into the sea, and the rumble of distant explosions rolled on shore. The Imperial Navy was unwilling to tolerate the Allied landing on Guadalcanal. Vandergrift could only guess at the course of the naval battle, but all his previous experience told him to prepare for the worst-case scenario.

The transport ships were still unloading, and the landing site had to be covered from land. At the same time, the perimeter around the seized airfield had to be reinforced as much as possible. Vandergrift had to stretch his forces, and this caused him serious anxiety. Heavy weapons were still in the holds of the transport ships or, at best, just now being unloaded on the beaches, and a Japanese attack could follow at any moment. By midnight the roar of the guns had died down for a while, and there was a tense silence that could have meant anything.

An hour later a confused message came from the fleet, which indicated that the squadron covering the landing party suffered heavy losses, but the Japanese ships did not continue the attack and, having made a turn, went to the northeast, rounding the island of Savo.

“Speed up the unloading as much as possible,” Vandergrift muttered through his teeth as he read the radiogram. He was well aware of the value of such statements by sailors and knew how to put two and two together. The General was well aware that even if the aircraft carriers that had recently departed the Solomon Islands tried to return, they would not be able to stop Japanese heavy cruisers at night. Of course, the report of the departure of the Japanese squadron could be true, and then they could consider themselves very lucky, but for some reason the General did not believe it, and the next few hours confirmed that his pessimism had more than good reason.

First there was a short fight somewhere not too far out to sea. Several volleys of heavy guns were heard, followed by a powerful explosion that brightly illuminated the horizon for a few seconds. About twenty minutes after it was quiet, the engines of Japanese seaplanes sounded in the sky, and flare bombs flashed over the beaches and the anchored transport ships, turning the landing site, which looked like a bustling anthill, into a perfect target.

A scattering of bright flashes appeared in the relative silence near the horizon. There was no need to explain to Vandergrift what it was.

“Everybody take cover!”

There was no need for this command. His soldiers and sailors from the transport ships knew very well what the night volley of a squadron of heavy cruisers looked like. Twenty seconds of tense waiting and the landing zone turned into a sea of fire. The transport ships were the first to be hit. They each carried a 102 millimeter cannon to defend against submarines that had surfaced above the water, but their occasional shots could do nothing to change the picture of the merciless beating of the landing force.

Howitzers, tanks, and, most importantly, shells for the most part were still unloaded, and the transports, which had no armor, exploded from the first or second shell hit; the Japanese gunners knew how to shoot, and in literally ten minutes the American ships were finished. Vice Admiral Mikawa's squadron, which had come closer to shore, shifted the fire to the beach, and turned the unloaded equipment and the paratroopers' property into piles of burning rubble.

There was nothing more to do here, and Vandergrift ordered his men to withdraw to the captured airfield. However, the Japanese squadron did not limit itself to destroying transports and bombarding the landing site. Its commander was well aware of the aim of the landing, and in a few minutes the cruisers' guns shifted their fire to the positions of the Marines at Cape Lunga. The Japanese were careful not to shell the unfinished runway itself – they obviously hoped to use it in the future, but the whole area around the airfield was hit by heavy shells. Seaplanes circled over the Marines' heads, periodically dropping flare bombs and correcting their ships' fire.

Taking cover in a shallow trench, Vandergrift clenched his fists to the point of pain. In his imagination, he could clearly see that a few kilometers from the airfield Japanese soldiers, encouraged by the actions of their fleet, were preparing for a night attack. An attack that he would have nothing to repel with.

* * *

“Irs, they're not fugitives,” Letra's voice sounded worried and… indignant. “In the cargo compartment they had not medical capsules, but minidrons for in-system reconnaissance. Lieutenant, forty hours ago they hacked into our satellite!”

“Did the network defense hold? And why are you only telling me this now?”

“It was a damaged satellite that had no direct access to the network, but it still had a lot of information in its storage devices. The good news is that all this information belongs to the period before the attack on the Moonbase, which means that the rebels know nothing about your actions on the planet. After being damaged by rocket shrapnel, the satellite went into a passive mode, waiting for the arrival of a repair drone, which, as you understand, never arrived. We don't have a military network, as you remember. The security protocols are completely different. The machine was not online and was monitored sporadically. Another test revealed the fact of a third-party connection. You know the rest.”

“Why aren't they attacking?”

“They fear a stab in the back from our base. Put yourself in their shoes. The wreckage of the cruiser that tried to destroy the base in a frontal attack is dangling in lunar orbit, and all they have appears to be a destroyer, and it's not the fact that it is fully combat-ready.”

“I like this less and less by the minute. Apart from assumptions, we have nothing.”

“It's not all bad news, Lieutenant. Satellites have detected activity in orbit. Eight hours ago, someone was using short-range communications systems around the Solomon Islands, making a transmission over a narrow radio beam, just as I do, simulating local radio communications.

It was not possible to intercept the message, but it is clear what happened. Immediately after that, Japanese Admiral Mikawa abruptly changed his plans and turned his squadron, which was already leaving the combat area, in the opposite direction. As a result, the tactical defeat of the Allied fleet turned into a real disaster. They lost all their transport ships off the coast of Guadalcanal. The Marines who managed to disembark suffered heavy casualties, having been knocked out of the unfinished airfield at Cape Lunga by the Japanese and were now driven into the rainforest with no heavy weapons and almost no ammunition. Irs, there can be no other option here than for the rebels to intervene in the war on Japan's side. So far their actions are limited to the transmission of information, but you know as well as I do that it can be a very effective weapon.”

“How many drones do they have? Can they build a network of satellites like ours over the planet?”

“I don't think so. The destroyer is a warship, and reconnaissance is only an auxiliary function for it, and the drones themselves are not designed for such tasks, so we were able to detect the fact of the transmission from orbit, even though we weren't able to intercept or jam it.”

“And now what? That way, the Japanese can find out about all my actions at any time.”

“Lieutenant, do you really think the rebels will limit themselves to leaking information to the Japanese?” There was a sound of incomprehension in Letra's voice. “I have to disappoint you. A few minutes ago a similar transmission from orbit was noted in the vicinity of Berlin. Forget everything that came before. I'm afraid the game you started a year ago has gone to an absolutely other level.”