have been ordered to find this
ship and sink it,” he said firmly. “We will avenge you, Hayashi. By all Gods
and Kami, we will make certain your men died with honor. I swear it, my
friend. I will put my Thunder Fish in this ship’s belly! Or die trying.”
Hayashi just looked at him, a longing
in his eyes, as if he knew at that very moment that he would never see Matsua again,
and perhaps never see many of the pilots who were gathering on deck now, their
planes near ready, some up on the wings and climbing into the cockpits, eager
for battle. He clenched his jaw, and nodded.
“Good luck, Matsua. Now I must go and
make my report. For now… Sayonara …”
“Not so formal, Hayashi,” Matsua
clasped his friend’s shoulder with a smile. “Tonight we will drink on it, neh? Mata-ne ,
my friend. Ja -ne. See you soon.”
*
* *
Aboard the Battleship Kirishima , Captain
Sanji Iwabuchi was scanning the far horizon with his field glasses, well aware
that eagle eyed watchmen were doing the same, well above him on the tall pagoda
main mast of the stately ship. But he was eager to find this enemy, and bring
it under his heel.
Iwabuchi was a hard man, steely in
battle, and often cruel, impatient and abusive to subordinates. He was short
tempered and too quick to find fault, and he was clearly unhappy with the
sudden change of orders he had just received. His guns had all been primed and
loaded with HE and incendiaries for the planned bombardment of Darwin. Now he
would have to unload his eight big 14 inch guns and reload with heavy armor
piercing rounds, but the propellant charge bags were all wrong as well, and
getting them out of the breeches safely would take time. He summoned his
gunnery officer, Commander Kimitake Koshino and asked him how long the
procedure would take.
“We have been ordered to find this
enemy cruiser that has been giving Hara’s pilots fits. It is somewhere ahead,
and if this ship is not ready for action heads will roll, Koshino!”
“Please excuse me, Captain,” Koshino
said politely. “Incendiary rounds use only three powder bags instead of the
usual four. We will have to remove all three to get at the shell, then remove
it before we reload the new armor piercing round and four more powder bags.
Getting the shells and bags into the guns is very fast, sir. Getting
them back out is another matter. It could take twenty minutes for all eight
guns.”
“Too long!” Iwabuchi’s face indicated
his displeasure. “Murajima is out ahead in the float plane looking for this
ship now, and if he spots it I want to be ready for battle.”
“Well, sir…” Koshino hesitated, then
spoke his mind. “There is one way to speed things along. It could reduce our
reload time to just three or four minutes. We need only fire the guns. That
will remove the unwanted rounds and powder bags in short order. Then it is only
a matter of normal reloading.”
Iwabuchi’s face reddened. He struck
the table with his fist, glaring at his gunnery officer. “Very well, Koshino.
Fire the guns then, and be quick about it! Notify the cruiser escorts that we
will fire ranging salvoes so as not to look like complete fools , neh?
Then get those armor piercing rounds in fast, and consider how long it will
take you to pay for the rounds and powder we must waste because of your
incompetence!”
Koshino knew better than to say
anything now. He merely lowered his head, then saluted and rushed off to give
his gunnery crews their orders. Moments later they saw the forward turret
rotate away from the escorting cruiser squadron and fire. The sound was
deafening, and Iwabuchi shouted after it, venting his own anger with the
brilliant orange fire from the muzzles.
If this ship is nigh at hand, he
thought, then let them hear the roar of our guns, like thunder on the horizon.
It is one thing to bat aside Hara’s mosquitoes, but it will be quite another to
escape the anger of my guns, neh? He turned to his signalman and
ship and sink it,” he said firmly. “We will avenge you, Hayashi. By all Gods
and Kami, we will make certain your men died with honor. I swear it, my
friend. I will put my Thunder Fish in this ship’s belly! Or die trying.”
Hayashi just looked at him, a longing
in his eyes, as if he knew at that very moment that he would never see Matsua again,
and perhaps never see many of the pilots who were gathering on deck now, their
planes near ready, some up on the wings and climbing into the cockpits, eager
for battle. He clenched his jaw, and nodded.
“Good luck, Matsua. Now I must go and
make my report. For now… Sayonara …”
“Not so formal, Hayashi,” Matsua
clasped his friend’s shoulder with a smile. “Tonight we will drink on it, neh? Mata-ne ,
my friend. Ja -ne. See you soon.”
*
* *
Aboard the Battleship Kirishima , Captain
Sanji Iwabuchi was scanning the far horizon with his field glasses, well aware
that eagle eyed watchmen were doing the same, well above him on the tall pagoda
main mast of the stately ship. But he was eager to find this enemy, and bring
it under his heel.
Iwabuchi was a hard man, steely in
battle, and often cruel, impatient and abusive to subordinates. He was short
tempered and too quick to find fault, and he was clearly unhappy with the
sudden change of orders he had just received. His guns had all been primed and
loaded with HE and incendiaries for the planned bombardment of Darwin. Now he
would have to unload his eight big 14 inch guns and reload with heavy armor
piercing rounds, but the propellant charge bags were all wrong as well, and
getting them out of the breeches safely would take time. He summoned his
gunnery officer, Commander Kimitake Koshino and asked him how long the
procedure would take.
“We have been ordered to find this
enemy cruiser that has been giving Hara’s pilots fits. It is somewhere ahead,
and if this ship is not ready for action heads will roll, Koshino!”
“Please excuse me, Captain,” Koshino
said politely. “Incendiary rounds use only three powder bags instead of the
usual four. We will have to remove all three to get at the shell, then remove
it before we reload the new armor piercing round and four more powder bags.
Getting the shells and bags into the guns is very fast, sir. Getting
them back out is another matter. It could take twenty minutes for all eight
guns.”
“Too long!” Iwabuchi’s face indicated
his displeasure. “Murajima is out ahead in the float plane looking for this
ship now, and if he spots it I want to be ready for battle.”
“Well, sir…” Koshino hesitated, then
spoke his mind. “There is one way to speed things along. It could reduce our
reload time to just three or four minutes. We need only fire the guns. That
will remove the unwanted rounds and powder bags in short order. Then it is only
a matter of normal reloading.”
Iwabuchi’s face reddened. He struck
the table with his fist, glaring at his gunnery officer. “Very well, Koshino.
Fire the guns then, and be quick about it! Notify the cruiser escorts that we
will fire ranging salvoes so as not to look like complete fools , neh?
Then get those armor piercing rounds in fast, and consider how long it will
take you to pay for the rounds and powder we must waste because of your
incompetence!”
Koshino knew better than to say
anything now. He merely lowered his head, then saluted and rushed off to give
his gunnery crews their orders. Moments later they saw the forward turret
rotate away from the escorting cruiser squadron and fire. The sound was
deafening, and Iwabuchi shouted after it, venting his own anger with the
brilliant orange fire from the muzzles.
If this ship is nigh at hand, he
thought, then let them hear the roar of our guns, like thunder on the horizon.
It is one thing to bat aside Hara’s mosquitoes, but it will be quite another to
escape the anger of my guns, neh? He turned to his signalman and
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