Final impact

Sailors were notorious for the stories they made up, but there could be no doubt that the Allied navies enjoyed remarkable advantages in technology. It was a proven fact some of their new ships and planes baffled the radar sets that Japan had bought from the Reich, and the very act of turning on the radar seemed to act as a beacon, attracting swarms of rockets and bombs when the gaijin were about.

Given all that, he thought as he neared the top of the ladder leading up to the launch tube, it was only prudent to make sure that they were ready to get away at a moment’s notice. Literally. And he’d meant what he said to Onada. If an Ohka struck an obstacle on the rails, it could be disastrous, perhaps even destroying the entire base in an explosion that set off a chain reaction among the dozens of Ohkas lined up for launch.

So he would check the launch tunnels for any problems, obstructions-anything that might interfere at the last minute. And he’d do so every day, if no one else would.

Reaching the top of the ladder, he poked his head over the rim.

Denny and Barbaro were almost at the end of the tunnel, carefully inching forward along the floor. It was a precarious business. The slope was steep; crawling down it, Denny felt as though they might slip forward and tumble over the edge into the midst of the enemy.

About eight feet from the opening, he could already see that they’d struck pay dirt. The huge cavern was crowded with the Japanese flying bombs he’d been tasked to locate. Ohkas, if he remembered right. These things looked just like them. The wings were a little swept back, and they looked bigger than he’d expected, but they had to be the jet-powered kamikaze planes everyone had been expecting.

A quick radio call, and this nest of vipers would be somebody else’s problem. He was just about to turn around and start the climb back when a head popped up over the edge, and he found himself staring into the startled eyes of an enemy soldier.

“Fuck,” Barbaro hissed.

The Jap screamed something out in his own language. Everyone on the floor of the cavern froze and stared up in their direction.

Then all hell broke loose.

Americans!

Yukio almost tumbled back off the ladder, he was so surprised.

“Americans!” he screamed. “Americans in the launch tunnels!”

He reached for his holster, scrambling for a gun, cursing as he remembered that he wasn’t wearing it. It was forbidden to carry sidearms in the caverns. An accidental discharge might set off a calamitous explosion.

The faces of the enemy registered shock and fear.

He almost slid down the ladder, but stopped himself at the last moment. A cringing, animalistic response welled up in him, urging him to flee.

But screaming his kiai instead, he vaulted up the last couple of rungs.

Denny shot the guy in the face. One round from his.45 took off the top of the Jap’s head and sent the corpse cartwheeling backward into space.

The sound broke a spell that had hung over the tableau, and instantly the room below them was seething with enraged nips.

“Get back to the others,” he shouted at Barbaro, unslinging his carbine and flipping the selector to full auto. He squeezed off a long burst that cut down a couple of the enemy running toward him. “Get word back to fleet. They gotta knock this place down. Bomb it to fucking rubble.”

“But-”

“Just fucking go. I’ll be right behind you.”

Barbaro took off up the steep incline, tripping once on the rail and cursing.

Denny cringed, expecting a hail of return fire, but none came.

He flipped his selector back to single shots and started picking off targets.

He just had to give the others a few precious minutes to get the word back to fleet.

30

D-DAY + 39. 12 JUNE 1944. 1446 HOURS.

USS HILLARY CLINTON, PACIFIC AREA OF OPERATIONS.

The recording ended abruptly with a clatter of gunfire and the harsh, staccato sounds of someone shouting in Japanese. The admiral nodded at the sysop to close the file. The CIC staffer shut it down with a few key clicks and awaited further instructions.

Kolhammer’s expression didn’t betray in any way the feelings he had about the transmission. A comm screen deployed from the ceiling of the Clinton’s Combat Information Center, dropping in front of him and revealing a somber-looking Ray Spruance.

“I don’t think there’s any doubt that they’re gone, Admiral,” Kolhammer said. “And given the data Willet sent through from Okhotsk, we’ll be coming within range of those things very soon. I have a Skyhawk flight fitted out with bunker busters, ready to roll on your say-so.”