Against the Tide Imperial: The Struggle for Ceylon (The Usurper's War: An Alternative World War II B by James Young (story reading txt) 📕

and smacked around some Italians. On top of that, we refueled yet again, delaying us another day. I can see this discussion in the history books now.

“Are the torpecker pilots going to get any tin fish that work?” someone asked sotto voce.

That drew a baleful glare from Commander Montgomery.

“You gentlemen let me worry about VT-11, thank you very much,” he snapped.

As much as the torpedo idiots go on about theirs is the only sure way to sink a ship rather than just let the air in, it’s a valid question. I don’t envy their job on the best of days, but getting shot down delivering weapons that don’t work has to be a huge problem.

“In any case, VS-11 will be launching within the hour to conduct a search to our east,” Commander Montgomery continued. “We’ll ready a strike just in case they find something.”

Eric looked at the clock on the bulkhead behind Montgomery.

That’s going to be downright interesting. I’m not sure there’s enough time for a search and a strike.

Eric sighed in relief as he realized the Bonhomme Richard was the duty carrier for the day, meaning that no Yorktown aircraft should be stuck possibly poking a Hornet’s nest of Japanese carrier planes.

Then again, if there's a force this far north and one where they'd have to be to hit the British carriers? Well, we might as well all just slit our wrists and jump overboard now.

“If the search finds anything, the plan is to conduct an attack even if it means we have to return in the darkness, gentlemen,” Montgomery said. There was sudden dead silence in the room.

“The last report from the British was dire,” Montgomery said. “They had another strike inbound, and had not fully refueled their surviving CAP from the attack which hit the Victorious and Eagle.”

This news was also greeted with somber silence.

A carrier without her CAP is meat on the table, Eric thought. Makes you wonder how many Japanese flattops are out there. If there’s any consolation, the fact that the British don’t know about Bonhomme Richard and Independence, it means our friends from the Rising Sun won’t know either.

Strangely, the thought didn’t give Eric as much comfort as it might have before the news. If the British were getting pummeled and carriers were around Ceylon, it didn’t take a strategic genius to see the IJN was indeed taking things seriously.

What in the Hell are the surface boys back and Pearl doing?

“All right gents, I’ll be getting with the squadron leaders after this,” Montgomery said. “They’re serving sandwiches in the wardrooms. I suggest everyone get a meal, as we might be launching before dinner.”

I.J.N.S. Akagi

1800 Local (0830 Eastern)

400 Miles Northeast of Addu Atoll

Indian Ocean

9 August

“Sir, all carriers have have recovered their aircraft,” Rear Admiral Kaku stated.

Vice Admiral Yamaguchi turned to look inside the island, ignoring the drama on the flight deck. The final Akagi aircraft, Commander Fuchida’s Tenzan, had just crash landed after the force’s third strike. The CAG’s aircraft had been damaged in some action.

His survival caps a long, strenuous day. But a victorious one.

Yamaguchi took a moment to smile at his inadvertent pun given the British losses on the day.

We’ll see what Ozawa-san has to say about my ability to manage the Kido Butai next time he sees Admiral Yamamoto.

“Thank you, Rear Admiral Kaku. Compile the results from the other carriers and have the staff prepare to brief me in thirty minutes.”

“Hai, sir,” Kaku said. “Do we need to prepare a plan for strikes on Addu Atoll?”

Yamaguchi smiled at his subordinate’s aggressiveness.

Better to have to rein in a tiger than prod a donkey into battle.

“I think we have done enough for His Majesty in this section of the Indian Ocean. We need to return to Ceylon and the reason we came here before Vice Admiral Ozawa runs out of aircraft.”

Kaku bowed at that, then left the flag bridge.

Or for that matter, before we run out of aircraft,

Not for the first time, he was glad that the IJN had transitioned to sturdier, more modern aircraft based on the lessons the Germans and British had learned in Europe. The losses, at least what the staff had informed him of so far, had been troubling.

Roughly thirty aircraft shot down with another twenty or so damaged. Yes, we have spares, but I hate to lose so many pilots. Especially the ones we will just have to abandon to their fates.

In a perfect world, Yamaguchi would have had enough aircraft or ships to go search for the twenty or so aircrew from aircraft who had ditched on the way back to the Kido Butai. In reality, the best he’d been able to do was send a request back through Combined Fleet Headquarters to have Fifth Fleet’s submarines in the area attempt to find the proverbial needles in the haystack.

“Sir, would you like to have your meal brought to you?” his steward asked. As if on cue from the inquiry, Vice Admiral Yamaguchi felt the first pangs of hunger he’d had all day.

It does neither me nor this force any good to pass out on this bridge, Vice Admiral Yamaguchi realized.

“I will take the meal in my cabin,” he said. “It will have to be fast, I will be meeting with the staff shortly.”

“You are certain?” Yamaguchi asked Commander Fuchida forty-five minutes later.

Fuchida looks like hell. He cannot fly tomorrow.

The CAG had apparently been jumped by an expertly flown Seafire. It was only through pure fate that the Tenzan’s pilot had started a turn just as the British fighter opened fire. As a result, it was only Fuchida’s arm in a sling and his tailgunner’s blood all over his uniform rather than the man dead somewhere in the Indian Ocean.

“Hai, Admiral,” Fuchida said, wincing. “I saw the Victorious explode myself from the second strike’s torpedoes, and Eagle could not have survived the three more hits.”

Those were certainly low numbers given both vessels crippled condition, but should be enough, yes.

“The third strike also scored at least two torpedo