Axis of Evil

Chapter Twenty-Two: Upside Down

Government House

Canberra, Australia

16^th May 1941

The room was deathly quiet, with only four people around the table. Sir Robert Gordon Menzies, Prime Minister of Australia. Sir Thomas Albert Blamey, commander in chief of the Commonwealth Armed Forces (Australia). Admiral Sir Harold Turtledove, commander of the Eastern Fleet. Ambassador David Atwell; Ambassador from the future. Menzies put down the folder finally; it made a thump sound that echoed in the air.

“Are you… quite certain that this will work?” He asked. “Are you confident that we can handle the problems that might result?”

There was a long uncomfortable pause. Menzies knew, better than anyone, that Australia’s morale wasn’t high. After being bounced out of New Guinea and the Dutch East Indies, after losing so much of their fleet to the Japanese, and enduring weekly bombing raids, Australia was worried about the future. Even the new nuclear power plant, a gift from Britain that could be used to finally develop the interior of Australia, hadn’t lifted their sprits too much.

“Yes,” Admiral Turtledove said finally. Menzies nodded; he didn’t understand the controversy spinning around the Admiral in Britain, as far as the Australians were concerned he’d won the battle that had saved them from an immediate invasion. “The opportunity is too good to miss.”

Menzies sighed. “Explain,” he said finally, though a pounding headache. Elections were coming up soon and he had looked like a certain victor. Now… now he wasn’t so sure, not just because of the historical verdict.

“Prime Minister, the Japanese have shot all, but one of their bolts,” Turtledove said. “In Indonesia… ah, the Dutch East Indies, they have nine divisions; five fully worked up divisions and four of their scratch divisions, which are under-equipped and undermanned. They started with eleven full-strength divisions after China; we chewed one up pretty good in Singapore and two more were shattered in the Battles of the Indies.”

“They won that battle,” Menzies observed, without accusation.

“Yes, but it cost them badly,” Turtledove said. “The problem is now different; Japanese troops make very good defensive fighters and they will dig into the islands if we let them. PJHQ is still planning the counter-attack, but for the moment Japan still thinks that it holds the whip hand. If they start digging into the islands, we’ll have to dig them out at great cost.”

He waved a hand at the map, positioned on the wall. “The Japanese think they have one last shot at forcing Britain out of the war,” he said. “The Burma front isn’t going anywhere fast – we chewed up their logistics pretty badly – and here is their only logical target. We tracked them moving troops and supplies into the harbours on the southern side of the Dutch East Indies; we expect them to begin soon. However, they have one problem, the fleet in your waters.”

He marked out a line on the map. “There are nearly forty Royal Navy ships in a position to intercept the invasion fleet,” he said. “Against them, the Japanese have no chance at all, so they’ve devised a diversion; their fleet is going to attack Canada and provide an opportunity to destroy it that we are not expected to resist.”

Menzies looked up at him. “And you don’t want to resist it,” he said. “That’s the gist of your plan; you’re gambling on the army’s ability to defeat the Japanese on the ground.”

Blamey coughed. “Prime Minister, we could defeat the four divisions the Japanese could put on our shores,” he said. “The battleground, near Darwin, has been almost completely evacuated, except for the military. There are no less than twelve divisions of ours there, four of them armoured, as well as the special units from Britain.”

“Four divisions is the worst case scenario,” Turtledove injected. “Despite all their attempts to extend the range of their air transports, we don’t believe that they will be able to pose a major threat to us, or to even provide a division with enough to fight for a day. The Japanese were noted for ignoring logistics, but if they can put more than four divisions across in a single wave, I will be astonished.”

“Once the Japanese first wave lands, and gets comfortable, they’ll send the ships back for more troops,” Blamey said, warming to his topic. “The fleet reloads and sets out again and…”

“And the submarines move in,” Turtledove said. “We have ten SSNs near Australia; I’ve called them all back except for the Trafalgar. The Japanese load up again, and set out, and we slaughter them.”

Blamey nodded. “In the meantime, we move in on the ground and throw them back into the sea,” he said. “We would have air support and the tanks from America; we’ll win with ease, hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” Menzies said.

“In the very worst case, we’ll still cut the army off near Darwin and they won’t have anywhere to go,” Turtledove said. “They’re not going to conquer Australia with four divisions, are they?”

“What happens if they land elsewhere?” Menzies asked, thoughtfully. He had to admit that it sounded good, but it would be dangerous. “Like at Brisbane, or even New Zealand.”

“They can’t put too much stress on their equipment,” Turtledove said. “If they try to land on the east coast, their lines get longer and longer. If they do try for New Zealand, the submarines will kill them all before they even get close. No, if they have any sense at all, they’ll try to keep it simple and head for the north coast.”

Menzies scowled. “And where will you be when the battle is being fought?”

“Sinking the Japanese fleet,” Turtledove said. “I’ve ordered the Trafalgar to head north to Hashirajima, where the Japanese have based the carriers of the Combined Fleet. They’re assembling the fleet there, and the Trafalgar will watch developments from a safe distance.”

“Will it really be safe?” Atwell asked. The loss of an SSN – although the future British seemed certain that it had been mechanical failure rather than Japanese action – had dented RAN confidence in their new allies slightly. The survivors were in the United Kingdom, learning the ropes of their new SSKs, the non-nuclear submarines that would sweep Japan from the sea.

“We believe so,” Turtledove said. “We’ve thought about attacking the carriers there, but unless we get lucky, the bastards will be able to do unto us what the Americans did in 1941OTL; re-float the ships.” He chuckled. “In deep water, we will take our position with much of the fleet – except the submarines – and start firing from well outside their own range.”

“And that’s the end of the Japanese part in the war,” Menzies mused.

“The aggressive part in the war,” Turtledove said. “We will still have to roll them back, but once their fleet is gone, we can sweep them from the seas and stave them out if necessary.” He shrugged. “Perhaps they’ll see sense and surrender.”

“Not bloody likely,” Atwell muttered.

“The operation is approved,” Menzies said finally. “May God help us all.”

HIMS Yamato

Hashirajima, Japan

16^th May 1941

The departure of a major fleet in three days is a difficult task at the best of times, but the Japanese Navy had developed the skill over nearly sixty years of modern warfare. Veterans from as far back as 1904 were drafted back into the service, assisting the handful of carriers and battleships to prepare for departure. Behind them, on the army compounds of Japan, young draftees drilled constantly, waiting for weapons and transport to one of the battlegrounds.

“I trust the plans are prepared,” Admiral Yamamoto said, without turning around. His eyes gazed over the preparations for war in the harbour, and a cold fear gripped at his heart. Not for himself, for he didn’t fear death, but for his people. He’d been able to convince the Army to start preparing defences in Japan itself, but there was so little time left to prepare. In a week, the fleet would be sunk… and then Japan would lie open to naval attack.

“Yes, sir,” Commander Sato said. “We have supplied ourselves with escorting oil tankers and transports, we could even effect a landing near Vancouver if we had the troops.”

“We won’t get anywhere near Vancouver,” Yamamoto snapped, scowling across the vision of powerful Japan. He knew that it was an illusion. “Commander Sato, we will be sunk midway between the two.”

“I have prepared plans for the battle,” Commander Sato said. “If we use the main guns, we might be able to knock down some of their… cruise missiles.”

Yamamoto’s eyes flickered with a new hope. He forced it down ruthlessly. “Then they send another, and another,” he said. “Our only hope is the new armour, and the new radar system from Germany.” He glared. “And as the British have shown themselves to be perfectly capable of jamming it whenever they choose, it’s not as useful as it seems.”

Commander Sato nodded grimly. “We have at least modified the sonar Jammer,” he said. “With some of the equipment that the Germans have sent, and some of the data they’ve supplied, we should be able to confuse their submarines.”

“It won’t be as useful as you think,” Yamamoto said, and he felt a new flicker of pain within his heart. “What about our own submarines?”

“We’ll have an escort, along with some of their tenders,” Commander Sato assured him. “They can seek out the enemy carriers and…”

“And get blown out of the water,” Yamamoto said. “We are in the position of using our bodies to hold back a machine gun, Commander Sato.”

Commander Sato bowed. “Hai,” he said. “Admiral, then why do we fight?”

Yamamoto chuckled bitterly. A new wave of bile rose up within his chest. “We have a duty to die for Japan,” he said. “We have a duty… Commander Sato; I was on the bridge of Admiral Togo’s ship when we defeated a European power for the first time, and…”

A strange dimness arose around his eyes. He was grimly aware, at the very edge of his perception, of Commander Sato’s cry of alarm. “And now we are threatened by barbarians with weapons out of those novels I used to read,” he said, and darkness swallowed him up. He never felt his body hit the deck.

Ambassador Yurina didn’t react openly as the Japanese commander, one of Yamamoto’s allies, gave her the news. Yamamoto had made it clear that she was his unofficial aide, and she was to be treated with all courtesy. Still, Japanese women were not expected to show emotion in this era, and she kept her face calm as Commander Sato reported that Yamamoto had been taken to the navy Hospital to have his stomach pumped to remove the poison.

“Admiral Chuichi Nagumo has taken command of the fleet,” Commander Sato reported. “I expect that the Admiral, and yourself, will remain in the anchorage.”

“He would have wanted to command the fleet,” Yurina said flatly.

“He can’t command in that state,” Commander Sato said nervously. “There are three battalions of Naval Infantry based here as well.”

Yurina felt a flicker of pity for the young officer, caught up in a web of politics that would have defeated an older man. Yamamoto had fought many battles with the army over the Naval Infantry, finally securing the right to command them as he saw fit. It was curious and part of her would have loved to have watched how it developed; no other country had such cooperation and enmity at the same time. They would have developed a civil war by now…

Only in Japan, she thought, as Commander Sato bowed and left the room. She watched as the door closed behind her, half-expecting to hear the lock click. It didn’t, but she might have well have been a prisoner anyway; the lower decks knew nothing about her and might have tried to use her. There were times when she heard the screams, drifting over the still waters, and she shuddered in the night.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, as the night grew darker around her. The bed was cold and hard. She knew she’d done the right thing, for the right reasons, but it wasn’t a consolation. For the first time since falling into bed with Yamamoto, she knew just how alone she truly was.

They should be able to save you soon, she thought, thinking about the poison. It was a common Japanese poison, but one that was only fatal in large doses. Yamamoto had only infested a small dose, just enough to make him ill – she hoped. She wouldn’t know for a week, after the fleet had sailed.

For the first time since she’d been a teenager and had her heart broken for the first time, Ambassador Yurina cried herself to sleep.

10 Downing Street

London, United Kingdom

16^th May 1941

“Horton, Professor Adrian,” Stirling said. A picture of a middle-aged black man appeared on the screen. “Born, 1980, Edinburgh. Went to Boroughmuir High School then Cambridge, majoring in modern history and geopolitics. Wrote The Balance of Global Powers, a description of the war on terror, in 2004, at twenty-four. He followed this up with a series of books on World War Two, and married Jasmine Brocklewich in 2005.”

An image of Jasmine Horton, nee Brocklewich, appeared on the screen. “Two children, Stuart and Emma, and now a third if the video is telling the truth. Became interested in post-Holocaust history in 2010 and appealed to the German Government for release of some of their documents. The request was refused, and then refused again and again, and he went onto other sources until 2015, when some achieves were opened.”

“And that’s why he was on the plane?” McLachlan asked. “What’s he doing helping Hitler?”

“His wife and children are in German hands,” Stirling said. “Does he have a choice?” He coughed. “And besides, we have proof that he’s held against his will. Did you catch the people he named as examples?”

Hanover lifted an eyebrow. “Enlighten me,” he said. “Peaceniks from Iraq?”

“He said they were, yes,” Stirling said. “However, they weren’t; I looked the names up. Two of them were RAF servicemen who were supposed to have been captured and tortured during the Gulf War, the first one. Some of them were forced to broadcast messages from Baghdad, while Andy McNab claimed to have taken part in the Gulf War. Obviously, the first two weren’t there of their own free will.”

“And neither is Horton,” Hanover said. “Where is he?”

“In Berlin somewhere,” Stirling said. “Past that? We know he’s in a bunker somewhere, and he let slip that it was designed to survive a nuclear attack, but we don’t have a precise location.”

“And a rescue mission is out of the question,” Hanover said reluctantly.

“I’m afraid so,” General Cunningham said. “Berlin is a big place and we won’t have a target place to search.”

“So… how does this change our strategy?” Hanover asked. “How can this guy affect the course of the war?”

“I’m not sure,” Stirling admitted. “There was a historian called Tony Williams who wrote a book on the changes he would make to both sides, but God only knows how much of his advice Hitler is taking. The problem is that historians, the good ones at least, wonder endlessly about how they would have done things, were they in command at the time.”

“Wonderful,” Hanover said. “I suppose we’d better see to protection for the family.”

“Yes, sir,” Stirling said.

“Get the Oversight Committee working on what effects this may have,” Hanover ordered. “Now… Joan?”

“I received a FLASH signal from Admiral Turtledove a few minutes ago,” Admiral Grisham said. “The Australians have agreed to the plan for destroying both the Combined Fleet and the invading army.”

Hanover smiled wryly. “That’s good news,” he said. “Why can’t all my news be like this?”

“Because then we’d be lying to you all the time,” McLachlan said. He was the only person in the room who would have dared to say it. “Incidentally, Major Dashwood believes that we can launch the next satellites in a few more days. There’s three up now, and we’ll have five more in a month.”

“That’s better news,” Hanover said. “Incidentally, are the Germans doing anything in Norway that we ought to be alarmed about?”

“It’s hard to be certain,” Stirling said. “JARIC – the Joint Air Reconnaissance Intelligence Centre – has been charged with studying the imagery from the satellites. The Germans don’t seem to be moving more troops up north, but they have stopped the movement to the east. They must suspect something.”

“It’s not like there are many targets,” McLachlan said grimly. “The American Press has been speculating rather enthusiastically about a landing in Europe, and MacArthur has been ranting on about us trying to take over the world.”

“Poor man,” Hanover said. “It must be a nasty shock to know you had achieved your dream, and because of it you never would succeed. What’s he doing now?”

“We’re not certain,” McLachlan admitted. “Ambassador Quinn sent that MacArthur has offered himself to the Republican Party as a candidate for the next elections, in three years time. Given all the trouble in the United States, some Governor may snap him up as a National Guard commander, even though it might cause a mutiny.”

“Overrated crisis,” Hanover muttered. “John, keep an eye on the situation. The last thing we want is America leaving the war.”

“Of course, Charles,” McLachlan said. “For the moment, I’m fairly certain that the Republicans won’t touch him with a bargepole. It would be politically disastrous.”

“Now, Admiral,” Hanover said. “Is Admiral Turtledove ready?”

“He says that he’s as ready as he would be without making it obvious he’s ready,” Grisham said. “The fleet is fully loaded and warned that it might have to leave in a hurry.”

“Good,” Hanover said. “Now… all we have to do is wait.”

“And see,” McLachlan injected.