1275psi
Posts: 7979
Joined: 4/17/2005
Status: offline
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15/6
Carnovan.
A single road that squeezes up along the coast between the beach and a lake, swings
inland, crosses the Gascoyne river, and continues north
A rudimentary airfield within 100 metres of the river, 500, at most, from the river mouth.
A small island protects the river mouth.
And to the north, to the south, miles, and miles of beautiful beaches, that barely climb
to the desert beyond, and the coast road.
You would need a million men to defend these beaches.
Carnovan, all 15 buildings, 3 pubs, a post office, is a deadly trap, surrounded by lake, river and sea.
The Japanese are already streaming south down the road when the allies arrive.
3 base force units, streaming south, with no where to hide.
At 12 midday, precisely, the 4 royals, heavy cruiser Dorchester, take target practice.
There is no harbour. Just the ocean, calm here, the river, the beaches.
There are no landing craft. Instead the Aussies have to do exactly what the
first Anzacs do, lower the boats, form strings of men laden vessels, and make their way ashore.
The River helps, disembarkation on its banks is easy.
But it is going to be slow, a horribly slow process.........
Jason takes his turn for the boats at 3pm.. He leads his men down the scrambling nets,
noting with distaste the difficulties the cranes are having with even a single tank, and the
pitiful lack of barges to receive them.
But then a Sailor is directing him to his bench, and the boat grows crowded with good humour
and gear.
He wonders was Gallipoli like this?, and thinks maybe it was.
Battleships thumping away, the rattle of a machine gun ashore, some rifle fire.
They cast of, a sixteen year old sailor at the helm, all freckles and studious seriousness.
The waters are brilliantly blue, inviting.
The beach, up, out, he does not even get wet feet.
The beach master and his team are well at it.
"Straight ahead if you please sir....your HQ is already at the Post office"
Jason pauses a moment before turning towards the shattered town, takes it in. The huge number
of ships, the battleships, grey, imposing, the snarling circling fighters overhead.
And the men, the men everywhere, 1000's of Akubras on heads in defiance of the orders
to wear tin.
Not so much unlike Gallipoli at all. Except we lost that invasion.
This one, 3 hours old, is already won.
_____________________________
big seas, fast ships, life tastes better with salt
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