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Cuttlefish -> RE: Into Enemy Waters (5/19/2007 2:38:57 AM)
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September 13, 1942
Location: 520 miles east-northeast of Auckland
Course: West
Attached to: TF 79
Mission: Air combat
System Damage: 6
Float Damage: 0
Fires: 0
Fuel: 474
Orders: Move south and intercept enemy shipping.
---
Gordon McNair, “Gordo” to his friends, stands on deck near the stern of the Standard Oil tanker William H. Berg. From this vantage point he can look back at the other five tankers in the convoy, following the Berg in more or less a straight line. Nearest is the Hadnot, followed by the L. P. St. Clair, the Spencer Kellogg, the Manvantara, and the Emidio.
The day is fine and the tankers are having little difficulty with the light swell. They have already delivered their cargoes of oil to Sydney and are now on the long voyage back to San Francisco, so all the ships are riding high in the water and making decent speed.
There are of course no escort vessels in sight. The Navy claims that there are far too few ships available to escort most convoys. That figures, thinks McNair. They are probably all too busy swilling fruity drinks in Honolulu to take part in the real work of fighting this war. He’d like to see what good all their fancy battleships and cruisers would be without the fuel and oil men like him help to deliver across the Pacific. None at all, that’s what, he thinks.
McNair is 43 years old, though after more than 20 years at sea he can easily be taken for 10 years older than that. He had tried to enlist in the Navy after Pearl Harbor, but had been told he was too old. Too old, he thinks. What a load of horse puckey. He is grizzled and stocky, but he bets he could do the job better than some teenage kid out of West Hicksville, Tennessee, who has never seen the ocean before.
The recruiter had told him, though, that the Merchant Marine was desperately short of men. Sure enough, they had taken one look at his qualifications and snapped him up. This is his second voyage of the war, and the first aboard the Berg. Once they get back to San Francisco McNair plans to take a month off and visit his mother down in Long Beach, then sign up for another voyage.
The Berg is a good ship, though. The 8,298 ton tanker was launched in 1937, ironically in the same week that her namesake became President of Standard Oil. The captain is an okay sort and the cook knows what he is doing. His crewmates are a good bunch, too. He has served aboard worse in his time, that’s for sure.
McNair’s thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a siren whooping an alarm across the water from one of the ships back in the convoy. Other ships quickly take up the refrain. McNair looks around to see what is going on. Could someone have spotted a submarine? No Jap subs have been reported this far south, but you could never tell. He sees men running and pointing to the northwest. He turns to look in that direction, then freezes in his tracks.
“Holy mother of God…” he breaths. The sky in that direction is covered with neat formations of aircraft. Though still just distant dots, they are obviously heading towards the convoy. McNair tries to count the planes, but gives up at over 150. There are more than enough, that’s all that matters.
Nearby he sees some Armed Guard troops rushing for their gun tubs. McNair shakes his head as he runs for his combat station. As if that is going to make any difference at all in what in about to happen, he thinks in despair.
---
Captain Ishii returns to the bridge of the Hibiki from the radio room. He nods to acknowledge the salutes he is given, then picks up a pair of binoculars and gazes to the southeast.
“What did you hear, Captain?” asks Lieutenant Sugiyura. “How did the attack go?” Captain Ishii lowers the binoculars.
“It went well,” he says. “Six large tankers, all sunk or heavily damaged. No reports of any aircraft lost. Admiral Nagumo has ordered that a small follow-up strike will launch after this one is recovered.” Sugiyura grins.
“I am glad we got to finally strike a blow!” he says. “Six tankers, a fine prize.” Captain Ishii nods slowly.
“Yes,” he says, “a fine prize. Yet I cannot help but feel some pity for the men caught under such a hammer. This was a massacre, not a battle. The poor devils out there never had a chance.”
---
“We never had a chance,” says McNair bitterly. The William H. Berg remains afloat, though she has been hit by two torpedoes and at least two bombs. Tankers are tough ships. He and most of what is left of the crew have just finished extinguishing a fierce fire that had flared amidships.
Around the ship the waters are covered with debris and oil. Four of the tankers are gone, and in their place a few sadly under populated life boats bob disconsolately in the swell. Nearby the Manvantara is still afloat, though she is listing severely to port and will obviously not remain afloat too much longer. Her crew is taking to their lifeboats in good order.
Though the flooding is extensive it looks as though the Berg might be able to make it back to Auckland. Despite this the lifeboats out there are maintaining their distance. McNair knows why, and does not blame them. The bloodthirsty Japs may well be back, and no one wants to be close to the ship if they do.
He leans wearily against a bulkhead and mops sweat and grime off his face. He wonders how long they will have to wait to find out if they are going to make it.
As it turns out, he does not have to wait long.
---
TK Manvantara following the attack:
[image]local://upfiles/23804/4E9F11FCC2C14974B0459DB18ED864DD.jpg[/image]
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