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Shadow of the Condor -> RE: It begins... (4/27/2004 8:01:46 PM)
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30 April 42… Briefing room, Operations building, Noumea, New Caledonia…
"…it’s the wildest thing I’ve ever heard of…where are we supposed to get the ships to pull this off?"
"The whole Jap navy supposedly is coming down our throats, and he wants to…………"
ATTENTION ON DECK!
Walking in, the admiral motioned his staff to be seated, sat down himself, and began.
“It seems, gentlemen, you’ve had some time to review my orders. The Japs are coming. Washington has given me ‘every confidence’, which means it’s my hide if we fail.
“And ours…” an officer breathed.
The Admiral motioned to the lieutenant from intelligence who waited at the door with his briefing but was clearly uncomfortable being in “flag country.” (edit...apologies to Mr. Clancy - I couldn't resist.)
"Sir, our intercepts of Japanese radio traffic lead us to believe they will strike at Australia. To do this, they would need to neutralize our base at Port Moresby and…”
”Neutralize??”, a Captain snorted…”Don’t you mean ‘capture’?”
“Beg pardon, sir, but we do not believe they will capture the base. We believe they see it as a threat to their surface and carrier forces. The Army would want to capture it, but the Navy would be content to simply bombard it until the base could no longer operate aircraft. And their Army is tied down by the Russians.”
But the Captain would not let the officer off the hook. “The Russians?? God almighty, son, how long can the Russians last with Hitler on their doorstep and the Japs on their back porch??”
The Admiral intervened. “Continue with the briefing, lieutenant.”
“Yes sir. We have also picked up increases in radio traffic between the enemy bases at Truk and Rabaul. One word continues to be referred to…’Mo’” We believe it’s their name for an operation into the Coral Sea. And one more thing, sir…they also make quite a few references to you. They’ve taken to calling you ‘Condor’”.
“Condor?” wondered the Admiral, “….some kind of half-assed vulture, isn’t it?”
Nobody spoke. A few heads looked downward, trying to suppress a smile.
“Thank you, lieutenant.”
The lieutenant gathered his papers and exited a little too quickly. No one could blame him.
1 April 42 0400L, Noumea harbor, onboard SC640…
At Noumea, the large task force slipped away from the harbor and began its journey towards a rendezvous at points unknown. Word was the enemy, after consolidating at Rabaul, now had its eyes set on points south. Lieutenant White, however, would not be part of that story. His “sub chaser”, SC640, was to do what it could to protect the harbor from enemy submarines. Working with three New Zealand patrol gunboats, it was hoped they could mob a contact and chase it away. It’s main weapons for its ASW role were still depth charges (both rolled off as well as fired by K-guns), but they were also fitted with two forward mounted Mk-20 Mousetraps – a poor man’s Hedgehog. The Mousetrap fired a pattern of four of the gourd-shaped weapons in patterns ahead of the ship. They could not, however, be set to go off at a certain depth. They actually had to hit the sub before exploding. Which meant the wooden vessel had to be almost on top of the sub before they could even fire. Not a very comforting thought.
So there he was. He surveyed his ship. Less than a third of the size of a destroyer, these little ships rode so low in the water that at night they were often mistaken for surfaced subs. They were so small that porpoises often were seen “attacking” the ships – indeed one of his inexperienced crew - a young seaman from Oklahoma - had thought the porpoises were torpedoes approaching and raised the alarm; afterwards his crewmates would remind the chagrined farmboy of that mistake for a long time.
With the departure of the task force, his ship was one of nine left behind with orders to “protect Noumea harbor”. The ship's captains gathered onboard the New Zealand gunboat Moa. White hadn’t worked with New Zeland officers before, but they seemed competent enough. No doubt the New Zealanders were thinking about their American counterparts as well. Their group was headed to a spit of land known as Mouly for a “training exercise”. He looked forward and saw a seaman removing the housing for the two Mk-20 Mousetraps and contemplated the “training exercise” as they slipped out to sea .
0445L...onboard HMAS Esperance Bay...Brisbane, Australia...
The private was one of the first onboard the big ship. Not that that improved his mood any. Woken up 4 hours earlier, he was only one of the thousands of troops assembled at the docks and beginning to file onto the ships. He looked left and right as he boarded and saw more ships than he ever had before in his 19 year old life. He of course, had no idea where they were going to, or even if they were going anywhere at all. Once before, they had loaded onto the big ships only to be unloaded after 5 hours in the bowels of the ship. Curses were heard everywhere as the men continued to load. Cranes were lifting cargo nets filled with ammunition and supplies. Artillery pieces were also being loaded. That, he thought, hadn't happened last time...
1300L...6,000 feet over New Ireland…
The B-17 droned on over the Japanese held islands below. 1st Lt. David Fresh was flying search patrols that day. The Husdon squadron at Port Moresby was also searching the ocean, but they didn't have the range his bomber had. He thought back to the morning briefing. His was a plane in a squadron moved from Rockhampton in Australia north to the base at Port Moresby.
“Gentlemen, we know the Japanese Navy is out there, somewhere. Your job will be to find them. Right now we need information. You’re not to engage the enemy. You’re to find him.”
The ground crew at the base heavy runway known as 7-Mile Drome had installed an auxiliary fuel tank inside the bomb bay of the massive bomber to extend even its impressive range. The gunners, however, found they only had enough ammunition for a few short bursts. Seems the order not to engage the enemy was going to be followed whether the crew agreed with it or not.
“Fresh from the factory” he heard snickered as he boarded his plane. Too true, he thought. The B-17 he learned about was to fly in formations, with the classic defensive box to ward off enemy fighters. Here, however, he was alone, over enemy held territory. Little in the way of ammunition, his plane’s greatest weapon was its radio…
The young lieutenant snapped from his reverie and keyed his intercom. “Headed home…” he announced. The storms earlier in the day were easing a bit. Flying in this weather wasn’t a good thing to do in peacetime, let alone in a war. Someone was very worried about where the Japs were to order search missions in this weather. So far, they hadn’t encountered any fighters, and Fresh saw no reason to push his plane or his luck further. The plane began to bank left on its way back to its new home beyond the Owen Stanley mountains.
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