“Sir,” said Fukada, “I can assure you, the homeland is safe here at the moment, at least for the time being. I know that what we’ve told you sounds fantastic, but you can have your navigator confirm all that sun and moon data Commander Fukada mentioned, and you’ll soon see that this isn’t October. It is in fact, January, and when he’s done with that, here’s a chart of what these islands off our port side should look like here. One look out that port hole will tell you something is amiss. That’s the island of Elugelab out there.”
“What of it?”
“Sir, that island won’t be on any of our charts. It was vaporized in 1952 during an American nuclear bomb test here. It no longer exists, but yet, there it is. Your Navigator will confirm that as well.”
“Now you can’t stand there and tell me this task force has sailed off into Yomi.” The Admiral gave Fukada a hard look. “I want some answers here, and enough with the nonsense.”
Yomi was the mythical Land of the Dead, the world of darkness in Japanese Shinto mythology, and Fukada passed a moment thinking how they were going to explain that the life and world the Admiral came from were gone, at least for now, if not forever. They had hoped the Admiral’s task force was a rescue mission, as farfetched as even that seemed. How could Kita simply lead his ships into the past to make this timely rendezvous with Takami. By what means would he have done so? Yet there he was, unaccountable, as much a surprise to Harada and Fukada as they were to him.
“Admiral,” said Harada. “This is going to get worse before it gets better, and it’s going to take some time. My XO is correct. That is Elugelab out there, and there’s your first clue as to the truth of what we’ve just told you. The sun and moon data will back it up. You won’t raise anyone on normal comm-links here, but have your radioman tune in to a set of frequencies we’ll give you today. For that matter, just start monitoring the AM or FM bands. You’ll start picking up what you could only call ‘yesterday’s news.’ And right out there,” he pointed, “That’s the fleet oiler Kazahaya. We just took on fuel and we were about to escort it home to Yokohama.”
“Kazahaya? Never heard of it.”
“Of course, sir, because that ship was laid down in September of 1941… and it was sunk by a pair of US submarines in October of 1943. There it is. Board it. Go yourself with a detail of Marines. We’d be happy to accompany you, and when we’re done, send a helo up and overfly the main airfield at Eniwetok. There was a 6,800 foot bomber field built there by the Americans in 1944. You won’t find it there now, just a small airstrip. There isn’t much there at all now, just a small seaplane base on Parry Island. Go have a look, and on the way there, check our Runit Island. Look for the Fish Eye, and you’ll see that’s gone too. That ground is still radioactive in our time, but not now. It’s pristine. You won’t find the slightest hint of radiation anywhere in the atoll, and this place was hit with over eighty detonations after the war. It’s going to be a case of seeing is believing for you over the next few days, just as it was for us. But everything you see and hear—everything—is going to back up what we’ve just told you.”
Part II
Operation Phoenix
Chapter 4
General Dwight D. Eisenhower sat at the head of the table, looking down the line of personalities on either side. The British were there with Air Marshal William Welsh, a quiet yet competent man who had started in the Merchant Navy in 1910 before becoming a test pilot in the first war. Then he worked through various positions in the Middle East, leading Air Squadrons in Palestine and Syria, managing technical training and air supply operations. At his side was Middle East Theater Commander Wavell, one eye shielded with a patch, looking just a little more grey, and very worn. He had stayed at his post largely because of his secret knowledge of Kirov, Kinlan, and the true origin of both, though Churchill had seen that he was flush with a number of able subordinates now, like Auchinleck and Alexander.
On his left sat the implacable and stolid figure of General Montgomery, Britain’s Rock, both east and west, always happy to wear such a moniker on his small round shoulders. Today, however, he appeared as a no-nonsense soldier, dressed in plain khaki kit with the telltale beret sitting on the table before him. Monty had been very busy, carefully managing the transfer of British forces from Spain, and receiving new units, equipment and supplies through the ports of Oran and Algiers. He glanced occasionally at Patton, who sat opposite him on the American side of the table, an amiable grin on his face in spite of his impatience to get on with this war. General Omar Bradley, sat on Patton’s left, another quiet and unassuming man that Eisenhower had cleverly sent to Patton to keep an eye on things. The colorful Brigadier General James Doolittle, Senior USAAF commander, rounded out the American delegation.
“Alright,” said Eisenhower. “We’ve sat on things here long enough. It’s taken us the better part of three months just to sort out the logistics here. Thus far, I would have to say that our operations in Algeria have violated every recognized principle of war, are in conflict with all operational and logistical methods laid down in textbooks, and will be condemned in their entirety by all Leavenworth and War College classes for the next twenty-five years! That stops now. This meeting is to coordinate the new offensive, and I’m told they picked a doozy of a name for it this time—BLADERUNNER.”
There had been an advanced combined arms team called “Blade Force” composed of both British and American troops early on as the Allies pushed into Algeria, and the name had sprung from that.
“Operation Torch succeeded in spite of the logistical mess,” said Ike. “We cleared Morocco, chased the Germans out of Spain, liberated Gibraltar, and pushed half way across Algeria before they dug in their heels and stopped us. They wouldn’t have stopped us if we had been able to move faster, but now we meet to address that shortcoming. At the same time, General’s Wavell and O’Connor cleared all of Cyrenaica and now they’re ready to push on for Tripoli. That’s his operation out east. For us here in Algeria, the aim is Tunis and Bizerte, and complete control of North Africa. But General Wavell, what in God’s name happened at Tobruk?”
Wavell had expected the question, asked more for the benefit of other officers who had heard more rumors about it than explanations. He cleared his throat, smiled, and gave the stock reply that had been devised by the British to cover the debacle.
“That was our forward supply depot for General O’Connor’s entire operation while the Italians still had Benghazi,” he said. “We had fuel and ammo ships packed in like sardines on the south side of the harbor, and something ignited an ammo ship. That shore was also crowded with munitions ready for movement to the railhead. I’m afraid it was too much together at one time and place and the whole lot went up in the most spectacular mess anyone’s ever seen.”
Ike nodded. That was the gist of it, and he hoped it would now stop lips flapping about it so they could get on with things here. What he really knew about it, he would keep to himself, and it was a good deal more mysterious than Wavell’s straightforward story.