“There have been a number of clashes in the Thailand-Malaya border, which is near Singapore,” Colonel Hamilton said. The future Briton was calm and composed. “General Flynn has ordered the execution of Operation Picador, the plan to defend Singapore. We’re also tracking Japanese aircraft entering the Dutch East Indies.”
Menzies nodded. Japanese troop transports had been seen near the East Indies for weeks; unfortunately the moribund Dutch administration, still trying to work out to whom they owed allegiance with the disappearance of the Government-In-Exile, had been reluctant to allow the Commonwealth to move troops into Java. An infantry regiment was dug into Papua New Guinea, and another in the Solomon Islands, but no one expected them to hold.
“Have they said anything to us?” Menzies asked, studying the computer map. The first of the nuclear submarines was due in three days; with its help perhaps the Japanese could be prevented from landing on Australia itself.
“Nothing at all,” Atwell said. “Did you think they would?”
Menzies ignored the insult. “I assume that the air force has been alerted?”
General Blamey nodded. “The RAAF and the New Zealanders have been placed on alert,” he said. General Blamey, at least, had shown no hesitation in using the advanced technology to improve his communications. “Unfortunately, you know what the air force is like at the moment…”
Menzies scowled. The Royal Australian Air Force was weak; the promised shipload of advanced aircraft was still in transit. The troops that had returned from the desert had brought the former Desert Air Force back with them, but no one thought that the handful of Gladiators and some Swordfish would stand up to the might of Imperial Japan.
“The Contemporaries can’t adapt to the new jets,” Hamilton said, and the room temperature dropped noticeably. A Hurricane could be flown by a commercial pilot; one of the super-fighters from the future needed years of training to fly. “Even if we had them, we don’t have anywhere to fly them from.”
Menzies nodded grimly. Work was proceeding on a large airfield for the advanced jets, but there was so much to do and so little time to do it in. “I assume that London has been alerted?”
“Yes, Prime Minister,” Hamilton said. A console chimed an alert; Japanese aircraft were rising from French Indochina, heading for Borneo. Others were heading down towards the Dutch East Indies. “Sir, it looks like bombing raids for the Dutch East Indies.”
Blamey scowled. “I bet you anything that the Dutch are going to roll over and let the Japanese in,” he said. “You know what they’re like.”
The console chimed again. New contacts were appearing; red icons heading… towards Australia. “We have a major bombing raid in progress,” Hamilton said dispassionately. “Targets… Darwin, Perth, Cairns… perhaps Brisbane itself.”
“So that’s where their carriers have gone,” Blamey said grimly. “The air force is going to have to defend four different cities.”
Menzies rounded on Hamilton. “Why didn’t your equipment see them coming?” He demanded. “If you can track aircraft over Singapore…”
“We are not tracking aircraft over Singapore,” Hamilton said calmly. “Radar stations on Singapore itself are tracking them for us, and transmitting their results to us. Radar stations on the islands we’ve chosen to defend are contributing as well, but we don’t have a perfect net and even if we did we wouldn’t necessarily see a carrier that’s over the horizon.”
Menzies let out a breath. “And do your magic guns work on the same principle?”
“Yes, but we put them around Canberra,” Hamilton reminded him. “There weren’t enough to secure all of the cities, not yet.”
Against the rising sun, streams of Japanese aircraft fell out of the sky and swooped down on harbours and airfields near Darwin, attacking the Australian ships in the harbour with grim determination. The attack was savage, barely deterred by the desperate fire of the ships and the harbour defences, and mauled part of the Royal Australian Navy. Transports and commercial ships were blown out of the water; the Japanese left the port in ruins.
A second flight swooped down on the nearby airfield, slashing away at its facilities, including the extended runway for 2015 aircraft, and targeting the aircraft hangers. The Japanese pilots were astonished to realise that the RAAF was serious about deploying the Wirraway training aircraft, but it didn’t slow down their reflexes. Wiping out the RAAF was one of their missions; slowly the Australians were wiped out of the sky.
A shame that we could not invade directly, Admiral Ozawa thought. His posting to command of the three carriers that made up part of the Carrier Striking Force had astonished him; apparently he showed the proper virtues in the future. Admiral Nagumo had been sent to command the battle-line; the battleships that would assist the capture of Singapore. One of his carriers was out of reach, positioned to attack Perth, but the other two were a powerful striking force.
“The aircraft have finished rearming,” his assistant reported. Ozawa nodded; the aide bowed and waited for orders. Ozawa considered; attack Australia again, or attack the British possessions in the Indies?
“Order them to continue their attacks on the Australian Navy,” he ordered, checking the reports from the spotter aircraft. Seven of Australia’s known capital ships – cruisers – had been reported destroyed or sunk; the others hadn’t been located. The RAAF had fought bravely, the men reported, but had been destroyed. Only five aircraft had been lost.
“Signal from the Soryu,” a midshipman said, running in and bowing. “She’s sunk two more Australian ships and damaged the harbours.”
“Excellent,” Ozawa said. “Now we’ll finish the job. Once the Indies are in our hands, we’ll invade that vast land and turn it into a home for us all.”
Singapore
Malaya
23rd September 1940
General Flynn threw himself to the ground, rolling out of bed, as the explosion sounded. He cursed as he grasped blindly for his radio; taking a catnap had clearly been a worse idea than he had thought. Had the Japanese managed to sneak a battleship up to bombard Singapore?
“General,” Colonel Higgins snapped. “General?”
“I’m awake, damn it,” Flynn snapped back. “Report!”
“Sir, a Japanese spy smuggled one of their tiny mortars near the airfield,” Higgins said grimly. Flynn felt a sinking sensation in his chest. “The guards caught him, but not before he fired off three shells and killed seven of the Harriers.”
“Shit,” Flynn swore. “What about the situation on the ground?”
“The SAS teams are having to move carefully,” Higgins said. He waved a hand at the big map on Flynn’s wall. He’d been pointedly refused a room at the formal hotel on the Peak District, where all the upper-class Englishmen lived, and so he’d moved into a small room in the military headquarters. “The Japanese are pushing forward with considerable vigour, and they’re been sending aircraft out to bomb the defence lines. We have reports of air attacks on forces all across the Indies and Australia. I think that this is it.”
“When was the last time a British force prepared to face an attack?” Flynn asked absently. He cursed; losing seven of his nine Harriers was a shock. “The Falklands? Never mind; order everyone to alert and tell Governor Thomas that I want to see him.”
“Yes, sir,” Higgins said. “Rules of Engagement?”
“Alpha-two, I think,” Flynn said. “Shoot if they see the whites of their eyes. Tell them that the SAS are to prepare for Operation Picador; everyone else is to prepare to meet an attack.”