Roosevelt listened, his pipe askance, dangling from his prominent jaw, and just the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. King was the fiery heart of the Navy, an irascible, abrasive and choleric man that was quick to anger, and often disliked by subordinates for that reason. King knew that of himself, but never apologized for it. “When the going gets tough,” he once said, “they send for the sons-of-bitches.” King filled the bill nicely.
“Then we’ll have Fiji,” King pressed on. “Then we’ll have a strong base to plan the offensive into the New Hebrides.”
“What about that Jap base at Tulagi?” Marshall reminded him.
“What about it? Naval Intelligence thinks the Japanese have no more than 3000 men in the lower Solomons, mostly service troops, and six seaplanes. Nimitz suggested we could send the 1st Raider Battalion there if need be, but I don’t see the threat. What I do see is a clear and present danger on Fiji. The Japs already have at least three regiments there, and you can bet more will be on the way. They’ve already got several airfields, and they can ferry in planes from Noumea. If we let them get dug in there, mark my words, we’re going to regret it. We have to hit them now, and with everything we have.”
“Are the Marines ready?” asked Roosevelt.
King smiled. “Always ready,” he said. “That’s the motto. And now the Presidential convoy has safely delivered the 1st and 7th Regiments to Pago Pago. I say we turn them loose on Fiji at the first opportunity, and I don’t want to hear any mealy mouthed talk about the boys needing training before they go in. They’ll learn the hard way, right there on Fiji.”
Roosevelt smiled. “Admiral,” he said. “I like your enthusiasm. We’ve sat on our heels for nearly six months now, and that business in the Coral Sea was a warning—we could lose this thing if we don’t do something to stop the other fellow. So I’m inclined to agree with you. I think Fiji should be the target, and you have my full authorization to proceed as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Mister President. You won’t regret that decision, I assure you.”
“Just assure me that you’ll kick the Japanese off Fiji, and I’ll be more than happy.”
So the die was cast, and the target of the first US ground offensive of the war was now set in stone—Fiji, not Guadalcanal, and it would come much sooner, in later April instead of August. Vandegrift was worried he could not get his troops ready, but realizing he had a harbor to debark at Suva was a big plus.
“We’ve only got amphibious assault craft to lift one regiment, and so I intend to use it on that northeast coast. The other regiments can make the run into Suva Bay, and this time the navy had better be there.”
The General did not have to worry about that, King assured him. Another son-of-a-bitch was on the scene, and Halsey was itching to get into this fight. With new orders finally within his grasp, Halsey was ready to go. On the night of April 25th, he was authorized to proceed to ‘seize control of the sea and airspace around the Fiji Island Group, neutralize enemy controlled airfields on Viti Levu, and assure the safe landing and transport of elements of the 1st US Marine Division.’ He was only too happy to comply.
Far to the north, the heavy rounded bow of the icebreaker Siberiakov was slowly churning its way through the remnants of the pack ice in the Sea of Okhotsk. The ship was working with the Oktyabr, Krasin and Yermak, all ships “borrowed” from the Soviet Northern Fleet for this mission. Together they were able to forge a pathway wide enough to permit the transports behind them to follow slowly in their icy wake.
It was a very hazardous mission, undertaken at night in the dark of the moon to minimize the possibility of discovery. The watchmen strained to see ahead, trying to spot hidden bergs in the floes of pack ice. They would bob up and down sometimes hidden beneath the water. Others watched the dark starlit skies, fearing the would be found and attacked by Japanese planes on lower Sakhalin Island. Vladimir Karpov had told the Captains not to worry about that, but many of these men had never seen Kirov in action, and knew very little about the ship or its astounding capabilities.
Kirov had re-entered the Sea of Othotsk for this escort mission, for behind those icebreakers the precious transport fleet was carrying a full regiment of the Siberian 32nd Rifle Division, the strongest reinforcement yet for the small airborne force that had been lifted months earlier by Airship. No enemy naval presence was expected, but the ship was there to prevent any possible attack by enemy aircraft the following morning, once the landing had been reported to the enemy further south. Ice in the narrow channel between Sakhalin and the mainland was still too heavy in the north, but on the eastern coast, it had been thinning enough to allow for this daring surprise attack.
As much as the Japanese might have expected the enemy to come, this was not a night for war in the icy north. The Siberians had made no attempt to push south from the small enclave they controlled at the northernmost segment of the island, but Karpov wanted a port, no matter how small, and the only facility in any way suitable was the small port of Okha. That was where those icebreakers were heading that night, with the wind up, a frigid chill in the air, and cold darkness as thick as the ice fog that drifted in a frosty haze over the floes.
At that same moment, Vladimir the Young was also leading a flotilla of airships south. Their objective was any enemy airstrip that had been cleared by the Japanese late last fall, before the ice and snow made operations there impossible. They were carrying another wave of Karpov’s elite Air Guardsmen, and a key objective was the eastern landward approach to the vital ferry site near Lazarev. That was not only another viable port on the west coast of the island, but also the primary link between Northern Sakhalin and the mainland. Companies of Cossack irregulars were loping out of the heavy woodlands, also heading for that location on the mainland side of the channel. The plan was to seize that ferry before the Japanese even knew it was under attack.
The airships hovered like vast sea creatures over the frozen white landscape, every gun port manned, and the Oko panels ceaselessly turning to look for any sign of the enemy in the dark starry skies. Long cold ropes extended like tentacles from the looming beasts, and down them came the leading edge of the Air Guard, all dressed in snow parkas, their rifles and submachine guns slung over their backs. The sub-cloud cars were creaking in the cold as they lowered on coiled steel cables laden with skis and equipment for the troops.
The tough Naval Marines that had landed months earlier to secure the small enclave in the north were now up from their fortified border positions and moving stealthily forward. Before the sun would rise in the white morning haze, Karpov would have units in motion all over Northern Sakhalin Island. He would seize that port, cut the rail line further south, secure three airstrip sites, and the vital Lazarev Ferry. In doing so, he would also cut off the site where Japanese oilfield engineers were laboring to drill through the frozen ground to find that much needed oil.