“Boss, ram temperature OK for supersonic, we're cleared for Mach 2. Say bye-bye to our chase plane.”
“'Andale, let’s dance.” That was Marisol's voice in the intercom. Kozlowski rammed the throttles forward and she accelerated smoothly through the sound barrier,
“Ram air temperature only 105 degrees, cleared to take her up to full speed.” Dravar reported.
Before Marisol got to the 115 degree limit she was indicating Mach 2.2. The next job was a high altitude Mach 2 simulated bomb run at the Matagorda Island range off the Texas coast. That was when Kozlowski felt things start to go wrong, the crew were leaning heavily to port in their seats, as if they were tilted to one side and sliding to the left. The four engines, now in full afterburner, were consuming fuel rapidly from the main fuel tank, the only one with adequate pump capacity to sustain the acceleration.
Kozlowski recognized the problem, a phenomenon called “fuel stacking”, a condition where fuel in the main wing tank tended to move laterally in flight. This was an especially disturbing problem when the tank was half full or so, and most worrisome during supersonic flight. He had to struggle to keep Marisol on course and complete the bomb run and reach the target. It was dangerous, for such heavy fuel stacking could result in loss of control and possibly exceed limits on the aircraft's structure.
After what seemed an eternity he started deceleration and descent to subsonic cruise. As he decelerated and began descending, the remaining fuel in the tank shifted forward toward the narrow portion. That tended to improve stability and gradually Marisol's flight behavior started to recover. By the time she reached Mach 0.91 and leveled off, things had returned to normal. The crew let out a collective long sigh of relief. Kozlowski patted the instrument panel in front of him. “We'll make a deal Marisol, we won't bail on you and you don't bail on us. Agreed?”
“Agreed” The comments came simultaneously from Korrina and Dravac.
“OK, Agreed.” Marisol 's voice came over the intercom. “Hey, I heard that!” It was Korrina from the center seat. “Of course I let you hear me. We're a team aren't we?”
Chapter Five Early Advantage.
Flag Quarters, HIJMS Musashi, Kagoshima Bay
Admiral Soriva completed his letter and placed it to one side. It was a professional courtesy, from one of the last battleship commanders to another, expressing his sympathy for the terrible events on INS Hood. It was an insult to all true sailormen to do what that steward had done. After forty years of admirable service, the Hood would now be remembered as the ship where a crewmember assassinated an honored guest. It was more than terrible, it was dishonorable to treat her that way.
Honor settled, Soriva turned his attention to his own Navy. The task force he was supposed to be leading was still swinging around its anchors in Kagoshima Bay, waiting for the word to go. A word that had been delayed three times already and was now being delayed again.
There was no proof, and the Army wasn't talking, but there was a rumor that the operations planned by Masanobu Tsuji were not going as well as their promoters had hoped. It seemed though starting an insurgency was much easier on paper than it was when dealing with real people in real situations. It was taking more time and was less certain than the text-books suggested.
There were rumors that the Army were trying to hurry things along, the same rumors also suggested that some of the agitators had already met with an untimely end at the hands of the very villagers they were supposed to be recruiting as a result.
Well, that was all the Army's problem. They'd nailed their colors to the mast of these new ideas about “revolutionary warfare” and they could live with it. Still, the basic plan was still in place. It might be moving more slowly than originally intended, but it was still the same basic form. Once the Burmese government was being faced with widespread civilian unrest, there would be an appeal for peace-keeping troops and the Japanese would respond.
They'd put a Special Naval Landing Force ashore, seize the capital and install a new, Japanese-dominated government. It was fortunate that trouble had flared in both India and Australia to take their attention away from the problems developing for them in Indo-China. It was very fortunate, very convenient. That reflection caused an uneasy thought to stir in Soriva's mind, like a poisonous snake hidden in a bowl of salad. Soriva resolutely pushed it to one side. There were some things better left unthought.
The Navy had problems all of its own, the chief of which was shortage of ships. The Navy was showing the effects of years of under-funding and what little money there was had gone on building the missile-launching submarines currently stationed off California. Japan had tried to build a heavy bomber to match the American B-36, the G10N-1 Fugaku. The GI0N-1 was meant to cruise at 10,000 meters with a maximum speed of 680 kph and be able to carry a 5,000 kilogram bomb payload for a maximum range of over 19,000 kilometers. For shorter ranged missions, the payload could be as high as 20,000 kilograms.
Overall, the G10N-1 had been a pretty impressive aircraft with capability close to and in many cases, exceeding the B-36. The problem had been that Japan just didn't have the industrial capacity to build them in large numbers and by the time the force had reached a significant level, the aircraft was becoming obsolescent.
Instead, once Japan had tested its first nuclear weapon, they had used a low-flying turbojet powered missile as a delivery system. Each of the I-400 class submarines carried six and could fire them at one per minute. A few obsolescent bombers, a handful of cruise missiles flown by heroes, an ageing and obsolescent fleet and an army that was mostly tied down trying to rule the most populous country in the world. That was Japan's claim to great power status.
Still, some progress had been made. His battleships had been refitted in the early 1950s with the twin 10 centimeter gun mounts replacing the older 12.7 centimeter guns and they'd been given a decent radar fit. Floatplanes had gone and been replaced by helicopters. That gave him better protection against submarines but his destroyer screen still dated from the 1940s. They were anti-ship destroyers, still armed with torpedoes. A good torpedo, perhaps the best, but what good were they when the threat came from the skies? The Germans had relied on guns at the Battle of the Orkneys and there had been few survivors to reflect on that mistake. There were newer destroyers in the fleet, some carrying anti-aircraft missiles, but they were with the carriers. His battleships had to rely on their guns. As they always had.
Outpost 3, Ban Rom Phuoc, Thai-Burmese Border
The eyes were hardly visible, buried underneath camouflage nets and brush. They watched as a column of men crept past on the approach path to Ban Rom Phuoc. A finger on the hand that served the eyes gently pressed a switch on a portable radio. The mouth that also served the eyes remained closed, to speak would be to attract attention. Instead the finger broke squelch on the radio three times in quick succession then again, more slowly. Once for each group often. Then three more quick breaks to sign off. Then the finger stopped and the eyes watched.
Village Center, Ban Rom Phuoc, Thai-Burmese Border
Back in the command center at the center of Ban Rom Phuoc, Phong Nguyen added another marker to the map. It was the third report; the number of enemy troops massing outside the village was more than 150. He nodded to the headman; the Tahan Pran volunteers were already mobilizing and sliding silently into their defensive positions. The unarmed villagers, most of them, started moving into the bunkers underneath the small houses. Others continued loading magazines for the Tahan Pran.