“Back to the next position,” Captain Caddell shouted, trying to coordinate the retreat. It was succeeding, barely; the Marines had been hit hard and they wanted to retreat. A flight of American planes came over the hills, firing madly, and dropped bombs on the Russians; massive waves of fire cooked them in their thousands.
“Napalm,” Private Manlito said. The wave of heat reached the Marines, warming them even as they shuddered at the smell of burnt meat, and faded, leaving them in command of the battlefield.
“They can’t keep coming,” Private Buckman breathed. A handful of Russian tanks appeared; the big blocky designs. “Shit.”
“Our tanks,” someone shouted. Four American tanks were nosing forward, moving faster than the Russian tanks, but more carefully. Shepherd realised that they carried less armour and shuddered; if the tanks were hit, they were death traps. It was why he had refused to go into armour when offered the chance.
“Cover them,” Captain Caddell snapped, holding the force together by sheer force of will. “Keep the infantry off their backs.”
The Russian tankers must have seen their new opponents, for they fired at the same time. Two American tanks fired at the same time, killing their opponents before they were hit themselves. Shepherd winced as both tanks were hit and exploded, their comrades forcing them aside and pushing on.
“Cover them,” Captain Caddell snapped, as a line of Russian infantry appeared on the side of a hill. The tanks opened fire with machine guns, sweeping the Russians away, then firing at an imprudent Russian tank that had tried to sneak over the hill in the confusion. “We can hold this position!”
New life swept through the tanks as supplies arrived, carried by a handful of trucks. Shepherd moved as quickly as the other men to get new ammunition, just as new Marines arrived to stiffen the defences. The first Marines jeered at the newcomers, but no one was in the mode for a fight. Sergeant Pike glared at anyone who looked too belligerent, keeping tensions down. The Russians were advancing again – and the Marines prepared to fight to the end.
“We were luckier than we deserved to be,” General Vandegrift muttered, as the day drew to a close. It had been close; the Russians had fought with suicidal bravery, but the napalm and the battleship guns had prevented them from forcing the Marines back into the sea. Once the entire force had landed, and the aircraft replenished, they had been able to go on the attack, hammering their way though Russian positions and sealing off the landing zone from any prospect of a Russian counter-attack.
“I know,” Halsey said. The two men were standing in Enterprise’s flag officers quarters. “The reinforcements should be here soon, and then we can advance again.”
General Vandegrift nodded grimly, too tired to do much more. The Russian attack might have been broken, but small commando forces were constantly pressing against the widening perimeter of American-held territory. Instead of a quick blitzkrieg – the German word had entered the American vocabulary – against Vladivostok, they had been forced to fight for their lives against a vigorous Russian counterattack.
“We bled badly,” he said darkly, and knew that he was being unfair. Halsey had lost four large ships; a carrier, a battleship and two cruisers. Even with the extra ships now steaming towards them, he knew that it had been tough and as close to a disaster as it could be without actually being one.
“Your men fought well,” Halsey said. “The satellites reveal that the Russians aren’t doing too much to make a new attack force.”
“Perhaps Stalin shot the guy in charge,” General Vandegrift injected.
“Perhaps,” Halsey said. “So we should have time to build up and then seal off Vladivostok, then we can complete the mission.”
General Vandegrift nodded. “Any news on the British missile-launching submarine?”
“It’s supposed to be here tomorrow,” Halsey said. “It can do the hard work of cutting the railroad for us, then we’ve cut them off from the rest of the Rodina anyway.”
“I suppose,” General Vandegrift said. “We lost thousands of lives. Congress is going to have a collective heart attack.”
Halsey grinned. “Ah,” he said wryly, “just think of how that would streamline the war effort.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Closing Doors
The White House
Washington DC, USA
11th May 1942
President Truman drew in a breath as he studied the situation map. The tiny amount of ground held by American forces was expanding, he knew – soon it would have enveloped Vladivostok – but the cost had been awesome. Nearly three thousand Americans had met their deaths during the Russian counterattack – and that didn’t count the Navy losses.
“They knew we were coming,” General Vandegrift had said, and Truman saw no reason to disbelieve him. The Russians had prepared well for the defence; their only mistake seemed to have been to have assumed that the Americans would have tried to land directly into Vladivostok, giving the Marines just enough time to set up their defences. If the Russians had begun their counterattack as they had planned – within moments of the invasion force landing – the Marines would have been annihilated.
“Congress is howling like a stuck pig,” he commented. The Cabinet said nothing. “Can we still take Vladivostok?”
“Yes,” General Bradley said firmly. “The expansion is proceeding reasonably well now; the anti-tank rockets have proven to be a blessing. The new shells for the light Marine tanks have been very destructive; our tanks are faster than theirs and can kill them quicker than they can kill us.”
“Our supply lines are still being threatened by the Japanese,” Truman said. The Japanese attack had come as a total shock to everyone; no one had expected the Japanese to risk adding a second enemy to their list when they were clearly losing the war. “Can we punch through?”
All eyes turned to Admiral King, who scowled at them all. “Mr President, the Japanese do not have any carriers left, and they only have one battleship. This new tactic of ramming our ships is unpleasant, but we’ve sent the new radar-guided destroyers up to escort our units and the British have provided escorts as well. As long as we are careful, we can keep clear of the Japanese aircraft and mow them out of the skies should they dare to attack us.”
“And we’ve bombed them?” Truman asked. “We’re at war?”
Bradley nodded grimly. “We used the B-29’s on the Philippines to bomb them in revenge,” he said. “We don’t understand what promoted the attack.”
“Perhaps they thought that Wild Bull was British,” General Palter said. The future American would never be allowed to command in action again; he knew too much. As an officer of the USAF – which didn’t exist yet and never would if the Army and the Navy had their way – no one was quite certain what to do with him. “They might just have attacked us by accident.”
“They’re allied to Uncle Joe Stalin,” Bradley said. “I think its pretty clear that they intended to fight the war against us as well, no matter how crazy that seems.”
Truman sighed. He knew that the British weren’t eager to launch a major invasion of Japan and he couldn’t fault them, not after the near-defeat at Vladivostok. On the other hand, the war had suddenly expanded, and there seemed to be no explanation for it.
“Did the Japanese Ambassador have anything to say?” He asked finally. “Like a declaration of war?”