Beaton and Horn were the Radio Operators on the plane, and the mission was ordered to fly in complete radio silence. Wheatley was a Gunner, so the two Radio Operators were ordered to bone up on the .50 Cals, as enemy fighters could always be on the prowl. But it wasn’t Japanese fighters they would need to worry about that night, it was American made missiles, fired from a Japanese ship, and nothing Wheatley taught the other two men about those guns was going to matter. Life or death for Bostrom and his crew would come down to only one thing, how many missiles Takami fired.
The electronic eyes of that SPY-1D radar had spotted the incoming flight of planes over 200 klicks out, about two hours from Del Monte at a few minutes before 22:00 hours. Now the crew of Takami were standing at their battle stations, and their missiles were already primed to change the history of these events in a way none of them ever expected.
The sun set about two hours earlier at this latitude, but the skies were now lit by a fat gibbous moon. They had timed everything so the bombers would make their approach to Mindanao in darkness, and make landfall over Davao just after that moon was up. In a few minutes, Bostrom would take three planes and make a turn due north, to stay over the ocean for another hour and then come west again to Del Monte. That’s when those first two missiles went up, their white tails catching the pearly moonlight as they went.
Bostrom turned, with nothing more than a quiet lantern signal flash to the other two planes in his flight, and the formation fanned out, separating into two groups as though they were flying evasive maneuvers. The other two planes would carry on, bearing right down on Davao, and running right into those first two missiles. As with Kirov, the result of the attack was mathematical. The missiles fired, two B-17s were hit, erupting in fire and smoke to make a violent descent into the sea. They went down about 30 kilometers south of the anchorage, and everyone on the bridge could see the fiery glow in the dark skies when they fell.
“Two kills, but CIC reports the contact group has split, and there are still three planes veering off on a new heading.”
“Show me,” said Harada, well aware that both Yamamoto and Ugaki were watching all this now, amazed at what they were seeing. After casting odd looks at Lieutenant Ryoko Otani where she sat at the bridge sensor watch, their attention had been transfixed by the missile launch. There, in the dark of night, this ship had seen, tracked, targeted and killed two American bombers, and they had seen them fall like stricken demons with their own eyes.
“These last three appear to be diverting north,” said Otani. “They are either making a turn for home as well, or perhaps headed somewhere else.”
“Then they are no longer inbound on our position?”
“No sir.”
“Then leave them be. Our missiles are for clear and present threats. Let’s keep watching to confirm the new contact headings.”
Now the Captain turned to Yamamoto. “Admiral, he said. “It appears that those first two missiles have effectively broken up this attack. Frankly, I don’t think they would have hit anything trying to bomb this anchorage at night like this, but now we have made certain of that.”
“Sir,” said Fukada, “what about those last three planes?”
“Not a threat,” said Harada quickly.
“Not a threat to us, but suppose they have other targets, other missions? We should take them down as well.”
The Captain did not like what his first officer had just done, and he made a mental note to let him know it later, when the Admirals had departed. For now, he just looked Fukada in the eye and reiterated his order.
“Continue to track the contacts, confirm headings, and if there is no threat vector on this anchorage, then stand the CIC down. We have a dinner reservation to keep with our visitors.”
So it was that 1st Lieutenant Bostrom, flying B-17 number 41-2477, the San Antonio Rose II, was going to make his appointment at Del Monte, and take aboard a weary General MacArthur that night, telling him a story that would certainly sound quite fantastic about B-17s being struck by white tailed lightning from below. They had just made their turn to divert when they saw something coming up at them. Seconds later they saw and heard the explosions that took down the two recon bombers, and they were the first Americans to endure that first moment of shock, and yet live to tell about it. Pilots Bostrom and Teats, Navigator Caruthers, the two Radio Operators Beaton and Horn, Gunner Wheatley and Engineers Haddow and Palmer were all going to live that hour as well.
But when Lieutenant Commander Fukada consulted the ship’s library after dinner, their lives would again be on the chopping blocks of Time.
Part X
Fool’s Paradise
“Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread.”
Chapter 28
The first minutes passed politely, with the officers sitting down at the table and the orderly serving water and tea. But Admiral Yamamoto made good on his promise and immediately returned to the question Ugaki had pressed on him.
“Captain, that was again a most impressive demonstration, most impressive. With such rocket weaponry at your disposal, I can see why this ship has only one small deck gun, no bigger than many we put on our destroyers.”
“Yes sir, but that deck gun can range out over 50 kilometers.”
“50,000 meters? How is that possible for such a small gun. It cannot be more than a 5-inch barrel, and our best secondary batteries on Yamato can only range 27,000 meters.”
“If you wish a demonstration of that deck gun’s range, I would be happy to arrange it.”
“50 kilometers would be well over any horizon,” said Ugaki. “How would you even see the target?”
“With our helicopters. They could send information back to our deck gun and I assure you, we would hit any target we fire at, even at that range. Beyond that, we have a weapon that can fire four times as far, a new type of naval gun that can send a fast projectile out 200 kilometers.”
It was clear that Ugaki would never believe that, as he shrugged somewhat disdainfully at the statement. “Now you begin to sound like a fool,” he said. “And I have no patience for fools, be advised.”
Yamamoto gave him a sidelong glance, knowing his mood, but still quietly demanding civility here. Ugaki had seen the look many times before, and he folded his arms, unhappy with this entire situation, but tolerating it as best he could.
“This is a most unusual ship,” said Yamamoto, “but you will never convince me it was made in the shipyards of Nagasaki. The equipment I have seen here is beyond our capabilities. You said as much yourself. If we could build such a gun, it would surely be on Yamato, a ship that received the very best weapons and armor we could give it. So then the question remains—where was this ship built? You have denied it came from the Russians, but I remain unconvinced. There is something more to all of this that you have not told us.”
“Sir, I have told you the truth all along. This ship was built in Japan, by Japanese engineers, and right there at Nagasaki as I stated. On the other hand, I have also told you that the equipment you saw below was beyond anything present day engineers in Japan could design. As Admiral Ugaki kindly points out, this is a contradiction, so now I will clear the matter up. I have told you where our ship was built, but I did not say when it was built. Therein lies the answer, though it will likely be as difficult for you to accept it as it was for us to grasp the reality of where we now find ourselves. This ship was not built in this era, not in the 1940s. The plant that designed Takami at Nagasaki will not even exist until well after the war, decades in the future.” There, he had said it, and now he waited for Yamamoto’s reaction.