He pointed with a laser pointer to the map. “The first target will be New Guinea,” he said. “We will begin with a massive bombardment from the air, using the new aircraft and missiles, and then we will land troops, targeting the Japanese strongholds. In the meantime, the Navy will strike at Truk, the main Japanese naval base, and occupy it.”
Turtledove scowled. There was no point in hitting Truk. It wasn’t what it would have been. Taking the islands was a good idea, just to make certain that Australia had a good claim on them after the war, but Truk was hardly a major target.
“Once we have taken New Guinea, we will advance over the Dutch East Indies and deliver them from Japanese rule,” Morshead said. “Once the Japanese have been driven from the islands, they will be one step closer to nemesis.”
“It’s already there,” Turtledove muttered. “They’re just too stupid to notice.”
“And they think they can retreat into China,” Menzies said. “We’ll slam that door shut on them.”
HMS Daring
Coral Sea
15th April 1942
Ironically, the Daring had never been employed to fire at land targets before coming back in time. Her service in the war on terror had consisted of escorting troop convoys around; the only major encounter had been with Iranian jets during the Iran War. When she’d come back in time, along with the rest of Britain, she’d still only fired at Turkish targets during the Second Battle of Gallipoli.
Captain McTavish examined the display as the orders came in. They were simple and direct; bombard Japanese forces with land-attack weapons. The Daring, which had been on station near New Guinea, had been launching drones and moving closer to the islands, waiting for the orders.
“Load land-attack missiles,” Captain McTavish said, hoping that he could hide the disdain from his voice. The new weapons, ones that made the Deathcloud look meek and mild, were dangerous beyond belief. He would have preferred to have been deploying standard weapons, but he had to admit that the Japanese made bunker-busters rather redundant.
“Weapons loaded,” the weapons officer said. “Ready to fire.”
“Confirm targets,” Captain McTavish ordered. The drones and the SAS had mapped out Japanese targets all over the islands; every ship in the fleet would fire at them, along with Harriers and Hawks from the mainland. Two tanker aircraft were already in the air, refuelling an aerial armada that outgunned the Japanese with ease.
“Targets confirmed, missiles designated,” the weapons officer said. The entire fleet shared its targeting data, sharing the targets out amongst themselves. Only the new anti-aircraft ships were excluded; they carried no land-attack missiles.
“Fire,” Captain McTavish ordered. Daring shuddered as the first missiles launched from her tubes, blasting into the sky and heading for New Guinea. The Japanese had no idea what was coming their way.
“Missiles homing in on target,” the weapons officer said. “Display on.”
The CIC’s main screen began displaying the images from the drones. New Guinea seemed peaceful… until the first warhead crashed down on top of a Japanese base. The sudden blast of burning fuel – nearly nuclear in its intensity – swept over the base, burning and choking the Japanese on the ground. The satellite took over, showing the entire stretch of New Guinea, burning in dozens of different places.
“Dear holy shit,” someone breathed, as the Harriers and Hawks swooped in. The surviving Japanese targets were attacked again, with FAE and napalm, the fires spreading out across the jungles.
“Sir, fleet command informs us that the invasion fleet is about to sail,” his exec said. “They want us to cover the landing ships.”
Captain McTavish grinned. “In our day, the invasion fleet would have sailed and the bombardment would have taken place just before they landed,” he said. “Ah well; move us into covering position.”
He smiled, watching as the blue icons of the landing ships appeared on the screen, heading for their landing zones. It beat thinking about the Japanese, burning under the FAE or blown to pieces by the high explosives. There was no sign of Japanese aircraft; all of their airfields had been hit twice, just to make certain that they were destroyed.
New Guinea
15th April 1942
John Northcott, tactical commanding officer, stood on the prow of the landing craft as it reached the beach. He braced himself as the kneel bumped against sand, before driving itself firmly onto the beach. There was still some water, but that would hardly matter to the tanks. Northcott watched as the prow of the boat started to open, then climbed into his own tank. As the first tank rumbled off the landing ship, the jungle seemed suddenly to explode into fire as Napalm burnt its way through the jungle, widening a very faint road.
“Japanese ahead of you,” a voice said. Northcott blinked at the sudden warning from the SAS man, before the remaining jungle seemed to explode with Japanese infantry. They ran forward, throwing grenades and anti-tank rockets, heedless of their own safety.
“Cut them down,” Northcott snapped, unnerved by the suicidal tactics. Some of the Japanese were burning with the napalm flames, but they came on, even as the machine guns started to chatter. As quickly as it had begun, it was over; the Japanese were mown down in their hundreds.
“Fuck me,” the SAS man said. “Sir, you have a clear road, if a very hot one.”
“Thank you,” Northcott snapped. The Japanese had developed the road for their little tanks, not for Fireflies. The firebombs would have cleared the way for them, but would they be enough to bake it hard?
“No,” he realised, as the tanks entered the jungle. The heat was overpowering, even within the tank, and he felt sorry for the infantry. They were on their feet, spreading out to escort the tanks. The terrain was appalling; the tanks ambled forward slowly, slipping and sliding across the charred remains of the bomb strike.
“Good thing we prepared for jungle terrain,” his driver said, after the tank almost became stuck in mud. “How long until we reach the Japanese base?”
Northcott frowned as some brown-skinned natives appeared, staring at them. The women were bare-breasted, he noticed, and they showed signs of beatings. Had the Japanese insisted on them walking about naked?
“Japanese tank ahead,” the radio squawked. Northcott smiled; at last a real target. He peered through the periscope, watching for the first sight of the Japanese tank. He smiled as it appeared, slowly making its way down towards the landing site.
“You’d think that they would still be stunned,” he muttered, as he carefully sighted the main gun on the target. “Fire!”
The tank shuddered once as the gun fired, and then the Japanese were on them. They lunged out of the jungle, firing madly again and throwing grenades. The machine guns started to chatter, their bullets pinging off their allies armour as they cut into the Japanese. The tanks started forward again, firing madly as the Japanese climbed on top of the tanks, trying to prise open the hatches and drop grenades inside.
“Bastards,” Northcott swore, as a Firefly exploded. “Get them off the tanks!”
“Firing,” the gunner said, sweeping the machine gun across the other tanks. The hull began to vibrate as the other tanks did the same to them, slaughtering the Japanese. Finally, peace regained as the last Japanese died, leaving two dead tanks and three damaged ones in the field.