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Princess of Wales: A Memoir on the The Second World War and Origin of Ship Spirits (Kancolle)

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Canon Omake: 'The Iron Duke's Own'
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    • "The Iron Duke's Own"
    1st Royal Marines Panzer Division

    June, 1942
    Libyan Desert, behind German lines

    Commander Doris Wellesley of the Royal Navy, HMS Iron Duke, was quite lost. All these desert roads looked the same. She was supposed to have linked up with Reanne a week ago to help bolster the allied forces in the area with her extra contingent of Marines. Instead, her plane had been shot down by a right wanker of a Nazi pilot, and she'd spend the last week and a half stuck behind German lines, alone, and completely and utterly lost.

    Her stolen truck was about out of diesel, too. Finding it in that Nazi supply depot had been a steal, and it was the only vehicle to survive the destruction of said depot. That had been an almost fun spot of excitement. It was almost a shame what she'd done to that poor Italian officer, but now he was both disappointed and dead. Everything else had gone up in a massive fireball thanks to the help of some particularly clever Marines with high explosives and a volley of 12-inch cannonfire, followed by quite the car chase.

    That had most definitely been fun.

    There was some commotion on the road ahead, the first such sign she'd seen since last Sunday. Or had it been Monday? Whenever it had been, it was far too long for the incredibly lost dreadnought. Maybe this was a good sign!

    "Oh bloody hell," Duke groaned when she realized what was ahead. She'd stumbled across a panzer division. "Just what in God's name is going on here?"

    Thankfully, Jerry was being lazy with guarding his rear, or maybe they'd just assumed her truck was one of theirs, since, well, it was one of theirs. Unfortunately, that would only last so long before someone noticed the very out of place blonde woman driving their truck, wearing a slightly ragged Royal Navy uniform.

    On the other hand, this seemed like an excellent opportunity to blow off some steam.

    "Alrighty lads, out you pop!" Duke ordered quietly, disembarking a platoon of Marines. The battleship quietly turned to address the platoon's first lieutenant. "Target those panzers first. If we take them out, this fight becomes a whole lot easier."

    "Oi oi!" the lieutenant snapped a quick salute at the battleship before turning to his men and issuing orders. She nodded at the fairies before climbing out of the truck and cracking her knuckles.

    Sure, she could just shell the panzers and be done with it, but this was going to be so much more satisfying. And there might even be supplies or intel to seize!

    The nearest Nazi wasn't even looking her way. Iron Duke grinned as she approached him. A tap on his shoulder had the Nazi turning the wrong way, and a fist connected with his jaw. The results weren't pretty, and Duke winced despite herself. Three hundred horsepower did nasty things to a human body like that.

    Perhaps louder, slightly more traditional ways of killing people would be overall less revolting.

    The chatter of her Marines' Sten Guns brought a smile to Duke's face as she prepared her own weaponry. The big guns would be overkill and would destroy the tanks or their precious fuel trucks, but her 20mm AA guns should be perfectly fine for slaughtering Nazis wholesale.

    Jerry knew they were under attack now, as the platoon of Royal Marines fell upon them. The battleship kept moving, and found the rear end of a panzer to take cover behind. Someone must have seen her, because the crack of rifle fire reached her ears as the bullets clattered around the panzer.

    "Bugger!" Duke cursed as a bullet struck her head as she peeked out. Thankfully, it clattered harmlessly off her body with the help of her rigging, but it still stung. She shook her head and dropped a section of her Marines on top of the panzer. "Alright lads, let's turn their guns against them, shall we?"

    "Oi oi!" the fairy sergeant said, snapping a salute. She watched for a moment as the Marines hauled open the tank commander's hatch and opened fire with their Stens.

    The quick, panicked shout of "Schiesse!" brought a smile to Duke's face before she turned back to her own problems. Namely, the Nazis were getting brave.

    A thrown stick grenade landed on the sand next to her, and the battleship reacted on instinct. She picked up the grenade and slung it back at the Nazis. It exploded in midair, but the shower of fragments was a suitable distraction.

    She stepped out from behind the panzer and opened fire with her 20mm AA guns. The Oerlikons ripped through the infantry and the truck they were hiding behind, but they bounced ineffectually off the front of the panzer next to them. A panzer that was aiming her way.

    The 5cm gun fired, and barely missed her, instead spraying the battleship's side with fragments and splinters. Nothing dangerous, thankfully, but still annoyingly close. Duke swore up a storm beneath her breath as she leveled her 4.7s at the panzer… only for it to shrink in front of her eyes.

    "What in heavens?" Duke asked as the shrunk panzer suddenly had a full sized projection around it. The panzer next to her did the same, and a fairy stuck his head out of the commander's hatch. Iron Duke just stared at the fairy for a moment, before another nearby explosion caught her attention. That panzer wasn't as fortunate as the others, and received a pair of 4.7-inch rounds to the front plate.

    With the fairy Marines capturing panzers left, right, and center, the battle quickly turned in Duke's favor… and just as quickly turned into a rout. Unable to harm the battleship, and being pursued by suddenly miniaturized panzers that turned against them, three trucks full of German soldiers fled the scene. One of the captured panzers chased after them for a bit before returning.

    "Alright, let's see what we have here…" Duke mused as she looked over the remains of the battlefield. The assault hadn't been without losses, and about a dozen Marines had fallen in the process, mostly when their tanks had been hit. All in all, there were a half dozen captured panzers, and a disabled fuel truck that wasn't going to go anywhere fast, but would be useful for refueling her own truck and the panzers, if she wanted to keep them.

    "Oi," a fairy lieutenant said, grabbing the battleship's attention. "Oi oi oi oioioi."

    "Oh?" Duke oh'd, crossing her arms and looking down at the lieutenant.

    "Oi Oi oi oi oioi oioioi, oi oi oi Oioi oi oi oioi oi oi oi oioi oi oi oi oi oi, oi oi oioi oi oioi oi oi oi. Oi oi oi oioi oi oioi oi oi oi, oi oi oi oi oi."

    Duke looked at the fairy for a moment before nodding. "Makes sense." The battleship moved over to the nearest miniaturized tank, and after inspecting it for a moment, picked it up. With her rigging out, lifting the tank was a breeze, if a bit awkward. Maneuvering it was even more awkward, but she managed to successfully carry it over to her truck.

    "Are you absolutely sure about this?" the graying battleship asked.

    "Oi!"

    With the affirmative answer, Iron Duke lowered the tank into the bed of her truck. It fit, which was a good sign, but as soon as she let go, the truck went flat underneath the full weight of the Panzer III. The lieutenant thankfully had the sense to stand his ground as Duke rounded on him, fury blazing in her eyes.

    "You barmy twit!" Duke yelled. "What the bloody hell made you think that would work? And don't give me that square-cube law malarkey, it's still a fucking Panzer III that comes in at 22 tons! Look at where we are now! The truck, the one truck that was actually in running condition, is now a squished wreck! All thanks to leftenant nobhead and his stupid bloody ideas!"

    Duke turned away and shook her head. "Fucking one pip wonders…"

    "Oi Oi?" another fairy asked.

    "I swear to all that is holy, if you say 'I have an idea,' I will strand you here in the desert."

    "Oi… Oi oi oi oioioi."

    Duke held up an accusatory finger and pointed it at the fairy who was giving her a cheeky grin. "I know all you actually said was oi, but you're on thin fucking ice."

    "Oi!" the fairy protested. "Oi oi oi oi Oioioi!"

    Duke merely raised an eyebrow. "Alright, go ahead. But if this turned out to be just like his, you know the punishment."

    "Oi oi!" When the fairy raised his hands in defeat, Duke sighed. "Oi oi oioi oi oi oi oi?"

    "What?" was the deadpan response.

    "Oi oi!"

    Duke blinked and stared at the fairy for a moment, before shaking her head. "Fucking Magical Sparkly Shipgirl Bullshit…" Then, she looked at the panzer that had just crushed her tank, and pointed an accusatory finger at it. "You're an arsehole, you don't get to be carried."

    The battleship moved over to the next miniaturized tank, and picked it up. As she focused on it for a moment, she could tell that it was definitely the full mass of the largest panzer currently on the field. Then she slipped the panzer behind her back, and despite the awkwardness of the motion, the tank disappeared… only to reappear on her deck, scaled down completely. "Well I'll be damned. Somebody give that Marine a commendation. Or a pat on the back."

    "Alright, Marines. Fill up your tanks from the fuel truck, grab everything of value, and prepare for departure. We're leaving soon," Duke ordered. The remaining four tanks beyond the arsehole Panzer III were quickly fueled and loaded onto Duke's deck, as well as some potentially useful equipment loaded into her hold.

    Duke glared at the last panzer. The Panzer III. That tank had crushed her truck. As the Marines disembarked the tank, it grew to its full size, crushing what little remained of the truck. The battleship took a moment to make sure that the tank's fuel tanks were filled and that it was fully mobile before dropping into the driver's seat.

    She took a moment to look around the control scheme before her face fell. Duke had no idea how to control this thing, let alone turn it on.

    "Oi oi oi oi, Oi!" a very helpful fairy said, before jumping into an Oi filled explanation of the panzer's controls. Iron Duke followed his instructions, and before long she had the bastard tank up and moving. "Next stop, not fucking here!"

    ++++++++++​

    Three days later, a thoroughly exhausted Commander Wellesley, driving her captured panzer, finally found allied lines. The hidden six-pounder AT gun was a nasty shock, but the shot had missed, and she managed to wave off the assault before they could fire again. The very helpful and very confused gun crew finally gave her some directions, and she set off for El Alamein.

    There, the first person to greet the battleship was a very concerned looking Captain Reanne McKay. "Fuckin' 'ell Dee! We were expectin' ye' two weeks ago!"

    "Well, that plan got buggered as soon as that Nazi pilot found us. Got shot down somewhere along the coast." Duke replied, hopping down from her tank. All of a half second later, the battlecruiser had pulled her into a tight hug.

    "Well, it's good te' see ye'," Repulse said. She broke off the hug and stepped back. "Come on, th' General wants te' see ye' fer a debrief. Let's find out where ye' got tha' shiny new panzer from."

    "Lead the way," the graying battleship said with a nod.

    After a week of much appreciated rest and resupplying, Commander Wellesley was once again sent out behind enemy lines, this time loaded down with extra supplies, an extra pair of trucks, and her very own armored division, a dozen brand new Crusader tanks loaded up on her deck to be deployed behind enemy lines without a supply line to be followed or cut off.

    "If you didn't want to do this you shouldn't have been so good at it, Doris…" Duke muttered grumpily to herself as she took her truck back out into the desert. At least she had a proper map of the area this time…
     
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    • I can agree with Iron Duke's last line. If you don't like doing something, and don't want to do it; make sure not to do too good of job at it.
     
    Chapter 39: Refits
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    • Chapter 39: Refits

    As great as it was to be able to spend time with my sisters, and just relax in relative peace, we had to get back to business eventually. The war chugged along, and there was little time for rest. Especially as someone as significant to the war effort as a battleship. Vestal, for all her ill mannered nature, was a professional, and knew her stuff.

    JULY 17 1942
    0830 HOURS

    I reported to the aptly named SHIP Refit and Repair building, or the SHIP R&R as the girls had begun calling it, at eight-thirty sharp, come Friday morning. It was a medium sized building on the dockyard grounds. A converted warehouse, remodeled with all the facilities Vestal and her team of engineers needed for their work.

    I don't know what I expected when I stepped in the front door, but it certainly wasn't a small foyer with a bored looking sailor playing secretary. Though, he did perk up at my entrance. Before I could say anything he glanced down quickly at something, before looking up again. I'd come in my summer whites, so he easily identified me. "Captain Windsor?"

    I gave a nod, "I suppose I would be expected."

    "Yes, ma'am." He nodded, standing and offering a rather casual salute, which I returned. "Commander Beach should be in the drafting room." He gestured to one of the three doors that lead from the room into the building. "Shall I get her?"

    I glanced at the door. "May I, just, go in?"

    He nodded and waved me to the door. "Yes ma'am. Feel free. You've got clearance."

    "Thank you sailor." I replied, and entered through the door.

    When he'd called it the drafting room, he hadn't been kidding. Eight big drafting boards sat against the walls. Four engineers sat at some of them, diligently working on what at first glance were ship schematics. On the opposite side of the room, I spotted Vestal, the only woman in the room. She was standing before one of the other boards, pointing something out while talking with two other, older engineers.

    I was able to listen in as I approached. "...it really depends on her, smartass. You both have good points. I'd say let her decide." She glanced up at my approaching footsteps, "In fact, here her highness is now."

    I raised an eyebrow as I reached them, brushing off Vestal's ribbing, "Let me decide what?"

    "A lot, Princess." She replied, before gesturing to the two maritime engineers. "These are the two engineers who've worked on designing seven-niner's refits."

    The taller and more rotund of the two, who was just starting to gray, stuck out his hand, "A pleasure, Captain Windsor." He spoke with a jovial American accent. "J. J. Jameson. I was on the team that designed the Iowa-class, as well as the Clevelands and Fletchers."

    "A pleasure, Mr. Jameson."

    His colleague also stepped forward. "Jim Townsend. I…uhh… Well, I was on the team that designed the King George V-class, as well as the Didos."

    I couldn't help the surprised look that I gave him. Here was one of the men who designed me, and my sisters. But a moment later, my mask snapped into place, but the smile I soon gave my fellow Brit was genuine. "I don't suppose you ever expected to speak with one of your designs though?"

    "No." He smiled back as we shook, "Not in a million years. It certainly lends a new perspective to my work."

    "I bet."

    "How touching." Vestal deadpanned, still standing beside the drafting board. "Can we get on with it?"

    "Of course." I replied, genially. "What did you need my input on?"

    She gestured to the schematic on the drawing board, which I finally noticed was of a KGV, though I quickly noted several differences. She pointed to my midship catapult. "Plane, or no plane."

    I blinked. "Why would I just get rid of my aircraft?"

    "Because," she started, flipping up the paper to reveal a second version underneath, and pointed to the changes, "If we get rid of it, we can move your boats there, and fit more AA guns where they used to be stowed."

    I brought one hand up to my chin, "Do I even need boats? I haven't used them since I became a SHIP."

    All three of the engineers shared a 'why didn't we think of that' glance. "In that case…" Twonsend stepped forward, examining the schematic, "That would be a third option." He pointed to the area in question, "If we get rid of both, and maybe leave one or two boats, just in case, we could fit another few Oerlikons on."

    Vestal glanced at me, "What'll it be, Wales?"

    I took a moment to look over the design, stepping up to flip the other paper down for another look. "Having the plane is quite handy…" I flipped it back up, "But it seems as if every time I get into a fight, my avgas stores go up… Remove it, and most of my boats. You can never have too much AA."

    "Done." Jameson smiled.

    I gave a satisfied nod, "So, what else are we doing?"

    "A ton." Vestal replied, flipping back to the schematic with the plane removed. "Where do you want me to start, Princess?"

    I shrugged, "Top down?"

    "Sure." She nodded to Townsend, who stepped forward and cleared his throat.

    "Well, you can see here on your upper works we're going to install upgraded Radar sets, both surface search and air search, fore and aft. These ones rotate, unlike your last set, and should give you full 360 coverage. Furthermore, we're also going to integrate them with your FCS, so you should be able to use them more efficiently for gunnery direction."

    I nodded, "Excellent. Hell knows manually inputting the data from the radar is slow."

    "Yes." He smiled, "This should even allow you to blind fire in bad weather."

    "Perfect."

    Jameson stepped up next, "I'm curious. When we were going through your extensive recommendations and complaint file, you mentioned wanting American 5'/38s, over your 5.25s. Why is that?"

    "Anti-aircraft performance, Mr. Jameson." I replied. "Aircraft have shown themselves to be the biggest threat, and after seeing the gun and director on some of my American task force members, I was rather impressed." And it absolutely, totally, definitely, was not because I was scared shitless of enemy air attack. No sir.

    "Makes sense." The American engineer nodded, "Well, you're in luck. We've got eight twin mark 28 mounts, plus four mark 37 directors ready to go. You're lucky as hell. They can't produce these damn things fast enough, and theres even a bit of a shortage. I didn't think we were going to get our hands on them, especially knowing Admiral King, but it seems you have someone up the chain pulling some strings for you."

    Now that was very curious, "I see."

    He continued, "We'll have to slightly expand your mounting points, and slightly modify your hoists and internals for the new mounts. Honestly, just that is gonna take up three of your four weeks of dock time. Other than that, you wanted the pom-poms off, and replaced with bofors, so we'll be doing that." He began to point to the various mounts on the schematic, "In total, you'll have twelve quad bofors mounts, and five twins. We'll also be fitting eight single mount twenty millimeter oerlikons, and ten doubles."

    I glanced over the design with approval. It was a massive increase in AA power. But… "What about all this empty space?" I pointed to the bow and stern, as well as several empty spots of deck. "Could we fit more guns there?"

    The two male engineers glanced at each other in surprise. "Um, yes. We could…" Jameson trailed off, and I could see him running some quick calculations in his head. "With the extra weight saved from the aircraft and boats, it wouldn't be much of an issue. But… Is that necessary, Captain?"

    I gave him a sidelong glance, "If I have free deck space, I want more guns. I am a bloody battleship in the carrier age. The moment a Japanese carrier comes by, I am helpless. I would very much prefer to change that."

    "Right, well then, let see." He muttered, stepping up to the schematic and beginning to draw some notes with a pencil, circling different empty sections while muttering calculations under his breath. A few minutes later he nodded, satisfied with his work. "Alright, if we push it, for the bofors we can get it up to sixteen quads and five twins. And I figure we could get fourteen twin oerlikons and ten singles."

    "Much better." I nodded.

    He nodded back, "We'll have to finalise it all, but most of that was scheduled for the final week, so it should be fine."

    Vestal nodded, "That'll work."

    "Anything else?" I asked.

    Townsend nodded, stepping forward again. "Two more things. Firstly, we'll be working on your main battery. Your report was very detailed, which has allowed us to design some fixes and should bring your reliability up. Mainly, we'll be adjusting some of your flash protection, since that's what you stressed was the biggest issue. Secondly, we'll be replacing your old three bladed screws with custom five bladed ones that I and Jameson have designed, based on Iowa's inner screws. By our calculations, they should give you an extra half a knot."

    I couldn't help but be surprised. I'd not thought they'd be able to make so many improvements with a short, month long refit. Hitting twenty-nine knots rather than twenty-eight and a half at a light load wasn't much, but it was a nice little upgrade. And I'd love to see enemy aircraft get anywhere near me with as much AA as I was going to have.

    "I assume Howe will be getting the same?" I asked.

    Vestal nodded, "To a 'T'."

    "Mmmm." I hummed, "And the rest of my girls? I'd think knowing would help me more effectively employ them in battle."

    "Yeah, yeah." Vestal waved me over to the next board over, which had Houston's schematics. "We were going to do that anyway, Princess."

    Jameson took over, "We'll be modifying her superstructure, replacing the tripod mast with something more inspired by the battleships. The main reason for that is the new prototype combined radar/director and new FCS she'll be receiving. If all goes well, it'll also be fitted to her sisters. We'll be removing one of her catapults, and now that you've brought it up, we'll remove her boats too. Like you, she'll be getting more AA: Four new five-inch twenty fives, to bring her up to eight total, seven quad bofors, and twenty eight single oerlikons."

    I continued to be impressed. "I was under the impression that oerlikons and bofors were somewhat scarce?"

    The American shrugged, "Like I said, seems someone in the brass is pulling sone sting for you, little lady."

    I gave him a glare. "I'm taller than you."

    He'd been around the military enough to know exactly what response to give to get away with it it seemed: "Of course Captain."

    I rolled my eyes, annoying, but I'd had worse. As long as the fat bastard didn't start flirting with me… Then all bets were off. "Boise?"

    Vestal nodded, "Gun farm's here." Leading our little group over to another board. "We'll be giving her another pair of five-inchers, and loading her up with the usual. Radar, Four quad bofors, and twenty single oerlikons. Nothing too fancy. We drew up plans to refit her with several twin five-inch mounts, like the ones you're getting, but that'd take two months since we'd need to basically build the new mountings into her from scratch. So we'll keep that on the back burner until a later refit, or if she gets herself shot up enough to need that much yard time anyway."

    "Alright." I nodded, "Next?"

    This time, instead of leading up to a new board, the gunmetal gray haired repair ship pulled a large paper from her stores, and plunked in on the board overtop Boise's. I wasn't too surprised to see Townsend take the lead on this one.

    "Perth's already got the best secondary battery we can fit, without two months of work, so her refit is relatively limited. We'll be removing her plane and boats, and fitting two quad bofors, and ten twin oerlikons. We'll also update her radar."

    "That's it?"

    "That's it." He confirmed. "I'm afraid she's already nearly as good as she can be, without major overhauls."

    "I see." I muttered, and took one last look at Perth's modified schematics. "Well then, onto the destroyers."

    Vestal just grunted, stowing the schematic, and pulling out another. This one I instantly recognized as that of a J-class destroyer. "Jupiter is getting the same treatment. Radar, and AA. We're going to replace that single four-incher of her's with a twin Bofors, give her a few more oerlikons, and upgrade her radar."

    She didn't even pause as she pulled out another one, this one of a Sims-class, and bulled on. "All three of your resident Sims reported useless torpedoes, so we've removed one of their two quad tubes, and plunked three twin bofors mounts on 'em, and eight twin oerlikons. Usual radar upgrades."

    "I… see." Was all I got out, before she again produced another schematic of the E-class. I got the feeling that the old collier-turned-repair-ship was in a rush.

    "Your E's are getting the biggest rebuild after you and Houston. We're replacing their 4.7-inchers with the same five-thirty-eights the Sims have, and a mark 37 director. Which means we gotta modify their decks to accommodate the enclosed mounts. They'll be pretty top heavy with the new guns, so we'll remove that 6-pounder, to save weight, and fit ten single oerlikons."

    Jameson chuckled, "Turn them into discount Sims-class."

    I hummed, "Honestly, I think they'll just be happy to have some new toys, and actual AA." I gave them all a nod, "Thank you for the rundown."

    "Happy to be of service." Townsend smiled. "It was an honour to meet one of the ships I helped to design."

    "You're most welcome." Jameson, for his part, gave a small bow. He gave me a hopeful look. "I don't suppose you would do me the honour of a dinner before you leave New York?"

    My usual regal mask hid my cringe at the thought of this… overweight was probably the kindest way to put it- man asking me on a date. 'Ewww, no,' was what I wanted to say, but I had better manners than that. "I'm afraid I must decline, but thank you for the offer anyway."

    Luckily he wasn't a pushy one. "Of course."

    And with that, I followed Vestal out of the room. She had an amused smirk on her face when she turned around half a minute later. "Those two eggheads need to get laid."

    I blinked in surprise, "Surely they're married? They must be in their forties, at least."

    "Townsend's in his fifties, actually." The repair ship replied, "But nope. Common joke among us is that they're married to their work. They're good guys, but they end up ogling me half the time we're in the same room."

    "That must be uncomfortable." I muttered as we walked.

    "Nah." She shrugged, "Other than that they're perfect gentlemen. I've gotten used to it by now."

    Finally we reached our destination. The repair ship opened a metal door, revealing what look like the offspring of an operating room and an industrial metal shop. "Bloody hell. Are you some kind of mad scientist and haven't told me, Vestal?"

    "Would me shouting 'It's alive!' help?"

    I facepalmed, "Please don't. I don't want to be frankenstein's monster."

    Vestal gave a chuckle as she proceeded over to what looked like an operating table. I followed. "So how does this work?"

    She spun on her heel, and clapped her hand together. "Right, so. If you don't know, repair baths use your schematics as a base to essentially reset you to via yardwork. Any modifications or damage will be removed and repaired."

    I nodded along, "Ah. So that's why I had to have my fairies redo their tweaks every time I got repaired." A sudden thought occurred to me, "So then, you change the schematics, pull off all my old things, and dump me in the bath?"

    "Nope." She smiled at my pout. "Tried that, didn't work. Turns out, the bath can't repair anything you never had, even if it's on your schematics. I mean, if that was the case, we wouldn't have to worry about getting all the guns you're being fitted with now would we?" I supposed that made sense. Vestal continued, "So, we have to do everything the old fashioned way, and properly refit you. Difference is, you're a SHIP now, and SHIP refits mean surgery!"

    I blinked at the suddenly upbeat and perky Vestal. "Ooooookaaaaaay. You really are a mad scientist. It's a bit creepy actually." It also began to hit me that I was about to have a surgery. No one had told me that. I raised a finger. "Is it too late to back out?"

    Vestal grinned, "Yup! Unless you wanna tell the brass that you don't want all those brand new guns they bought for you? Besides, don't you want all this AA?"

    "Agh, fine." I groaned. "What do I need to do."

    She held out a medical gown. "Put this on, and lay down on the table."

    "This is going to suck, isn't it."
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 40: Very High Places
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 40: Very High Places

    Shipgirl refits are a strange thing. Long periods spent in the repair bath interspersed with various surgeries. And thank god for that. I couldn't imagine actually spending weeks on that damned table. Luckily, sedating a SHIP was as simple as having her fairies shut down her boilers and disembarking the whole crew.

    JULY 21 1942
    1340 HOURS

    It did indeed suck. I'd forgotten how much I hated the long stretches of boredom that came with long periods in the repair baths. But, here I was again, sat in a small hot tub like repair baths with my little sister Howe across from me. The room around us was essentially a large pool room with a dozen other small baths, in which the rest of Seven-Niner was scattered.

    We'd all been in and out of Vestal's surgery room for four days now. When I woke up after the first one, my arms had been stitched up, and my 5.25s were missing. Though after an hour in the baths had healed the long incisions the repair ship had made. The second one had seen several fingers, all my boats and aircraft removed. After the third, my hands felt tingly as Vestal had begun modifying my secondary mounts. And after the fourth, it was my feet and legs that felt weird, thanks to my missing screws.

    Bodily modification was such a strange and foreign concept to me. I'd never had anything even as basic as tattoos in my last life, and now here I was, undergoing surgery not for medical reasons, but to literally modify myself into a better war machine. It was an absolutely alien feeling.

    I glanced up at my little sister, who was leaning against the side of the tub, reading a book she held above the water. Howe had been through virtually the same procedures I was. "You okay Howe?"

    She glanced over at me. "Mhmm."

    I opened my mouth to speak again, but the sound of the door opening cut me off. Everyone glanced over to see Kay making her way over to us. "Afternoon, sisters."

    "Afternoon Kay." I replied.

    "Hello sis," Howe spoke as well.

    It only took our older sister a moment to reach us, and kneel on the tiles beside the bath. "You two alright?"

    I nodded, letting out a yawn and stitching. "Yeah. It's rather strange, but nothing too uncomfortable."

    Kay hummed, "Interesting. Vestal showed me the design. When you're done you two will almost be your own sub-class. A bit overkill, but that's hardly a problem."

    I grinned at her, "You wish you had that much AA."

    My big sister just rolled her eyes good naturedly, "I suppose. Maybe then the pasta-eaters wouldn't have hit me. Anyway, I'm set to depart in three hours…"


    And so, three hours later, the three of us found ourselves sharing a group hug on the dockside, as Kay's last few crew trickled aboard her hull from shore leave. "It's been amazing to see you again Kay." I muttered.

    "It has." She replied, finally pulling back. "It's… Probably going to be a year or two before we see each other again."

    "Don't worry." I gave a sad smile, and lightly elbowed Howe beside me. "We'll write."

    "Yup." Our youngest nodded.

    Kay returned my smile, which was just as sad. "As will I." She turned to Howe, "Follow Wales' lead, and do everything she says." She glanced at me, "She hasn't survived everything thrown at her by being stupid." She then turned to me, "And you be careful. Don't get overconfident. It's not just you I need to worry about now."

    My face hardened, and I nodded, "You'll see us again, Kay. A little older, and a little wiser. I'm going to bring everyone home."

    "Do your best, that's all anyone can ask." For a moment, we just stood there, Kay needing to be ready to leave, yet hesitating. I looked at her in confusion, until I noticed her eyes were watering a bit.

    Which of course made me begin to tear up. And I'd been holding it together so well until that point too. So, I pulled them both into a hug. "We'll be alright Kay. I love you sis." I sniffled.

    She hugged back, also sniffling, "Always remember, I love you girls."

    "I love you too." Both Howe and I spoke at the same time, and shared an amused glance. Kay pulled back, wiping her eyes, and turning to the gangway. "Good luck girls."

    "Aren't you forgetting our tradition?" Howe said, making Kay pause halfway up.

    She threw a smile over her shoulder. "Of course not." And with that, she teleported away. A moment later the gangway was raised, and the ropes loosed. With a faint rumble of engines, HMS King George V began to ease out of the drydock, a half dozen tugboats waiting to guide her out of the harbour, and her crew manning the rails.

    Bet before she'd gotten very far, a familiar tune came over her tannoy.

    "We'll meet again~"


    AUGUST 15 1942
    0841 HOURS

    July became August, and the summer of 1942 continued. After nearly a month in and out of Vestal's surgery and the repair baths, the war seemed so far away. Oddly, I almost found I missed it. Even mortal combat was better than this horrid boredom.

    But, we were almost done. The vast majority of the work was done. All my new 40 and 20 millimeter guns were installed, my aviation facilities and most of my boats had been removed, and my new radar was installed and functioning, as were my new screws. Even all eight of my new Mark 28 twin 5-inch mounts were installed. All that was left was spending the next two days on internal work, hooking up my numbers seven and eight secondary mounts to my power, fire control and ammunition systems, and then I'd be operational once more.

    Today, only Howe, Houston and I occupied the baths. Everyone else's refits were complete, and so I'd given them all forty-eight hours liberty.

    We'd been soaking for a bit when the door flew open to admit Vestal. "Hey! Princess! Get up, and get changed! Lieutenant Commander Anderson is here to see you."

    "Huh." I shrugged, and began to climb from the bath. "I wonder what he wants."

    A few minutes later I'd dried off and changed into my summer whites. I found the elder Anderson brother waiting in the foyer. "You wanted to see me, Lieutenant Commander?"

    He spun at the sound of my voice. The young officer seemed unnaturally tense. "Ah, Captain. There you are. I'm supposed to inform you that you, Commander Hampton and Lieutenant Commander Windsor have been invited to a cocktail party this evening."

    If my eyebrow had climbed any faster, it would have made orbit. His unease and nervousness was very out of character. What was going on here? My mind immediately jumped to worst case conclusions. Was he being paid off by the New York Mafia I'd heard so much about? Or something worse? "Where? And by whom?" I asked.

    That question seemed to make him even more nervous. "Uhhh. The White House ma'am. The President wishes to meet you."

    My mind ground to a halt. "The President!? Of the United States?!"

    "Yes, ma'am."

    Ah. Well, that explained Anderson. We weren't just dealing with brass. We were dealing with the brass. Hell, now I was nervous. It wasn't as if I could say no to the President of the bloody USA.

    I shook my head to snap out of my spiraling thoughts. "This evening, you said?"

    He nodded.

    "How are we getting there?"

    "I've already arranged for a Navy Catalina to pick us up right at the dock." He rattled off, being able to talk business seeming to help him focus. "I've already gotten approval for us to land right on the Potomac."

    "You're coming too?"

    He nodded, "I'm responsible as your guide. I'm supposed to make sure nothing goes wrong."

    "Alright." I nodded, "Dress code?"

    "Formal."

    I hummed. My first thought was to go in my dress uniform. But, it wasn't the most comfortable outfit, and if I was right, we'd be spending several hours at this party. My second was to go get a formal civilian dress. But that didn't really appeal to me. Besides, it was probably already too late. Which left…

    In an instant, I summoned and desummoned my rigging, startling Anderson, and leaving me in my red uniform and black pants, sword on hip. "Would this work?"

    He blinked, and gave me a once over. "Yeah, yeah. I'd say that's fancy enough."

    "Perfect. I'll tell the others."


    1800 HOURS

    It was a gorgeous warm August evening when Houston, Howe and I were lead up the steps of the bloody White House, invited by FDR himself. Was this really happening? Was I really that well known?

    Either way, there we were. I'd worn my red rigging outfit, with the small addition of my DSC in the appropriate spot.

    My younger sibling had followed my example, and worn her own red outfit. It was actually the first time I'd seen her in it. It consisted of a red uniform jacket, somewhat similar if more tight fitting than my own, with exaggerated cuffs, and a furred collar. She wore a sash across it, as well as a gold lanyard, while a black skirt similar to Kay's nearly reached her knees. From her back hung a long white cape. Her legs were covered by pantyhose, and her feet by tall, nearly knee length, white boots, and a pair of black gloves covered her hands. Finally, like both Kay and I, an ornamented sword sat in its scabbard on her hip.

    We shared a grin. "We look like a pair of princesses." I remarked.

    "It's in your name." Houston interjected, with a chuckle. I found myself glancing at the other SHIP who'd been asked along. She'd worn her USN dress uniform, rank and medals proudly displayed for all to see. I didn't blame her. Her rigging outfit wasn't the fanciest.

    Anderson soon led us past the secret service agents standing guard, and up the stairs into the main entrance. I was honestly surprised. Both Howe and I had our swords on our hips. I'd half expected them to be confiscated at the door.

    The entrance hall genuinely made me pause and mutter a small "Bloody hell..." under my breath. The floor was a tan tile, polished to a shine. The roof was held up by marble columns, and a grand chandelier hung in the centre. It was gorgeous.

    However, I didn't have time to stare, as an attendant soon directed our small group left, down the main hall, and into a large room. Said room was set up for a cocktail party, with one wall playing host to a long table of fancy snack food - hoeur d'oeuvres wasn't it? - while the other held a small bar and bartender.

    But what drew my attention was the people. There seemed to be around thirty, scattered around the room. The majority of them were men who seemed to be government officials, wearing suits with bowties, while a few ladies, likely wives, wore formal dresses that reached the floor. There were quite a few men in uniform, though. I spotted an American Marine, an Army Air Force uniform, and several Navy men. Though they all had one thing in common.

    I swallowed. That was a lot of brass. I didn't see a single rank in the room lower than the one star of a Rear Admiral and Lieutenant General. And everyone was looking at us. I took a deep breath, calmed myself, and let myself sink into my usual princess mask. I was going to need it tonight.

    With a small regal smile plastered on my face, I strode forward, heading to the bar, and hopefully snapping the others in our little party out of their nervous staring. A moment later, I had a Gin and Tonic in hand, and strode into the crowd. If I was expected to mingle, then I would mingle.

    I didn't have to wait long, as an Admiral soon approached me. "Captain Windsor, I presume?"

    "I am."

    He stuck out a hand, "Admiral Ingersoll, C-in-C Atlantic Fleet. A pleasure to meet the Iron Princess of the Pacific."

    I gave a small amused smile, "Oh? Is that what the papers are calling me?"

    He nodded, "They are. Though any mention of you SHIPs is still censored of course. But that doesn't stop them from printing stories about the battles that are occurring."

    I gave a small regal nod, "I see. And how are you adjusting to our existence?"

    He smiled, "Rolling with it. You girls are both a blessing, and a curse."

    I gave him a sympathetic look. "Destroyers?"

    He chuckled, "She gets it." He glanced over my shoulder, "Oh but don't let me take up too much of your time. There's someone far more important than me who seemed to want to speak with you."

    I quirked an eyebrow, and turned around. My eyes widened, before a slammed my regal mask back into place. "Mr. President."

    Franklin Delano Roosevelt was an aging man, who looked as if he'd had to hold up the weight of the world for far too long. His face was tired, and he had deep bags under his eyes. But despite that, he still seemed full of life, a friendly smile on his face.

    "It's an honor sir." I spoke, sticking my hand out for the wheelchair bound president to shake.

    Despite his looks, he had a firm grip. "The Honor is all mine, Miss Windsor. Welcome to the White House."

    "It's good to be here, sir."

    His smile widened, "A nice change of pace from the war too, I'd assume?"

    I dipped my head. "Quite."

    With that, FDR spun his wheelchair, and began wheeling for the appetizers, beckoning me to follow. "Call your ladies over."

    With a shrug, I followed, transmitting over the radio, but not speaking out loud. "Girls, on me. The president wants to meet you."

    Soon enough, the president and I had gotten some snacks, and retired to the corner of the room. Howe and Houston came walking over a minute later.

    "Mr. President, allow me to introduce my sister, Lieutenant Commander Hollie Windsor, and my second, Commander Houna Hampton."

    "A pleasure, Miss Windsor." He shook Howe's hand, and then turned to Houston.

    "Hello, Mr. President."

    "Houston." He took a moment to look her over. "You're different from what I expected."

    Houston snorted, not taking any offence. "We rarely are." Curious, she continued, "What did you expect?"

    "After all this SHIP nonsense started?" The president spoke, "A shorter brunette, for whatever reason. But may I say, those months I spent aboard you, were excellent."

    The Texan smirked, "Well, I'm not nicknamed 'The Presidential Yacht' for nothing."

    "Indeed." Roosevelt smiled. "It is a shame we'll never be able to again."

    "Yup," muttered Houston.

    After a few moments of silence, I took the opportunity to speak, "If I may ask, Sir?"

    "Yes?"

    "Vestal and the engineers mentioned a shortage of five-inchers, Bofors and Oerlikons. They said someone up the chain had been pulling some strings for us. And from the rumours about Admiral King, I've gathered he doesn't even want us in the Pacific. Would you know anything about that?" I asked.

    An amused smile crossed the President's face. "Let me let you in on a small secret, ladies. Admiral King is not an Anglophobe. He simply hates everyone, equally." He chuckled, "But yes, if he could, he would block your refits and send you back to the British. But, I have overruled him."

    I blinked, mask slipped just for a second, "Really? Why?"

    Roosevelt nodded, "Two reasons: the first, Nimitz has made his desire to keep TF79 under his command very clear. The second, I will admit, is the interest I have taken in your little fleet. You are the only force of your type, and frankly, you haven't been operational long enough to judge any results from this little experiment."

    "We're an experiment?"

    "To see how viable all-SHIP fleets are." He elaborated.

    "I see." I muttered.

    Again, he gave a genial smile, "Are there any other questions I can settle?"

    "Just the timing of our refits sir." Houston spoke up. "The japs could strike any day. Why not wait for another lull?"

    "Hmmm." A hand came up to his chin, as he seemed to ponder something. He soon made up his mind, and a slightly conspiratorial look appeared on his face. He leaned in, "This is above your clearance, but you'll learn it anyway when you reach Pearl in four days. The Japanese are going to attack Midway in a week. We've known this for nearly two months. You will be escorting our carriers as they ambush the Japanese fleet. So Nimitz asked King for your fleet to be refitted with heavier AA as carrier escorts in the gap we had. And we'll need battleships for our immediate counter attack, after the battle."

    "Well, that would make more sense." I replied, "I don't suppose…"

    "Excuse me, Mr. President, but we have a situation." One of his Aides cut me off as he speedwalked over, handing a paper to the President.

    Roosevelt spent a moment reading. His eyes narrowed, "They've caught on."

    "What is it sir?" I couldn't help but ask. In response, he handed me the paper. I immediately recognized the naval signal.

    FROM: CICPACFLT
    TO: CICUSN

    JAPANESE CODES CHANGED STOP JAPANESE LAUNCHING OP AF EARLY STOP SUBMARINES REPORT KB HALFWAY TO TARGET STOP SORTIEING FULL FLEET EXPECT CONTACT AUG 17-19 STOP WISH US LUCK

    My mouth went dry. The Battle of Midway was about to begin, and we were going to miss it.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Martin Bajar said:
    But would they be in any state to fight a battle?
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    If they slept on the plane? Sure.

    Even if they didn't though, without them this battle is going to be a shit show.

    OTL the USN had the element of surprise, 3+1 carriers, and was facing 4 carriers.

    ITTL Yorktown is in Washington, they don't have the element of surprise, and the Japanese are probably bringing in all of their carriers in at once.

    Them being airlifted in might not be a good option, but it also might be the only option.
     
    On Ch 39: Spoken like an American.. Guns, more of them, anywhere they can be fitted. :)

    Ch 40: It must've taken you sometime to write FDR right. Kudos.

    Very well done on both chapters.
     
    Interlude: Rumors
  • Threadmarks
    • AN: A short interlude to tie together Parts 3&4. This is set in between Ch.38&40. And yes, I know it's a bit jilted, but I'm feeling lazy lol. Midway should be done next weekend by my guest author.

    Interlude: Rumors

    JULY 16 1942
    1810 HOURS

    We had two days off before we had to report for refits, and us three KGVs took full advantage. It was good to finally be able to spend time with my two sisters. We took turns choosing what to do.

    Kay dragged us clothes shopping. Our older sister seemed to quite enjoy stuffing her two younger siblings in all manner of outfits, from casual outfits to ludicrously fancy dresses that wouldn't have been out of place at a Royal Gala.

    On the other hand, Howe had us go see a Broadway play, some funny little comedy set in a small cafe. It was decent enough, and got us all laughing.

    I took us through downtown Manhattan, simply exploring and introducing my sisters to various foods as we passed hot dog stands, pizza places, and other food trucks and stands. We ended the day walking back to Paddy's Irish Pub, near the hotel and dockyard, where we'd first met. At least, that was the plan, before I felt a tug on my summer dress.

    I turned to find a young brunette girl, no older than eight, tugging on my skirt. I paused, and crouched down to meet her eye level. "Oh, hello there. Where are your parents?"

    She completely ignored my question. "How do I get pretty eyes like you?"

    I blinked, only now noticing that my usual sunglasses had slipped down my nose, allowing her to see my ruby eyes. I quickly pushed them back up. "I don't believe you can." I gently explained, "I was born with them like that."

    The young girl's face fell. "Oh."

    "Now, where are your parents?"

    She shook her head, "'m here with my sister." And pointed behind me.

    I looked over my shoulder to see both of my sisters had stopped, and were standing nearby, watching with some amusement. But there was also another girl in her mid-teens, quickly approaching us.

    "Julie! How many times do I have to tell you not to run off?"

    The younger pouted, "But Emmaaaaaa. The pretty lady has neat eyes."

    For a moment the elder sister blinked, before turning to peer at my face. I shrugged, and briefly flipped down my glasses for her to see. Her brown eyes widened as my ruby gaze met her own. Nonetheless, I gave a kind smile. "Your sister wanted to know how to get eyes like mine," I explained, glazing down at Julie, "But last I checked, eye colour is something everyone is born with."

    The teen, Emma, gave a small nod, almost seeming scared. "Right. Yeah." She seemed almost to want to run away. But I could also see the curiosity behind her eyes as she glanced between me, Kay and Howe. "Are you…uhhh. Are you those boat-people?"

    I raised an eyebrow. "If I said we were?"

    She looked at me with some trepidation as she spoke again. "Mom says you're created by attaching a child to a ship by a demonic ritual…"

    It took me a second to full comprehend what the teen had just said. That was… "Psshhh! Ahahahahaha!" I heard my sisters giggling too, somewhere behind me. "Where did she come up with that?" I chuckled, "That's bloody absurd."

    Kay'd stepped forward as I laughed, "Does your family really believe that?" The girl nodded, a bit taken aback at our reaction. I didn't even want to guess what she'd thought we were going to do. Kay continued, "I assure you, we're nothing of the sort. Now don't tell anyone I was the one who told you this. It's all top secret. But we're born only slightly differently. When a ship is launched, the spirit is 'born', as it were. That's what we are."

    Emma just stood still for a moment. "Oh." She flushed, suddenly. "Ah, I'm sorry."

    Kay just gave a smile. "All is well, my dear. You had no way to know what is true or not. That is the entire point of keeping us secret. To prevent the enemy from learning of us. Of course, you two will probably be better off not telling your parents about us."

    The teen winced. "Yeah. Mom'll think we were possessed or something. We better get going."

    I nodded, stepping up beside my older sister. "Indeed. Farewell Emma." I gave the younger of the two a warm smile. "And you, little Julie."


    We ended up in the bar a few minutes later. And unlike the first time the three of us had been, it was full. Most of the patrons were workers from the navy yard. But there were more than a few sailors as well as regular civilians. A few were even wearing RN uniforms. And judging by how Kay gave them a wave, and they raised their drinks back in salute, they were members of her crew, on leave as her steel hull was repaired and refitted.

    We found one of the booths soon enough, and the next half an hour was spent drinking and talking. It was soon after I'd poured my second glass of wine that Howe raised a hand, and silenced us. A moment later, I realised why as several voices came from the next booth over.

    "-y're just being told that their ships are alive so that they keep better care of them." An old gruff male voice was saying, "I've seen some of the ships that are in the yard. Damn terrible shame that some people would let their boats get into such a sorry state, and the Navy department is telling sailors the ships are alive so they keep better care of their boats and prevent one from sinking in the middle of the harbor or a shipping lane and block the passes for the Navy warships and supply convoys that are constantly moving in and out."

    "It's true!" Another voice spoke. "I have a couple of friends in the merchant marine who were swearing it was true, before they started clamming up every time the topic was brought up. And I've seen some weird shit around the harbour, man."

    The next voice seemed much more well spoken. "Should it be proven true that ships are indeed alive, it would be a confirmation of the supernatural existing. The stories and Legends centered around the Seas and Oceans would require a closer reexamination of their tales and a redetermination of it's message. It would be detrimental in the extreme to ignore things in those stories previously determined to be allegorical, when in fact it was very literal. Perhaps in instances, a very clear and dire warning on the perils that have long existed in the great gulfs of unrecorded history but have for one reason or another had become dormant. Like a dragon of medieval myth sleeping within the mountain cave, lurking and slumbering until some hapless soul awakens it from its long slumber and brings about a terrible wrath to the world."

    "Seriously Bill?" The first voice spoke again. "I woulda thought that smart brain of yours would be a bit more realistic."

    "I kinda just enjoy all the questions it brings up." A fourth voice spoke. "If this talk about our ships having souls isn't bullshit, then how does one determine the father or fathers of a ship? The ones who design her, the ones who build her, or the first man to captain her?"

    The first scoffed again. "I'm telling you, if our damn Ships are alive, then everything made by Human hands is alive in one sense or another. Which it very obviously isn't."

    The fourth voice spoke again. "Yeah, fair. As much as I want it to be true, its obviously a German trick. They'll make us think our ships have souls that look like girls and young women so we'd be scared to send em out into battle. Well fuck those Kraut bastards, their little head games won't work on us."

    "Listen I'm telling you, these ships have souls, man." 'Second voice' butted in. "I saw a woman strolling around on the deck of a warship. A warship! You know how sailors are with letting women on board. I blinked and she was gone from the deck and chatting with another girl on the dock. I had to hide behind my milk truck so they wouldn't see me when they turned and looked my way. Do you have any idea how hard it is to act like you didn't see something otherworldly? These girls can just appear outta thin air anywhere they damn well please! And most folk act like they don't even see em! But I can, that's why I'm staring at any dame that comes into this bar. Because now I gotta ask myself is this a cute gal walking in that I can flirt with? Or this a fucken' ship that could break me like a twig by accident if I say something just a tad too raunchy and she decides I need to be slapped for it?"

    "Tom's right." A fifth spoke, "Its not just the Warships fellas. I think its spread to all the ships in the Harbor, or just about. My uncle took me aboard his fishin boat and I swore I heard a girl giggling aboard. But everytime I tried to find her, I couldn't. At one point, I just kinda pulled out a bottle of whiskey and set it on a table in the bridge cabin. My uncle asked what I was doing and I told him that no sailor could turn down an unguarded bottle of whiskey. I turn back to resume my watch over the bottle, but it was already empty. The windows weren't open but the bottle was completely empty. NO way anyone coulda got past, downed the whole bottle, and slip out again without me or my uncle noticing. There's just no way."

    I glanced back at my two sisters to see amused grins on their faces, hands over mouths to keep from laughing. Here this group was, getting drunk, and talking about ship spirits, or their non-existence, while three of us were sitting right in the next booth.

    Suffice to say, we spent the rest of the evening listening on the other patrons. It turned out, the next door group wasn't the only one talking about us.


    "I wonder what the older battleships and battlecruisers have to say about Jellico and Jutland. Or perhaps Bob might've been onto something about being mad at Beatty."


    "I heard that some of these ship souls have been able to step off their hulls and walk about around the port. I mean the other day I saw a woman trip over what I thought was her own feet. But when I helped her back to her feet, she was mumbling an apology to someone. Someone who wasn't there by my reckoning. So maybe there's some truth to those rumors."


    "You know, hearing these rumors that our ships have souls. It makes me think back to my old ship, I served in the Great White Fleet you know. USS Louisiana, BB-19. I had served as one of her engineers manning the boilers. Lemme tell you, her boilers were a pain in the ass to keep going and she became a cranky bitch when you looked away from them for more than 5 minutes."

    "But, she was always reliable and there when we needed her at her best. Every time her boilers acted up, they always were easily brought back with one of us giving her our undivided attention. We always joked that the boilers only acted up because she wanted some attention from us. But now… Now that I'm hearing this… I can't help but wonder if she really was trying to talk to us, in her own little way… It makes we wish that I had said more to her."

    "It was a silly thing back then, whenever I had to deal with her boilers acting up while underway. I spoke to them, spoke like I was speaking to her as I brought her boilers back in line. I don't know why, but anytime I did that, it was usually a lot longer before her boilers acted up again afterwards. I just can't help but think that she was happy that I was speaking to her, even though if she had said anything back, I didn't hear it. But, hearing about these rumors… It makes me wish she was still around. God it makes me wish she was still around. I swear when she made her last trip before the breakers… I swore I heard something else as her boilers shut down and started to cool for the last time as I packed my tools and left her that last time."


    "I'm telling you guys, you can't trust 'em. Any of 'em! These women who are ships. They're not ships, they're occult entities! Entities that can summon little doll men from Mars! That one writer guy was right! We pieced together too much dissociated knowledge and now we've opened up such terrifying a vista of reality, and of our frightful position within it. We will all go mad from the revelation I tell you! Mad!"


    And I'd thought conspiracy theories had been a cold war thing…


    AN: Props to @Admiral_Corgi for most of the conspiracy dialogue, you crazy conspiracy theorist you XD
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Part 4, Interlude: The Battle of Midway
  • Threadmarks
    • AN: Here it is! Many thanks to my good friend Vren55, who wrote this interlude, and who you may know as a contributor to The Greatest Generation. The lads a historian, and wants to be a professional writer, and I think it shows. Onto Part 4!


    Part 4: The Guadalcanal Campaign
    Interlude: The Battle of Midway


    The battle of Midway wasn't the largest naval battle in history. It wasn't even the largest battle of the Pacific War. But it was the largest carrier battle in history. Eleven carriers, trading strikes, and doing their damndest to send each other to the bottom.

    And we missed it. Not that I think Seven Niner would have made much of a difference. These were the days before anyone had gotten any crazy ideas, like SHIP paratroopers, or things like that. At most, we would have added some AA to the carrier screens. And who knows, perhaps that would have made a difference. As it was, things turned out alright.


    Excerpt from Blood in the Water: The Pacific War, "Chapter 12: Introduction to the Battle of Midway" by Professor Ren.

    After Coral Sea, US carriers Enterprise and Saratoga attacked the Marshall Islands, while Lexington and Yorktown raided Guadalcanal. Royal navy carrier and surface units simultaneously assaulted Java and Sumatra. All in all, the US and Royal Navys weren't exactly in a bad position, but it wasn't an enviable situation.

    On one hand, they hadn't lost a carrier. Thanks to their knowledge of the ship spirits Lexington and Yorktown were both shipgirls and were fully operational. With Enterprise, Saratoga, and Hornet still operational, the US fleet still maintained a potent carrier force in the Pacific.

    The problem was that the Japanese still had an advantage in carrier numbers. The mighty Kido-Butai of Hiryu, Soryu, Akagi, Kaga, Shokaku, and Zuikaku meant that there was no way that the US could face the Japanese one on one. And that didn't even factor in the vast amount of combat experience the Japanese pilots and ships had over the US. The US Navy also had Wasp but she was operating in the Atlantic.

    In terms of surface capital ship numbers, the Japanese hadn't lost a major capital unit. However, in the Battle of the Java Sea Repulse and Prince of Wales heavily damaged Kongo and Haruna. The two battlecruisers would not be able to leave their docks for months. Said Allied heavy units, however, were in for a long-overdue refit and recuperation, having fought almost continuously since the start of the war. Meanwhile, the Royal Navy carriers were operating in the Mediterranean, Atlantic and Indian Ocean and were thus pinned in place.

    Finally, the US high command was very aware that Lexington and Yorktown had no second chances left. If they were sunk, that was it. To make matters worse, Admiral Fletcher's death at Coral Sea meant a missing operational commander for the US carrier forces in the Pacific. Halsey's task force was built around Hornet and Enterprise, while Yorktown and Lexington were commanding themselves during the earlier Raid on Guadalcanal, Operation Crossbow.

    As such, with Halsey's health failing, thanks to the pressures of war and leading numerous naval raids against Wake and Gilbert islands, shortly after the Guadalcanal Raid, the US assigned another commander to the US carrier task forces, to coordinate with Yorktown and Lexington.

    Enter Raymond A. Spruance. The man was a cruiser commander, and not a carrier man. The first thing Spruance did when he got news of the posting was to read every manual and paper the US Navy had on carrier doctrine. The next thing he did was to sit down with Lexington and Yorktown and asked every question he ever had about their capabilities and what they thought would help American carrier operations. The cram study session he put himself through turned out to be rather fortunate because a short time later, US intelligence finally came through.

    The Japanese were under the mistaken impression that the Doolittle Raid had been launched by bombers from Midway. Thus, they planned to attack Midway, taking the island and denying the United States of an airfield and an important naval base. Their main objective, however, was also to draw the remaining American carriers out into a decisive battle and destroy them.

    Painstaking intelligence work by American intelligence prevented that. With the knowledge of an attack on Midway, Admiral Nimitz and Spruance quickly devised a counter to Yamamoto's plan.

    Spruance had his five carriers, the steel-hulled Enterprise, Saratoga, and Hornet, and the ship spirits Yorktown and Lexington. He was to position them north of Midway atoll with escorts. Once the Japanese tried to attack Midway, the carriers would spring on the enemy and weaken them. If they had the chance, TF79, led by Prince of Wales, would support followup carrier strikes and pursue the enemy.

    Unfortunately, to the horror of the Allies, the Japanese, tipped off about American code breaking, set out for Midway early whilst TF79 was in refit. Thus, Spruance made one crucial modification to the plan.

    The admiral had Lexington and Yorktown set off separately with a light escort heading south a week before the Midway attack. Their apparent mission was to take them to the Gilbert Islands. After a few days, however, where American signalers were deliberately rather lax with their codes, Spruance had the pair of carriers take their rigging off and board a Catalina back to Pearl.

    Once they were back in Pearl, Lexington and Yorktown stowed themselves on board of Enterprise and the five carriers all went north.

    So when they set up in ambush position, awaiting the enemy, Spruance's forces looked like they had three carriers. In actuality, they had five. Furthermore, they were ready to pounce the moment the Japanese revealed themselves.

    Despite Midway Island's defenses being on alert, the initial Japanese attack went well, but faced significantly more resistance. Meanwhile, the carriers were immediately counterattacked by B-25 and B-26s based on Midway Island itself. Due to the two-months warning prior to the attack, the airfield at Midway had been heavily reinforced with US Army Aircraft including P-40s and even a squadron of new P-38 Lightnings.

    Of course, with the Kido-Butai's fighter screen, few of the bombers managed to land any hits. Notably, though, a B-26 of the 69th Bombardment Squadron flown by Captain A. Fisher caught Haguro with a torpedo, slowing her to twenty knots and forcing her to be detached.

    The sudden airstrikes and preparation of Midway Island put Admiral Nagumo off guard, leading the Japanese admiral to immediately prepare a second strike to finish off the airfield.

    That was when two things happened almost simultaneously. An American Catalina spotted the Japanese aircraft carriers and sent off a report that he'd found five carriers. A Japanese Kate spotter aircraft found the steel-hulled Enterprise, Saratoga and Hornet.

    Like two cowboys walking in the dark without a flashlight, the moment the two admirals found their opposing number, they started blasting.

    It didn't take long for the American CAP to force the Japanese spotter away. Spruance immediately deployed his two secret SHIPS, Lexington and Yorktown. His command strategy was simple. Yorktown would direct offensive fighter operations and her and Lexington's fairy planes would lead the way for the other American strike aircraft. Steel-hulled Saratoga was in charge of defensive fighter ops. Soon, a veritable horde of American aircraft soared into the sky, corralled and led by skilled fairy pilots.

    To his credit, Admiral Nagumo reacted with stunning decisiveness. Understanding the danger the three American carriers posed, he immediately re-armed his recently returned planes and flew them off. Six carrier air wings of torpedo bombers and dive bombers, escorted by Zeros went head to head with American CAP.

    The resultant battle demonstrated that American CAP coordination led much to be desired. Despite Saratoga screaming herself almost red in the face, lax radio discipline meant many torpedo and dive bombers got past the Wildcats. All but one of the American carriers were subsequently damaged. Yorktown and Lexington got off relatively lightly, with both hit by a torpedo and bomb strike each. Enterprise, shielded by a lucky rainsquall, went unnoticed by the Japanese. Saratoga and Hornet, leading the carrier formation, suffered critical damage. The ex-battlecruiser was slammed by five torpedoes, which according to navy calculations, the ship probably could have survived if it hadn't also been hit with eight bomb strikes, one of which blew the spirit out of the bridge and killed her command staff. That had forced Enterprise to take command of the CAP. Saratoga was still afloat but was aflame from bow to stern and understandably dazed.

    Meanwhile, Hornet had taken five bomb hits. One left a gaping hole in her deck, whilst the other had slammed into her forward aircraft elevator, detonating in her hanger and causing a raging fire. This was further complicated by three torpedo hits, which again, weren't fatal to the carrier. One of these torpedo hits, however, had caused major flooding in engineering and the ship was now dead in the water.

    All in all, a grim result for the Americans and one that left all the ship spirits and their crews in a gloomy mood.

    But while the Americans had been bruised, the Japanese were hurting.

    First, while Saratoga and Enterprise's CAP direction hadn't quite managed to protect the carriers as well as they'd like, it had had an effect. In addition, refits to the carriers, which had added a lot of 20mm Oerlikon cannons and Enterprise had even gotten a few 40mm Bofors. This had improved the anti-aircraft capability of the carriers and their escorts. The Japanese pilots had also been confused by the 'additional' carrier that they found when attacking the Americans, causing far fewer aircraft to go after Yorktown and Lexington.

    The result was that while it wouldn't be known until later in the war, the Japanese had paid a horrible cost in fighters and bombers. Akagi lost a full 50% of her strike complement, Kaga 30% and Shokaku 40%, Soryu and Hiryu were better at 60% respectively, but that would prove a moot point.

    While the Japanese attack occurred, the American strike, led by Lexington and Yorktown's fairy pilots, formed into attack wings and swooped in on the Kido Butai. The fairies didn't have to communicate much, they just led the wings plunged down on the Japanese navy. The losses were unsurprisingly horrible. Saratoga and Hornet's wings dove in too early due to a miscommunication with their fairy pilot leaders, leading to the destruction of their entire Devastator torpedo bomber wings. Yet, they paved the way for dive bombers to land hits on the Kido Butai.

    According to postwar analysis and interviews with Japanese ship spirits, this was one of the most harrowing moments in the war. Kido Butai had to maneuver like never before, with Zuikaku nearly crashing straight into Shokaku. Akagi, with her battlecruiser heritage, only got hit by one bomb. Kaga escaped thanks to excellent Japanese combat air patrol wiping out Saratoga's torpedo wing. The more maneuverable Shokaku and Zuikaku were also hit with two bombs each. The more lightly-built Soryu and Hiryu, however, weren't so lucky. Within five minutes, both carriers took hits from three one thousand pound bombs each. One of these bombs wrecked Hiryu's damage control centre, killed her personnel, and opened the way for the third bomb to set fire to her aviation fuel stores that blazed rapidly out of control. This turned the ship into an inferno, and she foundered soon after that. Soryu could not take in aircraft thanks to the holes in her deck and being lightly ablaze, but could maintain cruising speed.

    Members of Nagumo's command staff later related that confusion reigned in the flag bridge aboard Akagi. They note that the admiral's famously stoic expression was accented with a hint of confusion. They'd been under the impression that first, their attack had been a surprise to the Americans, which they'd been disabused of. Then they'd been led to believe that at most there might be three American carriers. Now there might be five, two of which seemed to be sunk, but the aircraft losses thanks to the monstrous flak barrage and better CAP had stunned the Japanese pilots and their commanders.

    Both sides were left reeling from the results of the clash and both scrambling to launch a follow-up strikes. It was at this crucial moment that Spruance made a very good call, and Nagumo made a mistake.

    It was a very understandable mistake to make, but it was the worst thing Nagumo could have done. Nagumo chose to believe his earlier sighting report that there were three American carriers, based on the report of Yorktown and Lexington being sent to the Gilbert Islands. He disregarded the report that there might be four or five American carriers, and so with two carriers after his estimated three reported as crippled, the Admiral decided that he could take the opportunity to rotate his exhausted Combat Air Patrol and allowing Hiryu and Soryu's orphaned aircraft to land, before launching a followup strike.

    Spruance in the meantime approached Hornet and Saratoga. The two steel-hulled ships were afloat but were badly battered, and dead in the water. The admiral thus offered the two spirits to be scuttled so that they could recover their full combat capability and be able to launch another strike.

    Both carriers accepted. Once their remaining crew was taken off, both ships were scuttled and made SHIPS, where they immediately began launching a strike force to avenge their dead crew.

    Every plane the Americans could scrape up, fairy and human, hit the air and headed for the Japanese Kido Butai. The Japanese had just sent up their followup strike, when their Combat Air Patrol, still stuck at low altitude, not even having fully flown off, were jumped by the American fighter escort. The majority fairy pilots struck hard and fast, opening a deadly path to the carriers.

    From Akagi, Nagumo could only watch as bombs and torpedoes fell on his ships. Every carrier was hit except for Kaga who was at the opposite side of the formation. Akagi was hit with three bombs from Saratoga's dive bombers that set new fires. Hornet's fairies struck Zuikaku with a crippling torpedo as she swerved to avoid another spread, and took a bomb hit. Shoukaku took two bombs and a torpedo from Yorktown's aircraft. Lexington dealt the deathblow to Soryu, landing two torpedoes and four bombs that ripped the carrier's lighty-built frame apart, and left her blazing wreck settling into the water.

    Yet, even as Soryu fondered, a quirk of good fortune gave the Japanese one chance. Weaving between dive bombers, Kaga was struck with two torpedoes from Enterprise's Devastators, but the Mark 13 torpedoes set to magnetically detonate, chose that moment to malfunction and neither exploded.

    Unfortunately, the Japanese strike was already in the air and en-route to the American task force.

    With Saratoga and Hornet not being familiar with their new rigging and their status as SHIPS, their anti-aircraft fire was far more uncoordinated than that of the experienced Yorktown and Lexington. Enterprise, still manned by experienced crew, accounted for significant Japanese aircraft losses. However, the two new SHIPs took a torpedo hit each. Hornet took an additional three bomb hits, and Saratoga four. They would have taken more, if it had not been for Yorktown and Lexington literally throwing themselves in the way of three critical torpedo hits.

    As it was, only Enterprise escaped unscathed. The rest of the American Carriers were damaged and limping. In order to protect these remaining carriers, Spruance ordered all of his remaining carriers to retract their rigging and get onto the escorts. This would put Enterprise at risk, but she hadn't been hit and darkness was falling, and it would be easier to defend the one battle-ready carrier. He needn't have bothered. Nagumo was already limping the four survivors of the Kido Butai back to Japan for extensive repairs.

    Battered and bloody, both fleets withdrew unknowingly having come to a stalemate.

    Yet, it was at this final moment, that Spruance played his final trump card, and it had nothing to do with sinking ships. As Task Force Fifty-Eight returned to Pearl, Spruance convinced his surviving SHIPS to don their rigging and sail into Pearl before they climbed ashore and all but fell into the repair baths. To those watching, all five American carriers had returned, intact.

    However, it was more than enough to send shockwaves through Japanese high command and though they didn't know it at the time, it plunged the spirits of the Kido-Butai into despair.

    In essence, the Japanese had sacrificed two fleet carriers and their opponents, while battered, hadn't lost a single one. Not only had they lost many experienced pilots, they'd lost two entire ships. The Americans may have only had one operational carrier, Enterprise, but the rest could be brought online with time. The time Japan had before the United States could marshal its resources, was ticking.

    Tactically, Midway was a stalemate. Both sides traded two carriers, and the large majority of their trained aircrews. Strategically, the IJN failed in their objective of capturing Midway. Furthermore, the USN was far more capable of absorbing such losses, especially with access to spirits keeping all five carriers in the fight.

    The immediate aftermath, however, had the greatest implications. Two operational carriers remained in the Pacific. One American, one Japanese. Both with extremely depleted airgroups. So it was that for several months, battleships briefly regained their spot as the queens of the sea. And the stage was set for some of the fiercest surface actions of the Pacific War.

    Guadalcanal.
     
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    • LtRainbowSlash said:
    Both with extremely depleted airgroups.
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    Good chapter and a cool alt history take on the battle.
    Love the psy-ops warfare in this one. Imagine the big picture on the front off all the newspapers showing all 5 carriers steaming into Pearl under their own power and the headlines reading "Our ships and their brave crews returning victorious from a hard fought battle!" Then imagine the sheer levels of 'WTF' when that picture makes it across the Pacific.
    Also further logistical issues for the Japanese. How many drydocks do they have that can take capital ships?

    Minor nitpick on the quoted point.
    This is by far the bigger issue for the Japanese as their air groups were kept with their carriers. Doesn't matter if they could pull together a single air group from multiple under strength ones. And if the air group is understrength the carrier doesn't sail.
    USN carrier air groups could and were assigned and reassigned as needed. Between the battle's survivors, reserves and newly trained aviators Enterprise should have a new air group in a week or two and have them trained up and ready for combat not long after. Enterprise should be operational for the coming campaign.
     
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    Panaka said:
    Good chapter and a cool alt history take on the battle.
    Love the psy-ops warfare in this one. Imagine the big picture on the front off all the newspapers showing all 5 carriers steaming into Pearl under their own power and the headlines reading "Our ships and their brave crews returning victorious from a hard fought battle!" Then imagine the sheer levels of 'WTF' when that picture makes it across the Pacific.
    Also further logistical issues for the Japanese. How many drydocks do they have that can take capital ships?

    Minor nitpick on the quoted point.
    This is by far the bigger issue for the Japanese as their air groups were kept with their carriers. Doesn't matter if they could pull together a single air group from multiple under strength ones. And if the air group is understrength the carrier doesn't sail.
    USN carrier air groups could and were assigned and reassigned as needed. Between the battle's survivors, reserves and newly trained aviators Enterprise should have a new air group in a week or two and have them trained up and ready for combat not long after. Enterprise should be operational for the coming campaign.
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    On the other hand, they could and did, temporarily station a damaged carriers airwing on island bases to fight from there. Less mobility, sure, but they'll still have air cover. Hiyou's airwing spent quite a lot of time, not actually on Hiyou
     
    I kind of expect that rumours of ghost-ships are circulating amongst the Japanese sailors. Even without any spooky phenomena directly observed, these sorts of "I was sure she was sunk" instances are inclined to rile superstitions.
     
    I don't want to rain on anybody's parade or anything, but the IJN's land based squadrons are still intact. The IJN at Rabaul may not be able to contest the airspace around Guadalcanal but they can still launch strikes against Henderson Field and shipping as they did historically.

    Aunty Shi Ping said:
    I kind of expect that rumours of ghost-ships are circulating amongst the Japanese sailors. Even without any spooky phenomena directly observed, these sorts of "I was sure she was sunk" instances are inclined to rile superstitions.
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    Historically the IJN always assumed that every time they "sunk" a carrier it was a new ship. Here they have irrefutable proof that allied ships are refusing to sink and keep coming back for more.
     
    That is an interesting assumption to make, that the Doolittle raid came from Midway; but it does make some sense I guess.

    That was quite an interesting read; and yet, wouldnt the Kido Butai not necessarily know about the carriers return until a week to a month later depending on their own intel sources?

    My thinking is that any intel source at Hawaii for the Japanese would have to like convey messages by ship, and I realize it isn't necessarily the case, but for the most part, by ship would make the most sense. As I would assume that any radio transmission that are not of an authorized source would be investigated due to the state of war. So, one would use a small fishing boat or something to go between islands etc, and then one could send a message from offshore.

    However, one thing that isn't made clear is if the carriers return was literally an open radio broadcast or not. One would think that opsec would be followed and public broadcasts would need clearing at a high level. I'm just pointing out that operational security would have issues with openly broadcasting about military ships returning, even if it was meant to be an enemy demoralizer.

    I love the story so far, that interlude was great stuff.
     
    It would not be an Open radio broadcast, but there was more than one instance of someone saying something, getting it in a hawaiian newspaper, and a month or two later, Japanese forces would adjust commensurately.

    For example, the infamous example of a Dipshit Congressman who gloated that Japan was setting its depth charges too shallow, which promptly got 10 submarines sunk and about 800 crewmen killed.
     
    Chapter 41: Shakedown
  • Threadmarks
    • AN: And so begins Part 4.


    Chapter 41: Shakedown

    Meeting FDR was quite an experience. The man had a heartwarmingly fatherly demenor. Moreover, he was more than happy to pick my memories of the future clean. Back in the Pacific, Midway marked the end of the first act of the War. The Japanese advances had been checked. Now, both sides scrambled to regain the initiative. For the twelve of us in TF79, that meant a return to Australia as soon as our refits were complete, and a short week of preparation for what was to come.

    AUGUST 25 1942
    1128 HOURS

    It was good to be at sea again, after so long cooped up in New York. The sounds and smells of the sea were refreshing. As was the stiff breeze I felt as I cut through the calm waters at my new top speed of twenty nine knots.

    I glanced over my shoulder. Behind me, for the first time, was Howe, followed by the rest of our cruisers. We were about thirty nautical miles off Melbourne, running a short, daylong shakedown and training cruise. We'd been flown back to Sydney the moment our refits were done, and then sent by train to the safer waters of the south at Commodore Leach's behest.

    Considering the overhauls we'd all had, I'd been more than happy to agree. I could certainly use some live fire to get used to my new 5-inchers.

    At the moment, we were doing a quick high speed run, to make sure Howe and I's new screws were working as intended. So far, so good.

    "Alright." I transmitted. "That's enough. Seven Niner, make for twenty knots. Any issues girls?"

    "Yeah!" Electra immediately spoke up. "Who the fuck did our weight calcs!? I'm rolling like 'ell over 'ere!"

    A glance over at the three screening E's confirmed that yes, they were rolling. Nothing extreme, but far more than was to be expected in the light chop. "Too top heavy?" I asked.

    I could almost hear the rolling eyes in the cockney destroyer's voice as she leaned one way, then back the other. "Our entire class was already top 'eavy. These new bloody guns are even worse!"

    "Alright, settle down." Houston spoke up. "I got the target drones on radar."

    "I have them." I replied. We'd briefed before leaving Melbourne. Six Queen Bee target drones would be arriving so we could test and practice with our new AA. I was to take the first, while Howe took the second. After that, the four remaining would come in all at once for us to test the full fleet's defensive fire. Sure enough, the little converted Tiger Moth came buzzing over at ten thousand feet, and I opened up.

    Between the directors and 5-inch guns, I was immediately impressed. I had never realised how laborious using my 5.25s for anti-aircraft work was, with their low rate of fire and slow traverse. The American guns were simply better in almost every way. The damn things trained with an easy quickness, and my fairy gunners were able to maintain nearly double the rate of fire. Not to mention being full of praise for the much less cramped design.

    The drone didn't even get anywhere near 40mm range before shrapnel from a burst of flak before it came tumbling from the sky.

    I had a huge grin on my face. "Oh I am definitely in love." I glanced back at my sister. "Howe, you're up."

    My little sister didn't bother replying, instead just giving a nod. Her drone soon met much the same fate as its predecessor.

    Yet, as impressive as the 5-inchers were, the amount of AA fire that rose to meet the four remaining drones was something else entirely. Between the six Es and Sims, each carrying four 5"/38s, myself and Howe with full batteries, and the secondaries of Houston Boise and Perth, the sky was black with bursting flak. And that was before everyone opened up with streams of Bofors and Oerlikon fire. It looked like a fireworks display.

    Suffice to say, I was very happy with our new abilities to enforce a no-fly zone.


    1750 HOURS

    It was a satisfied TF79 that returned to Melbourne that evening, new weapons and refits tested. Both Howe and I had encountered some minor issues with our new secondaries. But nothing time, experience, and a few small modifications couldn't fix. Besides, my gunnery crews had ample experience tinkering with my weapons already. What was a few more?

    We'd soon climbed onto the docks, and I turned to everyone. "Good work today girls. I'll expect performance reports from everyone once we return to Sydney. Go ahead and get changed, and I'll see you all at the train station in two hours. Don't be late. We don't want to miss the night train. Dismissed."

    That got a round of nods and affirmatives from my fleet, and most of the girls headed off to get changed and spend their two free hours however they pleased. Houston and Howe both stayed.

    "That went well." My second spoke once everyone was out of earshot. "It'll need a bit more work to get everyone used to their new refits, but I'd say we're combat ready."

    I nodded. "Agreed. I'm leaning towards having the E's remove their number 3 mounts. I'm afraid they'll capsize in any really heavy seas."

    "Yeah. They were rollin' real bad. They should have given them lighter open mounts, like the Farraguts." She replied.

    "I'll pass it up the chain." I said, before turning to my sister. "How's the refit?"

    "Good." Howe spoke, "Everything feels right."

    "Excellent." I smiled, "You did good today." My little sister's huge smile at the praise made my day. "Either of you fancy getting a bite?"

    Howe gave an enthusiastic nod in response, while Houston patted her belly, "Yes please. I'm starving."

    With that, we turned, and headed across the dock towards the city proper. We'd barely made it halfway when Houston paused glancing back at the docks. I turned at her sudden stop. "Hou?"

    She glanced at me before looking back again. "Am I going nuts, or is that…?"

    I followed her gaze to see a submarine pulling up to the docks, her crew readying ropes on the deck. But she wasn't a S-boat like we'd so commonly seen, or even a more modern American sub. No. But she was familiar. That big bulbous hangar on the front of the sail was incredibly distinctive.

    "Is that Iku?" I muttered, coming around to stand beside Houston. "What's she doing here?"

    "Testing?" My second guessed. "She's flying a white ensign, and those look like American and Aussie crew."

    "Hmmm. Finding out what she can do for the spooks?" I replied.

    "Prolly."

    We watched for several minutes as the captured Japanese sub was tied up, and the crew began to come ashore. To our surprise, the purple-haired spirit herself soon appeared on the dockside, clad in engineer's overalls and following an Australian Lieutenant Commander. Surprise that only increased when she appeared to briefly converse with him.

    "Are they mad!" Houston exclaimed. "They activated her!?"

    "Seems so." I muttered, puzzling over such a decision. The last time I'd spoken with her, she'd been very hostile. What was to stop her from sabotaging her own hull and going down defiantly?

    I got my opportunity to get some answers when Iku teleported away, and the officer joined the small stream of men heading down the dock. "Excuse me, Lieutenant Commander?"

    His eyes locked on me as I spoke, approaching him. Houston and Howe both stayed where they were. His eyes roved over my usual red uniform, looking for a clue as to who I was. "Yes, miss…?"

    I stuck out my hand, "Captain Windsor, Special Naval Service."

    The Aussie's eyes widened in realization, and we shook. "My apologies ma'am. Lieutenant Commander Salinsky. What can I do for you?"

    I gestured at the sub, "Are you that boat's CO?"

    A nod, "I am."

    "May I inquire why she's active?"

    He bit his lip, "What clearance do you have ma'am?"

    "Secret."

    He hummed, "You're cleared then. It was an accident to be honest. Just after we started her trials here. A merchant spirit didn't realize she was Japanese, and took pity on her for not being active."

    My eyebrow rose, "And she's not fought you? Tried to sink herself? She was incredibly hostile when I questioned her after her capture."

    "No." He muttered, glancing over at her hull. Iku herself had returned and was sitting atop her hangar. "She's confused I think. I think she's realized a lot of what she heard back in the IJN was bullshit. I've done my best to get her to see our side of it. She doesn't seem to know who's right and who's wrong anymore." A sad smile crossed his face. "She's also latched onto the crew and I, for stability I believe. No wonder, after how she was captured."

    "I see." I replied, "I hope you realized how risky this all is…"

    He nodded seriously, "Believe me, I do ma'am. If she managed to sink herself, I'd likely be dead, and every ship in the IJN would be activated within a month." His eyes once more landed on his command. "But honestly, I trust her not to."

    "Why?"

    He gestured to the spirit, who was looking at us curiously. "Have a five minute conversation with her, and you'll see."

    "I suppose I will then." I replied. "Good day, Lieutenant Commander."

    "And you ma'am." And with that, he set off to return to his duties.

    As for me, I followed his suggestion. She stared impassively down at me from her perch as I approached. "Hello again Iku."

    "You."

    I couldn't help the corner of my mouth turning up. "Yes. Me."

    "What do you want?" She muttered. But her accent gave me pause. Gone was the fluent Japanese accent, replaced with a distinctly Australian one.

    "Your accent changed." I observed.

    "Yes. And?"

    I shrugged. "Just curious. I thought for a moment it was because you gained crew more fluent in English. But then I remembered one of my fleetmates was originally British, but is now Australian and sounds similar to you. Perhaps it depends on the dominant accent of the crew? Hm, no matter. How are you? Are you being treated well?"

    She just stared at me for a moment. "Yes."

    "You don't like me very much do you?"

    "Your destroyers killed my crew."

    I sipped my head. "And for that I am sorry."

    "Why would you be?"

    "Because you're a spirit, the same as I. I know how hard it is to lose your boys." She glared at me for a few moments, before deflating. So I continued. "They were doing their duty. As were you. As were my fleetmates. This is war. We kill because there is no other choice, not because its enjoyable."

    She flopped onto her back with a sigh. "I hate this! Why couldn't it all just be simple!"

    I quirked an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

    She glared at me. "You westerners are supposed to be evil imperialist bastards! You're supposed to be decadent and weak! You're supposed to want to colonize and conquer us under your boots!"

    "And we're not, are we?"

    Another sigh. "All I've heard here is how Japan started this with an unprovoked attack. And now I'm alive. I can eat, I can talk to people. I don't know what to believe any more."

    "And that's stopping you from sinking yourself and going back?"

    She sat up suddenly, and met my eyes. "What do you know about Bushido?"

    I gave a small shrug, "Not much."

    She stared at me for a moment, hesitant. Finally she said, "I can't go back."

    "Whyever not?"

    She hesitated again. "Anyone who is captured has been dishonoured. I'd be expected to commit Seppuku." She paused, then clarified. "Ritual suicide."

    I caught on instantly. "And now that you are truly alive, you don't want to die."

    The look on Iku's face was one of pure shame. "No… I don't."

    I dipped my head. "You're not the only one. The only spirits you'll meet not terrified of losing this chance are lunatics, or are lying to you." I smiled. "Though I see now why Lieutenant Commander Salinsky trusts you not to blow yourself up, with him aboard."

    "He… Trusts me?"

    "He does."

    "Oh."

    I gave her a smirk. "Treasure him. He's a catch." I chuckled as her face went beet red. "Welcome to the winning side, Iku. Till our paths cross again."


    AN: Yes technically Iku would just be shunned and shamed, not expected to commit suicide. But that isn't what she believes.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 42: Preparation
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 42: Preparation

    After Midway, the American brass in Washington was eager to press the advantage gained. All six of Kido Butai's fleet carriers had reportedly been sunk, leaving the way open for the tide to turn. In reality, only two of them had actually gone down, and three others damaged, leaving Kaga alone to face Enterprise. At the end of the day, the effect was the same, and the IJN would be pressed to muster a strong response. And so, the invasion of Guadalcanal went ahead, despite Admiral Nimitz's misgivings.

    AUGUST 26 1942
    0810 HOURS

    It was just after eight in the morning the next day that we finally arrived back at HMAS Kuttabul. I'd slept well on the overnight train, though the rest of 79 couldn't say the same. It was a mostly sleepy group of girls I led through the front gate.

    I'd called ahead, so both John and Lieutenant Anderson were waiting for us. "Welcome back ladies." John spoke, "Everything working as intended?"

    "A few issues." I replied, saluting our CO. "We really should have gotten some shakedown runs in New York, where Vestal could easily fix them. But we can make do."

    "Good to hear." He replied. "Before you girls run off to get food and some sleep, Anderson and I have something to show you."

    "Lead the way, Sir."

    We all trailed after the Commodore as he led us into the base. We passed the Mess and the HQ, and I noted he seemed to be leading us towards the repair bath.

    He wasn't. Instead, we passed the large building that housed the pool-turned-repair bath, though he did point out a small expansion that had been built onto the side. "That's the new repair baths. Custom built for the purpose, so the sailors can have their pool back."


    Continuing on, we soon reached the nextdoor plot that had previously been a large lawn and sporting field. When we'd left, half of it'd just been bulldozed, and the foundations lain for a new building. The said something about the wartime rush that it'd been completed in just over a month. It was a wooden construction, rather than the brick that most of the other base buildings were made of. It was a single story, wide and flat.

    Houston read out the sign beside the main door as we approached. "Women's Auxiliaries Quarters?"

    "For secrecies sake." Lt. Anderson spoke up by way of reply. "Just like how y'all are 'SHIPs' and you won't find a single reference to 'ship person' or 'ship spirit' in the paperwork."

    I made a small amused sound. "Is this ours? For the record, I resent being called an 'auxiliary'."

    Houston just elbowed me. "That's 'cause you're a battleship. I think that's the furthest from an auxiliary as it's possible to be."

    Even John looked amused at that, as he swung open the door. "Quite. But yes, this is your new quarters."

    We all followed him in the glass double doors. The immediate entrance area was some sort of mix between a foyer, and a common room, carpeted and already furnished with several couches, seats, a coffee table, and a big civilian radio. Not to mention a few plants in the corners and empty bookshelves.

    "This is your common room, for whatever you may like." John spoke before gesturing to one corner where the carpet gave way to kitchen tile. "You also have a small kitchen, if you wish to cook for yourselves. You'll have to buy your own food for it in town though." Then he pointed to the hallway, directly opposite the doors, and looked to run all the way through the building. "Your rooms are down that way. The first four rooms are single person rooms for higher ranks, while the rest are doubles. Each room has its own bathroom. All your belongings you left in your old quarters have been moved into your new rooms."

    "Bloody hell." I heard Howe mutter behind me.

    John must've heard too, cause he chuckled. "Benefits of being the fairer sex. Took far less effort to convince the brass than it should've."

    I glanced over at him, "You ordered this built?"

    "No. I just drew up the proposal and brought it to the base commander." He shrugged, "Quite the chivalrous one he is. That, and a fair few officers' concerns about you girls being housed in the same building and I quote, 'distracting them'."

    I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Men. "Well, I'm certainly not going to complain. This is quite nice."

    "We'll leave you girls to get settled. Don't forget, we have that briefing this evening, so we'll see you there."

    I nodded, "Aye Sir. See you there."

    And with that, TF79's two human officers left us to our own devices.

    "Right," I turned to my fleetmates, just in time to see Encounter give an adorable stretch and yawn. "Well someone's sleepy. Need a nap Ennie?"

    She nodded as she wiped her eyes. "Yeah."

    Express also nodded, wiping at her eyes. "Me too. Didn' sleep a wink on the train."

    I gave a fond smile,and let my gaze wander across all eleven of my charges. "Feel free to spend the day relaxing, or however you wish, girls. Briefings in the usual room in the HQ at seventeen hundred. Don't be late. Dismissed."

    "Anyone wanna catch breakfast?" Houston asked, glancing around.

    "Count me in." Boise muttered, while Perth just nodded, and the three cruisers quickly left for the mess. Howe too followed, trailing behind. The three soon Sims left too.

    "I'm gonna go shopping." Jupiter spoke up. "I wanna cook something tonight. Join me 'Lectra?"

    "Sure."

    And then that just left Encounter and Express. "Comeon girls, let's get you to bed." I said, beginning to heard the two sleepy destroyers down the hall. Each door had a rank and name on it. Mine was first on the left, then Houston's on the right, followed by Howe's room next to mine, and so on down the hall. Perth had her own room. Boise was sharing with Sims, Jup was with Electra, Hammann with Anderson, and finally Encounter and Express were sharing a room.

    "Here we are girls." I said, opening the door to their room. As I'd expected, it was sparsely furnished, with a deck, chair, cabinet, and two beds with a bedside table inbetween. "Go ahead and get changed, girls."

    The two sleepy destroyers nodded, and both had soon changed into their nightgowns. I drew the curtains as the two climbed into their beds. "Make sure you set your alarms. Wouldn't want to oversleep. Have a good nap girls."

    "Mmmmm." Was all I got from Ennie. The two were already snuggled under their bed covers. I couldn't help but smile, as I quietly closed the door.


    I spent the next hour getting settled into my room. The room felt so empty, so I hung a few framed photos, including one Howe and I'd taken with Kay in New York before she'd left. I even ended up offloading some of my more precious possessions, like my DVD and CD collections, lest they be destroyed where I normally stored them aboard the next time I inevitably got shot up.

    Eventually I was satisfied, and headed out for the mess at the prompting of my growling stomach (Or my grumbling quartermaster fairy. The two noises were generally indistinguishable). It wasn't far from our new quarters, just a block.

    The mess itself was relatively empty, with only a few officers getting meals. It was just after nine, so the breakfast rush was over, and it'd be a few hours before lunch. But my eyes immediately landed on Boise, sitting alone at one of the tables, banging away on a typewriter with a small plate of food beside her.

    She didn't even notice me, so I went to get my food. She did notice, when I plunked my tray on the table across from her, piled high with food. "Oh, hey Wales."

    I gave her a nod. "The others head out?"

    "Yeah." She replied, eyes returning to the paper. "Houston wanted to go shopping. Said something about buying a bike."

    I raised an eyebrow as I ate. "A motorbike?"

    "I think so." The cruiser muttered over the clacking of the typewriter.

    That honestly wasn't a bad idea. We had more than enough room to store a motorbike aboard. And who knew, it could be useful in the future. I certainly would have loved to have one on Bali. Repulse and I's weeklong trek would have only taken a day or two instead.

    I was happy to let the conversion lapse for a while, focusing instead on scarfing down my meal. Our little shakedown cruise had put a good dent in my fuel tanks and magazines, so I was bloody hungry. We'd get a top off of actual shells and fuel before we deployed, but the more I ate, the less strain I put on the logistics system.

    I finished off the tray soon enough. Though I was definitely feeling another one or two, just to take the edge off my hunger. But before I could get up, my eyes landed on Boise, still typing away, and my curiosity got the better of me.

    "What are you writing?"

    "Letter."

    "To who?"

    A small smile crossed Boise's face. "Honolulu. One of my sisters. Just got a letter from her so I'm replying."

    "What's she like?"

    The American snorted, "Peppy, as, hell. She'll talk your ear off if you let her. I remember one time, Pennsy got so annoyed she threw 'Lulu all the way across the San Diego harbour."

    I cocked my head to the side, "Huh. Any chance we'll run into her?"

    Boise just shrugged. "Dunno. You know how the censors are with locations and ship movements."

    "Quite. And how are you? How's that memoir you were writing?"

    "It goes." The cruiser replied, talking and typing at the same time. "I'm mostly just writing down my recollections whenever something important happens, on top of my journal. I'll write it all up properly after the war."

    I hummed, "I may do the same, when this is all said and done."

    "Yeah, why not." Boise smiled, "People love a good war story. And we'll all have a hell of a tale if anything remotely close to what we did in the DEI happens again."

    "That we will." I agreed, "Though I can't say I'm looking forward to it."

    The Yank shrugged, "Eh. We'll be fine. We made it through the DEI, and we're a lot harder to kill now. We'll be fine. Let the Japs come, I say."

    I snorted, standing to go refill my tray. "Whatever you say, crazy Yank." I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the cruiser's confidence. Was this how Hood had felt at my boasting?

    My face immediately fell at the thought of my late friend. Why did she have to die? Honestly, I probably wouldn't be so miserable with my part in the war if my first taste of battle hadn't soured me on the whole experience. Good I missed her sometimes. Denmark strait felt like yesterday, and yet it'd been over a year already.

    I hoped she was proud of me, wherever she was…


    1700 HOURS

    I had to wake up the two sleepy E-class for the briefing that evening, but I managed to wrangle everyone into the usual briefing room on time. Commodore Leach and Lieutenant Anderson soon joined us, 1700 on the dot.

    "Evening everyone." John spoke, "Is Task Force Seventy-Nine ready for combat Captain Windsor."

    I gave a small nod. "Aye, Sir. We are."

    "Right then." John said, setting up behind the offset podium, while Anderson set up the projector with a map of eastern New Guinea and the Solomon Islands.

    "Welcome to Operation Watchtower everyone. I'm sure you all remember a certain airfield you helped bomb a few months back? Well, the Australians need it taken care of for good."

    "We bombarding it, Sir?" Houston asked.

    The Commodore shook his head. "No. We're not going to destroy it. Instead, we're going to use it against them. The American 1st Marine division will be going ashore to capture the airfield for our own use. And we will be backing them up."

    "You'll depart tomorrow morning, and sail for the rendezvous at Fiji. Once you've linked up, you will provide distant heavy escort for the landing force as they sail for Guadalcanal and Tulagi."

    Raised my hand. "Yes Wales?"

    "The bloody brass forget we're air-transportable again?" I asked.

    John shook his head, "No actually. You're to be there in six days. I I thought you'd appreciate some extra time to train up before you girls see combat."

    I blinked in surprise. "Ah. In that case, much obliged Sir."

    Our CO continued, the slide changing to an aerial photo collage of northern Guadalcanal. "Once you reach the island, you are to split into two groups. One, a smaller group, will go ashore on Tulagi and help the marines clear the island. The other, which I expect you to lead personally, Wales, is to go ashore in the first wave on Guadalcanal, drawing fire away from the marines, and then spearhead the push to take the airfield."

    "Now, Enterprise will be part of the covering force, but I've been assured another operation is underway to neutralize the airfield prior to the landing force entering their range. Once you have taken the airfield, a US Navy Construction Battalion, See-Bees for short, will be coming ashore to repair any damage to the airfield and allow USMC aircraft to arrive to establish local air superiority. Once the airfield is operational, they will also be constructing a special bunker to not only house a repair bath, but quarters for all of you as well. And you will be staying for quite some time. Your standing orders after the airfield is captured are to establish and maintain naval supremacy in the vicinity."

    "With the airfield operational, it's likely the IJN will be restricted to night operations, so make sure you're ready for night actions. Guadalcanal is well within striking distance of the naval bases at both Truk and Rabaul. Several USN steel-hulled TFs will be operating out of Espirito Santo, and will sortie to reinforce you should contact with IJN surface units be likely. You may be temporarily attached under the command of the commanding Admiral."

    John paused, pursing his lips. "My standing orders from the Admiralty are to veto anything too risky. I will not be there to do so when you are under these Admirals' command. So, new standing orders for you Captain Windsor. You have my express permission to disregard any orders that you believe places you or your Task Force in unnecessary danger. Understood?"

    I nodded, "Aye, Sir."

    "Good. Now, we also have standing orders in regard to the Marines. The Marine General in command on Guadalcanal may request your assistance for land fighting. However, your first priority is keeping in fighting shape, and maintaining control of the seas. So, you are free to accept or deny his requests as you see fit."

    "Any questions?"

    "Sir?" Houston spoke up, "What are we doing with our Fairy Marines?"

    "Whatever you like. Though I suspect the regular marines would appreciate the extra backup."

    I spoke next. "Will there be stocks of fuel and munitions for quick turnarounds?"

    A nod. "Yes. Your bunker will be four stories deep, with a ten foot thick concrete roof. There will be a magazine and fuel tanks on the deepest level. Provided you can buy a short window for an ammo ship and tanker to arrive and offload of course. Honestly the fastest way to get it all transferred will be to empty your tanks and magazines into the stocks, and use yourselves to transport all the fuel and munitions."

    "Tha's gonna be one fucken' huge bunker." Perth muttered.

    "It is. Any more questions?"

    I'd been eyeing Savo island through the entire briefing. "Could we get a pair of extra surface search radar, Sir? Maybe even an air search set?"

    He blinked. "What for?"

    I gestured at the map. "Savo. We could set them up as a shore based early warning system, and get some fairy marines to man them. One facing north, one south. That way, if the Nips manage to slip in without being seen, we can get in the water before they can hit our positions, even in the dark. And an air search set would be able to give us warning of air raids from Rabaul, since that should be in range for them to hit us with Bettys."

    "Huh." John muttered, examining the map himself. "I'll see what I can do. Anything else?"

    No one spoke.

    "Alright. Go raid the fuel stores, have a good dinner, and get a good sleep. I see you down at the docks tomorrow morning. Wales, stay for a moment. The rest of you, dismissed."

    It only took everyone a few moments to vacate the room, most of the girls chattering about our upcoming sortie. And then I was alone with John. "So?"

    "You're the only one with clearance." He said, "And I'd prefer to avoid any friendly fire. The airfield is going to be neutralised by a commando raid the day prior. Tell the girls right before you go ashore to watch their fire, and expect friendly infantry and fairies to be present on or at least near the airfield."

    I blinked, "Fairies too?"

    John shrugged. "Don't know how. Apparently above our paygrade."

    I snorted. "The usual then. Is that all?"

    A nod. "That's all Wales. Go get prepped. You'll have a lot on your hands tomorrow."

    I smiled. "Yes Sir."

    And with that, I made my exit. A moment later I emerged from the HQ to find all eleven of my task force mates had waited for me.

    "Girls? What's the hold up?"

    Houston, even the dutiful 2nd in command, was the one to reply. "I figured it would be good for all of us to have a quick meeting. You saw the bunker layout. We're not going to have much in the way of amenities, beyond the electricity." She turned, and everyone ended up in a gaggle. "So, who do we need?"

    I knew exactly what we needed, top of the list: "Air conditioning."

    Houston's brows rose. "You sure? Those portable units are really expensive."

    I crossed my arms. I was not budging on this, even if I had to buy one of the damn things myself. "Not negotiable." Seriously, bugger the tropics.

    Houston rolled her eyes. "You're paying then. What else?"

    "Running water?" Perth suggested.

    "It's going to have repair baths." Boise countered. "You need basic running water for those to work properly.

    Jupiter raised a finger. "Technically, they just need a filter, like any normal pool."

    I nodded. "And the See-Bees are going to rush what they can. I'm sure if we get the parts-pipes, water heaters, toilets, bathtubs-we can have them install it all. We'll be there after all."

    "Noted."

    Sims raised her hand. "Uhhh, a kitchen and food? I-I can cook our meals, if we have a stove and food."

    Houston nodded. "Electric stove and food." She said, writing on the notepad she'd pulled out.

    "I'll buy us a barbie." Perth spoke up. "Plenty a' beach to set it up and get a grill on."

    Houston nodded, "Alright. Anything else?"

    Everyone glanced around at one another, seeing if anyone had anything to add. No one did. "Okay." Houston spoke. Lets go get some shopping done before the stores close for the night."
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 43: The Guadalcanal Landings
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 43: The Guadalcanal Landings

    Jungle Hell. Guadi. Cactus Island. Guadal-fucking-canal. That Fucking Island. I heard a lot of names for Guadalcanal. Most of them colourful epithets given by tired Marines. All of them earned. I couldn't help but make mental compairisions to what I knew of the Vietnam War from my last life. There was an ever present tension. For the Marines, it was wondering when the next company of Japanese soldiers would materialise from the bush, and they'd once more be plunged into a life or death firefight. For us in TF Seven-Niner, it was sailing out into Iron Bottom Sound or The Slot (Though they wouldn't be named such for a few weeks) once more, half expecting a torpedo spread to appear from nowhere and another chaotic night battle to ensue.

    As we led the invasion force towards that damned island, none of us knew we were heading towards several of the most hellish battles of the war.

    AUGUST 30 1942
    1040 HOURS

    It took four days for us to sail from Sydney to Fiji at cruising speed. I took full advantage of the opportunity to drill the girls further, getting everyone used to their new equipment. Everything seemed to be working, but for the poor E's. Their new refits made them so top heavy I worried they'd capsize if we ever ran into a proper storm. I was already having my XO draft up a report requesting the removal of one of their turrets to alleviate the problem.

    Nonetheless, we arrived at the island on time, just before noon on the 30th. But, much to my surprise, instead of being shepherded into the small harbour at Suva, we were signaled to pull into a reef ringed natural harbour just off what my maps labeled as Beqa Island.

    And what a collection of ships currently occupied the space. I counted nearly thirty cargo and troop ships sitting at anchor, likely already loaded. Furthermore were the warships. There were at least twenty cruisers and destroyers moored, but my attention was soon fixated on my two American counterparts. It was the first time I'd seen an American battleship, barring Arkansas back during the Atlantic Conference, but she was hardly modern. These two had the lines of a modern treaty battleship, like me.

    I found myself curiously going through my newly reissued recognition manual to identify them. And treaty battleships they were, a North Carolina and a South Dakota. Which ones they were, I hadn't the slightest. At least it was nice to know that between them and my little sister, I was no longer the only fast battleship in the Pacific.

    As for us, we were shepherded towards the nearby island, where a small motor launch dock had been set up to service a large tent city that had been cleared out of the jungle by the shore. We climbed onto the dock one by one. As usual I waited till last, then joined my girls on the dock.

    And, as usual, there was a young American Lieutenant waiting for us. "Is there a Captain Windsor here?" He asked, glancing around our little gaggle of SHIPs.

    And that was my cue. "That's me."

    The LT, drew himself up, "Ma'am. Lieutenant Jobs. I'm supposed to show you to your temporary quarters."

    "By all means." I replied, giving a 'go ahead' gesture.


    We'd been temporarily assigned several tents nearby the dock, and it only took us a few minutes to get settled in. After informing me I was to be present at the HQ tent for an officer conference at 1300, Jobs took his leave.

    That gave us a couple hours of free time, so I dragged the girls back out onto the water. We didn't bother with much of a formation, since we were just making a quick jaunt out to a familiar ship.

    Sims rushed ahead as we approached the ship. She drew alongside and knocked on the hull a couple times. "Hello Neosho!"

    The oiler spirit herself immediately teleported to her rail, eyes wide. "Sims?!"

    The destroyer just gave a demure wave. I, and pretty much everyone else, paused. Every single Allied spirit I'd met in the war so far had been, well, white. Neosho… Wasn't. In fact she was Asian.

    I, of course, quickly passed it off and continued approaching. One didn't have to be white to be American or British. My task force mates though…

    "Why's she a Jap?!" My hand met my face at Electra's shout.

    "Shut it!" I yelled, the destroyer freezing. "Not all Asians are Nips you bloody muppet! The Chinese and Koreans are on our side!"

    The E-class' face quickly took on a look of embarrassment. Weirdly, Encounter just looked confused. "What's a muppet?"

    I just stared at her for a moment. "I'll explain later." With that, I spun back to the oiler. "My apologies for my escort."

    The oiler brushed some of her purple hair out of her eyes, looking vaguely annoyed. "It's fine." She grumbled, "Not the first time I've been called a Jap. Might even be fucken true. Not like I know what my physical heritage would be, beyond 'Asian'."

    She then turned back to Sims, a smile appearing on her face. "How have you been, you crazy bitch?"

    Sims just blinked, almost offended. "Bitch?"

    Neosho snorted, "Just as uptight as ever. Don't suppose I could get you that drink I owed you?"

    "I suppose there's a story there?" I asked, curious.

    She glanced up at me, "Yup. This crazy destroyer saved my life back at Coral Sea." I glanced over at the now bashful destroyer as Neosho continued, "She threw herself in front of a pair of torpedoes that would have hit me. Gave Tipper and I the chance to get away from that sub. Bravest thing I've ever seen."

    "Really?" I said, turning to Sims, my already high opinion of her reaching new heights. It took absurd courage to make such a sacrifice. Even if it was a logical thing to do; we had few fast fleet oilers that could keep up with our capital ships as it was. Sims just nodded. "And you didn't get a medal out of it?"

    She shook her head. "My Captain did."

    "Ah. I see."

    "So!" The boisterous oiler cut in, "Who're your friends Sims?"

    "Oh, uhhh… Well…" She stuttered before I cut in.

    "HMS Prince of Wales. This is my sister HMS Howe."

    "I'm Houston. Pleasure to meet ya Neosho."

    "Boise."

    "G'day mate. Name's Perth."

    "Hi, I'm Jupiter!"

    "And I'm Electra. And these are my sisters Express and Encounter."

    "Good to meet y'all." Neosho replied. "What can I do for you?"

    "What else do us warships come to oilers for?" I couldn't help but snark.

    Neosho just rolled her eyes, "Guess so. Let me get my boys."


    We'd all used a fair amount of fuel sailing out, and according to the schedule we wouldn't have time to make good our bunkerage by eating. But, that was what the oilers were for. We had Neosho and a few of her Cimarron-class sisters along for the ride. Each of whom could carry nearly fifteen thousand tons of fuel oil. For reference, a full load in my bunkers was a mere four thousand tons. And none of us had used anywhere near that much fuel.

    Over the next forty minutes the refueling hose was passed around. One by one, my girls filled their tanks, and headed back to shore. I went last, as usual.

    "Done!" I shouted up. And unhooked the fuel line from my rigging. It was quickly hoisted up by the oilers crew. "Much obliged lads, Neosho." I said, giving them an appreciative salute. "No problem." The Asian oiler replied, returning it, as did her crewmen. "See ya round Limy!"

    I couldn't help rolling my eyes at her irreverent nature as I sailed away, and back to the dock. Now that I had a moment to look around, both the anchorage and tent city were incredibly busy. Officers and sailors went to and fro preparing for our coming offensive, while out on the waves various launches and auxiliaries did a good imitation of the men who crewed them.

    This was it, I realized. We were finally going on the attack. It was finally sinking in for me. After six months of defeats in Malaya, desperately holding the line in the DEI, and hoping the American carriers could stem the tide, we were the ones going after the Nips.

    It felt good.

    And with that thought, I turned to head back to our tents…and bumped into someone, knocking them on their ass.

    "Oh! My apologies!" I muttered in surprise, and offering a hand to help them up. "I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't looking."

    "Damn right ya' fucken weren't, dumb limy!" The ship spirit - for what else could she be? - spoke angrily with a rough American accent.

    I blinked. "I'm sorry?"

    She completely ignored my offered hand, climbing to her feet where I could get a look at her. She was easily my height, if maybe a smidge shorter. She wore a form fitting white dress shirt with a small tie under a mostly unzipped blue and black uniform jacket, with a pair of black shorts. But what really caught my attention was her hair. It was… Well… Literally star spangled. It was like someone had taken the Stars and Stripes and then made it her nearly waist length hair. It was so… Typically American.

    "Hey!" Her shout broke me from my staring, and instead I found myself meeting a pair of annoyed light blue, almost gray, eyes. "What are you staring at!?"

    I blinked. Did she have to be so rude?

    "I'm talking to you!"

    Ok, that was it. No more Miss Nice Princess. I gestured at her with a questioning look, "What do you think I was staring at?"

    "Fuck you! My hair is great!"

    I rolled my eyes, "You're not exactly helping the hotheaded American stereotype."

    "Fuck off!" She yelled, turning and storming off down the dock, right past another gray haired spirit who seemed to be waiting nearby.

    As opposed to her fellow, she just threw her head back in exasperation. "Goddamnit SoDak."

    I just glanced over at wearily. "Friend of yours?"

    She just sighed again. "Yeah. I'm Washington. Sorry about South Dakota. She's uh… Yeah."

    "I see." I muttered, giving the other American a once over. She wore a sleeveless dress shirt, and a jacket similar to SoDak's, though Washington wore hers unzipped and flipped down to only cover her lower body and arms while leaving her shoulder bare. Lower down she also had a knee length skirt and stockings.

    I took a couple steps to approach and stuck out my hand. "HMS Prince of Wales."

    Her gray eyes met mine as we shook. "The Iron Princess herself. A pleasure."

    I couldn't help the sigh that broke through my usual regal mask. "Bloody hell. They're still calling me that?"

    She smiled. "You know how it is. A ship's nickname is for life. Anyway, I better snag SoDak before she burns something down. Nice to meet you, look forward to working together, and all that jazz. Later." And with that she turned and jogged off to find her compatriot.

    At least one of them had some manners, I thought to myself. I didn't even know what had set SoDak off. Had she been annoyed I knocked her over? Was she feeling insecure and like she had to measure up to me with all my battle honours? Or was she just an anglophobe?

    There was no use trying to work it out. It wasn't like I'd know until I'd interacted with the American battleship more.

    Then something poked my head. I blinked, turning my head to my XO, Commander McMullen as she'd styled herself, who was perched on my shoulder. "Yes XO?"

    "Oi, oi oioi oioi oioi. Oioi oioi oi oi oi oioioi."

    My eyes widened, and I checked my internal clock. "Well. I better get a move on."


    SEPTEMBER 9 1942
    1543 HOURS

    The conference had been the same as every other pre-operation captain's conference I'd been to. The CO, in this case Rear Admiral Turner, had passed down radio freqs, emcon status, formations, the lot.

    TF79 had temporarily become TF62.3, with me reporting more or less directly to Turner. I certainly didn't envy the man. TF62 as a whole was huge. Just 62.1 alone consisted of twenty five transports full of Marines, SeaBees, USMC ground crew, and all their supplies and equipment. Add to that 62.2 which was made up of HMAS Australia, HMAS Canberra, USS Chicago and Perth's sister Hobart, plus nine destroyers, us as 62.3, and the three heavy cruisers and four destroyers of 62.4. In all, Turner had to manage over fifty ships.

    Washington and South Dakota on the other hand had been sent off to rendezvous with Enterprise and Wasp who were arriving from Pearl, and would be providing us with our air cover.

    We departed Fiji on the sixth, and sailed for Lugainville, arriving on September eighth. After refueling from the oilers, we'd left them, and sailed for our target.

    As planned, the twelve of us in 79 (We still referred to ourselves as such, even though we were technically under a different TF number temporarily) were sailing well away from the invasion fleet. We were in our standard formation, one long battleline with the DDs screening, though we were abusing being SHIPs to sail in speaking distance. Off to our port, one could make out the convoy on the horizon.

    As usual I had some of my music playing over the tannoy.

    "Hey, guys!" I heard Perth call.

    I lowered the volume and spun so I was sailing my human form backwards. Everyone else was also looking back at our resident Aussie, who had a mischievous grin. "Who wants to take a bet?"

    Typically Houston was the first to reply. "Shoot."

    "Twenty Aussie bucks says the Nips jump us within three days."

    The Texan seemed to think for a moment before nodding, "I'll take that bet."

    "I wouldn't be surprised if some destroyers come after us within a day or two. Really depends on what ships are at Rabaul and Truk." I threw in my two cents.

    "You guys think they'll throw some cruisers at us?" Boise spoke up.

    Houston shook her head, "Doubt it. If we get air cover from the airfield as soon as planned, the Japs will be limited to night runs. Prolly only DDs are quick enough to make it in and out under cover of dark."

    "Hmm, yeah." Jup cut in from where she sailed at the front of the screen. "Speaking of, you think whatever was supposed to take out the airfield for us worked?"

    Hammann made a curious noise, and I spun to see her comically peering at the sky. "Hmmmm, I don't know. Perhaps we can ask the nonexistent planes?" She dropped the act. "No shit they did. If they hadn't we'd be getting bombed right now."

    "That we would." I spoke before gesturing, "Alright, space out girls. There were subs spotted up ahead. Let's not give them a free shot."

    "Yes ma'am."


    SEPTEMBER 10 1942
    0710 HOURS

    My feet sank deep into the sand as I charged ashore, the rest of 79 on my heels. This was it, Guadalcanal. It was like that one scene from Saving Private Ryan, with landing craft coming ashore.

    And I was in the first wave.

    I expected machine guns and artillery fire, determined Japanese soldiers holding their ground.

    It took me getting halfway up the beach to the treeline at a run before I slowed and paused. Where was the machine gun fire? The explosions? Where the hell was the enemy?

    Somewhat confused, I continued forward at a walk until I reached the treeline. Still nothing. "Huh. Alright. Captain Tudor?"

    My Marine Captain was soon on my shoulder. "Oi?"

    "I want a fifty yard perimeter inside the jungle. In five minutes we'll begin advancing for the airfield."

    "Oi oi." He replied, disappearing. A moment later, two platoons of my marines streamed out, quickly disappearing into the jungle.

    I turned to my command, who'd all gathered around me. Behind them I noted the first landing craft beginning to unload their marines. "Alright girls, rigging off. Don't need our projections giving us away. Change into some khakis, grab some small arms from your stocks, we'll follow my marines to the field. Feel free to bring the rigging out if you need it, but it shouldn't be necessary."

    "You want us to change in front of them?!" Boise squawked indignantly, pointing at the disembarking Marines, who looked just as confused at the lack of enemy response as we'd been.

    "Yup." I chirped, already having disappeared my entire red uniform into my stores to save time, rather than actually taking it off. A moment later I was already pulling a set of khaki battle dress over my underwear.

    Boise just grumbled, but also did so, as did everyone else.

    Two minutes, and a few dozen annoying catcalls from the marines later, we were making our way into the jungle. I'd donned a Brodie helmet to help hide my blonde hair, and cradled a tommy gun. "Captain! Let's move!"

    "Oi oi oi oi, oi oi oi oi oi oioi!"

    It was almost impressive to see all my marines emerge from their various camouflaged spots as one, and begin moving towards our objective. We followed twenty yards behind, working our way through the jungle. We all had some basic infantry training, so my girls had naturally assumed some semblance of organization.

    It took about fifteen minutes of tense walking before something happened.

    "Heyhey!"

    I jerked in surprise at the sudden squeaky voice, tommy gun rising to scan. Luckily, my marines had cooler heads.

    "Oioi!" One of them shouted the counter to the shouted challenge.

    A moment later, an entire platoon of fairies emerged from their cover ahead of us. They wore American gear, the same as the human marines coming up behind us.

    "Hey hey hey hey hey hey?"

    "Oi, oi oi. Oioi oi oioi."

    I rolled my eyes at the jabs being thrown. "Keep it professional, you mongs." I snapped at my marines before turning to the American fairies. "Where's your CO?"

    "Hey hey hey." One of them, a corporal, replied, gesturing for us to follow.

    "Right. Back aboard boys and girls."

    Once my marines were back aboard, we set off, following the fairy corporal through the jungle. Within a minute, the foliage began to lighten. And finally, we emerged into a huge clearing, with a single runway running down the middle.

    We'd made it. We were on the airfield, and there wasn't a single Jap in sight. Not counting a dozen burnt out Bettys still sitting where they'd been torched. The fairy soon led us across the strip, and over to a small abandoned Japanese tent city.

    "Hey!" She shouted as we approached.

    "Huh?!"

    "Hey hey."

    There was a brief rustling before a destroyergirl poked her head out of one of the tents. And not just any destroyergirl, but one I knew. "Pope?"

    The brown haired DD perked up upon sighting the twelve of us. "Wales? Houston! Boise, Perth. Shit! You brought the whole ABDAflot gang huh?"

    "That we did." Houston spoke as she approached us. "So this is where you got off to. Playing commando huh?"

    "Yeah." The four stacker nodded with a sad look, "Not like we're worth shit out at sea anymore. Java Sea proved that."

    "Are you alone?" I asked.

    "Oh hell no." She chuckled, "Stewart, Alden and Whipple are here too."

    Boise went next. "Were those your marines? Last I checked you DDs didn't carry any."

    "Yeah, we got refits." Pope replied. "Pulled off our wing 4-inchers and torpedoes, removed a boiler, then loaded us with Oerlikons and bucks for marines. We each have two platoons."

    "So what happened?" I couldn't help but ask.

    "They dropped us off with a sub." She explained. "We came ashore, dropped the marines, and stormed the airfield. You guys should have seen those Japs run. They disappeared west into the jungle."

    "Well done." I congratulated her. "I'm sure the marines will want a full debrief when they arrive." I turned again to my command. "Go ahead and find somewhere to settle down and pitch our little camp. I'm going to report and get new orders."


    AN: It begins…
     
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    • LtRainbowSlash said:
    Once my marines were back aboard, we set off, following the fairy corporal through the jungle.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    I am kind of surprised she recovered her men. I would have thought that they would maintain a similar doctrine with her marines to a carrier maintaining a C.A.P.: keeping enough out that they really ought to see anything coming, and can hopefully at least blunt the tip of any emergencies while a larger response can be made. I mean, sure, she has linked up with friendly forces, but surely she'd feel safer having some of her own out on the lines with them...
     
    So, Chapter 41: Didn't see that coming. Iku's almost.... civil.

    Chapter 42: Radar on Savo itself, yeah, hopefully people actually TRUST THE RADAR. The issue for Savo was mostly that people didn't trust their radar enough to have it on, or if they had it on, they weren't necessarily inclined to believe in widgets. Maybe this time, they would actually believe it.... As well as do a slightly better job with night readiness.

    Great few chapters.
     
    Chapter 44: Digging In
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    • Chapter 44: Digging In

    'No plan survives first contact'. A rather famous military quote. And one all too true. The plan for the first few days on Guadalcanal was elaborate and detailed. Hence it was a good thing it would be a few days before contact was made, and the plan continued to chug along.

    SEPTEMBER 10 1942
    1034 HOURS

    Have I ever mentioned how much I hate the tropics? Because I really bloody do. The worst part was it was the hottest part of the day too. In a phrase: 33C and sweating buckets.

    We'd just finished setting up our temporary camp in the coconut orchard beside the airfield. We'd each be sleeping in tents until the SeeBees got our bunker done. That said, I hadn't done any work, instead ordering my fairies to set up camp, slinging a hammock in the shade between two of the trees and trying to cool off.

    I groaned. It wasn't working.

    Perth, who was reading a book nearby, glanced up and chuckled at the noise. "Come on mate. S' not that hot."

    "Bugger off." I shot back, "Not all of us are bloody Aussies who are used to this crap." I rolled over and tried to relax again, but this really wasn't working. "Sod it." I muttered, climbing out of the hammock. "May as well get some work done."

    Perth gave me a cheeky grin. "That's the spirit mate."

    I just flipped her off and keyed the radio. "Girls, if you have any marines you don't need for shipboard duties, I need them formed up in front of our tents, quick as you please." I stopped transmitting, and turned inward, "That goes for 1st through 3rd platoons too lads. 4th, you stay."

    Captain Tudor popped out right on cue. "Oi oi! Oi oi oi!" He ordered, and a moment later, all three platoons were piling out.

    A moment later Houston poked her head out of her tent. "Here ya go." From out of the tent then came the twenty fairies of her shipboard platoon. Boise didn't even reply, but her platoon too soon emerged from her tent, as did my sister's.

    They all formed up into a rough gaggle, separated into smaller gaggles by platoons. Four platoons of Royal Marines, and two of American Marines. "Alright, listen up." I barked in my best 'command voice'. "Frankly, I doubt we're going to have much use for you lads and lasses aboard ship, and I know you all want some action. So, we're going to march over the airstrip to the Marine's HQ, and put you under General Vandegrift's command. Let's go."
    "Oi! Oi oi!" My Marine Captain shouted. And with that, we set off.

    It was early afternoon now. And the landings were in full swing. Hundreds of Marines were still being offloaded, but now there were also the rear echelon troops coming ashore. The main ones being Marine aviation ground crew and SeeBees.

    The ground crew were marines through and through, if not frontline infantry. I'd already seen them setting up their equipment around the airfield, getting ready to play host to the Marine F4Fs that were supposed to fly in late this afternoon.

    SeeBees were another thing entirely. They were members of the US Navy's Construction Battalions, or CBs. SeaBees. They were responsible for pretty much all the engineering work the USN needed, from ports and docks, to airfields. The SeeBees were capable of building pretty much any facility necessary. They would be the ones building our bunker, and expanding the airfield.

    Additionally, the 1st Marine Division's HQ had already come ashore and was setting up just south of the runway, just into the jungle. And it was my destination. As we arrived, the Marines were still setting up tents and equipment.

    Major General Alexander Vandegrift was a tall bullish man who looked eternally stern. A US Marine, through and through. As we arrived, he was already leaning over a table with a map, with several of his subordinates.

    "-don't care Cates." He was saying, "Use whatever positions you think you need to. Just get dug in."

    "Yes, sir."

    "Get to it." With that, the officers donned their helmets and departed. It seemed we'd arrived at the right time.

    "General?" I spoke.

    The Major General turned to glance at me, "Yes?"

    I introduced myself. "Captain Windsor. Royal Navy. CO, TF79. I'd salute, but we're in a combat zone."

    He completely ignored my joke. "Captain. I assume you've been briefed on our arrangement?"

    I nodded, "Yes Sir. You're free to request our assistance, and I am free to accept or deny as I see fit. My first priority is to maintain naval supremacy, second is to ensure the airfield stays in our hands."

    "Correct." He replied. "I'll make sure I only request your help if it is heavily needed. I'm not a fool who will cry wolf."

    "Of course sir."

    He grunted, satisfied. "Now, why do you have all these little people following you Captain?"

    I blinked. "Little people?" I glanced back, only seeing… "Oh the fairies. The Royal Marines here are A Company, 1st Marine Heavy Infantry Battalion, commanded by Captain Tudor." I spoke, indicating the officer fairy. "The Americans are Boise and Houston's marine compliments, commanded by…" I paused, glancing at the two marine platoon's Lieutenants. "Actually, I'm afraid I never got your names. Either way, they have little to do aboard, and I figured you'd appreciate an extra overstrength battalion."

    One of the mini Yanks chuckled, and waved me off. "Oi oioi oi."

    Now it seemed I had the General's attention. "What can they do?"

    I blinked. He hadn't heard of fairies? Oh well. "Anything your Marines can, Sir." I explained. "Their rifles hit just as hard as the full scale. And they have the added benefit of being two foot."

    His eyebrow rose. "Really now?"

    "Yes, Sir. They're at your disposal."

    He stared at the nearly two hundred marine fairies. "Are half of them women?"

    I bristled. Not this again. "Yes, Sir."

    He didn't look pleased. "Women have no place on the battlefield."

    Fucking sexist morons. I really hated the 40s sometimes. I crossed my arms and spoke. "With all due respect, Sir, I'm a woman."

    He turned to me, obviously not happy about my backtalk. "You are a battleship. You were made for war."

    I had to hold back a snarl, "Frankly, Sir, most women would do just fine in my shoes. Those marines will do just fine."

    He just gave his head an almost sad, condescending shake. "I doubt that, Captain. You are dismissed."

    "Sir." I all but growled. Quickly leaving before I did something I'd regret.

    God I really hated the '40s sometimes, I thought, grumbling as I headed back to our temporary camp. Almost everyone was racist, sexist, or both. Apparently being a decent human being was hard. Bloody wankers, the lot of them.

    I'd just crossed the airstrip when a voice broke me from my grumbling. "Wales?" With a start, I glanced over to see my Houston standing nearby, a concerned look on her face. "What's wrong?"

    I glowered. "The General is a sexist prat who thinks women can't fight."

    The Texan chuckled. "All men do. We just have to prove them wrong."

    I didn't see the humor. "I have been. For six bloody months."

    "They're just uncomfortable that us 'little ladies' can wipe the floor with them." She snarked.

    That got me to crack a smile. And then a hilarious idea occurred to me. "We should dupe some poor unwitting bastard into arm wrestling one of us someday."

    Houston laughed. "Ha! Remind me next time we're in Sydney. Imagine their faces if one of the destroyers wiped the floor with them!"

    We both giggled like schoolgirls. I couldn't help but see Sims in my head arm wrestling Arnold Schwarzenegger and driving his arm though the table. It was certainly an amusing mental image.

    "So, what now, Wales?"

    "You mean, other than avoiding the heat?" I snarked.

    Houston rolled her eyes. "Are we going to see if we can get the SeeBees to install that plumbing we brought or not?"

    "Oh right." I muttered, glancing around. "Where were they going to build the bunker?"

    Houston shrugged. "Fuck if I know. Don't they tell you these things?"

    "Apparently not." I grumbled. "Let's go looking then."


    It took half an hour of searching to finally find where the SeeBees were starting to build. It was just North of the airfield, only fifty yards from the beach.

    And wasn't that a surprise. I'd started thinking in yards even for non-naval things.

    There were about thirty men already hard at work, performing the first, and most important task of constructing any building. Digging a really big bloody hole. Luckily for them, they didn't have to do it all by hand, though most of them were using shovels. Instead, most of the work seemed to be being done by an army olive bulldozer, working its way back and forth. As we watched it made another run through the rapidly developing hole, pushing dirt up the side where the shovelers cleared it.

    "Who's in charge here?!" I yelled to be heard over the machine as we approached. A couple of the men turned at my yell, and a slightly older man emerged.

    "Lieutenant Commander Hugan." He introduced himself, wiping off his dirty hand before offering it.

    "Captain Windsor." I replied, shaking it.

    He had a firm shake. "What can I do for you ladies?"

    "You're the ones constructing our repair baths, correct?" I asked.

    The thirty-something officer nodded. "Yup. Should have it up for you within two weeks."

    I blinked. "I was informed it would only take one."

    He snorted, and shook his head. "Hell no. Just not possible."

    I shrugged. "Still, a four story bunker built in two weeks is impressive I suppose."

    He let out a full belly laugh. "Four stories?! Ha!" He shook his head, still chuckling. "No, no. I dunno what moron back there drew up those designs, but they were an idiot. I could do it, but a bunker that size would take us a month and a half at least, more like two. And my orders stressed that this needs to be built quickly." He paused for a moment. "Actually, you're the ones who are going to use it. Here's your two options. We go with the original plans, and this takes two months. Or we go with a compact, two story bunker that we can have done in two weeks. You can store all your extra ammo and fuel in dispersed dumps."

    "Ah." In hindsight, perhaps the massive bunker had been rather optimistic. "The smaller one then. We're going to need those baths sooner rather than later. Could we see the design?"

    "Sure." The American gestured for us to follow, and led us over to a table with a schematic on it. "Here's what I've drawn up. A bit tight, but quick to build. First floor would be a small general space with small bunk rooms around it. How many do we need to sleep?"

    "Twelve." I replied.

    "Six rooms then, a twin rack in each." He pulled a ruler and quickly added a pair of rooms just barely big enough for the bunks. "Lower floor will have the baths, with a small pump and filters, since that's apparently a requirement? We'll have a dugout just outside with a generator for power."

    I bit my lip. Suddenly asking for our 'extra amenities' seemed a bit of an imposition. But we'd already brought the materials all this way. "Could we… Add some things?"

    He glanced at me, already looking just slightly annoyed. "Like?"

    "A bathroom and a small kitchen area?" I asked.

    He shook his head, "Ma'am, I dunno if you noticed, but we didn't exactly bring bathroom fixtures with us."

    I gave a small smile, "Of course. But we did."

    Now it was his turn to blink in surprise. "You what?"

    "We brought pipes, a few showerheads, toilets, sinks, a hot water tank and some electric ovens and stovetops. All we need is the space and all the connections to be built into the bunker." I explained.

    "Huh." The Lieutenant Commander muttered. "But, how are you going to power that? Or get fresh water?"

    Houston, who'd been waiting off to the side, decided to butt in. "Oh, I don't know. It's not like we're warships who carry big old generators and desalination plants. Hell, I'm prolly gonna make one from scratch with my machine shop. Just leave an inlet pipe on the outside. We'll run a pipe down to the sea, and put a desalinator beside the bunker."

    "Hm. Alright." He acquiesced. "On one condition. Me and my men get to borrow the showers whenever we ask."

    I nodded. "Deal."

    He smiled. "Great. In that case, get me those pipes and the dimensions of your appliances. I'll design around them. Keep in mind, I'm still going to keep it as small as possible."

    "Need some extra hands?" I asked.

    "If you're offering."

    I turned to my second. "Round up the girls, they have work to do."

    Houston glanced at me. "What about you?"

    "I'll take Perth and get those radars set up on Savo."

    "Okay." She turned back to Hugan. "I'll be back in five with those numbers and extra hands."

    He nodded. "We'll be here."

    "That reminds me." I said, "I don't suppose I could borrow some axes?"


    It was a beautiful clear day, I mused to myself as Perth and I cut across the calm waters of Savo sound. The semi-protected waters seemed like they were often calm, and a rather pleasant place to sail. There were worse places to spend long postings at, I thought.

    The one concern was the depth. I'd already seen concerns floated by the brass that any of the larger steel hulls ran the risk of running aground in the relatively confined waters. In fact, one of my secondary objectives was to have the destroyers do some basic depth checks with their sonar around the sound.

    It only took forty minutes for the two of us to reach the island. We'd sailed at flank to avoid submarines. Not that there were any around, but it paid to be careful. Especially since I'd not brought the destroyers with.

    "So, what am I doing boss?" The Aussie asked as we slowed, and approached the beach.

    "Once we're ashore, I'll hand you one of the surface sets." I explained. "You'll head around the north side of the island and get it set up watching the northern strait. Make sure you get it up in the mountains somewhere, so it has the range. After that, I'll meet you on the northwest coast, and we'll get the air search set up."

    "Got it."

    As we came up on the shoreline, I threw my engines into reverse, slowing down. Though, I may have misjudged it slightly. When my feet hit the dirt, I was still doing ten knots. I managed two stumbling strides, and then the sand rose to meet my face.

    Perth gave a full belly laugh at the sight as she came ashore far more gracefully. "Nice. Real graceful and princesslike."

    "Sod off." I grumbled, climbing back to my feet and doing my best to brush the wet sand from my jacket and pants. The Aussie just laughed harder. "Bloody colonials."


    Two hours later found me trudging up one of Savo's mountains, a machete in each hand, and bulldozing my way through the jungle. It was hard going. There was no path, and the jungle was completely untouched. Not wanting to take forever, I'd thrown caution to the wind. Between my strength, and semi-literal steel hide, I'd been able to simply brute force my way through the undergrowth from the beach, making my way up to a particularly promising peak. The khakis I'd changed into were knackered, with a half dozen tears from my callous approach.

    Finally, after nearly two and a half hours of hiking, climbing and bushwacking, I reached the top.

    And instantly ran into another problem. Namely, the entire peak, while having a flat enough spot to set up the radar, was still completely covered by the jungle.

    I groaned. "Fuck." Luckily, I'd come prepared. " Alright lads. Get the axes out." A moment later, most of my 4th marine platoon, barring the seven marines I'd sent with Perth to operate the other radar, and nearly eighty regular fairies, piled out in nothing but their kakis, and with the axes I'd borrowed from the SeaBees in hand.

    The next three hours were spent clearing an area for the radar. Easy enough, but as my XO soon pointed out, we needed to have a bit of nuance. After all, if we just completely cleared the peak, and set up the radar, the set would be visible, clear as day. A sitting duck for any Nip aircraft or ship that spotted it. So, we had to camouflage it, while still giving it a clear view of the sea.

    After some discussion among my fairies, we came to an adequate solution. We quickly set to work clearing a small area for the radar, while leaving most of the surrounding trees intact, if with the lower branches pruned to make space. This meant the jungle canopy still covered the set from above, hiding it from aerial observation. In front of the set, facing the sea, we began to remove the larger trees. Luckily, the ground sloped steeply away in that direction, so we didn't have to clear that many trees. We left the shorter trees and underbrush intact, to minimize how much our pruning stood out.

    All in all, I thought we'd done a good job. The antenna had a clear view not only of the sea and Lunga point, but a significant area of sea to the west of Guadalcanal. Seven of my marines would stay behind to man (fairy?) and guard the radar. I left it to them to make their living arrangements.

    Finally, after five hours, I descended back to the beach. One down, one to go.

    Perth met me on the northwest coast, looking just as tired and disheveled as I was. "All good?"

    "Yea." The Aussie nodded. "Camouflaged it, just like you said. Has a clear view across the strait."

    "Good," I nodded. "Let's get this last radar set up."

    With that, the two of us headed inland again. Luckily, the northwestern part of the island was flatter, and more developed. By which, I mean there were a few small villages and some cleared land. All of which was still inhabited. More than a few native islanders stared at the two of us as we passed.

    "You think they'd care if the Japs came in and set up shop?" Perth mused.

    "Depends on how they were treated." I replied. "Though with the Nips track record, I'd expect they'd hate it."

    "True." A chuckle. "I bet the Singaporeians are really missing us 'Colonial Dogs' right now."

    "Probably." I agreed. "I hope the activated spirits manage to keep a secret."

    "Me too." She snorted, "Though let's be honest mate. The cat's going to be out of the bag eventually."

    "That it is."

    This time it only took us a half hour to hike inland and up a ridge, and this time we didn't even have to worry about camouflaging it. There was even a nice grassy clearing ready for us. Compared to the other sets, we were done in no time.

    I found myself dusting off my hands as the sun hung low in the sky. "Good work today Perth."

    "Yeah." She muttered coming up to stand beside me and stare off at the sea. "Not often we do manual labour."

    "No, and I'm happy to keep it that way." I snarked.

    "Aw, is the Princess afraid to get her hands dirty?" We shared a chuckle.

    "You know, it never ceases to amaze me how casual you girls are with me. Even though I'm your direct CO." I commented.

    Perth shrugged. "You make it easy. You don't act like a normal officer. All detached and shit. When you're not putting on the Royalty act, you just… Act like a good mate."

    I gave a small smile. "Thanks Perth. We better head back. It'll start getting dark soon."

    "Lead the way."


    An hour later, we'd made it halfway back to the airstrip. The trip back was just as easy as the trip there had been. I'd zoned out, just letting my engines chug away when Perth spoke up from behind me.

    "Is that 'Lectra?" I blinked and glanced around wildly before she clarified, "Thirty degrees off port, Wales."

    Given adequate direction, my eyes quickly landed on three destroyers heading south. Two E-class, one Sims. No doubt Electra, Express and Hammann. I'd sent the three to accompany the Tulagi landings early in the morning. And it seemed it'd taken most of the day for the island to be secured.

    I keyed my radio "Electra, this is Wales. We're off your starboard."

    "Oh, 'ey Wales." The Cockney destroyer sounded exhausted. "Tulagi's clear, so mission accomplished, I guess."

    The normally peppy destroyer's sudden shift had me worried. "Are you girls okay?"

    "We're fine."

    None of them seemed to want to talk any more. Soon they met up with us, and we reached the beach we'd departed from, near the to-be-built bunker. As we trudged ashore, I was finally able to get a good look at the three.

    They looked like hell. All three were exhausted. Electra had a black eye, Express had several bruises on her arms, and Hammann just had a thousand yard stare.

    I physically blocked their way, even more concerned. "What happened?"

    Electra just gave me an 'are you serious' look. "The Japs fought us. Fuckin' bastards are insane."

    "How insane?"



    "'Charging straight at a SHIP waving a fuckin' sword', insane." Express griped, holding up her arm to show a bruise, as if someone had tried to cut her arm off.

    "Yeah. That." Electra muttered. "Hammann didn't take it well."

    The American destroyer glanced up at her name, looking numb. "I want to tell you to fuck off, Express, but your right, and I never want to play infantry ever again."

    I grimaced, imagining scenes out of Saving Private Ryan. "Sounds like a rough day, girls. Lets get over to our camp. You need the rest."

    As I led our little group back to our tents, I vowed then and there to avoid having my girls fight on land as much as possible. If this was what a small engagement did to them, I didn't want to see what a larger one did.
     
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