Chapter 304
“'Spend a few weeks with your families' he says!” Ian complained for the third time in the last half hour as they stepped into the hangar at the airbase east of Sandoway.
Before he could say anything, Felix replied, laughing, “We won't need you for a while, he says!”
Ian stopped and stared at Felix for a second who was trying hard not to laugh at a superior Officer with all the crabs around and then grinned himself.
“Well, at least you know me well.”
He picked up his pack and went in search of a spot where would find the station CO and a cup of tea.
“Mind you,” Felix said as he followed Ian through the halls that still bore the scars of the Battle that had secured the base for the Allies, “I wish they would have given me the time to get a second set of tropical kit, and I doubt that post-occupation Rangoon can rival Savile Row.”
“We can always do what our esteemed Commander in Chief Pacific does and use our peacetime No.1s. At least they are white.”
“Captain Fleming, Commander Leiter! Long time no see. So you are still in the Andrew?”
A man wearing standard battledress of an Officer with the insignia of a Lieutenant Colonel and a green beret with a badge consisting of a downward pointing dagger with wings.
“That we are, Colonel.” Ian said with a smile as he remembered the young Officer who'd escorted them when they had evacuated the Dutch Royal Family when that country had fallen to the Axis.
“So, you are still one of THEM then, eh?”
Drake's face showed what he thought of the nickname for the Special Air Service that had run through the ranks of those 'in the know' like a fire through dry straw.
“Indeed I am.” Drake replied. Ian saw that Drake was having a bandage around his right hand.
“What happened there?” Felix asked before Ian could.
“Nip Hand Grenade. We still have a few holdouts east of the Rangoon, as I found out when I was talent scouting.”
That meant of course that Drake and the rest of 25 Special Air Service Regiment had been behind the Sphere lines to work with the local militias (sparse as they were in eastern Burma) and had run into one of the groups of Japanese stragglers that either stayed and fought or slowly flooded towards the Siamese border where the Japanese were scrambling to re-build a defensive line before the British re-organized themselves.
“So you've been stuck in the rear with us fine SOE folks until you can pull a trigger again?”
“Pretty much.” Drake nodded and showed them into a room. “There's some tea in there, our transport isn't due for another hour.”
~**---**~
Two hours later they were standing at the pier in an out-of-the-way Naval anchorage that held not only a Thames Class and a Black Swan Class that took on fresh provisions but also, under camouflage nets and guarded by stern looking Royal Marines that had the strictest orders not to look over their shoulders, a civilian freighter was waiting.
It was being swarmed over by workmen who were doing all sorts of things to the ship and Ian could not help but notice that the briefing Drake had delivered while they had waited had been behind the times if anything. Half of the alterations to the ship were already well under way as far as he could see and he noted with approval that most would be hard to spot from the air once underway, if at all.
“There she is.” Drake said. “Now, I have to get back. If you need transport, the chaps at the base have some Landys.”
Behind the perimeter and some very strict Royal Marines they were met by another Commando Officer. He wore a beret in the dark blue of the Royal Marines and the badge of the Special Boat Service.[1]
Introductions were exchanged and Ian learned that the man calling himself John Smith was likely called something else by any probably next of kin but had served with the SBS since it's inception, having transferred there from the 1st RMD early on, as a young Lieutenant who had been so green behind the ears that 'I was tempted to mow the lawn there'.
He also told that he had been selected for this mission because he had been the highest-ranking SBS Officer still alive in the theatre after a raid gone horribly wrong, evidenced by the scar that ran from just above his left eye upwards where it disappeared into his dark black hair. Another consideration had been that Smith spoke and wrote fluent Japanese, thanks to a degree in Oriental Languages.
“How good is your Japanese, Captain?” Felix asked them as they stood in the shade of the camouflage nets.
“Very Good.” Smith said without sounding arrogant. “My professor had spent fifteen years with the Embassy in Tokyo, so my accent is similar. I doubt I could fool the Emperor himself but that's almost a dialect of it's own.”
“So how did their Lordships get their hands on her?”
“Apparently she was at anchor in a tiny fishing port on an Island off the delta, with the machinery busted to hell and back, with camouflage nets and the local shrubbery hiding her from our aircraft. The local fishermen said that she came in smoking, and we did find some holes in the hull.”
“Likely she ran into some crabs or a gunboat.” Felix said as his eyes wandered over the freighter. “What happened to the crew?”
“The locals and the Nips left each other alone, but when two of our Destroyers came by due to pure chance apparently half the merchies shot themselves and the other surrendered fully expecting that we would toss them overboard at first chance.”
“No sabotage?” Ian asked with obvious doubt on his face.
“Apparently they smashed the wireless sets to bits and jettisoned some of the fuel, but overall we took her almost undamaged.”
That was a lucky break, considering what they had been ordered to do with her, and Ian could not shake the distinct feeling that this, at last, was an expression of their Lordship's displeasure at what had happened in California. Officially of course there was no way to do anything, considering that both No.10 and the Palace had voiced their approval, but assignments like this weren't normally given to a full Captain and a Commander.
He mentally shrugged and decided that there was no point in pondering things like these. 'Our's is not to reason why...' he thought.
“Armament?” he asked instead.
“When it is done, which we expect to happen by the end of the month, she will have a retractable twin Bofors forward, two 3 pounders hidden in the superstructure, four .50s, two port and starboard, and of course assorted small arms which includes some Brens.”
Felix raised his eyebrows and looked at Ian for a second. When he saw the same feelings there he asked: “And how do we get this here with half the Kempetai on our heels?”
“I think I can answer that.” a new voice chimed in.
Lieutenant Commander Robert Goodchild was a tall Welshman who had left his native Cardiff for the Navy to, as he told often, to escape the odd things that kept happening there. Here he was now with this command and found not one but two Senior Officers put in front of his nose. That they wore the DSO with bars and, according to the rumour mill had been doing all sorts of things all over the globe did not help, and neither did the fact that they clearly knew more about this than he did.
Being enough of an Officer to keep his feelings to himself he instead introduced himself and offered refreshments in his cabin that were readily accepted.
“So, what did the Nips call her anyway?” Felix asked as he observed the Japanese writing that a crewman was painstakingly re-tracing with red colour.
“'Little Wooden Ship' in English,” Smith replied, “In Japanese she's called the Kobayashi Maru.”
MS Kobayashi Maru, the future HMS Edgehill[2] in 1937.
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Comments, questions, rotten Tomatoes?
[1] What we'd call Commando Green is ITTL known as Jungle Green and exclusively worn by the SAS due to their service in the Jungles of Asia. Before that they wore the standard Maroon of the Parachute Units. The green isn't exactly the same shade as OTL's version, but close enough.
[2] There was a real RN Q-Ship of that name. Though unlike in the First World War in the second the Q-Ships sank next to no subs at all. More information on her
here.