Read Online Last Orders: The War That Came Early by Harry Turtledove - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Harry Turtledove
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gun—certainly not the Bren, fine weapon though it was—combined mobility and firepower so well.
But MG-42s that came out of their concrete machine-gun nests were MG-42s that trench mortars could reach. The mortar bombs weren’t noisy leaving their tubes, and flew almost silently. They went bang only when they burst. One by one, the Fritzes’ gun crews either died or pulled back toward their own line.
As things quieted down, Jack Scholes turned to Walsh and asked, “ ’Ow’d you know they was bluffin’, loik?”
“No armor,” Walsh answered.
“Ah. Roight.” Scholes nodded. What trade would he ply if he weren’t a soldier? Sneak-thief was Walsh’s first guess. “They’d’ve been roight up our arse’ole wiv a few tanks along, eh?”
“Too right, they would,” Walsh said. “But without ’em they were just yanking our chain. They killed a few of us, we killed a few of them, and none of it will change the way the war turns out even a ha’penny’s worth.”
“Wot would?” Scholes sounded interested and intrigued, as if he weren’t used to thinking this way but found he liked it. “Droppin’ a bomb on ’Itler’s ’ead?”
“That ought to do something,” Walsh agreed.
“Too many back in Bloighty like the bastard, though,” Scholes said. “We never would’ve gone in wiv ’em if Winston ’adn’t bought ’imself that plot.”
“No. We wouldn’t,” Walsh said tightly. The Cockney kid couldn’t know he’d met Winston Churchill. He remained convinced Churchill’s death hadn’t been an accident. Afterwards, it had taken what amounted to a military coup to oust the let’s-pal-with-the-Nazis appeasers. And, if the war didn’t start going better, another coup might put them right back in.
Sergeant Hideki Fujita didn’t mind days on Midway—not too much, anyhow. There wasn’t a lot to do on the small, low island at the northwestern tip of the chain that led down to Hawaii. But the weather was mild even if it was often muggy. You could fish from the beach. You’d eat whatever you caught, too. It was more interesting and tastier than the rations that came from the Home Islands. Midway was at the very end of the Japanese supply lines, and sometimes a line frayed. Fishing helped people from going hungry, too.
Japanese G4M bombers could reach the main Hawaiian islands from Midway. They could, and they did. Sometimes they dropped explosives. Sometimes they found other presents for the Americans. Fujita was there as part of the bacteriological-warfare detachment. He’d had experience with such things in Manchukuo and Burma. To the people here, that made him an expert, even if he was just a sergeant.
And so he’d made the long flight to Oahu in the belly of a G4M, doing bombardier duty. He’d launched pottery bomb casings full of plague-infected rats and anthrax powder and cholera germs on Honolulu.In spite of an amazing fireworks display of antiaircraft fire, he’d made it back here, too.
But, while Japanese bombers could fly southeast down to the main Hawaiian islands, American bombers could also come northwest up to Midway. Like most Japanese soldiers, Fujita scorned America’s fighting spirit. When U.S. soldiers found themselves in a bad position, they surrendered. Dozens of Marines became experimental animals for the Japanese bombers in the compound outside of Harbin. Men who hadn’t fought to the death deserved no better.
Whatever you could say about the Americans, though, they were rich. They knew what to do with machines, too. That was why Fujita hated and feared Midway nights. Japanese G4Ms flew occasional missions against Hawaii. When they flew, they went one or two at a time. Here at the end of the supply lines, the Japanese Empire could afford no more. It could barely afford so much.
When the Americans flew against Midway, they sent bombers in great swarms, a hundred at a time—two hundred, for all Fujita knew. Bombs rained down on the island by the thousands. He
But MG-42s that came out of their concrete machine-gun nests were MG-42s that trench mortars could reach. The mortar bombs weren’t noisy leaving their tubes, and flew almost silently. They went bang only when they burst. One by one, the Fritzes’ gun crews either died or pulled back toward their own line.
As things quieted down, Jack Scholes turned to Walsh and asked, “ ’Ow’d you know they was bluffin’, loik?”
“No armor,” Walsh answered.
“Ah. Roight.” Scholes nodded. What trade would he ply if he weren’t a soldier? Sneak-thief was Walsh’s first guess. “They’d’ve been roight up our arse’ole wiv a few tanks along, eh?”
“Too right, they would,” Walsh said. “But without ’em they were just yanking our chain. They killed a few of us, we killed a few of them, and none of it will change the way the war turns out even a ha’penny’s worth.”
“Wot would?” Scholes sounded interested and intrigued, as if he weren’t used to thinking this way but found he liked it. “Droppin’ a bomb on ’Itler’s ’ead?”
“That ought to do something,” Walsh agreed.
“Too many back in Bloighty like the bastard, though,” Scholes said. “We never would’ve gone in wiv ’em if Winston ’adn’t bought ’imself that plot.”
“No. We wouldn’t,” Walsh said tightly. The Cockney kid couldn’t know he’d met Winston Churchill. He remained convinced Churchill’s death hadn’t been an accident. Afterwards, it had taken what amounted to a military coup to oust the let’s-pal-with-the-Nazis appeasers. And, if the war didn’t start going better, another coup might put them right back in.
Sergeant Hideki Fujita didn’t mind days on Midway—not too much, anyhow. There wasn’t a lot to do on the small, low island at the northwestern tip of the chain that led down to Hawaii. But the weather was mild even if it was often muggy. You could fish from the beach. You’d eat whatever you caught, too. It was more interesting and tastier than the rations that came from the Home Islands. Midway was at the very end of the Japanese supply lines, and sometimes a line frayed. Fishing helped people from going hungry, too.
Japanese G4M bombers could reach the main Hawaiian islands from Midway. They could, and they did. Sometimes they dropped explosives. Sometimes they found other presents for the Americans. Fujita was there as part of the bacteriological-warfare detachment. He’d had experience with such things in Manchukuo and Burma. To the people here, that made him an expert, even if he was just a sergeant.
And so he’d made the long flight to Oahu in the belly of a G4M, doing bombardier duty. He’d launched pottery bomb casings full of plague-infected rats and anthrax powder and cholera germs on Honolulu.In spite of an amazing fireworks display of antiaircraft fire, he’d made it back here, too.
But, while Japanese bombers could fly southeast down to the main Hawaiian islands, American bombers could also come northwest up to Midway. Like most Japanese soldiers, Fujita scorned America’s fighting spirit. When U.S. soldiers found themselves in a bad position, they surrendered. Dozens of Marines became experimental animals for the Japanese bombers in the compound outside of Harbin. Men who hadn’t fought to the death deserved no better.
Whatever you could say about the Americans, though, they were rich. They knew what to do with machines, too. That was why Fujita hated and feared Midway nights. Japanese G4Ms flew occasional missions against Hawaii. When they flew, they went one or two at a time. Here at the end of the supply lines, the Japanese Empire could afford no more. It could barely afford so much.
When the Americans flew against Midway, they sent bombers in great swarms, a hundred at a time—two hundred, for all Fujita knew. Bombs rained down on the island by the thousands. He
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