Christopher Nuttall: Second Chance

“It seems to be unanimous,” Hanover said wryly. “I'll issue the orders at once.”

Defence Lines

Malaya, nr Singapore

4 thOctober 1940

General Flynn allowed himself a sigh of relief as he inspected the defence lines. Nearly two weeks of very hard work had gone into the lines, using all the help the suddenly released resources of Singapore could provide, and he was confident that it would hold. The SAS had done a marvellous job of holding the Japanese up – although he suspected that flaws in Japanese logistics would have had the same effect – and the defence line had been the reward. A carefully designed wall, one designed to bleed the Japanese white, along angles they had to attack.

He who would be strong everywhere is strong nowhere , Flynn remembered, and frowned. Tiny SAS units, backed up by hastily-recruited auxiliaries from the coloured population of Singapore, would engage the enemy if they tried to move through Jungle history told them would not be as impregnable as it looked. Sheer determination, bloody-mindedness and not a little ruthlessness had carried General Yamashita nearly four hundred miles, despite the best efforts of the SAS.

Flynn chuckled. Doubtless the Japanese General was enjoying his victory. The conquest of Kuala Lumpur, which had hardly been defended, had been reported in the Japanese press as a great victory. Even the Germans were getting in on the act; the British reporter in Germany had faithfully recorded an hour-long speech from Goebbels on the subject of Japan's inevitable victory. Arial reconnaissance had reported dozens of heavily guarded trucks being moved down the road; the SAS had reported that the Japanese were taking no chances with them.

“Sir?” Colonel Higgins said. Flynn glanced up. “The Japanese are launching bombers from French Indochina – and the audio-discrimination programs are reporting engine noises. I think its about to start.”

“I wish we were back in the desert,” Flynn said absently. “What about Singapore?”

“The new Governing Council seems to be doing ok,” Higgins said. “They're determined to prove that they can be trusted with the vote. They've got people working on repairs after that battleship took a crack at us, and we've warned them of an incoming air raid.”

Flynn nodded and headed back to his headquarters. “Did you ever see that picture, that joke picture of the trenches?” He asked. A perfect division, with a single budge on the German side, and the British headquarters near the line.” He chuckled. “And them, the same picture a few years later, but with the bulge on the other side… and the British headquarters well away from the line.”

“No, sir,” Higgins said.

“Well, live or die, I'm going to do it with my troops,” Flynn said. He passed three guards and a machine gun position, and then stepped into the headquarters. The massive coordination system, an American-designed system, was already at work; Japanese artillery had started shelling a British position. This time…

“Start counter-battery fire,” Flynn ordered. “Full radar tracking… now!”

General Yamashita swore under his breath as another battery of Japanese guns, the light howitzer, exploded in a blast of fire. The main weapons were being targeted; every time they fired they were picked off neatly by a handful of British shells. The weapons were horrendous; he was losing guns for nothing! A flight of Zeros roared by overhead, chasing the strange British craft, and he cursed. He'd heard a private rumour, a very private rumour, that the Navy had suffered a defeat, but he hadn't been able to confirm it.

“They want a victory,” he snapped, and glared down at the map. “Order the infantry and aircraft to go in,” he ordered. “They have to take out their guns!”

Sergeant O’Neal cursed as the Japanese planes swooped down, their engines screaming as they targeted the British guns. Bombs fell and his machine gun chattered back, targeting Japanese aircraft as they tried to swarm over the British position. There was a massive crash as a Japanese aircraft slammed headfirst into the jungle; the blast setting off its ammunition.

“Jesus, what a clusterfuck,” he shouted, temporally deafened. He looked up, at the burning jungle, and saw Japanese soldiers coming at him, sneaking through the defence lines.

“No, you fucking don’t,” he shouted, and turned the machine gun on them. They fell, or threw themselves to the ground, and he laughed – just before the grenade landed near his position. The explosion blew him into little bits.

“The enemy has made a breakthrough, in sector seven,” Higgins snapped. “I’m ordering the reserve to engage!”

“Do so,” Flynn ordered, studying the map. It made sense; the Japanese would be trying to outflank the defences on the road. He watched grimly; did his opposite number know the dangers?

General Yamashita smiled as the first reports came back; they had penetrated the defence line and were attacking the outpost blocking the road. The terrain wasn’t perfect, but he gave the order anyway.

“Order the tanks to advance,” he ordered. “All guns are to concentrate on reducing that antitank position.”

Tank Commander Nishizumi gave the order and his little tank moved forward, followed by five others. The Type 89 Otsu tanks, medium tanks, were neat and manoeuvrable, but he was grimly aware of their weaknesses. The Soviet armour had been far more powerful and capable, but the Japanese Army had been unwilling to listen to the veterans of the tank brigade’s only major conflict.

“Forward,” he snapped, as the signalman waved them out of the compound; a former manor-like house owned by a corrupt headman. The sound of battle grew closer as the tanks motored on, cheered by the infantry, while the air force flew overhead. He allowed himself a moment to relax, then leaned forward as the enemy position came into view.

“Gunner, load high explosive,” he ordered, sighting the weapon directly on the position. The infantry had overrun it, but they hadn’t forced the British out; concentrating instead on preventing the British from repairing the hole in their lines. “Fire!”

The little tank shuddered as the shell blasted through the air and slammed into the British position. Nishizumi chuckled, and then narrowed his eyes in concern; two British infantrymen were pointing a large gun at one of the tanks. A streak of fire lanced out of the gun, and a tank exploded.

“Kill them,” Nishizumi snapped, and swept the machine gun across the British position. Three more little rockets screamed back at them from out of the jungle… and Nishizumi’s world vanished in a blast of fire.

Captain Dwynn stared down through the vision-engaging goggles on his helmet, tracking the Japanese movements. Through a combination of suicidal bravery and training no Jihadi could match, the Japanese had forced their way through the defence lines in two places. They died like flies, but they pressed on.

“Time to engage them?” Chang subvocalised. “If we don’t stop them soon.”

“I think its time,” Dwynn said. The Japanese supply line ran over a bridge, and the Japanese had taken care to build three separate pontoon bridges from local boats, thus avoiding a crush at the end of the bridge. Several dozen lorries were moving up to the bridge.

“The rockets are ready,” Sergeant Vash assured him. “We can fire the minute you command it.”

“Thank you,” Dwynn said absently. The Japanese had built several more bridges further down the river, and SAS teams were closing in on all of them. They waited… and waited… until all of the teams were ready.