Against the Tide Imperial: The Struggle for Ceylon (The Usurper's War: An Alternative World War II B, James Young [best management books of all time TXT] 📗

distant for Jacob to make out details with the naked eye, he watched as both vessels sides flashed down their length. With that all too familiar sound of ripping canvas and steel on steel, the Houston shuddered and was surrounded by several water spouts.

"Damage report!" Jacob shouted, even as the main battery began to swing out. He saw black smoke already pouring from the Pillsbury's amidships, the destroyer obviously struck by whatever guns had not fired on Houston.

Sailed us right into a damn trap.

"Sir! Guns reports they're flying the fucking Kraut flag!"

The two "merchants" were indeed flying the German flag. The lead vessel, the Kormoran, had just entered the South Pacific in order to rendezvous with her sister, Pinguin prior to both heading for Japan. Both vessels were similarly armed with a half dozen 5.9-inch guns, giving them a total of eight to a broadside. Having had the Pillsbury wander well within maximum range, the Pinguin's captain had taken the old four piper under fire with two of his guns and torpedoes while joining the Kormoran in firing half his broadside at Houston.

The Pillsbury had never been designed to take hits from her own battery, much less cruiser shells. At just under 6,000 yards, the first shell had exploded in her boiler room while the second had ruined her bridge. Even as the veteran crew was responding with a ragged salvo that splashed short, the Pinguin's crew put another pair of shells into the battered Pillsbury that slowed the tin can's speed to a veritable crawl.

The Houston's firing gong sounded just as Jacob was turning to hear the talker's report. With a concussion that shattered the bridge windows and shook the cruiser, a full broadside flashed out towards the Pinguin. No sooner had that assault on the senses occurred then the air was buzzing with splinters and fragments from a Kormoran shell ricocheting off the front turret face.

Have to even the odds, Jacob thought, hearing the Houston's secondaries belatedly entering the fray.

"Starboard twenty degrees, all ahead flank!" he shouted, the cruiser shuddering again as another Pinguin shell hit her. The helmsman spun the wheel…and there was no commensurate swinging of Houston's bow.

"No response from–" the quartermaster started to say, just before a shell exploded just aft of the bridge. Whereas the ricochet had seemed like a minor passage of honey bees, this explosion was a swarm of hornets making its way through the bridge. Jacob felt at two sharp lances of pain across his chest and looked down to see his uniform slashed.

Is it too much to fucking ask for just one battle without getting hit?

The main battery roared again as he looked quickly around the bridge. One talker was a slumped ruin, his remains looking like what happened in a farm accident. The other was staring in shocked horror at his friend, mouth moving silently before he was struck from behind by a petty officer.

"You fucking idiot, tell Battle Two to take control before we're dead!" the chief shouted. Seeing the bridge was in hand, Jacob turned to see Farmer trying to stop blood spurting from a lookout's neck. Bringing his binoculars up, he focused on the almost drifting Pillsbury…then clenched his teeth in helpless fury. The destroyer’s superstructure was a ruin and her forward guns were knocked askew in their mounts.

Goddammit Moran!

The Pillsbury suddenly leaped out of the water, the white spout tinged with a black just under the forward mount immediately telling Jacob the destroyer had been hit by a torpedo. There was no time to react before their companion's entire fore section exploded, her forward magazines touched off in an awful secondary explosion.

"Sir, steering restored!" the helmsman reported.

Houston's bow came to starboard, the movement sluggish but at least opening the range from the furthest German raider. The main battery thundered again, and Jacob realized he could see their intended target's superstructure in worse shape than Pillsbury’s had been. Two shells detonated low on the waterline amidships, followed by a tremendous cloud of steam from the vessel. Jacob was distracted again by two shells hitting the Houston forward, the blasts muffled. Looking, he saw the heavy cruiser's No. 1 turret lurch, then stay stuck in train even as the No. 2 turret began to swivel onto the forward merchant.

Willoughby must think we've damaged the first vessel enough. Or else he realizes that bitch will kill us if we keep letting her shoot freely.

Without the benefit of the Houston's director's sights, Jacob had no idea how badly the Pinguin had been hurt. Willoughby was indeed switching targets after having turned his initial prey's superstructure into a chewed cauldron. Her captain dead, fires raging on the bridge, and power no longer to the mounts, the Pinguin began to coast to a stop. A final blow from the Houston's secondary armament damaged the steering, and the big merchantman began an involuntary starboard turn that pointed her bows towards the distant American cruiser.

"Fire in the galley and crews quarters, sir," the talker reported. "We've been holed again in fire room number one, and–"

The main battery roared again, interrupting the talker just as the merchant’s side flashed once more. The German fire arrived as a ragged volley, this time with a shell hitting the Houston's stem. Jacob cursed as fragments and splinters from the deck cut down several of the men attempting to clear the obstruction in No. 1 turret's barbette. Turning to observe the fall of Houston's shot, he was pleased to see two clear hits on the now burning enemy raider. For a brief instant he considered closing to finish the vessel off, then remembered what had killed the Pillsbury.

Have to keep the range open, plus he's shooting faster than we are.

As the German fired again, Jacob thought back to the War College. There had been vigorous debates between proponents of smaller, faster firing guns and those who believed in a weightier main battery. Jacob had been part of the latter group. Now, as his