Devil's Due (Destroyermen #12)(38)
The assembly bolted, and Spanky turned to rejoin the others.
“Not as amusing as we expected, from previous experience,” Rolak stated dryly.
“Nope,” Spanky grumped. “Not very funny at all. I guess it’s inevitable, though. We’ve been damn lucky so many things we’ve cooked up right in the middle of a war have worked as well as they have. Bound to be exceptions.” He shrugged philosophically. “And lots of finger-pointing when there are. Thank God Letts is on the ball.”
“Thank the Maker, indeed,” Keje agreed. “Letts is perhaps better suited for this aspect of being Chaar-man than Adar was,” he added, blinking concern for his friend.
“Maybe,” Alden agreed, “but there’s plenty Adar was better at.” He huffed a laugh. “Taking the sunlight, for one,” he said, then sobered. “Getting along with everybody was another. Letts may’ve done the legwork to put the new Union together, but it was Adar’s dream, and it never would’ve happened without him. Don’t worry,” he told Keje, “you’ll get him back. You and the Skipper’ll get ’em all back.” His neutral expression turned to a frown as he looked back at Walker and envisioned all it would take to get her ready for sea. He knew she was just one old ship, no better suited for what was to come than her new sister steaming off the coast. No at all suited for standing up to the likes of Savoie, one-on-one. Yet she’d come to represent so much to so many; not least of which was her continued survival—even victories!—in the face of overwhelming odds. If she wasn’t exactly the symbol of the Allied cause, she’d certainly become its talisman. And even General of the Army and Marines Pete Alden wasn’t immune to the itchy feeling that they all stood a better chance if Captain Reddy was where he most belonged in a fight: on the bridge of USS Walker. “If we have the time,” he added, his tone turning grim. “That’s what it comes down to. We might still get licked, even if everything goes exactly right,” he qualified, “but we’re licked for sure if we run out of time to get ready.”
CHAPTER 5
////// Aboard USS Santa Catalina October 26, 1944
A brilliant orange sunset closed a very busy day as USS Santa Catalina steamed past the heavy shore batteries at the mouth of Grik City Bay and into the purpling night. The guns in Fort Laumer were big, heavy brutes salvaged from the wrecked ironclad dreadnaughts near the docks. As observed before, they remained excessively heavy and crudely shaped, but their nine-and-a-half-inch bores, capable of hurling a hundred-pound solid shot clear across the mouth of the bay, had been bored disconcertingly true. Grik gunnery had progressively improved as the war dragged on, and apparently a lot of that had to do with the quality of their weapons. It was just as well they hadn’t been forced to face these in an open-water slugfest like First Madras. That had been bad enough, and boded ill for the future. The Grik hadn’t used anything like the Allies’ primitive but effective fire-control system before either, but they couldn’t assume they weren’t incorporating something similar into the ships under construction or conversion around Sofesshk. The quality of their bores alone meant conventional Allied naval guns retained little, if any, qualitative advantage at close range.
Not for the first time, Matt and others had made the decision not to waste time and resources on stopgaps such as rifling muzzle-loading cannon that would, hopefully, soon be replaced. Nor was it logistically possible to rifle existing guns of deployed warships, even assuming they could handle the additional pressures of the heavier projectiles they’d require, which was no sure thing. As usual, the choice to focus their limited industrial capacity on next-generation weapons, perfecting the metallurgy and manufacturing techniques required by things like the dual-purpose 4″-50, or copies of Browning MGs instead of Gatlings (which they could’ve made sooner) had prevailed. Allin-Silva rifle conversions were a stopgap by definition, but their land forces had more desperately needed a breechloader of any sort to counter enemy numbers. Besides, the conversion was a relatively simple matter and entirely new versions required minimal production changes. And there was no urgent need to replace them. They were light, accurate, powerful enough to kill “boogers” larger than Grik, which troops sometimes encountered, and none of their enemies (before the League became potential foes) had anything remotely as good. But they were stuck with smoothbore artillery for the most part, particularly on land, until supply for the new 4″-50s and 5.5″s could catch up with demand. And making field carriages to accommodate the big naval rifles presented formidable challenges as well.
Matt understood that the remains of Walker’s old 3″-23 antiaircraft gun had been copied in Baalkpan. It had been considered practically useless at sea, and would be totally so against armored warships, but Bernie had long proposed that they put them on field carriages. That actually made a lot of sense, and the carriage works was gearing up to accommodate them. But then they learned a similar weapon already existed, about to join the fight. The Republic of Real People was supposedly bringing quick-firing field guns related to the French 75 to the battle on land, and had offered the blueprints to its allies. That might help—someday. But, once again, in the upcoming campaigns, smoothbore artillery—and aircraft—would share the battles on land and sea. Matt was struck by the irony of that. Still, the true-bored Grik guns in Fort Laumer made him wonder if their decision to forgo immediate, slight enhancements—like rifling their existing muzzle-loaders—in favor of vast improvements down the line would bite them on the ass. The big guns protecting Fort Laumer and the bay were unfit for field use, but well-suited for mounting in ships or shore emplacements. And they had to assume the Grik at Sofesshk had improved them even more, and almost certainly had better field artillery now. By all accounts, they had a better army.