Racing up the boarding ramp onto the barge, I turn and sprint along the deck to the bow, ducking under the numerous tie-down straps that are securing the generator to the deck.

On reaching the forward section, I find the first of the tow lines running from the rear of the hanger bay of the Bogue already coiled up on the deck. Taking hold of the coupling, I lean out over the side, find the attachment point for the tow line and begin to make the connection.

To my left, I hear the second tow line thump down onto the deck.

Ignoring the rattle of the chain, I focus on ensuring the tow line is properly secured, before pushing myself back onto the deck and heading over to the second line.

"I see enemy fighters," I hear Graf Spee call out from her position on the flight deck above me.

"If they come within range," I shout back, "Let them have it."

"Do you think it's wise to try to move this during an air raid?" Bogue calls down to me.

"Not really," I answer back, "But this is the only deep-water dock in the port. If we get hit here, then it will take weeks to clear, which will only delay getting the supplies in to repair whatever damage this air raid causes."

On reaching the second tow line, I repeat the process from earlier. As I lock the first part of the line to the attachment point, I hear above me the distinct sound of an incoming aircraft in a steep dive. This is soon drowned out by the reverberations of Graf Spee's Anti-Aircraft guns echoing out in reply.

Focusing on the task at hand, I finish locking the second tow line to the barge and push back onto the deck. Looking up, I find Bogue looking towards me with a worried expression, "Get us underway," I call out.

"The barge is still moored to the dock," Bogue replies, "We can't go anywhere."

Looking around, I spy one of the barge's red emergency cabinets, bolted to part of the framework, "Just get us moving," I call back over my shoulder, "I'll worry about the mooring lines."

Jogging over to the cabinet, I unlatch the door and swing it open to find what I'm looking for strapped to the inside of the door. Removing a heavy-duty axe from its place on the cabinet door, I carefully check it is sharp enough for the task at hand.

As I make my way towards the first of the mooring lines, I feel the barge slowly start to move as Bogue begins to take the barge under tow. Raising the axe high, I swing it down onto the mooring line running from the forward bitts down to the dock.

The rope snaps cleanly on the first strike, and I feel the barge lurch awkwardly away from the dock as Bogue continues to edge further out into the harbour.

Wasting little time, I sprint down the length of the barge to where the next set of mooring lines are running from the centre of the deck.

As I take a swing at the first set of lines, I hear a call from behind. "Incoming fighters!"

No sooner has the axe cut cleanly through the first rope, I throw myself to the deck against the frame, ducking out of sight of the incoming fighters as the dock erupts in a serious of explosions when the waiting cargo is mercilessly shot up.

Picking myself up from the deck, I quickly scan the skies for any further threats. Seeing none, I turn my attention back to the mooring lines to find the second set of lines slack. Glancing over the side, I find they have been sliced through by part of a shipping container door, which is now embedded in the side of the barge.

Racing towards the rear of the barge and the final mooring line, I ignore the chain reaction of explosions from the dock as more of the containers and various work trucks catch fire, some exploding sending shrapnel flying in all directions.

Dodging around part of what was once a utility vehicle that had crashed down on the barge and was rocking slightly, twisted around the railing I approach the final mooring line and find that the rear of the barge is a twisted mangled wreck. Part of what appeared to once have been a large oil drum had smashed into the side of the barge directly below where the mooring line fed out down to the dock.

However, unlike when the container door had sliced through the previous lines, the force of the impact had caused the rear of the barge to crush in on itself and had also snagged the mooring line, twisting it around the wreckage making it all but impossible to cut the barge free from the dock.

Silently cursing this unfortunate complication, I turn back and retrace my steps back to the front of the barge.

"I can't get the rear mooring lines clear," I call up to Bogue, "It's a twisted mess back there. Is there any chance you can pull the barge clear with force?"

"Maybe," Bogue replies, "But we'll be sitting targets while I try."

"No other choice then," I say to myself, "Spee, do you have a clear line of sight of the rear of the barge?" I speak up.

"All I can see a pile of twisted metal," Spee replies.

"That would be what's left of the rear mooring post of the barge," I answer, "I need you to shoot us clear."

"Are you sure?" Spee asks, "I only have my main guns loaded at the moment."

"Yes," I reply, "Just try not to hit anything else back there." I finish.

Covering my ears against the anticipated roar of close-range cannon fire, I watch on as Spee takes careful aim at the rear of the barge, and after a pause fires a single round into the twisted mess of metal, blasting it free from the barge.

Almost immediately the combined forces of the shockwave from the eleven-inch shells' impact with the rear corner of the barge and the sudden lack of resistance against Bogue's efforts to tow the barge away from the dock cause the barge to lurch violently out into the harbour, throwing me down to the deck in the process.

Picking myself up from where I had landed, I shake my head out of habit to try to clear the ringing in my ears.

"Are you okay, Captain?" I barely hear Spee ask.

"I'll be okay," I reply giving a thumbs up as well, "Although it'll take some time for my hearing to recover."

"I'm sorry," Spee begins.

"Don't be," I say, "We had no other choice. You did what needed to be done. Just focus on the incoming aircraft for now. We need to provide whatever cover we can until the carrier fleets air groups can catch up."


From my viewing position on the barge, I watch on as the skies above Darwin rapidly fill with numerous waves of aircraft forming the main assault force. As I hastily try to determine their number, a group breaks away from the main formation, turning in our direction.

"Get ready!" I call out, "We have about a dozen heading straight for us."

As the approaching aircraft rapidly close in on our position, all I can do is wait in nervous anticipation of what's to come. As the finer details of the aircraft begin to come clear, from the flight deck of the Bogue, I see the flashes of rapid gun fire and hear the report of Graf Spee's AA guns open up.

In the distance the lead aircraft explodes as it meets the hail of explosive tipped shells.

The trailing aircraft begin to weave rapidly, looking to find clear airspace. On the left flank of the formation an aircraft is hit somewhere along one of the wings, the resulting impact causing the wing to fold in on itself, sending the aircraft spinning violently into the path of a second, before both explode and crash into the waves below.

In response a small number of the incoming fighters rapidly turn away, trailing smoke behind them from impact damage caused by either AA fire or shrapnel.

The remaining aircraft streak overhead, without so much as offering a warning shot in response to Spee's attack.

"That was lucky," I hear Bogue call out.

"Luck had nothing to do with it," I comment to myself, "We were not the target this time."

As the departing aircraft continue their attack run, another from the rear of the group bursts into flames as Spee continues to shoot at anything within range. I watch on in horror as the aircraft turns sharply back towards the harbour, before diving down straight into a docked chemical freighter, which explodes on impact so violently that the hull is momentarily lifted clear of the water, before splashing back down, split clean in two.

I stand frozen in shock for a moment at the sight, before my reflexes kick in and I throw myself down onto the deck, just in time to avoid being hit full on by the shock wave as it rushes over the waves.

In the distance, I hear the sound of more explosions. Looking up from my prone position on the deck, I see a large rising cloud of black smoke rising from what could only have been one of the harbours fuel depots.

Turning away from the scene, I scan the skies looking for the next potential threat. In the distance, I observe a handful of aircraft circling back from an attack run. As I watch on, they group up with another element from the main force and turn back for another strike.

"It would appear they know we are here now," Bogue calls out, "We've got two separate groups coming in from multiple angles."

Rapidly scanning for the second group, I realize that some of the fighters that had passed overhead on their way to hit the fuel depot, instead of regrouping with the main element, had in fact circled in the opposite direction and were now closing in on our position.

"Any suggestions?" I ask aloud.

"Find a good place to hide and hope they have terrible aim," I hear Bogue call back.

"The chances of them being that poor an aim is unlikely," I reply back over the growing noise of the approaching threat, "And given their number the chances of all of them missing are even lower."

Not seeing anywhere on the barge that even looked remotely like a good place to take cover, I opt instead to observe the attacking formation, in the hope that I could discover any potential weakness that could be exploited.

As the fighters closed the range, I am confused as to why none of the lead aircraft have begun to strafe either the barge or Bogue who is still barely making any headway against the drag of the heavily laden barge.

As if seizing on this apparent opening, Graf Spee opens up with her anti-aircraft guns from her position on top the flight deck, quickly reducing the enemy number by three.

In the distance, a series of loud explosions echo across the harbor as another of the fuel tanks catches fire and violently explodes.

With my attention momentarily distracted, I lose sight of the approaching threat. When I turn back, the remaining fighters were climbing out of their shallow dive and beginning to turn away. As I watch on in amazement, two of their number suddenly burst into flames. A direct result of being hit by multiple rounds from Spee's AA barrage.

"How come they don't press the attack?" I ask aloud, "We're a sitting duck."

"They might want to deal with the bigger threat first," Bogue replies.

"What bigger threat?" I ask in reply, "Unless I've mis-counted in the chaos, our air cover is still at least two minutes out."

"Over there," Bogue answers, pointing off towards the harbor entrance.

As I look in the indicated direction, I soon learn what Bogue means by a bigger threat. Sailing into the harbor, at from the distance I am viewing from, appears to be flank speed are a pair of large cruisers. Both of which are engaged in firing upon any aircraft that come within range.

With this sudden turn of events, a number of the aircraft not currently engaged in attacking the incoming cruisers, turn and race off in the direction of the airport.

"Have either of you detected any activity from the airport?" I call out.

"The last thing I picked up from that direction was a single incoming plane that landed about three minutes prior to the attack," Bogue calls back in reply.

I watch on as the fighters take a wide flight path to avoiding coming into range of Graf Spee's guns and streak off into the distance towards Darwin Airport.


The next few minutes feels like an eternity, as those aircraft that were still circling above the harbour continued their attacking runs on both the incoming cruisers and on Bogue who was still struggling to get the heavily laden barge as far away from the docks as possible.

In the distance another of the fuel tanks erupted into flames as the heat from the raging fires in the depot reached it and overheated the fuel contained within. There were now also a number of smoke columns rising in the direction of the airport, leading me to believe that at the very least the military side of the airfield had been struck.

I watched on throughout the air raid, trying to take in as much as I could in the hope that something would make sense of the enemy tactics or if an opening appeared that could be exploited.

All of which seemed pointless, as despite the large number of aircraft that were either shot down or forced to withdraw, they were quickly replaced with two more.

"Captain," I hear Graf Spee call to me.

"What is it?" I ask, not taking my eyes off the latest attack run on one of the incoming cruisers that I could finally determine to be Pensacola.

"I'm down to the last rounds for my AA guns," Spee replies.

"We need to get in under Pensacola's AA screen," I instruct, "Get a message to her and get her to close in on our position."

As I say this, I catch a flash of something off to my left. Turning to find what had caught my eye, I spot in the near distance a large number of incoming aircraft. The flash I had seen earlier was the sun reflecting off parts of the plane.

Without looking away I call out, "Spee, if you have anything left, the next threat is coming in hot directly behind us."

In response I hear almost every gun attached to Spee's rigging open up. The leading waves of aircraft vanish behind clouds of smoke as the numerous rounds find targets. However, the trailing aircraft streak through the smoke clouds, weaving past their stricken allies and from my vantage point appear to increase their speed.

"Looks like they are finally serious about sinking us this time," I overhear Bogue comment from above as Spee's AA guns finally fall quiet.

"It was only a matter of time," I agree, "We're probably a secondary objective at best considering the amount of damage they've inflicted on the harbour, and most likely the airport as well."

"Any suggestions, Captain?" Spee asks, still firing her main and secondary guns as quickly as she can reload them.

"Nothing that comes to mind," I reply honestly, "I guess we'll find out first hand how accurate they are."

As I say this the leading element of the diving aircraft, rapidly burst into flames and lose control. Some being to spin violently away from the formation before losing all forward momentum and smash into the water.

Before I can say anything, another section of the attacking force suffers the same fate. As I rapidly scan the skies for our guardian angel, over the blast of exploding aircraft I hear the radio that is still clipped to my belt buzz.

As I unclip the radio and bring it closer to my ear, so I can hear over the noise, I hear the radio buzz again before a voice calls out, 'Ca.. can anyone hear me?'

Confused by the unfamiliar voice on the other end of the radio, I key the mic, "Yes, I can hear you. Who is this?"

'I am Uzuki,' the voice on the other end replies.

"And how did you end up with the radio?" I ask, racking my brains for any recollection of someone by that name.

'The scary woman handed it to me,' I hear the reply a moment later, 'She wanted to know if you were unhurt?'

Even more confused by this answer, given the last people who I was aware had a radio that could contact me in this manner were either Prinz Eugen or Kaga. And given Prinz Eugen was now in sight, standing atop the number two gun turret watching on as numerous enemy aircraft raced past her ship, skimming the wave tops.

Following their flight path, I finally realized that they were being pursued by a number of vintage fighters.

Keying the radio again, "Does the scary woman happen to have short white hair?" I ask, almost certain of the answer I'll receive.

'No,' Uzuki replies, 'She had long brown hair.'

So Akagi had the radio at some point I reason to myself, "Tell her, that we are all okay."


It took less time for the skies over Darwin to empty than it had taken for them to fill. The last sighting of the attacking forces had raced out to sea in an Easterly direction, being hounded by the Zeroes from both Akagi and Kaga's Air Groups.

For a brief moment the harbour was deathly silent. Had it not been for the rising smoke from at least a hundred small to large scale fires that were burning both on land and on the water where wreckage from aircraft, ships and cargo floated one could have called the moment tranquil.

Leaning against the railing of the barge, I watch on as the first signs of an emergency response team races onto the dock, before a number of people begin running hoses out from the trucks to start putting the flames out.

"Sorry we were late to the party," I hear a voice call out behind me.

Turning, I see Prinz Eugen still standing atop the gun turret where I had earlier observed her, looking in my direction.

"Can't say I think much of the party guests," I call back, "They've trashed the place."

As Eugen laughs in response, the radio still in my hand buzzes, "Go ahead. I can hear you."

'Captain,' I hear Kaga begin, 'We are currently chasing the enemy forces away from the harbour.'

"Keep it up," I reply.

'Akagi thinks she may have sighted part of the task force they came from,' Kaga continues, 'However they are just outside effective range to be able to make them turn and face us.'

"What course are they heading on?" I ask.

'They appear to be heading due East,' Kaga replies, 'I've already sent a couple of scout planes out to track their potential courses.'

"Good," I answer, "I also want you to follow them."

'Are you sure that's wise Captain?' Kaga asks.

"No," I admit, "But if they open up the distance any further, we might lose them completely."

'Understood,' Kaga confirms, 'We will send regular scout waves out, so we can maximise our chances of maintaining contact.'

"Sounds like a solid plan," I agree, "I'll wrap up here and will endeavour to regroup with you as swiftly as possible."

'Also, you have probably realized by now that we've picked up another member for the fleet,' Kaga reports.

"Yeah, I did have a very brief conversation with her," I answer, "Your thoughts on this development?"

'I'll hold my opinion for now Captain,' Kaga replies, 'At least until you've had the chance to get all the facts you need to make an informed decision.'

"Fair enough," I reply, "Keep me updated with both your position and that of the enemy."

'As you wish Captain,' Kaga answers before I hear the radio fall silent once more.

Taking a moment to compose my thoughts, I turn to look up at Bogue, who is standing at the rear edge of the flightdeck of her ship, "I want you to make best possible speed back to Midway Atoll with this," I indicate pointing over my shoulder at the generator.

"With any luck, it hasn't been too badly damaged during that attack," I continue, "And the technicians at the lab should be able to fix anything that might have been hit."

Turning to face Graf Spee, who is standing next to Bogue, "How do we go about re-arming your guns?"

"I should be fine by tomorrow morning," Spee replies.

"It's that simple?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, "Well I suppose that saves me trying to find someone that will sell me naval grade artillery shells for a German cruiser."

To my left I hear Eugen burst out laughing.

Ignoring this for the moment I continue, "If that's the case then, I want you to accompany Bogue, back to Midway. Once the two of you get there. I'd like you to keep a patrol watch around the atoll. I have no idea when or where this enemy will strike next."

Both Bogue and Spee nod in understanding, before I turn and using the railing from the barge leap across the short distance to land on the deck of the Prinz Eugen.

"And while they head out of the harbour," I call up to the still giggling Eugen, "W will assist in the clean-up."

"Now that sounds boring," Eugen replies with a frown.

"Maybe so," I admit, "But I want some of the wreckage for research. I want to know why they didn't try to soften us up with any sort of machinegun fire, or whatever counts for machine guns for these aircraft."

"And then we re-join the hunt?" Eugen asks.

"And then we re-join the hunt," I answer with a nod.