Cocoyashi Village, Conomi Islands
1400 Hours
In Cocoyashi Village, the residents were bracing themselves for the usual visit from Nezumi, expecting him to impose his oppressive taxes once again. However, instead of the familiar sight of the corrupt Marine, the villagers spotted a strange metal bird flying overhead. Moments later, a large explosion reverberated in the distance, followed by the arrival of a fleet unlike anything the villagers had ever seen. These were not the usual wooden ships with masts and sails—they were metal behemoths, puffing black smoke from their chimneys. The sight was bewildering, yet the three docks in the village were enough to accommodate the nine ships under Rear Admiral Koby's command.
As the ships docked and their anchors were lowered, the village sheriff, Genzo, approached the U.S. Navy officers who were disembarking. The sailors, with an air of authority, threw captured Marines onto the ground.
"Who are you?" Genzo asked as Rear Admiral Koby approached.
"Rear Admiral Curt Koby of the U.S. Navy, sir. And you are?"
"Genzo, the sheriff of this village," he introduced himself, glancing at the tied-up Marines on the ground. "What happened?"
"These idiots tried to impose taxes on us and attacked," one of the sailors spoke up.
"You're talking about Marine Captain Nezumi? He's corrupt and regularly extorts taxes from our village."
"Well, he's dead now," the sailor bluntly replied.
"Dead?!"
"He took a direct hit from a high-explosive salvo at point-blank range. His ship blew up with him on it after he attacked my fleet," Koby confessed.
The villagers exchanged glances, shocked and uncertain. While the tied-up Marines were visibly terrified of the U.S. forces, the villagers were more confused by the steel ships now docked in their harbor.
"What is this... U.S. Navy?" Genzo asked.
"The United States of America."
"Never heard of it. Is it a kingdom?" Genzo questioned having no idea who or what this United States is.
"We are a republic, led by a president. But right now, we're lost. This is our nation," Koby explained, handing Genzo a map of Earth, which focused on the United States; its landmass in a vibrant color. The map puzzled and shocked Genzo and the other villagers. It was completely unfamiliar—no Red Line, no Grand Line, no Calm Belt, and no Reverse Mountain. But what really astonished them was the sheer size of the U.S., covering 9,372,610 km. No kingdom or even the World Government held such vast territory. And there were other unfamiliar nations as well—USSR, the British Empire, and more.
"I apologize, but I've never heard of these nations." He replied scratching his head
"It's clear we're not on Earth anymore. Do you have any books we could borrow to help us understand this place?"
"Of course, follow me," Genzo offered.
Soon, U.S. sailors were gathering at the village's bookstore, attempting to learn whatever they could about this strange new world. Meanwhile, Koby was contacted by Hazard aboard the USS Alaska for an update.
"Hello?"
"Koby, did you do what I asked?"
"Yes, sir. We've docked in a local village that can accommodate my squadron, and we're gathering information. We've also found a potential docking area for the fleet east of here—a large, abandoned theme park that could serve as a temporary base."
"I see. But I'll be arriving at the village with General Smider."
"What for?"
"A survey. Our priority is finding resources, and this area resembles Indonesia. But your report about these Marines is concerning."
"They attacked us, Admiral. I responded accordingly."
"I understand. But if these Marines are part of the World Government's military, we may have a problem. If we keep engaging them, we'll deplete our ammunition. Until we find a new home, we need to conserve our supplies."
"Understood."
"I'll see you at 0100 hours."
Koby hung up the phone. "We've got work to do."
Within an hour, U.S. Navy and Marine personnel were spread throughout the village, interacting with the villagers. PT boats and smaller dinghies were docked on the beaches and smaller docks. Meanwhile, Hazard and Smider were in discussion with Genzo and the village mayor, Copper, explaining their situation.
"That storm you mentioned—it sounds like a local naval legend. The Purple Storm of Death, it's said to engulf its victims in a strange purple energy, causing them to vanish."
"So, we've been swept up by it?"
"These storms only happen once every 80 years. The last one occurred when I was a boy," Copper recalled, reminiscing about a pirate ship that disappeared into thin air after being shrouded in purple energy.
"So, we can't go home."
"I'm sorry..."
"No need to apologize. We'll manage, but thank you for your concern," Smider replied. "We'll have to improvise."
"The Calm Belt is a good place to start—it's isolated," Copper suggested.
"The Calm Belt? There's no wind, no currents, and it's filled with Sea Kings. It's impossible to navigate," Genzo warned.
"We'll take that into consideration," Smider said. "But our ships don't rely on wind power."
They knew their fleet wasn't dependent on wind, and even their aircraft carriers had catapults, eliminating any weaknesses. However, they still needed a way to navigate this new world.
"Well, if your steel ships can traverse the Calm Belt, so be it. But if you plan to head to the Grand Line, where it's more populated, you'll need a Log Pose. The islands there have confusing magnetic fields that get worse as you move past the calm belt," Copper advised.
"We already have a Log Pose we took from the Marine base we captured. Thank you for the information, Mayor. And we have other ways of finding islands"
"We'll take our leave now."
"Thank you, and please visit any time. You saved us from Nezumi."
"We'll keep that in mind," Hazard replied as he and Smider exited the building. Outside, Marines and sailors were mingling with the villagers while surveyors gave their reports to the naval and marine leaders.
"No crude oil, sir."
"Forget it. We're leaving anyway. But gather any food and animals you can—we'll need them for the long journey to the Calm Belt."
"Yes, sir."
Within minutes, the U.S. forces began packing up, receiving gifts from the villagers for saving them from Nezumi, including some money—50,000 beli. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Meanwhile, Koby was overseeing the loading of additional food and meat onto the USS Alaska while speaking with a villager, Nojiko, alongside his advisor, Lieutenant Richard Leonard.
"I can't thank you enough. Those corrupt Marines had been draining my savings," Nojiko said gratefully.
"It was no problem at all, ma'am. They attacked us first," Koby replied.
"Thank you so much. But I have to ask, how do you have these metal ships?" She asked, knocking on the side of the Alaska. "And it sounds like metal too."
"This, my friend, is the finest steel the U.S. Navy has," Koby commented.
"This is steel? Like what swords are made of? And you built a ship out of it? How does it float?" She asked, puzzled.
Leonard stepped in to explain. "Well, ma'am, this is 34,253 long tons of American firepower right here. The reason this ship can float is due to its average density, which is less than that of water. Ships are hollow and contain a lot of air, which has a low density. The ship's bottom is also designed to displace a lot of water. When a ship is lowered into water, it pushes down and displaces water equal to its weight. As the ship displaces more water, the weight of the displaced water eventually equals the ship's weight, and the ship stops sinking and floats."
"So it floats because it's hollow?"
"Exactly! We've been using this technology for a hundred years—since the Civil War, baby!" Leonard added enthusiastically.
"You're not slick, Lieutenant," Koby commented.
"Sorry, sir."
"But how do you sail without masts or sails?" Nojiko asked, still curious.
"We use engines. The Alaska, for instance, has 4-shaft General Electric steam turbines, double-reduction gearing, and 8 Babcock & Wilcox boilers, providing 150,000 shaft horsepower. That propels this 35,000-ton steel ship across the water at a speed of 33 knots," Leonard explained, though Nojiko's confused expression showed she didn't quite understand.
"Let's just say we have the technology to do what we do," Koby clarified, easing her confusion.
"All units, prepare to depart for the Calm Belt!" a US Marine announced over a megaphone. Simultaneously, the familiar tune of the U.S. Navy's song, Anchors Aweigh, began playing over the PA system of the Alaska and its nine ships.
"Anchors aweigh, my boys!" the PA system sang out, and in unison, all the sailors joined in. The villagers, intrigued by the catchy tune—something even the Marines lacked—listened closely. Even the tied-up Marines couldn't help but admit it was catchy.
"Anchors aweigh!" Koby sang along.
"Aweigh!" the sailors chanted.
"Farewell to college joys! We sail at break of day!" Leonard continued.
"Hey! Hey hey!" More sailors joined in, from the ships and the shores.
"Through our last night ashore."
"Where'er we roam!"
"We roam!"
"Until we meet once more, here's wishing you a happy voyage home!"
The song continued, building into a full chorus. By now, the villagers were singing along, captivated by the energy of the song.
"Stand Navy out to sea!"
"Fight our battle cry!"
"Our cry!" the sailors and villagers sang together.
"We'll never change our course, so vicious foes steer shy!"
"Roll out the TNT!"
"Anchors Aweigh!"
"Aweigh!"
"Sail on to victory, and sink their bones to Davy Jones, hooray!"
As the final verse played, the Alaska and its cruisers joined up with the rest of the fleet, leaving Cocoyashi Village behind. The tone of Anchors Aweigh carried the fleet over the horizon as night fell. With the sun dipping below the horizon, the fleet headed westward. Onboard the New Jersey, most were asleep, while Hazard and Smider sat on the bridge, watching as the night settled in.
"That storm really did a number on us, didn't it?" General Smider asked Hazard.
"It sure did, General. I don't think we'll be heading home anytime soon. I'm sorry I dragged your divisions into this mess."
"We're Marines—we'll adapt. But my bigger concern is where we're going to land."
"Somewhere in the Calm Belt. We're relying on maps from the Age of Sail, which aren't exactly up to our usual standards. My cartographers on the carriers are working around the clock to create an accurate map using the intelligence we've gathered, along with scouting operations conducted by our light carriers. Thankfully, we've still got enough fuel to reach this uncharted Calm Belt, though it's crawling with those Sea Kings."
"I'm not sure how you plan on avoiding those monsters. I remember one of them was the size of Washington itself and nearly sank one of your destroyers."
"Depth charges, Smider—they do the trick. We already took down a surfaced Sea King with our 16-inch artillery. You can thank the USS Indiana for that," Hazard said, nodding toward the ship on their left while stroking his sideburns.
"But this Calm Belt is their feeding ground. And by the way, where'd you get those sideburns?"
"We'll figure it out, though I have no idea what this world has in store for us. As for the sideburns? Montana."
"Got it," Smider said, adjusting his tie and hat as the fleet sailed on.
But things were about to escalate rapidly. About 200 nautical miles away from the fleet's current position, which was roughly 400 nautical miles from Loguetown, was the regional Marine headquarters. Vice Admiral Lenoz, the commanding officer of G-88, who had just recovered from the Marineford War, was stationed there. As a member of the Giant Squad, Lenoz had recently been informed about the destruction of the 16th Branch by some so-called 'steel fleet.' Of course, he dismissed the idea—everyone knew steel doesn't float. Steel is for making weapons, not ships. The idea of a fleet made entirely of steel was preposterous, especially considering how scarce the material is.
The Vice Admiral was overseeing and protecting the wealthy residents on Clover Island, a relatively obscure place in the East Blue. Clover Island is notorious for being a hub for human trafficking, often targeted by the Revolutionary Army but still hidden from conventional forces. The island is isolated, shrouded in a deep fog, and surrounded by treacherous shallow rocks, accessible only to Marine ships.
Fortunately, the Yanks have their own methods of navigation.
Destroyer squadron 7 Led by USS Flint 4 days later.
"The Admiral has ordered us to scout ahead of the fleet, and I assume you Marines are aware of our joint operations given the situation?" Captain Dalalona of the USS Flint addressed the Marines.
"Well, it's kinda disappointing that we're not going back home, but I'm already liking this place," commented Corporal John Griller.
"At least I can avoid my cousins," added Private Dave Heigens.
"Why's that?" someone asked.
"I'm supposed to marry my second cousin," Dave replied, causing the Marines and the bridge crew to turn and stare at him with a mix of concern, disbelief, and disgust. The confusion cleared up when Dave clarified.
"I'm from Alabama."
"Oh, that explains it. But does your family…?"
"Yes."
"Well, screw your family. They sound like a bunch of hillbillies."
"Yeah, yeah…"
"Stand at attention!" Major Logan Davidson barked as a marine major entered the bridge, prompting the Marines present to stand at attention.
"I want to make this clear: the General has ordered us to scout ahead. I assume there's an island beyond this fog, correct, Captain?"
"Our radar has detected an island, but the visibility is too poor to navigate directly. We'll have to go around and find a safer entry point," Captain Dalalona responded.
"And that's where we come in. The Navy has provided us with PT and patrol boats. Our task is to land on this island, scout it out, and report back," Davidson continued.
"Sir, yes sir!" the Marines responded.
"Remember, we won't have air or naval support until this damn fog clears. If needed, reinforcements will come in the form of more PT and patrol boats. I suspect this world isn't what it seems—sea monsters are real, and I expect we'll encounter more extraordinary things out there. Move out!"
Davidson ordered his Marines, who promptly left the bridge of the Flint and boarded a dozen PT and patrol boats waiting for them.
"Good luck!" Dalalona called out as the speedboats disappeared into the foggy morning.
Twenty-eight speedboats, each carrying nine Marines, surged ahead of the destroyer squadron. The two Marine companies, led by Major Davidson, headed toward Clover Island, unaware of what awaited them there.
Clover Island Vice Admiral Lonz's ship 30 minutes later
"What's the status of our mission?" Vice Admiral Lonz asked his commanding officer, a Marine captain, while sharpening his new steel axe.
"Sir, all 2,000 slaves are on the island, ready for the auction."
"Good. Lock the island down. Do not let a single ship get near. Sink them if you have to!"
"Yes, sir!" the captain responded as the Marines began disembarking and spreading out across the island. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to them, the U.S. Marine forces have arrived, docking their boats on rock formations, unaware that they had landed on the same island.
The Marines were under strict orders to protect the island and the slaves, whom they believed were pirate prisoners rather than civilians. In reality, these were citizens from the Lulusia Kingdom—wannabe rebels defying the World Government—who had been framed as pirates and enslaved, now about to be sold.
"Secure this area. It looks deserted. Kill anyone unauthorized," one Marine officer ordered.
"Yes, sir!" a group of Marines replied, saluting before marching into the forest with muskets and swords at the ready. It didn't take long for them to spot the PT boats docked on the rocks just off the coast. One Marine quickly alerted the others.
"Boats? Looks like we've got company. Let's get on those boats and eliminate…"
"Hold it right there," a voice called out.
"What?!" the Marine exclaimed, as the group turned to see a number of unknown green-uniformed soldiers pointing guns at them—one even holding a strange tube weapon connected to a backpack.
"We've got visitors! Form your lines and… gah!" The Marine's order was cut short as a loud bang echoed, and he was shot dead. The other Marines tried to return fire but were swiftly gunned down by the soldiers.
Shortly after, Major Davidson picked up a piece of paper from one of the fallen Marines, reading the orders. He discovered they were instructed to kill any outsiders and was disturbed to learn about the presence of slaves. Enraged, he crumpled the paper in his hand.
"Sir?" Corporal Griller asked.
"Burn these slimy bastards to the ground. I'm pissed," Davidson ordered, passing the crumpled paper to his subordinate officer, Captain Jack Quilver, who read the orders aloud.
"Orders: Kill any outsiders, civilian or otherwise. Secure the island. Secure the Lulusia Kingdom slaves—refer to them as pirates. My God… they've got slaves on this island, and they're going to sell them at auction."
"What?!" the U.S. Marines exclaimed, gathering around the captain as they saw the faces of the enslaved—ordinary citizens, mostly from Lulusia, along with fishmen, mermaids, and Kuja—all about to be sold into slavery.
The U.S. Marines turned to the nearest Marine, who had been gravely wounded in the skirmish. Corporal Griller approached him angrily, the Marine questioning what kind of weapon the soldier was carrying.
"Hey, what are you… AARGGH!" he screamed as Griller pulled the trigger on his M2 flamethrower, engulfing the Marine in flames, much to the horror of his comrades.
"Billy!" another Marine cried out before being forced to retreat, leaving Billy to burn alive in the intense napalm fire.
"All troops, advance! We're taking down these knockoff Marines!" Davidson ordered, discarding the hat of a fallen Marine soldier. The enraged U.S. Marines followed his command.
Captain Quilver sounded the battle whistle, signaling the U.S. Marines to charge. Battle cries echoed as the Marines roared, "We've come a long way, boys! Now it's time for America to show its teeth. Fix bayonets! Charge!"
The Marine massacre of Clover Island had begun.
Meanwhile, in the Marine base camp, seven minutes into the battle, the sounds of desperate running echoed in the tent of Vice Admiral Lonz.
"Vice Admiral… we're under attack!"
"Under attack? How?" Lonz questioned, pulling his new battle axe from its leather sleeve.
"We've received reports of several unknown boats docked near the northeast of the island. The reports say they're carrying some sort of soldiers of foreign origins… about 270 of them at least."
"270?"
"Yes, but our defenses are collapsing fast."
Despite outnumbering the U.S. Marines 10 to 1, with Lonz commanding around 5,000 troops on the island, the Marines were struggling. Within the first ten minutes of battle, over 400 of Lonz's men had been killed or injured, and the numbers were steadily increasing. The U.S. Marines, armed with weapons that far outranged the muskets of Lonz's forces, were picking them off from a distance. Lonz could see more and more of his men being hurried into makeshift medical tents, many riddled with bullets, burned to a crisp, or suffering from strange shrapnel injuries, all screaming in pain.
"Mount a defense. I'll be there shortly," Lonz ordered.
Standing at 18 meters tall, the giant Marine admiral rose from his sitting position and stepped outside his tent, surveying the battlefield. However, he couldn't see his adversaries, as the U.S. Marines were fighting in the forested northeast. From his vantage point, all he could see were his Marines falling, their outdated tactics no match for the U.S. Marines, who seemed like a sniper army.
Meanwhile, Major Davidson was contacted by General Smider, who approved the appropriate response. The rest of the U.S. fleet was informed, but due to the fog, reinforcements wouldn't arrive for another two hours, when the SB2C Helldivers and the fleet would be available. By then, the morning fog would clear, allowing air and naval support.
"Alright, boys, we need to survive for two more hours! Attack! Flank them at the auction house! Their muskets don't stand a chance against us! United States Marine Corps!"
Corporal Griller and his men kicked down the door of the auction house, where they found Marines guarding the area. The U.S. Marines immediately opened fire, killing the guards before they could even form their lines. Those who tried to charge with swords were incinerated by Griller's flamethrower, causing the remaining Marines to flee, jumping into the sea in a desperate attempt to escape. The rich auction attendees, who had been preparing to bid on the slaves, cowered in fear as chaos erupted around them.
"Everyone, on the ground now!" He barked. "Barge, take the men and follow the others towards the flank. Dave, Tyler, you're with me!" Griller commanded, addressing both his Marines and the rich folks in the building.
"Yes, sir… come on, boys!" Barge, Griller's subordinate officer, responded as he led a few dozen Marines out the back door, where more fighting was taking place.
Meanwhile, Griller and his two gunmen jumped onto the stage and opened a hatch in the floor, revealing a deep ladder that descended far below. Dave looked down, surprised at how deep the hole seemed.
"Looks pretty deep…" He looked down.
"Doesn't matter. Let's move—there are probably slaves down there who need saving," Griller ordered.
"Ah, fuck it then," Tyler muttered as he went down first, with Dave following close behind and Griller bringing up the rear.
American fleet 200 nautical miles away from Clover island, USS Lexington
Aboard the Essex-class aircraft carrier USS Lexington, Vice Admiral George Wellington stood on the bridge, observing as aerology sailors launched weather balloons from the deck. He had been ordered by Admiral Hazard to prepare for an attack on the island currently under Marine assault, with only two hours to get the planes ready for takeoff. However, with Earth's maps now rendered useless, the aerology department was forced to rely on newly drawn maps from the cartographers. They were also working to create fresh maps, making even simple tasks like recording wind conditions challenging. The lack of reliable maps further complicated wind calculations.
As Wellington scanned the horizon, he spotted the USS Gyatt, a Gearing-class destroyer, dropping depth charges into the sea. The explosions brought a small sized Sea King to the surface, dead from the impact.
"Another sea monster taken down," Wellington remarked, lowering his binoculars.
"A fine sight, sir," a sailor responded.
"How are our sailors holding up?" Wellington asked.
"Morale is low, but not entirely broken. Many are missing their families and are uncertain if they'll ever return home. However, the onboard church is helping to keep spirits up—it's not much, but it's something."
"I see… Can we get a plane in the air or not?"
"The air office is struggling, sir. I'm not sure if they can get those birds up in the air on time."
"Well, tell them I need bombers to reach Clover Island by 0800 hours. That's an order from Admiral Hazard," Wellington commanded. An ensign nodded and hurried off to the aerology office on the opposite side of the bridge. "Fuckin' hell," Wellington muttered under his breath.
To be continued.
Next up the US marines continue their assault on the forest island of Clover, Vice Admiral Lonz is determined to stop them.