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Under the auspices of Operation East Wind, Task Force 5.1 was to calve off two of its heavy cruisers, the Naiad and the Sussex and four destroyers – as Task Force 5.11 – to seek out, engage and to destroy the Spanish squadron cruising the northern Lesser Antilles, the so-called Leeward Islands, each of which including the former French colony of Guadalupe, were either crown dependencies or, like Antigua, newly and somewhat experimentally endowed with limited dominion status. The Spanish had twice bombarded English Harbour and the island’s capital, St John’s in the last week; hit and run raids which had as yet done little damage to the small naval base but nevertheless, caused over a hundred casualties, and understandably, no little panic. It seemed the ‘raiders’, which had switched their attention to Plymouth on the neighbouring volcanic island of Montserrat within the last twenty-four hours, were old-fashioned coal-burning ironclad cruisers in company with a gang of several three or four stack torpedo boat destroyers. In the breaks between attacks it was assumed this motley collection of antique warships rendezvoused with one, perhaps a couple of small ‘coalers’ to top off their bunkers, before deciding who to ‘pester’ next. The original scare stories about Spanish marines coming ashore on Antigua had now been discounted.

Both Naiad and Sussex carried long-range, fairly nimble two-man Southampton Seaplane Company Gimlets, single-engined amphibians, for over-the-horizon reconnaissance, gunnery spotting and if required, search and rescue missions.

Meanwhile, the primary mission of Task Force 5.1 was to attack the capital of Santo Domingo.

The order of service

went something like this: one, sink everything that floats in San Juan Bay and its adjacent anchorages; two, destroy all port facilities including dry docks, maintenance sheds, oil and coal depots; three, bomb Santo Domingo Government House and its associated Legislative Council complex; four, attack targets of opportunity in and around the city, and; five, all scouts not required for top cover over the target would attack, at low-level the major air base – one of only two on the main island – some six miles east-south-east of San Juan Bay.

This latter attack would commence approximately five minutes before the first wave of Sea Eagle torpedo bombers swept in over San Juan Island from the north at dawn on Monday, less than thirty-six hours hence.

‘We are not going to be squeamish about this,’ the Task Force Commander had said, proceeding to make his intentions unambiguously, brutally transparent, ‘if civilians, churches, or Germans loitering near the docks within the boundaries of their Concession get killed, that is just too bad. I’ll say it again. We did not want this war. We did not start it. The Triple Alliance sowed the whirlwind, now its members are about to start reaping the wind. Let me be plain about this: the reason we are going for the Dominicans first is because they are the most ideologically inimical to our way of life. Granted, their Hispanic and Cuban allies claim the same sort of Hell-fire thing but we now know that it was the Dominicans who were behind the Empire Day atrocities two years ago. Now, as they say, the whirlwind will visit San Juan. So, as I say, let us not be squeamish about this!’

To emphasis the point, orders had been issued that no aircraft was to bring back bombs or torpedoes, or external ‘drop’ fuel tanks. If there was no ship worth torpedoing, or easily identifiable ‘military objective’ available – for example if the whole area was obscured by smoke – then pilots were to climb to five thousand feet and release their fish ‘somewhere’ over San Juan city; likewise, unused bombs and superfluous drop tanks were to be discarded over ‘the target area’.

Of course, no drop ‘tank’ was ever truly empty and when it hit the ground the highly inflammable vapour within it, still, in most cases, under pressure, would probably explode like a fireball. Normal practice was to jettison drop tanks over the sea before landing back on board but this was not peace time any more.

Both the Princess Royal and the Indefatigable, with two light cruisers, the Penelope and the Galatea, and five destroyers in hand would part from the Perseus and make a high-speed dash to be in position to commence a thirty-minute bombardment of the coastal forts guarding San Juan Bay and suspected military targets up to eight miles inland in the vicinity of the Santo Dominican capital.

Operation East Wind was designed to be, and would indeed be, a terrifying demonstration of firepower.

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George Washington's Ghost
George Washington's Ghost

Conventional wisdom is that if the Crown Colonies of the Commonwealth of New England ever unite in common purpose; then the Empire might fall. That this might happen at the very moment that century-old post-war settlement of the Treaty of Paris is threatening to fall apart, had been the unimaginable nightmare of generations of European monarchs, politicians, diplomats and generals.The unthinkable is happening. Mexican troops are advancing through the South Western borderlands of New England; nothing can stop them. At sea, the supposedly invincible Royal Navy has been driven from the Caribbean and the Gulf of Spain. The handful of survivors of HMS Achilles are trapped in enemy territory. The three brothers unwittingly caught up in the events of Empire Day, 1976, are swept along by the tide of events, while news of Melody Danson and Henrietta De L'Isle's adventures in Spain momentarily distract a bewildered and increasingly uneasy, public in the old and the new worlds.In apparent disarray in the Americas, at home in England, the Government is attempting to navigate the fallout from the death of the Kaiser, distracted from the problems across the Atlantic. And then secrets more explosive than any of the weapons deployed in the war threatening to change the map of New England, burst in the midst of the crisis. In a world threatening to dissolve into chaos; who can step from the shadows to save the day?James Philip was born in London. He and his wife live in Hampshire in the heart of the south of England. Having despaired of ever getting his fiction published by main stream publishers he has embraced the e-publishing revolution with something akin to glee. Surprised by the positive reception to the e-publication of Until the Night and several of his other books, he has now become a full time writer for the first time in his life and is currently working on a large number of new projects including additional instalments to existing series.

James Philip

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