Republic of Texas Navy Archives

 December 30, 1942, early evening - A middle-class residential neighborhood near Yokosuka Naval Base, Tokyo, Japan

Retired Admiral Yonai Mitsumasa walked casually through the evening twilight, looking for a particular apartment building. He was alone, with no guards or escort. Considering he had been the target of several assassination attempts over the years, this was most unusual. However, one of the reasons he had survived those attempts was that he held the personal trust of the Emperor. Indeed, he was considered by many of those in power to be the last of the Genrō, the unofficial, but powerful, advisors of the Imperial Court. Such men were not trifled with lightly.

The reason he was out in the evening was that he did not wish to be discovered in his current task. He was seeking a man who was currently in bad odor with the senior commanders of the Imperial Japanese Navy. He stopped, double-checking the address his contacts had given him. This was the right building. He entered, walking up to the third floor to one of the apartments. He knocked on the door.

Inside, Captain Takeda Moriji was having a quiet evening after a long day in the supply offices of the Navy base when he was surprised by a knock at his door. He answered, but did not open the door.

“Who is there?”

“That is not important. Let me in, now” was the quiet, but emphatic reply.

Takeda hesitantly opened the door, his eyes going wide when he recognized who was there. “Please come in, sir.” He opened the door just enough to allow Yonai in, showing him to the small dining room table. “May I offer you some tea, or perhaps sake?”

“Sake, please. And bring a cup for yourself, you will need it.”

Takeda’s eyebrows rose again. He brought an unopened bottle and two cups, showing the seal to Yonai before he opened it. He poured two cups. They sipped. “May I ask why you have honored my humble home with your presence, Admiral?”

“You have certain information that has become of the utmost importance to the war. Tell me everything you know about the Republic of Texas, and it’s Navy.”

Copyright 2025 D.A. Brock

 December 26, 1942, 04:00 hours - Aboard TNS San Jacinto, 175 NM northeast of Truk Atoll, Caroline Islands

It had taken another two days to work out all the details, then another three days of joint exercises to work out the kinks in the final plan. The circuitous route required to avoid tipping off the Japanese had needed another ten days. Aboard the Texan ships, there had been a somber all-faiths service on the 21st in memory of the Christmas Sunday attacks in 1940, then Christmas celebrations with their American counterparts on the 25th. But now, the time for war had returned.

The combined Texan / American force sailed in three groups, each just visible to the others, to allow room for flight operations. First to launch were San Jacinto’s Hailstorm dive bombers, along with Tampico’s Harpoon torpedo bombers, all loaded with a mix of fragmentation and thermobaric bombs, because their job was to attack the many airfields in the atoll, to suppress the air defenses. They were escorted by roughly half of each carrier’s Hurricane fighters. The attack was timed to hit just at dawn.

About thirty minutes after the first wave headed for Truk, the second wave launched from Enterprise and Saratoga, the TBF Avengers and SBD Dauntlesses loaded with torpedos and armor-piercing bombs, respectively. To them would go the honor of the first strike against the Japanese fleet in the atoll.

After another thirty minutes, a third wave was launched, again from San Jacinto and Tampico, using the other half of their striking forces. They, too, were armed for anti-shipping work, to clean up anything the Americans might have missed. In dividing their striking forces the way they did, the Texans were unknowingly duplicating the Japanese carrier strike doctrine, each carrier in a pair providing half of a combined strike group to minimize launching time.

The two remaining carriers, William B. Travis and James Bowie, would provide the Combat Air Patrol and scouting planes for the fleet. Davy Crockett had been left behind to provide air support for the ground forces on Guadalcanal.

There was one more attack force headed for the Japanese island fortress. Several hours earlier, Willis Lee’s battleships, along with Ignacio de Zavala’s First Cruiser Division, the four Galveston class armored cruisers, had parted company with the carriers and were now running at flank speed toward Truk. If things went to plan, they would arrive between the second and third waves of the air assault, ready to apply their own special brand of pain to the enemy.

Copyright 2025, D.A. Brock

 Time for another short snippet. Things could be getting spicy…

October 3, 1942 - Southwest Pacific Theater Headquarters, Brisbane, Commonwealth of Australia

“I regret that I only have time for one more question. You, there in the back.”

“General MacArthur, I’m Howard Lorain of the Texas Progressive. In several of his recent speeches, Retired General Kincaid, who is running against President Velasquez, has stated that if he is elected he will withdraw all Republic of Texas forces from Europe and send them out here to serve under your command. Do you have any comment on that, sir?”

“I have read many reports of your nation’s military forces, and the feats they have accomplished since this war began. Any General should feel nothing but honor and blessing to have such men under his command. That said, I understand his concern about recent issues in regard to leadership and how your forces have been treated by some other of our Allies. Should such an eventuality come about, I would accept your country’s gift of their arms in aid of our great crusade against the Japanese Empire without question, and with my personal gratitude.

May I say, I’ve known Patrick Kincaid for many years, and it is my great privilege to call him a friend. It is my considered opinion that your nation could do far, far worse than to elect him as your next President.”

“Thank you General MacArthur.”

Copyright 2025 D.A. Brock

 Here’s that new snippet I promised a few days ago…

August 20, 1942 - San Marcos Armory Main factory, San Marcos, Hays County, Republic of Texas

Secretary of War Gonzales-Alvarado sat with Brevet Field Marshals Isaac Hearns and Bob Merwin, along with a number of other senior Army and Marine Corps officers on the shooting range next door to the SMA plant. There was a covered table standing near the shooting lanes. They were soon joined by SMA’s President, George Trevor, Chief Designer Stan Hillman, and, surprisingly, Viola von Stahlberg. The men rose from their seats as she walked onto the range.

“Mister Secretary, Field Marshals, thank you for coming. Today we’re going to demonstrate the final production version of our proposed new rifle for the Texas Army and Marine Corps. We call this version the Rear-Action Short Automatic Rifle, or Razor, for short. We like to think they’ll give our country’s enemies a close shave they’ll never forget.”

“Thank you, Mister Trevor. Mrs, von Stahlberg, may I ask why you are here? Not that the company of a lady isn’t always welcome, of course.”

Viola blushed, then smiled. “Why thank you, Mister Secretary. As for why I’m here, Mister Hillman asked me to help with the shooting demonstrations. Shall we get started?”

Mr. Hillman pulled the cover off of the table, revealing piles of rifle parts. Mr. Trevor continued. “As you will recall, gentlemen, one of the major concerns your Ordnance experts had was with interchangeability of parts. We believe that we have fully resolved those issues. To demonstrate this, Mrs. von Stahlberg will select parts at random to assemble a complete rifle, then take it over to the firing line to try it out.”

Viola stepped over to the table. She began selecting parts, with Mr. Hillman assembling them as she went. He handed her the finished rifle. “Interesting. It’s not as heavy as I was expecting.”

Hillman replied “Your rifle has all the metal parts made from steel, ma’am. We have been able to make many of the non pressure bearing parts out of aluminum alloy, shaved almost a pound off of that prototype’s weight without compromising durability.”

Marshal Merwin asked “How did a civilian get hold of an experimental military rifle?”

“It wasn’t a military rifle at that time” said Mr. Trevor. “Admiral von Stahlberg contacted us a year ago with suggestions for a special rifle for his wife. After we made that one, we thought that with some refinement it might be suitable for use by soldiers or Marines. So we made more of them and sent them to the Army Ordnance office for testing. You know the rest of the story from there, sir. Would you like to try it out, ma’am?”

“Certainly, Mister Trevor.” She laid the rifle on the table and inserted a loaded magazine. She then took the rifle over to the firing line next to one of the posts holding up the roof and nodded, waiting for the rangemaster to give permission to fire.

“Ready on the firing line! Commence firing!”

Viola hooked the rifle’s charging handle on the post and pushed forward, forcing the handle back. When she pulled it away from the post, the handle and bolt snapped forward, chambering the first round from the magazine. She raised the rifle and began firing, leaning forward slightly to offset the recoil. In a moment the fifteen rounds were gone, the bolt locked open on the empty magazine. She laid it on the table after the rangemaster called cease fire.

“What do you think, ma’am?”

“Well, it has somewhat more recoil than my rifle, but I suppose that’s to be expected considering the reduced weight. Might I have another magazine? I should like to try the automatic setting. Mine doesn’t have that.”

“Certainly, ma’am” said Hillman. He handed her a 40 round magazine from a Model 1928 machine gun. She inserted it, moved the selector to the automatic position, and walked back to the firing line. The VIP guests were all staring at her.

“Ready on the firing line! Commence firing!”

She leaned forward again, raising the sights to her eye. As she had been coached to do beforehand, she fired in short bursts, the empty cases flying out from under her cheek. All too soon, she was out of ammo again.

“It can’t be that easy to use” Marshal Merwin shouted.

“But it is, Field Marshal. The rifle’s design make it so the recoil goes straight back, with only a little muzzle climb that can be handled with the proper technique, as Mrs. von Stahlberg has demonstrated. Would you like to try it?”

“Damn right I do, Trevor. But not that one. I want to put together a different one.”

“Certainly, sir. We have enough parts here to make a dozen rifles, enough for each of you to try one.”

Merwin, Hearns, and the senior Ordnance men all went to the table and began putting rifles together. Viola sat down next to the Secretary of War.

“That was an impressive demonstration, ma’am. Obviously you’ve done a fair bit of shooting before this.”

“Indeed I have, Mister Secretary. Something my husband taught me to enjoy. I only wish those had been Frenchmen down at the other end of the range, not mere paper targets.”

“I understand how you feel, ma’am.” He turned to face Mr. Trevor. “George, how soon can you get these things into production?”

“We’re equipped to produce a thousand rifles a week now, Mister Secretary, By the end of next month, we can boost that to three thousand a week, assuming no supply difficulties.”

Field Marshal Hearns walked up, cradling one of the rifles like it was a newborn baby and grinning like a schoolboy. “Mister Secretary, I want as many of these things as we can get. They’re perfect for the airmobile forces.”

“I agree, Isaac. How do you think the troops will react to them?”

“Well, sir, once my Marines hear that the Admiral’s wife shot a passing score with one arm, they’ll be all over them like white on rice.” He nodded to Viola. “Ma’am, that was an outstanding performance. You have a real talent for this. Would you be available for demonstrations to the troops?”

Viola beamed with pride. She really had come to enjoy shooting since coming to Texas, and the events of the last years had reinforced that. “I’m sure something can be arranged, Marshal Hearns.”

Copyright 2025 D.A. Brock

 I apologize for the lack of updates. I’ve been tied up with my day job and family issues. I have seen the posts asking if I’m ok, and I appreciate your concern.

One thing that will be happening is that I’m going to split the current book into two, so ‘The Lone Star, the Red Banner, and the Rising Sun’ will be book 4, covering 1942 - 1943, then book 5 will cover 1944 to the end of the war.

The working title for book 5 right now is ‘Texas at the Endgame’. What do y’all think of this?

Snippet coming soon.

 Sorry for the delay in posting. I’m still working, slowly but surely.

Here is another snippet to ease the withdrawal symptoms. Karl is subbing for the injured copilot on a flight from Moscow…

“Does that screwball not understand that we ain’t as fast as he is?” Ames complained for about the tenth time in the past two hours. It was obvious that the screwball in question didn’t understand the speed difference between a Petlyakov PE-2 and a Packmule. Nor did the Soviet pilot understand that the Texan autogyro couldn’t fly as high as he clearly wanted it to do, thanks to the lack of an oxygen system. They were currently cruising at 130 knots indicated at 10,000 feet, just short of the Packmule’s top speed under normal conditions.

The PE-2’s gunner leaned out of his cockpit with a signal light and began flashing a message to the Texans. Karl read it out, his Morse almost as bad as the gunner’s English. “‘Must.. fly… more.. fast… Nazi… fighters… in… area… more… quickly… now…’ Well, that explains their agitation. Have you ever flown a ‘gyro with an unloaded rotor, Mister Ames?”

“Un-loaded rotor? Howinhell do you do that, sir?”

“Hmmm, I guess they’re still not teaching that in the advanced ‘gyro course. Let me show you.”

“Your bird, sir.” Ames had a doubtful look on his face.

Karl took over control of the ‘gyro, advancing the throttles to the stops. He then set the flaps on the stub wings down to 10 degrees. Finally, he reached for the rotor pitch control and began slowly flattening out the blades, reducing their lift. To Ames’ amazement, not only did they not fall out of the sky, they maintained altitude and the airspeed indicator began slowly climbing. 135… 140… 145… Finally, it topped out at 148 knots indicated, which, for the current air conditions gave them a true airspeed of nearly 160 knots.

“That can’t be, sir! Howinhell does that work?”

“Well, at speeds over a hundred knots or so, the stub wings are actually providing a fair bit of the overall lift. Enough so that it’s possible to reduce the pitch on the rotor, which, of course, reduces its lift. And if it’s not producing as much lift…”

Ames smiled as the idea got through to him. “It’s not producing as much drag, meaning we can go faster. And by adding a little flap on the stub wings, that boosts their lift without much of a drag increase. Giving equivalent overall lift for less overall drag. Damn, why don’t they teach that in the flight schools, sir?”

“Because it’s too easy to unload the rotor too much, causing it to flap and lose RPM. I’m riding the ragged edge right now. Another few degrees of pitch and bad things will start happening. It also cuts way down on our maneuverability. But we seem to be keeping up with our escort, for the moment anyways.”

“Looks like it. Damn, Admiral, where’d you learn that trick?”

“The owners of Brazos River Aeronautics were my roommates in college. I did a lot of test flying on their early prototypes between Navy assignments. Tell your loadmaster to have everyone in the back start keeping an eye on the outside. If there really are Kraut fighters snooping around, that could be big trouble.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Ames waved to the loadmaster and shouted Karl’s instructions to him. The loadmaster nodded and went back to the passengers.

It wasn’t long at all before the Soviet’s fears were realized. “Bogies eight o’clock high!” The loadmaster shouted.

“How many? Are they attacking?” Karl shouted back.

“Looks like three… NO, four of ‘em. Turning toward us now!”

********************

Aboard the lead German fighter

The flight was actually a pair of Bf-109s escorting a pair of Ju-87 dive bombers. They were returning from a strike mission on a road junction. The flight leader spotted the unusual formation below.

“Achtung! Enemy aircraft two o’clock low! One bomber, probably a PE-2, and one… Gott in Himmel, was ist das?”

The other 109 pilot, who had recently transferred from the Mediterranean, replied. “It’s an autogyro, Herr Major! The Texans use them to carry troops and supplies. But why is one here in the middle of Russia?”

“It doesn’t matter, they are enemy aircraft, so they are targets. Willi, you and I will take the bomber. Leutnant Harz, you and your wingman will take the strange thing.”

The other pilots acknowledged their orders, and the four planes split into pairs to pursue their chosen game.

********************

Aboard the Packmule

Ames shouted “The bogies are splitting up! Two going after the Russkies, and two after us!”

“Let me know when they’re about in firing position” Karl shouted back.

The loadmaster called out “Permission to drop the rear ramp and break out the tail guns?”

“Not just yet, Mickey. I think the Admiral has some maneuvers planned. Y’all better strap in!”

“Got it, boss!”

Ames looked out his side windows at the diving Germans. “They’re Stukas, Admiral! Almost there…NOW!”

Karl chopped the throttles, then brought the rotor back to full flight pitch. The effect was like slamming on the brakes. The ‘gyro pitched nose up and slowed down rapidly, causing the Stukas to overshoot. He stomped on the left rudder pedal, causing the whole aircraft to pivot underneath the rotor, reversing direction in less than a heartbeat. The rapid turn caused the German pilots to lose track of their prey.

“Ames! Is there ammo in the nose guns?”

“Yessir! I had a full load put aboard, just in case!”

“Bless you, my son! Have the loadmaster drop the ramp now!”

“Aye, sir!”

Karl continued the turn, ending up on the tail of a by now quite confused Stuka. Normally this wouldn’t have been a very useful place to be. However, after the introduction of the Wasp showed the way, it had become popular among Packmule crews to mount a pair of guns, usually .50’s, on the noses of their ‘gyros. After all, why should the attack pilots have all the fun. Unfortunately, this field modification usually didn’t include mounting a gunsight for them, the pilots relying on tracers to walk their fire into the target.

When the angle looked right, Karl fired a burst, missing the German low and to the right. He quickly corrected his aim and tried again. Too much rudder. A final adjustment was rewarded with flashes marking hits on the wing root and fuselage of the hapless Stuka. It rolled over to the left and dove toward the ground below. It never pulled out.

“Where’s that other Stuka” Karl shouted, mentally cursing his missing eye.

“Five o’clock low, the loadmaster’s lighting him up now!”

That was indeed what was happening at the rear of the autogyro. The loadmaster had unlocked and lowered the loading ramp, which allowed the Model 1928A light machine guns that were mounted to either side to be pointed out the back. The Loadmaster was on one gun, while CWO O’Donnell had grabbed the other one. They took turns lining up and firing at the trailing Stuka.

They were unlikely to do any real damage to the German plane since the Texan’s rifle round, an offshoot of the civilian .300 Savage hunting cartridge, was less powerful than the ones used in German, British, or American rifles. However, the tracers would likely make the enemy pilot cautious about trying to attack the rear of the fleeing ‘gyro.

While this was happening the two 109s had gone after the PE-2, which was maneuvering wildly to evade their fire. The radio operator on that plane was also calling for help as loudly as he could, the plane’s transmitter turned up to maximum power.

Karl continued his deadly dance with the remaining Stuka, dodging its fire while never quite getting into position for a return shot. It should have been over quickly, as the Stuka was much faster than the Packmule. The ‘gyro’s extreme maneuverability and Karl’s skill were evening things out. But unless help came soon, there was only one ending for this battle. Even if the other Stuka was somehow knocked out, there were still the two 109s to worry about. Not to mention the possibility of more Krauts showing up.

Fortunately, It was the Soviet reinforcements that arrived first, in the form of a pair of Yak-1 fighters from a nearby fighter base. These dove on the unsuspecting Messerschmitts, catching them both by surprise at about the same time that Karl had finally managed to turn the tables on his pursuer. The Stuka, trailing smoke from its engine, turned and ran west, toward the German lines.

“Is everybody alright back there?”

“Checking now, Admiral.” Ames unlatched his seat belts and went to the passenger compartment. He returned a few moments later. “All secure for the moment, sir. No major damage, and only one casualty.”

“Who was it?”

“Chief Petty Officer Diaz. He caught a round through his head, dead instantly.”

“Damn. Can you take over, Ames? I’m ‘bout worn out.”

Ames buckled himself back into the left seat. “My bird, sir.”

Karl nodded and released his death grip on the control yoke. “Your bird. I guess put us back onto our base course to Arkhangelsk. Hopefully we have enough fuel to get there.”

Copyright 2025 D.A. Brock

 Sorry for the long silence. I’m doing a lot better health-wise, but the day job and family issues are still being a pain.

Nevertheless, writing continues. I submit the following snippet for your approval…

June 27, 1942 - Off Western Iceland

The time between Karl’s return to the fleet in Sardinia and today had mostly been spent in meetings with his British and American counterparts, working out the last minute details of the operation. After reviewing the existing plan, Karl had agreed that no changes were necessary other then those needed to integrate the Texas forces into the three escort groups and to allow for the fact that he would be commanding at sea instead of from Whitehall, as Admiral Pound had planned on doing.

After adjustments for ships in need of maintenance or repair of combat damage, and a shortage of cold weather gear for the crews going north, the Texas Navy’s contribution started with eight T-200 class subchasers, two Fayette County class destroyers, and the light cruisers Odessa and Texarkana, which would be assigned to the close escort under Cmdr. Jack Broome, RN. This was the actual escort of the convoy, and would stay with the merchant ships all the way to Arkhangelsk, at the base of the White Sea in the Russian part of the Soviet Union.

Next was the Covering Force, under Rear Admiral Louis Hamilton, RN. Karl had assigned the Dallas class cruisers Houston and San Antonio to that force, along with another pair of Fayette Counties and the light cruisers New Braunfels and Beaumont. Dallas herself was still in the Med, replacing the lost Albuquerque as Vice Admiral Frank Buchanan’s flagship, along with all four of the Martiniques, which would have been of no use on this mission as Karl had no intention of launching any amphibious landings.

Finally, there was the Distant Force, under Admiral Sir John Tovey, RN, aboard the battleship HMS Duke of York. This consisted of a task force from the Royal Navy’s Home Fleet, which Tovey commanded, along with the U.S.Navy’s Task Force 39, which included the battleship USS Washington. To this, Karl added the remainder of his forces, the carriers San Jacinto and Tampico, armored cruisers Galveston, Brownsville, and Laredo, with four more Fayette County class destroyers. El Paso had finally completed her repairs and modernization and was sailing to Britain as fast as she could but would not take part in this operation. She would remain in Scapa Flow and work with the rest of the Home Fleet.

In all, Karl had at his command, two battleships, three aircraft carriers, three armored cruisers, eight heavy cruisers, five light cruisers, three minesweepers, and a nearly uncountable number of destroyers, subchasers, corvettes, ASW trawlers, and anti-aircraft ships. Oh, and two British P-611 class submarines.

All of that to protect the 35 merchant ships carrying just over 78,000 standard tons of desperately needed war materials to the Soviet Union. Convoy PQ-17 began the journey north.

Copyright 2025, D.A. Brock