Altered States

Chapter 31

Denmark Strait ~18 June, 1940 ~ 08:00 hrs

“Something up ahead on radar, sir.” Kalinichev gave the report matter of factly and Rodenko came to his station to have a look.

“The signal is very weak and somewhat dispersed.” Rodenko studied it for some time then went to Fedorov with his report.

“Captain, we have a weak contact ahead, about ten kilometers out now. I believe it is flotsam.”

“We had no surface contacts for ships on that heading. Could it be drift ice? ”

“More likely a debris field. We’re well out in the channel so I don’t think this is ice. We could use the helicopter to verify or perhaps the Tin Man could give is a better look ahead.”

“Let’s keep the KA-40 aboard at the moment. Use the Tin Man.”

Moments later they could make out distant shapes on the overhead monitor that appeared to be two lifeboats on the sea, riding the restless swells. In time they encountered a wide oil slick and small fragments of floating debris, spars, deck planks, a section of mast, rigging and canvass. Something had gone down here, and then the bodies in the sea told the tale. Kirov slowed to five knots to have a closer look, seeing a lifeless man bobbing in a circular life preserver, and the stenciled name of his ship was now evident. It was HMS Birmingham.

“So the British cruisers did not fare well,” said Fedorov. “Make for that nearest life raft. And get launches ready to recover survivors.”

“You want to bring them aboard?”

“Where else, Rodenko? We can’t leave them here, can we? Detail Sergeant Troyak to supervise the recovery operation. I will notify the Admiral.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Mister Nikolin.”

“Sir?”

“Please report to Sergeant Troyak on the launch deck and accompany his operation. I’d go myself but your English is better and it will come in handy. Report on the identity of the survivors by ship’s channel radio, please.”

When Troyak and a detachment of Marines reached the boats they found the men there hungry and cold, but alive. There were five in one boat, six in the second, where Nikolin reported that the ship’s Captain was present, and in need of medical attention.

The Admiral agreed that there was no recourse but to render aid and bring the survivors aboard. The crewmen were given medical attention, a good meal and quartered off the helo hanger deck, their eyes goggling a bit when they first got sight of the KA-40. Fedorov put out a message on the ship’s intercom for English speakers to report to Troyak and selected a Mishman to serve as a liaison with the British there. Captain Madden was taken to the sick bay for a lacerated arm, and when Admiral Volsky and Fedorov arrived with Nikolin, there he sat next to Doctor Zolkin, the two men both in bandages and chatting amiably in English, as Zolkin had studied in London for some years earlier in his career.

“Ah, Fedorov, Admiral,” said Zolkin in Russian. “May I present Captain Alexander Madden, HMS Birmingham. Apparently they had a run in with a German heavy cruiser and did not fare so well. The Captain here tells me that they took several hits, and could not flood their forward magazines before they exploded. Most unfortunate.”

“Kindly offer the Captain my regrets,” said Volsky. “Particularly for heavy loss of life. We have recovered another four men in the flotsam, and I have ordered a further search to see if we can find anyone else out there, but for the moment there are only fifteen survivors”

Zolkin translated, and the Admiral smiled at his old friend, seeing the animated life had returned to his eyes as he first introduced the Admiral and Fedorov. As Zolkin’s English seemed quite adequate, Nikolin was able to return to his post on the bridge.

“What ship are you, if I may ask, Admiral?” said Madden, somewhat bedraggled but recovering his strength after I.V. fluids and some good food and coffee.

“We are the cruiser Kirov, a Russian ship as you may have deduced.”

“Well you are certainly very far from home waters here, Admiral, and in fairly dangerous waters if the fate of my ship is any testimony. We were trying to intercept and shadow a pair of German battlecruisers, but it seems there were three German ships and they got the best of us. They’re likely well south by now.”

Zolkin translated, and Volsky nodded.

“He’s been remarking on the size of our ship, Admiral, and I think he would have many questions.”

“As do I,” said Volsky. He decided to get round to his real reason for wanting to speak with the British Captain. “Doctor, be so kind as to tell the Captain that we believe there are several British warships south east of our present position, and we could see that he is given safe passage to those ships.”

Captain Madden brightened at that news, thanking the Admiral.

“Tell him also that our ship is presently a neutral in this conflict, but I would be most interested in meeting with the commander of those British ships. I wonder if he might be able to make the introductions and smooth the way for such a meeting. Our ship is, indeed far from home and, as you have seen, we present a fairly respectable silhouette. I would not wish to alarm your British friends by making a sudden approach under these circumstances. Would the Captain assist us in making this contact?”

Zolkin translated and Madden looked from one to the other. “I can’t think that it would be I any way improper. I clearly saw your naval ensign, and yes, I would be pleased to call ahead on your behalf and eager to do so. We have not been able to communicate with superior officers as to our fate since my ship went down. In fact, we failed to get off anything more than a brief message indicating we were engaged. I believe it was the Admiral Hipper that happened on us, just as we sent Manchester off. That was our companion cruiser on patrol here. We managed to lead Hipper off in a fairly wild run, and she seemed keen on engaging us. I wonder if you’ve had any word on Manchester?”

“We have not encountered the ship,” said Volsky, “but I believe it was able to slip away. We saw the action on radar. You succeeded in leading the Germans off, sir, and may have saved your companions from a similar fate by sacrificing your own ship. I ask you to take heart with that thought. The fortunes of war can be cruel and hard, but we must find some way to muddle through. Yes, I think your Manchester is safely on her way south.”

“That is a great relief. Radar you say? I was not aware that you navy had deployed the devices. If we’d had our sets installed in time I might not be in this position now.”

Volsky could see the flash of anxiety in the man’s eyes, the weight of responsibility he carried here, and the restrained way in which he held his obvious sorrow over the loss of his ship and most of his crew.

“Well, Captain Madden,” he said. “These last days have been very hard. Please get some rest and, when the good Doctor here feels you are fit, I will be pleased to meet with you again and we can contact your comrades.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” said Zolkin, smiling as he translated. “You are very kind, and your assistance is much appreciated.”

“And how is that arm and shoulder, Doctor?” Volsky pointed at Zolkin’s bandages.

“Well enough, Admiral. This old bird still has some life in him. Don’t worry about me.”

As they walked to the bridge Fedorov finally spoke. “So you plan to meet with the British commanders, sir?”

“That has been on my mind, Fedorov. The last meeting went fairly well in the Mediterranean, wouldn’t you say? You have seen Nikolin’s message intercepts. The British Admiral Tovey is coming to rendezvous with an Admiral Holland. As for the Germans, they appear to have gone off north to refuel. Both sides are huddling, but something tells me they will soon be deploying again, and we are still right in the middle of things here, with a reactor down, damage to the bow and house guests.”

“Chief Byko reports he’s made good progress on the bow, sir. They have sealed off the sonar bulge, and patched the damaged section from the outside. We’ve lost the sonar there, but I think we can make way now if the reactor comes back on line soon. Dobrynin says he felt it necessary to remove the special control rod there and mount a spare, sir. He believes he can begin ramping up power in another three hours.”

“That is good news.

* * *

Admiral Holland was on the flag plot room of HMS Hood when the radio call came in. His Flag Lieutenant, Commander Smith seemed a bit surprised by the call. “Radio message, sir, using our call sign.”

“Radio message? Not on the W/T?”

“Radio, sir. Captain Madden off Birmingham.”

“Well it’s about time we heard something. Where is he?”

“About a hundred kilometers off, sir according to Captain Madden, but he’s not on Birmingham.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She ran afoul of the Hipper, sir, and got the worst of it. 8-inch shell hit her forward magazine and blew the forecastle sky high. We lost her. Madden made it off alive but there were only fifteen survivors.”

“Fifteen? My God…there were over 700 men aboard…Damn bloody business.”

“He was picked up by that Russian cruiser that Tovey asked us to investigate.”

“All this was transmitted in the clear? What’s gotten into Madden’s head besides seawater. The man took a hard knock but the security breach is appalling.”

“I did mention that, sir. But this ship was not identified in the transmissions. I suppose he hasn’t revealed anything the Germans don’t already know. A request has been made for a rendezvous, sir. The Russian Admiral wishes to speak with you or Admiral Tovey.”

“Admiral? On a cruiser? This is most irregular, Mister Smith.”

“Yes sir, but the Russians would like to transfer the survivors off Birmingham. Shall we arrange it? The Captain says they can join us in three hours time.”

“How in blazes would he be able to say that? The man has no idea where we are.”

“That thought crossed my mind as well, sir, but Captain Madden says he can explain later.”

“Will he? At least he kept something under his hat.”

Holland thought about it. All this in the clear for the German B-Dienst signals teams to intercept. But other than the number of survivors off Birmingham nothing of import was revealed.

“Well I can’t see any harm in it. Tovey wanted us to investigate this contact earlier, but the Twins set us off on another course. So I suppose we would be following orders to arrange such a meeting. See to it, Mister Smith, but use the W/T please. No radio transmission.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Were holding in place here to await Home Fleet. See that Admiral Tovey is informed.”

“Aye, sir.”

* * *

Far to the north another meeting was being arranged, this time in the silent wink of a lamp from the German destroyer Beowulf as it made its approach to the rendezvous point with the tanker Nordmark. The destroyer was leading in the core of the German fleet, some three kilometers behind in a line of four big ships with another two destroyers keeping station to either side of Graf Zeppelin.

Aboard Bismarck, Lindemann had received Hoffmann’s request and decided the rendezvous would be wise. It would further strengthen his task force, and when they caught sight of Scharnhorst looming out of the thick fog to the south, he smiled with the realization that he was now commanding the largest joint task force, and certainly the most powerful one that Germany had put to sea since Jutland. It was an historical moment, but he chided himself for basking in the glow, the sober thought that the British were most likely gathering to the south reminding him that this was not a time for chest thumping.

An hour later Kapitan Hoffmann was in a launch coming across from Scharnhorst while repair crews from Nordmark shipped over to see how they might assist with the damage control on Gneisenau. When the man finally boarded, Lindemann could smell Hoffmann coming as he ascended the stairway up from the lower decks. His cigar was leaving a nice aromatic trail on the cool air. He sat in the chart room with his First Officer, Korvettenkapitan Oels. All the other Kapitans were there, Karl Topp who had come across from Tirpitz and Kurt Böhmer off Graf Zeppelin. The two “Helmuths,’ Brinkmann off Prinz Eugen and Heye off the Hipper were exchanging notes together. Lastly Otto Fein was over from Gneisenau. He had not been scheduled to take command until August, but that was moved up for this mission, and now he was unfortunate to find his was the only ship that had been hit and damaged by the enemy.

“Greetings, Kapitan Hoffmann. I don’t suppose you brought one of those cigars for the rest of us?”

“A whole box,” said Hoffmann, “and you can split them up any way you like. They were a gift from Kapitan Langsdorff when he returned from South America. Now there was a man who loved a good cigar.”

“I suppose the honor of the first pick must go to Kapitan Böhmer,” said Lindemann. “His Stukas put a couple of dents in HMS Renown, or so we now know from Seekrieigsleitung. Give the next to Kapitan Heye for sinking that British cruiser, and the third I think you have already smoked, Hoffmann. That is for sending the other cruiser running off home. But it appears the celebration stops there, gentlemen. In exchange the British have sunk Altmark and poked a good size hole in Gneisenau from the looks of it. Now what is this business about another British warship in the strait and how is it we have repair crews from Nordmark all over your ship, Kapitan Fein?”

Fein looked at Hoffmann, a knowing glance, and then spoke. “Damndest thing I ever saw at sea,” he said. “We spotted what looked to be a large British warship, very large, but there was something very odd about it.”

“Odd is not but half a word for it,” said Hoffmann, still puffing on his cigar. “This ship was big, threatening, clearly a warship by design, yet for its size we could see no real guns to speak of. Now I have heard of trying to camouflage your ship to make it appear smaller, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you do not easily hide guns of the caliber that would normally be mounted on a warship of that size.”

“Just how big was this ship?” Lindemann was listening closely, his eyes narrowed, prominent ears vectoring in like radars.

“To be honest, Kapitan, I thought it was the size of HMS Hood. In fact at first blush we thought it might be Hood, but the silhouette was all wrong.”

“It had no stacks as Hood should have,” Fein put in.

“That was another thing,” Hoffmann held out his cigar, letting the thin trails of smoke curl their way up from the ashen tip. “No smoke either. The ship was cruising at probably fifteen knots, but making no visible smoke.”

“You engaged this ship?”

“We did. I fired a warning shot across the bow thinking this might be an American ship. That is the last time I act as a gentleman in these waters,” said Hoffmann. “But I wasn’t quite sure what I had in front of me. It’s what came back that we must now discuss, gentlemen.” He looked askance at Fein, who waited, a grim expression on his face.

“Your dispatch said something about a rocket. I assumed you were writing poetry, Hoffmann. You say this ship had no big guns but it obviously returned enough fire to blast that hole in Gneisenau.”

“Oh it returned fire, Kapitan Lindemann, but not with its guns. We were hit by something else, something quite extraordinary, and every man here would be wise to heed my words on this, because if the rest of the British fleet has this weaponry, the entire nature of warfare at sea has just sailed into new waters and we have missed the boat.”