Crescendo of Doom

Chapter 13

Admiral Raeder was beside himself. The news of the cancelation of the third Hindenburg Class battleship, the Brandenburg, had been a hard enough blow. Now this! He stared at the order he had in hand, signed by the Führer himself, and realized that his naval Plan Z was now doomed.

“In light of the fact that our capital ships have made no significant contribution to the war effort, and with the necessity of utilizing every resource possible, all further construction on new ships under Plan Z is to be halted, effective immediately. Ships presently in yards that are less that 80% complete, and not scheduled for sea trials before January 1942 are to be summarily scrapped. U-Boat construction is exempt from this order and shall proceed as planned, as is any conversion of captured enemy vessels deemed to be seaworthy within the allotted time period. Steel recovered from the shipyard cancellations is to be redirected to the Reichsminister for employment in construction of our new heavy tank programs, and to support continued production for the Luftwaffe.”

Brandenburg was a mere hull, but now they are taking Oldenburg from me, he thought grimly. The last status report clearly designated its status as being 75% complete. We are only waiting for the gun turrets to arrive, but given this order I have a strong suspicion they will be a long time coming. We will never get the ship ready before January. I need at least nine months. The repairs to Scharnhorst, and now Bismarck and Hindenburg, have slowed everything down. Who was behind this? Doenitz? Goering? Halder?

Doenitz has always been a strong advocate of his U-Boat arm, and frankly, not without good reason. He can claim the lion’s share of enemy tonnage sunk thus far in the war, and for Oldenburg we could easily build twenty more good U-Boats. But he would never advocate such a thing behind my back, not without coming to me with it first and hearing me out. No. This was not the doing of Doenitz.

Goering? That fat spider has his hand in everything these days, including the oil production plans for the entire war effort. My fleet allocations have been leaner and leaner with this big Russian operation imminent, and that line concerning increased production for the Luftwaffe is suspicious.

But again, he thought, where did I get my hits in all these early fleet actions? It was Graf Zeppelin that really made the difference in the engagements we fought. Those Stukas off the carrier delivered more damage to the enemy than all my capital ships combined! So I must do everything possible to protect Peter Strasser. Adding another carrier to the fleet may be the strongest possible thing we could do. For that matter, we must put every resource possible now into the conversion of that captured French carrier, and any other Flugdeck Cruiser close to completion. This means I will lose all the other keels for the remaining O-Class battlecruisers, and there will be no more Panzerschiff raiders commissioned. The five new ocean going destroyers I have ready for trials will be the last of that brood…

Raeder was running down the list of ships in his mind like a mother hen counting her eggs. Halder, he thought. It had to be Halder. He has been opposed to my Mediterranean strategy all along, and now that his brainchild in Barbarossa is ready to launch, he wants to secure all the supplies, steel, and oil he can for the Wehrmacht. And why not? The real barb in Hitler’s order is the sad truth that all my ships have accomplished to date is the bombardment of the Faeroes Islands and that one big convoy we feasted on. Doenitz delivers that same tonnage every week! Since Hindenburg broke out, and even with Gibraltar in our hands now, our battleships have been little more than targets for those damnable new British naval rockets.

The squall that blew in with that thought added a deeper shade of grey to Raeder’s mood, and he realized that these new weapons were the overture to the death knell of his battlefleet. What has Hindenburg done in the Mediterranean? It sailed with the French, the most powerful fleet the world has ever seen, and could still do nothing more than catch fire when these rockets were used. That is the real story behind this order—missiles are rendering all our existing naval thinking obsolete. The day of the big battleship is over, though old stubborn sea dogs like me will not wish to admit that. As for the carriers, that is another matter. Marco Ritter and his pilots have proven themselves, but again, that makes the Graf Zeppelin the real pride of the fleet, not Hindenburg. The battleship has been sitting in Toulon getting new armor welded and repairing her superstructure. In the meantime, the British have tried to bomb the place three times.

I would give my right arm if I could get my hands on one of these new enemy rockets. Word is that they now have two ships in the Med armed with these weapons, and together they were responsible for stopping Goering’s planes, and putting all that damage on the battlefleet. Then, when their work is done, along comes Admiral Tovey in HMS Invincible to pick up the table scraps. Look what they did to the Italian fleet! They have pulled most of their battleships back to La Spezia, and getting them out to sea again will be like pulling teeth. As for the French, the Normandie is a wonderful ship, but it has done nothing this year but shuttle from Casablanca to Toulon to Taranto. The British took a beating the first time they tangled with the French, but my ships have not been so fortunate.

He shook his head, clearly disturbed, and realized that he was now as useless as the Hindenburg had been. What have I done to prosecute this war, he thought? Here I have let this business in the Mediterranean run away with my best capital ships. I have divided my fleet, when I might have achieved a decisive engagement here in the north, particularly with Tovey away from Home Fleet. The war in the Med looked to be most promising. Then Rommel takes a pounding, and now the stalemate in Syria will make it impossible for us to achieve our aims before Hitler attacks the Soviets.

So what to do?

The British had detached two more battleships to reinforce their fleet at Alexandria. They were taken from Force H and sent round the cape with that big convoy of new supplies and material. Rommel is finally ready to move again, but he may find the British have more waiting for him than he believes. And what about this new British tank everyone has been talking about… yes! That is the real reason behind this order… ‘Steel recovered from the shipyard cancellations is to be redirected to the Reichsminister for employment in construction of our new heavy tank programs…’

It seems the British have more tricks up their sleeve than these new naval rockets. While we were busy building these ponderous new battleships, they were working on tanks and rockets, and they have trumped my ace, damn them all. Rockets, advanced radars, a tank that is now impervious to our best AT guns… And now the Führer wants me to scrap the Oldenburg, collect all the steel, and send it to Goebbels and Todt for new heavy tank production. This was inevitable. I knew it from the first moment I laid out Plan Z for Hitler all those years ago. Back then he wanted the biggest ships in the world, and I had to plead with him to allow me to use 16-inch guns instead of the 18 or 20-inch guns he was demanding. Now look what has happened. The enemy has a weapon that can smash my battleships and set off raging fires on them from well over the horizon. Lütjens and Lindemann tell me they never even set eyes on the ship that inflicted all this damage.

So now the war comes down to tanks and rockets, but that has not been set in stone yet. I might still accomplish something if I set my mind to it, and stop bemoaning a fate that I could see coming long ago. What to do, Raeder, he asked himself? First off, collect your fleet. It is not big enough to rule the Mediterranean while also planning operations here in the North Atlantic. There is only one thing that matters to the Führer, victories. Unless I deliver one, and a victory that really makes a difference, then the navy is good for little more than coastal defense.

He shrugged, realizing the futility of all he had been working towards these many long years. Time to get Hindenburg and Bismarck home, he thought. I will order them to Gibraltar tonight, and then we will see about a little sleight of hand up north so they can break out into the Atlantic. These new rocket ships are at Alexandria. They will not be able to intervene without first sailing all the way around the Cape of Good Hope. That will take them three weeks, or even a month, considering they must stop along the way to refuel. Yet, at this moment, Hindenburg is a mere 36 hours from Gibraltar at 20 knots. If I plan this carefully, the British will not be able to react. Their Force H has been operating from the Ascension and Canary Islands.

He looked for a map now, mentally plotting out ship’s courses and headings in his mind. Somerville had most of his force at the Grand Canary harbor when those other battleships moved south with that convoy some weeks ago. From our latest reports, his capital ships still remain there, a single aircraft carrier and a few cruisers! He’s been mounting cruiser patrols north to cover the approaches to Gibraltar, but as we have nothing of consequence there, he has had no reason to sortie with anything else.

He took up a pair of calipers and walked them across the map. Hindenburg is 36 hours from Gibraltar, at 20 knots. Force H is 26 hours to the south at that same speed. That would give Somerville ten hours to react if I move to Gibraltar now. But at 25 knots I can trim a good bit off that. Yes, at 25 knots I can have Hindenburg to the straits in just 29 hours, and if I order all ahead full, and make a mad dash at 30 knots, I can get them to Gibraltar in just 24 hours, too fast for Somerville to react! Even if he got up steam and set out immediately, he would still be 2 hours late. Yes… It could be done. Hindenburg can run for the Atlantic this very moment. With any luck the British will be some hours, or even a day realizing what I am doing. By that time it will be too late.

He smiled, feeling like a fresh breeze of good ocean air had cleared the trouble from his mind. We built this fleet to fight in the Atlantic. We built it to be strong enough to bull our way past the Royal Navy and then find and sink those nice fat convoys. Sending Hindenburg to the Mediterranean was a good operation, but the enemy has reacted well enough. With the combined might of the Italian, French and German ships, we should have crushed the Royal Navy, but they were able to engage our flotillas piecemeal, beating the Italians before we could get east to coordinate operations with them. In the meantime, the British have had nice quiet days in the North Atlantic. Doenitz has been carrying the fight to the convoys, and now we see the results of my lassitude in these new orders from the Führer. I must correct that, and soon, or I can see the death of the entire surface fleet in the years ahead. The old maxim is true—use it or lose it. The Führer’s words still burned in his mind,…our capital ships have made no significant contribution to the war effort…. Well, all that is about to change!

Now it is time to steal a march on the enemy, and get my big ships into the Atlantic where I at least have a chance to win some victories. Only then can I have any chance of saving what remains in the shipyards. Yes, I need a victory, and a substantial one.

He smiled, feeling like a naval commander again, and not a logistician calculating oil tonnage deliveries and steel allocations. Doenitz has been fighting his war all along, while I have been sitting on my thumbs, ignoring the convoys. He turned, his resolve mustering, and called for a staffer.

“Send Enigma encoded orders to Admiral Lütjens at Toulon.”

Lütjens was in his stateroom when those orders came. There was a soft knock on the door, and Kapitan Karl Adler came in, removing his cap and saluting.

“New orders sir. We are to get up steam for immediate departure.”

Lütjens gave him a surprised look. “What’s this? Immediate departure? The work crews are still welding those new deck plates. What is happening, Adler? Are the British up to something?”

“No sir, from all reports their fleet is still off Alexandria.”

“Ah,” said Lütjens, with the tone of realization in his voice. “It’s Rommel again, yes? He’s finally got his tanks and fuel oil and now he wants to move east again. I was expecting this. Usually it is the Royal Navy bombarding the coast road along that desert, but now they have work for our 16 inch guns. Yes?”

“I’m afraid not sir. We’ve been ordered back to Gibraltar.”

“Gibraltar? Whatever for?”

At this point Adler thought it best to simply step over and hand off the decrypt he was holding. He watched as Lütjens scanned it, the lines of his brow deepening as he did so.

“Your entire force is ordered to Gibraltar at the best possible speed… What do you make of this, Adler?”

“Something for us in the Atlantic?”

“Most likely. These orders come directly from Admiral Raeder, and reading between the lines, I see more here than may appear at first glance. We are to make our best speed? That can only mean that he is trying to get us out into the Atlantic before Somerville can do anything about it. Very well, I will take it on faith that the Grand Admiral has some earnest business in mind. How soon before we can get up steam for operations?”

“I had us on four hour steam, sir. But I think I can speed that along. Let me get down to the boiler room and see what Schultz can do about it. Shall I signal the other ships in the task force?”

“Of course. I assume Bismarck is also on four hour steam?”

“Repairs are well in hand there, sir. And the new crews arrived some weeks ago. The ship will be ready.”

“Very well. Then get all the geese lined up and ready to fly, Kapitan. Bismarck, Kaiser, Goeben, we pull anchors and head east in four hours, midnight. What is the moon doing?”

“An evening crescent will be an hour above the horizon at midnight, but the weather calls for low clouds. We should be able to slip away unnoticed.”

“Just the same, the British may have eyes in this port, and our departure may be reported. In that case, I want you to leak an order that we will be moving east to support this business Rommel is stirring up again. The British will likely come to that same conclusion anyway. It could buy us just a little more time. We’ll make our course due south at the outset. Get a signal off to Malta. Tell them they are to clear a berthing in the Grand Harbor there. If the British think we are dusting off a chair there for Hindenburg, all the better.”

“What do you make of these orders, sir?”

“What else, Adler? The convoys! That is why this ship was built, was it not? Something tells me Admiral Raeder has had a revelation. The British have just reinforced their fleet at Alexandria with two more battleships. I hate to slip away without paying the tab here, but I think Raeder has seen a good opportunity for us to do some hunting.”

He smiled. “And those rocket ships will be here, Adler. If we follow these orders to the letter and make for Gibraltar at our best speed, they will be three thousand kilometers behind us at Alexandria, and at least a month before they could get round the cape of Good Hope. In the meantime, we will rage in the Atlantic, and rule the sea. What could be better?”

Yes, thought Adler, what could be better? We tried to run with the wolves, and took a nasty bite for our trouble. So now we go off looking for sheep. He gave Lütjens a half hearted salute and started for the bridge.

Chapter 14

Admiral Tovey was pleased to meet with Volsky again, the two men having an afternoon tea together, this time aboard the Russian battlecruiser, on station in the Med just north of the Nile Delta. The battle they had fought together was a near run thing, he thought. That combined Franco-German fleet was more than Cunningham could have handled here. If not for the godsend in this Russian ship, and now the strange arrival of the Argos Fire, things might be very different here.

“I must tell you again how grateful I am for all you have done for us, Admiral Volsky.”

Nikolin was enjoying his role as translator immensely. Every time the British Admirals needed to meet with Volsky, he was relieved of his duty at communications, and was able to sit in the staterooms, sipping teas, and getting treated to all the niceties the senior officers lived with. He translated what Tovey had said, and Volsky returned.

“I only wish we could have done more. As it stands, we had some success in fending off that big enemy fleet, and we were able to interdict the Bosporus, if only temporarily. The enemy is already busily repairing the damage we put on the rail yards there. Frankly, our Mister Fedorov may do more for your war effort in Syria than anything this ship could do. He’s been running about tearing up rail lines from Aleppo, and this has reportedly slowed down the arrival of new German units on that front considerably.”

“Ah yes,” said Tovey. “Those helicopters of yours have proved most useful from all reports I have read. Where are they now?”

“My last update had them in a town on the upper Euphrates, but I cannot pronounce it. Yet even his operations must be no more than a pin prick in this war. I am afraid the real fighting is only now about to begin. Everything we have seen thus far is merely a preliminary. The war in Russia now darkens my thoughts. It is about to begin, and I have sat awake many a night, realizing what is now soon to befall my homeland, and feeling powerless to prevent it.”

Tovey nodded, setting his teacup down as he considered the situation. “It must be very difficult for you, knowing what is to come, the losses, the suffering.”

“Yes,” said Volsky. “I have taken the liberty of sticking my nose into our Captain Fedorov’s library books, a bit like watching your own house burn down for all the good it has done me. Do you realize what is about to happen? Over eight million men will soon face one another on the eastern front. The Germans will commit well over a hundred divisions to the initial operations! They will fling over 4000 tanks and 7000 aircraft at us, and we have numbers exceeding that on defense, though our troops fared very poorly in the opening battles, and casualties and losses were very high. Compare that to all your operations presently in the field, Admiral Tovey. You have all of five divisions in your Western Desert facing Rommel, and no more than another five in Syria. The Germans will be throwing ten times that at Mother Russia, and the hell they inflict there will scar the psyche of our nation for generations to come.”

“Somewhat humbling to think of it in those terms,” said Tovey. “It’s a wonder we have managed to hold out here in Egypt. Frankly, with that kind of power, it has only been logistics that has prevented the Germans from crushing Wavell and rolling us out of Egypt. The Germans simply can’t supply any more units beyond those they have been able to commit here, and so we have been fairly matched. But yes, to think of the battle you describe, with all those German divisions facing your forces, is somewhat ghastly. Yet you prevailed, in spite of the long struggle and hardship, did you not?”

“Oh, we prevailed. The Germans destroyed most every city between Poland and the Volga but that is where we made our stand—at Moscow, and at a city called Stalingrad, and the tide eventually turned.”

“Stalingrad? I am not aware of the place.”

“Volgograd in this world, the world we have shaped with our own meddling in this war. You see, Sergei Kirov was not leading the Soviet Union in the history we know. There was another man, Josef Stalin, a man as hard as the steel that he forged his name from. He was ruthless, determined, and may I say as evil as the demon you now wrestle with in Hitler. Before the war he launched a purge that killed over 50,000 key officers in our army, all to assure his own power base. Thankfully, from what I have been able to learn, that has not happened in this world. So perhaps our boys will do a little better this time out against the Germans, though I have great fears on the matter.”

“I understand,” said Tovey. “Your dreams must be much darker than my own, Admiral Volsky. “You have done great things thus far, but as you have so chillingly described, the war has been a small thing compared to what it may soon become.”

“Sadly true,” said Volsky. “Soon the fighting begins in earnest, and don’t forget the Japanese Empire is still out there in the Pacific. Fedorov tells me that all that history is as broken as our homeland. As I knew it, Japan entered the war in December of 1941, but who knows what will happen now. They already have Vladivostok, the result of another foolish Captain, and the actions he took with this very ship in the Pacific. Who knows what the Japanese will do this time out? This war is a darkness that is only just beginning to fall. Millions will die in the next few years… millions…”

There was nothing in Tovey’s teacup that could offer any solace for the look on Volsky’s face now. He could see the Admiral was deeply tormented, and could only imagine what he must be feeling, shouldering the responsibility for all these things, believing it was his own doing that was now bringing the world to the edge of chaos. He tried his best, but his words seemed a thin balm.

“You must not try to take all the blame on yourself,” said Tovey. “This war was going to be fought, with or without you. It wasn’t your doing, but the darkness in the hearts of this generation of warriors. You have told me that there are wars enough in your own time, but this one is ours, Admiral. We bear the responsibility for what we are weaving here, even if you can see your own handiwork in the loom. Yet I know how you must feel, wishing you could prevent what is about to happen, and feeling powerless to do so.”

“Not entirely powerless,” said Volsky, a distant, haunted look in his eye. “Yes, with every missile we fire this ship becomes less and less a factor in the war, but Admiral Tovey, I have weapons you have yet to see delivered on the enemy, weapons as terrible as this war that first spawned them. I ask myself whether I could, or should have used them, to stop what we are seeing the enemy do now. I could have prevented the fall of Gibraltar with a single missile—do you understand what I am now saying? Yes, I have a missile so powerful that I could have obliterated the entire German force assembled to attack that place. Yet I stayed my hand, thinking it too terrible a reprisal at this stage of the war.”

Even before Nikolin had finished his translation, Tovey felt a strange feeling come over him, something emerging from deep within, an old, dark memory rising in the back of his mind and soul, though he could not quite grasp it, or see it clearly.

“War is deceptive,” Volsky continued. “It starts with a sniffle and a cough, but given time it becomes much worse. On the eve of the attack on Gibraltar, there was really very little else going on. The war had quieted down to a little headache. To use such a weapon at that time, I believed, would remove anything that now distinguishes me from men like Adolf Hitler, or the man I mentioned a moment ago, Josef Stalin. And yet… Now the real war begins. The fever rises, and our throats are sore with the planning of one battle after another. Now it shows us its real venom. In our time there once came a terrible illness that emerged from a backward village in Africa—Ebola. It began in the same deceptive way, with symptoms that seemed innocuous enough—a simple cold, or possibly the flu. Then it flared up to the horror it really was all along, and killed millions. So now I feel like my good friend Doctor Zolkin at times. I sit here with the power to do something about it if I so choose, do something before the illness of war becomes a pandemic that will infect this entire world. It is a torment that is worse than anything I have ever suffered. I might engage the enemy and save millions of lives, yet to do so I must certainly kill men in the tens of thousands, possibly even more. That is a ghastly calculation, and a very bitter choice.”

Tovey could not quite see what was in the back of his mind, but he could feel it. It was as if that moment, when he first saw the awful grey-white mushroom cloud over the North Atlantic, was blooming in his mind again—not the image of the event, but all the feelings of shock, and terror, and bewilderment. On some deep inner level he knew what Admiral Volsky was trying to tell him. The weapon… The ship… the barest glimpse of the capsized hull of a battleship… the haunting wink of ship’s lanterns, distant cruisers warning him, and then two words finally emerging from the fluttering signal… advise dispersal…

“The North Atlantic,” he said aloud, and Volsky waited while Nikolin translated. “It was in the North Atlantic. It was used there, was it not? This weapon you speak of was first used there. These are the same weapons Director Kamenski spoke of at Alexandria when he told us about those testing programs?”

Volsky was stopped cold by Tovey’s words. Did he and Fedorov reveal this to Tovey earlier? He could not remember, but he knew Kamenski had alluded to them at that meeting. That was perhaps the only explanation that made sense to him. Yet now it was Tovey who seemed clouded over with the gloom of his inner muse.

“Are you alright, Admiral?”

“Not quite,” said Tovey, still feeling like a sleeper who had awakened with a nightmare in mind, the dream fading, shredding to fragments and slipping from his thoughts, like spirits fleeing to find the darkness that spawned them.

“You will forgive me, Admiral, but I have not been quite myself since we first met. Well that’s just the point, isn’t it? We met in the North Atlantic during that row we had with the German navy. Yet when I first set eyes on your ship, I had this very same feeling, a little dread on top of a memory so old that I could no longer see it in my mind. I had the distinct feeling that I had seen your ship before, and when we met, that was redoubled, like a bit of déjà vu, if you will. Then came your revelation that we had met before, yet in 1942! Well, that was enough of a shock for this old head, until we discovered those photographs and reports concerning your ship—an archive that seemed to document all the events you were referring to. We never really came to an understanding of how that could be possible, but things you can hold in your hand have a stubbornness about them, and they simply cannot be dismissed. These odd memories that come to me, recollections of seeing your ship, meeting with you in another time, and yes, seeing this terrible new weapon you mention now. Well, it remains a profound mystery, and most disturbing.”

Admiral Volsky nodded, his heart heavy, seeing that Tovey was as much bound up in all of this soul searching as he was. “One day we may get to the bottom of all this,” he said. “And I think that day may come sooner than we think. Our time here grows short.”

Tovey offered a wan smile. “You say that like a spirit from a Dickens novel.

“Ah yes,” said Volsky, “your Christmas Story. Well, my only problem is this—I cannot determine whether I play the role of the Ghost from Christmas past, or the ghost from days yet to come. In either case, I have the feeling that I have brought all of this unwanted torment to your own life and soul, Admiral, and for that I am truly sorry.”

Again it was Tovey’s impulse to offer Volsky some comfort. “No Admiral, we are bound up in this together, you and I. Fate seems to have billeted us together in this business, and by degrees, I have every faith that we shall work it through to some understanding in time.”

“In time,” said Volsky, the irony of his statement obvious.

There came a knock on the door, an officer rushing in and whispering something to Admiral Volsky, which did little to cheer his mood. He seemed surprised by the news. “You are certain?” he asked, then turned to Tovey, the light of discovery in his eyes.

“Well, Admiral,” he said with a sigh. “Here we get another little tempest in our teacups. We have just received word that the German fleet has left Toulon some eight hours ago.”

“They most likely got up steam to support this new offensive by Rommel,” said Tovey with a nod. “I was afraid we’d have to lock horns with them again soon.”

Volsky continued. “I am told that Malta was signaled to be ready to have a berthing ready for the Hindenburg in 24 hours. But here is a little mystery. Do you recall that device our Captain Fedorov mentioned, the one capable of decoding German Enigma Naval traffic? Well we have been doing that, and I am now told that we have another order that purports to send the German flotilla off in quite another direction. They are ordered to steam west!”

“West? For Gibraltar? Most surprising. I worry enough to think they might be heading east again, though now that Valiant and Nelson finally made it round the cape to reinforce Cunningham’s fleet here, I’ve been sleeping a bit more easily. I wanted both the Nelson class vessels, but Rodney had other business, or so the Admiralty informed me. I had to strip most of Somerville’s firepower from Force H, but we’ll get him some help soon enough from Home Fleet. Now this news is most disturbing. The Germans can only be making for Gibraltar, and anything they do after they get there will be my next little nightmare. I’m afraid I can’t allow myself to become possessed by the burden of trying to sort out this entire war, Admiral. I understand what you must feel, but you may wish to take that as friendly advice. One thing at a time. In this news comes one small piece of this war that will soon be within my charge. If the Hindenburg moves west for Gibraltar, then I must go west as well. Somerville’s Force H is in no shape to handle a ship like that, and let us not forget the Bismarck either. This bit of lemon has certainly soured my tea.”

“Go west? Through the Mediterranean? Surely you mean you must go South around the cape.”

“That will be a three week affair. By the time I get into the Atlantic, Hindenburg will have raised hell and will be long gone. I must signal Home Fleet at once. Holland is about to have his hands full, but Somerville with his Force H will be the man of the hour. Yet his main body is well south off the Canary Islands. He’ll need to move at once.”

“And your ship?”

Tovey bit his lip. “I know I may be an old fool, but I’m looking at making a run west.”

“Through the straits of Gibraltar?”

“I know it sounds like madness, but this ship has damn good armor, and the speed to run like the wind. Yes, the enemy will have air power at Gibraltar. That, I suppose, is my worst problem if I attempt this.”

“But it is over 3000 kilometers east to Gibraltar from here, and that takes you under enemy air power for most of that distance. They’ll have planes on Sicily, Malta, possibly all along the French African coast.”

“Yes. It is just over 2400 nautical miles to our new refueling base in the Azores. That’s roughly 4400 kilometers. At 20 knots I can be there in five days—three days if I go all out.”

“You are more likely to find yourself at the bottom of the sea, Admiral. That is a perilous course.”

“Possibly, the safe play would be to go round the cape, but that stretches those three days to at least three weeks.”

Volsky nodded. “Mister Nikolin, thank you for your able service here. I hope you don’t mind having these cold cuts for lunch, because it seems Admiral Tovey and I have a lot more to discuss. But first, please get that mishman back here and tell him to get a message off to Captain Fedorov. He is to return to the ship immediately, and the Marines are ordered back as well. Something tells me our port of call here has now run its course.”

“Admiral,” said Tovey. “I don’t mean to drag you and your ship into this. Invincible can make way alone if need be.”

“Yes, and then you will have to rename your ship, Admiral. I do not think you will survive. Yet I have been thinking we must get back to the Atlantic for some time now, and so I hope you will not mind the company.”

“You mean to come along? Well I won’t insist otherwise.”

“I think we had best throw all our key assets into this little venture,” said Volsky. “With my ship along, and possibly the Argos Fire, we will have good air defense for you.”

“Then all we must concern ourselves with is enemy U-boats in the straits,” said Tovey.

“Ah,” said Volsky, raising a finger. “I have one of those too! Don’t forget my submarine, Kazan. I do not think we will have any trouble from the enemy U-boats if Captain Gromyko is with us.”

“It will be dangerous,” Tovey warned.

“Yes,” said Volsky. “It will be a run of the gauntlet, but we will be dangerous too. Let the enemy beware! Together I think we can do this, Admiral. So let the race begin!”

Chapter 15

Admiral Somerville was a very busy man that morning. The news that the German Hindenburg battlegroup had left Toulon heading west was a shock, and the fact that it was already six hours old when he received it made that even worse. The threat the Germans posed from Gibraltar had been minimal since Britain lost her Rock. The airfield there was small, and was mainly being used for naval search planes, and the harbor itself had become a way station for U-boats. But otherwise, Hindenburg had made only a brief stop there before moving east into the Med. Now it seemed he would finally get his day of reckoning.

Weeks ago, when he got the news that Admiral Tovey was ordering both Rodney and Nelson round the cape to the Med, he had raised an eyebrow, somewhat perplexed. They’re taking things from me that I don’t even own! Yes, I was told I would have the services of Rodney and Nelson here for some time, but then Rodney was recalled home. Admiralty says they want her to sail for Boston, and get fitted out with all new boiler tubes! Can’t that wait? I know the old girl has been limping, but we need every ship that can fire a gun now. I suppose Tovey hasn’t got the word yet, but when he does, it will most likely mean I’m to send both Nelson and Valiant to Alexandria.

That was exactly what had happened, and now Force H had been reduced to the status of another cruiser command. The biggest ship at my disposal will be HMS Glorious, thought Somerville. That’s fine and dandy with things as they were, but not with this news about Hindenburg coming for tea!

Somerville had been living hand to mouth ever since Force H had been evicted from its home at Gibraltar. His dwindling battlefleet had to make do with any port in a storm. They had posted three destroyers at Funchal Island, more in the Azores group, which was being built up to a naval refueling station with daily tanker calls.

Sitting astride the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, the Azores Island Group was comprised of nine volcanic islands, possessions of neutral Portugal. Churchill had wrangled for them diplomatically, producing an old “Treaty of Eternal Friendship” between Great Britain and Portugal, signed in 1373. With that foot in the door, he summarily kicked it open with Royal Marines after Germany took Gibraltar. It was one of three operations that saw the newly formed Marine Commandos also land on the Cape Verde and Canary Islands, securing those vital outposts as wergild for the loss of the Rock.

From April to August, the ‘Azores High’ produced clear balmy weather over the islands, which made them ideal for the establishment of naval air bases for search operations until the weather turned foul in the autumn. It was these planes, and later airships to be sent by the Americans, that filled the “Black Hole” in the Atlantic, a place where the Allies once had no air cover, and U-boats ruled the sea. Now the odds in those waters were at least even. There were already a bases at Lajes and Achada on Terceria Island, and naval facilities at Horta and Ponta Delgada.

In the beginning the air bases were just bare grassy fields, where the locals called the planes “aerovacas,” or “air cows,” seeing them right alongside their own livestock grazing in the area. Ports were not good, but the British had concluded that the narrow channel, no more than three miles between two of the islands, Pico and Faial, would serve as a good anchorage for larger ships. It would only have to be patrolled on the north and south to keep a watchful eye out for enemy U-boats.

The Portuguese Prime Minister Salazar put in a vigorous protest, and refused to allow use of the best air base in the islands, all as a cover to try and persuade the Germans that he had not been complicit in allowing British forces to operate in the Azores. Hitler had been too busy with preparations for operation Barbarossa to bother with Portugal’s islands, though plans had been drawn up to use troop carrying U-boats setting out from French Ports in a secret attack. After the successes at Malta and Cyprus, Student’s vaunted 7th Flieger Division was also considered as an option, but it was still mostly on Cyprus, and the 22nd Luftland was in Syria.

Raeder had hoped all these islands, and the Cape Verde and Canary Island groups, would now be in German hands, but never proposed a viable plan to deliver them. Instead he had committed the only force he had outside of northern waters to the Mediterranean in a bid to defeat the Royal Navy in the Med, but the stunning setback posed by these new British naval rockets had prevented that. As for Hitler, he never saw the real virtue of the islands, thinking they might only be a good base for his fanciful plans for a long range “Amerika Bomber,” the Me-264, though only one was ever built.

So the British had their refueling and patrol bases in the Azores, and in Las Palmas on the Grand Canary Island, they had another good port to stand a watch on the French forces remaining in Casablanca. While it was 480 nautical miles to the south, that was only a long day at sea cruising at 20 knots if battleships had to get to Casablanca. Airbases on Funchal Island further north would provide early warning of any renewed French activity, but, for the moment, all their big ships had been recalled to Toulon.

The news of Hindenburg heading west was the first real alarm since the Normandie had been recalled to the Med, and now Somerville was keen to respond—but with what? Rodney had been sent home, and Nelson and Valiant were off to the Eastern Med. So all he could do for the moment was get the carrier Glorious out to sea under Captain Wells. A good man, Wells, but he’s nothing to face down the Hindenburg.

Home Fleet is sending me a pair of battlecruisers, he thought. Good fast scout ships in Renown and Repulse, the former with all new boilers after those bomb hits she took last June. Yet they are not much good in a fight with the Hindenburg either. I think the Germans have pulled a fast one on us here. Tovey doesn’t think we can stop the Germans from transiting the Straits and getting out into the Atlantic, so he’s sending me ships with good legs in the hope that we can at least find the enemy and shadow them. Holland has kept Hood, and the two King George V class ships under his hat, and I’ve no word on what the rest of the German fleet might be up to. So I go with what I have. I’ll get Glorious out to sea and heading north towards Funchal Island. That will be a little over twelve hours sailing time at 20 knots, and from there they would be in a good position to maneuver against anything transiting the straits of Gibraltar.

It was an obvious reaction, the only thing Somerville could do, but he was running late. Hindenburg left Toulon at midnight, slipping away in the first minutes of the new month of May. With every ship in the task force capable of 30 knots or better, the Germans would reach Gibraltar by noon on the 2nd of May. Somerville got his warning two hours before sunrise on May 1st, and had Wells out to sea at dawn, a little after 08:00. That sun would not set until 21:30, so Wells and his pilots aboard the carrier Glorious would have good light and weather for air search operations.

But they were late.

Admiral Raeder had not been idle after issuing his orders to Lütjens. He immediately coordinated with Doenitz to get any U-boats available in the area into his operation. The U-boat commander was eager to cooperate. In recent months he had been enjoying a spate of good luck against the allied convoys. Otto Kretschmer on U-99 had logged five kills against Convoy HX-112 for 34,505 tons on March 16. Faithful to his motto—one torpedo, one ship—he had used only five shots to get his kills. Unfortunately, his boat was lost the following day when the British destroyer HMS Walker caught it east of the Faeroes, and a depth charge attack put enough damage on the boat that it had to be scuttled. The British had Kretschmer now, one of 40 survivors in his 43 man crew that day. His capture had removed a real thorn in their side, for Otto was the most successful U-boat commander of them all, logging a total of 274,333 tons before the Walker got him.

As if in answer to his capture, George Schewe in U-105 got another five ships in Convoy SL-68 for 27,890 tons the following week. And most recently, Heinrich Willenbrock in U-96 sunk three fat ships in Convoy HX-121 for 27,606 tons on the 28th of April. So Doenitz was not in a selfish mood when Raeder came calling. He agreed to provide scouting reports on the movement of British ships from the Canaries, and Lütjens soon knew what he might expect.

“Good news, Admiral,” said Kapitan Adler when Lütjens appeared on the bridge. “The ship is running smoothly, in fine fighting trim, and Schultz tells me the engines are thrumming like tigers. We are as good as new.”

“Glad to hear that, though our speed seems slightly off.”

“It’s that new deck plating,” Adler explained. Between the armor and the hydraulics, we are a thousand tons heavier. Yet we can still run a whisker shy of 30 knots, and the best news is this. We are well ahead of the British. We reached Gibraltar in good time, just 24 hours.”

“And the British?”

“We received word from Kapitan Gunter Hessler on U-107. He was operating south of the Canary Islands, and was sent north to have a closer look at the British base there. A squadron got up steam and sailed north at dawn—three cruisers, a carrier and five destroyers.”

“What? No battleships?”

“None sighted. Seekriegsleitung Schniewind indicates they were sent south around the cape to reinforce the British at Alexandria.”

“Good news,” said Lütjens. “But that aircraft carrier will be a nuisance. Where is this squadron now?”

“A Condor out of Casablanca spotted it off Funchal Island two hours ago. They are presently steaming northeast of Porto Santo.”

“Show me,” said Lütjens, walking to the plot table as Adler came quickly to his side.

“Here sir, Madiera Island. The British have a small base at Funchal which they use to keep an eye on Casablanca. Yet from that position they are at least 20 hours sailing time to the Western Approaches. That leaves us time to top off fuel here tonight and still get into the Atlantic without interference.”

“Refuel? This ship can sail all the way to Germany with the fuel we presently have.”

“Yes sir, and both Kaiser and Goeben have long legs as well. But Bismarck’s endurance is no more than 8800 nautical miles, and it will be 5400 if we take our normal return route west of Iceland. And that range is for a speed of 20 knots. We’ve been all ahead full for 24 hours, and so that will mean Bismarck has burned a good deal more. Yes, the ship could probably still reach Kiel, but at 20 knots, and with very little time for operations in the Atlantic.”

Lütjens thought. “How long for this refueling operation?”

“Four hours, six at the most.”

“And where could the British Force H be in six hours?”

Adler drew an arc with his compass anchored at the present position plotted for Force H. “That is their farthest on, twelve hours from now. If we complete our refueling in six hours, then run at 30 knots on this heading to the northwest, we would be here, south of Sageres Point, Portugal. From there we can run up past Lisbon before turning on a more westerly course into the Atlantic. They cannot catch us.”

“That assumes they move northeast from their present position. What if they sail due north?”

“They would be closer to a possible intercept plot, at least with their faster ships. Yet they would pose no threat to us.”

“What about that aircraft carrier?”

“What? Those old Swordfish? Don’t forget Marco Ritter is over there on the Goeben. Our Messerschmitts will make mincemeat of them. As for their faster cruisers, they would not dare attack us.”

“That will never be their intention, Adler. They will shadow us.”

“Yet we can prevent even that, Admiral. Between the Goeben and the speed we have with the Kaiser Wilhelm, we can chase those cruisers off without much trouble.”

The Kaiser was one of Germany’s new Plan Z ships, a fast, well armed Panzerschiffe that could run at 36 knots and fight with six fifteen inch guns. It was a match for a British battlecruiser, and would pose a dire threat to British heavy cruisers, as many had a top speed of just 32 knots. In effect, Kaiser could not only catch them, it could also kill them, and the normal British plan of shadowing a fast capital ship with cruisers could be easily frustrated, or prevented altogether.

Lütjens listened to his Kapitan, thinking Adler had given the matter a good deal of thought. He is clever, this one, he thought. He is considering logistics, speed, and all our assets in hand, not just his own ship. Yes, this is a different kind of operation, not just a pair of fast raiders, as in the early runs by Scharnhorst and Gneisenau. Now we have a real task force here, with each ship contributing some unique asset to the overall mission. I have the Goeben, a fast light carrier with a little sting, some air defense, and enhanced air search capability for my battlegroup. Kaiser is a marvelous scout ship in the van, or a perfect sheep dog if posted as a rear guard against nosy British cruisers. And Hindenburg can face any ship the British have with every prospect for victory… unless we run into another ship armed with those naval rockets.

How pervasive are they? We took hits in the Norwegian Sea, and now in the Med. In both cases the only ship that was involved in each action was their fleet flagship, HMS Invincible. Hoffman was trying to persuade us that there was another ship up north, a fast battlecruiser, but we have not heard anything of it since that big engagement last June, and in every case where Raeder probed British defenses in the Iceland gaps, we encountered no naval rockets. Yet Invincible comes to the Med, and lo and behold, these naval rockets blacken my ships before I could even close with my enemy. So it is my belief that Invincible carries these rockets, and no other ship. And the British Flagship is far behind me now, and of no concern.

One day there may be a day of reckoning with that ship, and what a battle it might be. But not today… Today we have the wide Atlantic before us, fat with convoys, and the British now feel the real sting in the loss of both Gibraltar and Malta. They may still hold out in the Eastern Mediterranean, but the west is ours, and Invincible will be three weeks around the cape now.”

He smiled. “Adler, you will make a good fleet Admiral one day. Very well, begin your refueling operation, but see if you can accomplish it in four hours. I want to leave Gibraltar well before dawn.”

“A wise precaution,” Adler agreed. “I will see that the orders are transmitted at once.”

“Do so, and then we must discuss how we coordinate our movements with other elements of the navy, as well as our undersea boats. Don’t forget, the British still have good ships up north in their Home Fleet. We may have left their flagship in our wake, but now that they know we are heading into the Atlantic, they will make every effort to stop us once we get there.”

“I have news on that, sir. We have intercepted their fleet communications ordering the battlecruisers Renown and Repulse south to reinforce Force H.”

“Battlecruisers? No fast battleships?”

“Not in the signals we were able to decode.”

“Most interesting. See what they have done with this, Adler? The Royal Navy is a fleet, perhaps the most experienced and professional naval force in the world. No, I am not ashamed to say that, nor do I take anything away from our own fleet in doing so, yet you must give these men, and the ships they command at sea, the respect they are due. Those two battlecruisers make a little difference in our thinking, do they not? They run at 32 knots and have six 15-inch guns each. One might be a match for our Kaiser Wilhelm, and two would certainly rule the day in such an engagement. Yes, we can chase off their cruiser shadow, but they are pushing more chips onto the table, and upping the ante. Now we may be facing a shadowing force composed of these two battlecruisers.”

“Perhaps,” said Adler. “I remind you that the man who put a bomb into the HMS Renown, and laid up that ship in dry dock for the last ten months, is right here with us aboard the Goeben—One of Marco Ritter’s protégés, Hans Rudel. Perhaps he can repeat his performance, and there we have an ace to trump this battlecruiser shadow.”

“Touché,” said Lütjens. “Perhaps you are correct, Kapitan, but I have studied the Royal Navy for quite some time, and I have a gut feeling that they will find some way to engage us before we find their convoys. A day of reckoning is at hand.”

“And I welcome it, sir.” Adler had a gleam in his eye now. “Because I won’t leave all the fighting to this young Stuka pilot. No, I plan on seeing what the British battlecruisers think they might do when Hindenburg darkens their horizon, then we will see what this day of reckoning holds. Because when this ship engages the enemy, the Lord Almighty will come with thunder and earthquake and great noise, with windstorm and tempest and flames of a devouring fire.”

Lütjens smiled. “So you are a poet as well, Kapitan Adler?”

“No sir, just a good Christian soul. That is Isaiah, Chapter 29, Verse 6.”