Kirov Saga: Altered States (Kirov Series) (25 page)

* * *

They
saw the battle forming up on radar, and Fedorov was convinced that it would mean a quick end to one or both British cruisers. At the time
Kirov
had been sailing well south of the action, just over forty kilometers. The jamming may have helped but it looked as though the Germans still had hold of the hind leg of the fleeing British cruisers, and so Admiral Volsky entertained options for further intervention.

“We could easily hit them with a missile, sir,” Rodenko had suggested.

“Yes, but that packs a lot of punch, perhaps more than I want to deliver at the moment. I would prefer the deck guns.”

“Excuse me, Admiral.” Volsky recognized Samsonov’s deep voice and turned to regard him.

“Here we have our Combat officer and I am consulting with navigators and radar men. Yes, Mister Samsonov, do you have a suggestion?”

“Sir, we have 200 rounds of special ammunition—rocket assisted 152mm rounds that can range to 50 kilometers. Radar guided, Admiral.”

“That sounds like a better solution. Feed Mister Samsonov the targeting data and let’s give these rounds a field test. They were scheduled on our initial live fire exercises, but we never got round to those. Time to catch up on old work.”

Naval forces had been experimenting with longer range projectiles for many years. The Italian’s had a long range 127mm shell in 2021, called the
Vulcano
, but two American programs for an Extended Range Guided Munition had been cancelled by 2008, with missiles winning the tech battles and the emerging development of rail gun systems starting to soak up scarce budget dollars.

The Russians had extended range rounds for both their 127mm and new 152mm naval guns, and they had proven to be accurate after some teething trouble in the early testing. One enterprising Captain had inadvertently fired a salvo south of Vladivostok, and a shell traveled much further than expected, smashing into the city where the impact broke windows and left a small crater in the pavement outside the nine-storey apartment building! By 2021 the bugs had been worked out of the system, however, and it was fairly reliable.

They fired three salvos from the forward deck gun, six rounds in all, just as
Birmingham
shouted its plaintive protest with a single salvo from her rear 6-inch gun turrets. Two of
Kirov’s
six rounds found their target 42 kilometers away, and Volsky began to chuckle quietly, thinking the Germans might now be quite surprised.

“Two hits, sir,” Samsonov reported.

“Are the British firing?” Admiral Volsky leaned towards the radar station where Rodenko was supervising the readout.

“It looks like they fired one salvo, sir, then ran for the edge of that storm.”

“The range was too long for the guns on those cruisers,” said Fedorov.

“Well, they will think they got lucky today and scored a hit.” Volsky smiled. “We’ve tapped him on the shoulder, but when he turns around he will see no one else on the dance floor, just the empty sea and those oncoming storm clouds. So he must conclude the British have some very good gunnery officers aboard. Let us hope those rounds are enough of a distraction to help those cruisers, but in the event the Germans persist, our next field test will be one of the P-900s we received from
Kazan
. I want to be sure they are configured properly.”

* * *

Hoffmann
felt the second hit, well up in the superstructure and flush against the armored conning tower. A bigger round might have caused real trouble, but as it was the 350mm armor there, all of 14 inches thick, was easily enough to stop this one. Yet the jarring concussion was enough to force every man there to shirk and hunch their shoulders in surprise. The bridge crew took a bit of a knock, but no one was wounded, as there was no interior damage or splintering into the command spaces.
Scharnhorst
has just been hit with a stiff jab. The ship had a bruise on its cheek, but was unharmed and fully functional.

“No significant damage, Kapitan.” Leutnant zur See Huber reported. “We took both hits in well protected areas.”

The Kapitan shook his head, unwilling to believe the British cruisers could hit him at his range, but they clearly had. Gunnery Officer Schubert had set his mind on answering, and he straddled the trailing British cruiser before they saw both ships make smoke and vanish into the grey edge of the storm. That was a good idea.

“Helm, come round to 320. We’ll turn for that squall line to starboard. I think the British will be trying to work round behind us.”

A messenger came in from the wireless, handing him the note, and Hoffmann smiled with a nod as he read it. Kapitan Otto Fein aboard
Gneisenau
behind him was perplexed. He wanted to know what they were doing sparring with these cruisers when the route south was now clearly open.

Perhaps he is correct, thought Hoffmann. I am indulging myself here, like a cat playing with a mouse, and I just got bit on the nose for my trouble. I could make this turn and run parallel to the course I think these cruisers have taken, or I could come left and south to the Atlantic. That was the plan, but not before we refuel.

He pulled off his leather gloves, tucking them into his pocket and loosened the upper button of his overcoat as he considered the situation. I could detach
Admiral Hipper
here to chase these cruisers off. That would leave me free to head south unbothered by them again. That was the only reason you engaged here, was it not?

“Helm,” he said calmly, resigned. “Belay that last order. Come about to two-two-zero. Make an easy turn, and ahead two thirds. Huber, see that
Gneisenau
is informed of both the course and speed change and ask her to follow. As for
Admiral Hipper
, signal that I want them on three-two-zero to look for those cruisers. They are to report in three hours, and if they do not find them they will meet us at the refueling point.”

The German tanker
Altmark
was waiting out near the coast of Greenland, hovering off a misty ice-crusted fiord. Hoffmann was planning to rendezvous with
Altmark
just north of Cape Farewell to refuel his ships before breaking out, and he did not want any British cruisers about to interfere with the operation.

We will hold this new course for three hours, he thought, then turn to meet up with
Altmark
. By then I should know whether
Admiral Hipper
had any luck finding the British. He noted the barometer, seeing rain on the wind shields of the viewports.

An hour later he received a report from
Admiral Hipper
. The British were hiding in the storm. They had seen at least three contacts on radar, but the signals were lost in interference. On a hunch the Kapitan had fired down the bearing of one contact sighting. Hoping to flush his quarry, and he believed the cruisers were dispersing. But now the wireless was silent, and there had been no further reports.

Three contacts…Hoffmann knew of the first two, the pair of hapless British cruisers he had engaged. What was contact three? They were still too far north for
Hipper
to have picked up the
Altmark
. It had to be something else, but what? Could we have a U-boat out here that I am not aware of? That might account for the sudden disappearance of the contact on radar, but it still did not make sense. It could be a tramp steamer, or even a ship involved in the recent British invasion of Iceland. If so that would be fair game here.

“Any signals from Wilhelmshaven?” he asked Huber, thinking they might get some additional intelligence on what was happening on Iceland.

“No sir. Nothing since we entered the strait.”

“The British have taken a lease out on Iceland, Huber. That means they might soon have an airbase functional there.”

“That may take them some time,” Huber suggested. “We should be well out into the Atlantic before we need to worry about planes from Iceland.”

“What is the situation with the radar?”

“Still fouled up with interference, sir. It must be the storm.”

“Very well. I looked at fuel reports. We did not have time to fill up at Trondheim after chasing that British carrier. That was a mistake. Now we’ve gone nearly 3000 kilometers and used up half our fuel. ”

“But
Altmark
is waiting for us here, Kapitan.”

“Yes, and we are lucky for that. We should have had more time at Trondheim, but Raeder was adamant that we put to sea as soon as possible.”

He squinted at the weather, feeling ill at ease. Two long shots for a cruiser that should have had no chance to hit his ship, but yet they did. Now a third contact on radar, and then every set down as though…as though they were being jammed.

 “The pressure is not too low,” he said quietly. “We will push through this front in two hours. In the meantime, make ready for the refueling operation. That is our number one priority now.”

“Aye sir.”

Hoffmann did not know it then, but his new course was taking him closer to the mysterious antagonist that had flicked those shells at
Scharnhorst
, even as it moved closer to the ship that had been dogged by the black hand of fate in an earlier incarnation,
Altmark
…and fate and mystery would soon become fire and steel.

Part VIII

Ride of the Valkyries

“Now awful it is to be without,

as blood-red rack races overhead;

and the welkin sky is gory with warriors' blood

as we Valkyries war-songs chanted.”

― Njals Saga

Chapter 22

Iceland-Faeroes Gap ~ 17 June, 1940

Admiral
Tovey was restless that day, still bothered by his abortive attempt to investigate that Russian cruiser. He did not know why it left him feeling like he had an untied shoe or missing button, but it did. He was a careful, meticulous man, and did not like leaving things unfinished. Yet word from the Admiralty on the movement of
Bismarck
and
Tirpitz
trumped everything else and forced him to turn about south of Reykjavik and head east, then northeast along the coast of Iceland. He had bigger fish to fry.

Now he was in the Flag Plot Room, looking at the map like a butler checking to see if the silverware had been set properly. There were the cruisers
Sussex
and
Southampton
on forward patrol in the center of the Iceland-Faeroes Gap. Coming up on their right flank was Force F with
Nelson
and
Rodney
, the cruiser
Devonshire
and three destroyers.

Nelson
had just been pulled out of her refit at Greenock after sustaining serious hull damage the previous December when she ran over a magnetic mine at Loch Ewe. The hull was buckled four feet on her starboard side, sixty bulkheads ruptured and there was flooding over 140 feet of her 710 foot length. Thankfully no one was killed, but the incident was later called “the ball buster” by members of the crew. It seems a good number had been seated on the porcelain throne when the mine went off and the official report read that: “52 suffered lacerating injuries to delicate parts of their anatomies when ceramic toilet pans shattered in the blast.” Nelson had taken a hard kick in the pants, and was down for some time.

Most of the repair work was done at Portsmouth before the ship was moved to avoid possible German air attacks. There she was fitted with Type 279 long range air warning radar, and was to have work completed for the Type 282 Gun director radar at Greenock before she was called to action again. The kits were still aboard, with a bevy of workmen to see the work on as she sailed, and there had been no time for her to contemplate or complete working up exercises. The crews were quick running new 16-inch shells aboard over the wooden decks in their shell bogeys, and additional canisters of cordite charges which made up the full charge for firing the guns. They soon had her up to snuff with 100 rounds per gun, 80 being APC and 20 HE with a total of 900 rounds on board. The veteran ship and crew would just have to muddle through, and Tovey had every confidence that they would.

Big slow
Nelson
and
Rodney
, thought Tovey. The Germans had danced around them in the Norwegian campaign, as they could make no more than 23 knots on a good day. Even the guns were slow to hoist, load and fire after the ready ammunition in the turret was used up. The 16-in guns might only average one round per minute compared to twice that for the more common 15-inch guns in the fleet. Aside from
Rodney
and
Nelson
, HMS
Invincible
was the only other ship in the fleet to use the16-inch guns—good throw weight and range, but not as efficient as the15-inch.

Force F will be late to the party, he knew. By the time they get up north the Germans will have slipped west. The only question is where will they go? If they turn east of Iceland then it’s my watch. If they run further west for the Denmark strait I’ll also be in a good position to give chase or possibly cut them off. Then we have a battle, and while I think
Invincible
would give a good account of herself,
Renown
is lightly armored. We’ll also be outgunned, but at least we have
Ark Royal
handy with her
Swordfish
and
Skua
bombers. We’ll have to see what the Germans do, but the job now is to find them.

He eyed the young Lieutenant Commander Wells, where he was quietly watching him, curious as to what he was thinking. “Your mind looks very active, Mister Wells. Any thoughts?”