Kirov Saga: Darkest Hour: Altered States - Volume II (Kirov Series) (21 page)

“They
are firing torpedoes sir!” Heintz was calling from the weather bridge where he
had been closely observing the fight. The Russian destroyers were equipped with
a 21-inch torpedo, a design started in 1936 after the failure of an earlier
model. This version was based on the Italian 533mm torpedo, bought from Fiume
in 1932, and it became one of the main Russian torpedoes of World War II. It
could range between 4000 meters at 44 knots out to 10,000 meters at 30 knots,
but this first salvo had been fired with the jitters of a new ship in combat
for the first time, and it was soon clear that the entire spread was going to
be in
Nürnberg’s
wake and miss both German ships badly.

The
destroyers were turning to adjust their course and get a better firing angle
when
Admiral Scheer’s
11-inch guns found
Kalima
. Two of the three
rounds from Anton turret struck home, one forward where it smashed the second
130mm gun turret, and the second well aft where it exploded right between two
torpedo mounts, destroying the torpedo firing director there and sending hot
splinters and shrapnel in every direction. The aft mount had just been loaded
and one of the torpedoes was struck right on the nose, causing the weapon to
detonate, which set off the entire rack. The resulting explosion was
catastrophic on the small ship.
Kalima
was finished.

Kranke
looked at his Executive Officer, smiling. “Now they know who they are dealing
with. We are not just another heavy cruiser! Look at that ship burn, Heintz!”

Kranke
gave orders to shift main guns to the Russian cruiser farther west and leave
the remaining destroyer to his secondary battery. Seeing the demise of their
comrades,
Kalinin
was now opening fire with all nine 7.1-inch guns, and
a running gun battle ensued, with both sides on a rough parallel course.

Destroyer
Saku
danced forward, making smoke to foil the gunners and put five
torpedoes in the water. All but one would miss badly, and Kranke had to maneuver
sharply to avoid the last, which was just astern, thrashing through his
broiling wake. But it was
Admiral Scheer’s
bigger guns that would make
the difference. The German gunnery crews were seasoned and their optical
sighting second to none. They found the range, put a good hit on
Kalinin
amidships that blew away her seaplane mount, and another just off the bow that
sent the cruiser rocking wildly through the sea spray and dented the hull.
Kalinin
failed to score a hit, and now
Nürnberg
began to find the range, scoring
twice with smaller 15cm guns.

When
the Russian cruiser was straddled yet again by another salvo from
Admiral
Scheer
, it appeared their Captain had had enough. Kranke saw the Russian
destroyer swerve west, dancing through geysers of 15cm rounds with expert
skill, but it was running. Moments later the cruiser turned as well, breaking off
the fight. The first engagement of the war at sea for Soviet Russia had ended
in defeat.

Heintz
came in, congratulating the Kapitän, though he had a strange look in his eye.
The shooting war had started and he seemed to have a sense of foreboding about
it.

“Well,”
he said, “the madness has begun. What were those destroyers thinking? Any
closer and we could have put rounds right through them.”

Kranke
laughed. “We are all mad men here, Heintz. No sane man would have come to this
forsaken place just to kill or be killed here. I’m mad, you’re mad, and the
Russians are certainly mad as well. We call it war, but for now our purpose has
been accomplished. Now we go home, thumbing our nose at them the whole long
way.”

Part VII

The Hunter

“If there is a sacred moment in the
ethical pursuit of game, it is the moment you release the arrow or touch off
the fatal shot.”

―
Jim Posewitz

Chapter 19

July 10, 1940

They
saw it at a little after 19:00, high in the sky, gleaming
with the light of the sun. At first the watchman thought it was a plane, but
radar returns showed it to be moving far too slow for that. Kranke had a good
laugh with Heintz and his senior gunnery officer, Helmut Schörner.

“Can
you believe it?” he said as he took another sip of Merlot. “They have nothing
that can bother us on the sea, so now they send that useless zeppelin!”

“Perhaps
they have nothing else that can fly, Herr Kapitän,” said Schörner. He was a
short man, very proper, meticulous in his work and a stickler for cleanliness.
Even as the Kapitän spoke he was slowly cleaning his butter knife with the
linen napkin at the officer’s dinner table.

Tonight
they were celebrating the successful conclusion of Operation Wunderland. The Kapitän
had ordered a nice roast beef with potatoes, peas and carrots. The Merlot was
particularly good, vintage 1932, a bottle he had kept in his sea chest for some
years waiting for a good night to celebrate.

Now his
strange grey eyes were alight with jubilation, as if he were contemplating the
medals he would win for this operation. “I told Hoffmann this was a good ship,”
said Kranke. “I told him we would have nothing to worry about. All this
nonsense about a rocket cruiser has him whining like a schoolboy. Well, there
is nothing of the sort here.”

Kranke
was a well respected officer in the Kriegsmarine, one who had fought with
Admiral Hipper’s Battlecruiser Squadron in the epic battle of Jutland. A
torpedo man at heart, he cut his teeth in the navy in the torpedo boat flotilla,
then served as an instructor in the Torpedo School.

The
meal concluded, it was time now for drinks and smoke, and the mention of
Hoffmann reminded the Kapitän that he had three fine cigars in his pocket. He
produced them at once, handing one to each of the other men with a smile.

“Hoffmann
gave these to me when I went over to see him on
Scharnhorst
. He said I
was to smoke one for finding his ghost ship, the second for getting a good photograph,
and the third for getting safely home. Well, I think we have more than enough
reason to smoke them now, so light up gentlemen. Enjoy yourselves.”

“Danke,
Herr Kapitän,” said Schörner, eager for a good smoke.

“Did
you see how badly aimed those torpedoes were?” Kranke had another good laugh.
“Ten fish in the water between the two destroyers and only one got close enough
to ask us for a dance. It is clear the Russians have a lot to learn about
warfare at sea. We will likely have free reign in these waters if this is all
they have in the cupboard.”

“Those
looked like fine new destroyers,” said Heintz. “Amazing speed!”

“But
good for nothing unless you know how to properly fight the ship. They should
have sprinted well ahead with their speed advantage and then fired right down
our line of advance in a wide spread. But my god, Schörner, that was a
tremendous hit you put on that lead destroyer.”

 “The
guns are extremely accurate, sir. I believe I could have hit a fly on their
mainmast if given just a little more time.”

“Well,”
said Kranke. “Now that we have Norway, the Russians come next. They’ve were
nipping at Finland’s heels last winter, but the Führer will be sending troops
there soon enough. In time we’ll take these northern ports and then they’ll be
completely isolated, no navy to speak of and nothing but a few old zeppelins to
bother us with.”

Kranke
had worked as Chief of Staff for North Sea Security in 1939 before taking his
post on
Admiral Scheer.
When the pocket battleship went into the docks
for a haircut and refit to officially become a heavy cruiser, Kranke was put to
good use as Navy Representative on Special Staff “
Weserübung
” to help
plan the naval portion of the invasion of Denmark and Norway. A man of 47
years, he was a tireless worker, always on the bridge, and taking little time
for rest or leisure—except on a night like this.

“Suppose
we send up our seaplane to harass that zeppelin, Kapitän?” Heintz had a
derisive smile on his face.

“Good
idea, Heintz,” said Kranke. “That’s a nice little slap in the face as we leave.
They’ll be remembering us for some time up here. Raeder was set to double down
on this bet with Operation Doppelschlag, but I hardly think it will be
necessary. Admiral Carls flew in from Wilhelmshaven with Vice Admiral Schmundt
to plan the whole thing. Wait until they get my report! Yes, we were worried
that the Russians had a few new ships up here, but it seems they haven’t the faintest
idea what to do with them.”

Now he
raised his glass in a toast. “Good shooting, Schörner. Congratulations! Now
gentlemen, let us enjoy these fine cigars. Then we can go home and tell Herr
Hoffmann that his rocket cruiser is nowhere to be found, and that from the
looks of things, Murmansk will be even easier pickings than Norway!”

* * *

Even
as Kranke raised his glass, a dark car rolled to a stop on
a muddy road north of Murmansk. The front doors opened and the driver and a
guard stepped out, the latter opening the rear door for the passenger, Vice
Admiral Arseniy Golovko, his face grim and serious. The Admiral tramped across
the road, folding his arms as he looked at the ship riding at anchor out in the
bay.

Massive,
he thought. Look at all those antennae! But where are the guns? I was told this
ship would be very powerful, and it certainly looks threatening, but with just
those three twin turrets? I have destroyers that are better armed.

He
shrugged, sighing heavily. “That is the ship?”

“Yes
sir. It has been here for several days, and the commanding officer is waiting
to receive you ashore.”

“We
have nothing else that looks anything like this ship. Where did it come from? I
know nothing of a special project to build of ship of this size.”

“It’s a
bit of a mystery, sir,” said the adjutant.

“Is it
finished? They might have put some guns on the damn thing before they sent it
to us.” Golovko shook his head, discouraged and somewhat disappointed. The ship
was beautiful, awesome in many ways. He found his eye sweeping over its trim
lines as a man might regard the lean shape of a woman’s leg. But nothing up
front, he thought, noting the flat empty foredeck.

“Very
well. Let us visit this new Admiral again. Kirov seemed fairly well taken with
the man. And I see they have named this ship after him. Let’s hope it has better
luck for us than
Kalinin
had yesterday. That was a
Kirov
class
cruiser too.” He lowered his head, watching the mud under his boots as he
walked.

They
were in the small but rapidly growing settlement of Severomorsk. By order of
the General Secretary a big buildup was now underway here. Trucks had been
arriving day and night from the rail yard at Murmansk after a big shipment came
all the way up from Leningrad. They were to construct new command centers,
docks, berthing areas, a supply depot and barracks. Another base, thought
Golovko, but nothing to anchor in it.

“Well,
beggars can’t be choosers. I come here with an empty teacup looking for help.
Let us hope this ship will be of some use.”

They
made their way through the sodden ground to a newly built cabin, where the
Admiral saw a detachment of security personnel waiting to receive him. He was
ushered in to find Admiral Volsky and Fedorov waiting quietly in a simple room,
with a table and chairs that doubled as a dining hall for staff officers.

“Forgive
the accommodations, Admiral,” said Volsky as he extended his hand. “We are just
getting established here ashore, and the crews are busy with repairs on the
ship.”

“Quite
a vessel,” said Golovko. “I am told it was a secret project?”

“That
is correct.”

“Well I
won’t bother you with questions about it. I’m afraid I have come with some
grave news. We received emergency alarms from our base at Port Dikson on the
Kara Sea. The Germans have sortied with a squadron of warships. We got wind of
it through naval intelligence last week—an operation Wunderland, as they call
it. There has been fighting.”

“Fighting?
Then they have violated your neutrality?”

“If you
want to call the sinking of three ships a violation, then you have it exactly.”
Admiral Golovko related the news, and Volsky could perceive his frustration at
the end when he told the story of how his own warships had fared in their first
encounter with the Germans.

“A
destroyer sunk?”

“
Kalima
.
One of our newest ships.”

“And
the ice breaker?”

“
Siberiakov
.
We called her old
Sasha
, as that ship has made that high Arctic run east
for years, but no longer. They tell me the Germans have taken prisoners, and
one man in particular that raises some alarm. His name was Zolotov, and he was
carrying the new code books for the weather outposts along that route. Now we
will have to change the code yet again!”