That settled, the remaining issue was how best to deceive Admiral Tovey into thinking that the Germans were seeking a major fleet engagement. It was the only way to draw him to the east and leave the Strait of Denmark unguarded. The English coast was too well guarded by minefields to close and bombard a city as Hipper had done in the first war. There had to be a way to threaten a vital interest of the allies that would leave him no choice but to sail from Scapa Flow and come east while Moeller skirted Iceland to the northwest.
Argonne had settled into Sheppard’s normal underway routine. At least as normal as it could be with the battle cruiser charging across the Atlantic as fast as she could go. Following the morning ‘Battle-stations’ the forenoon and afternoon watches were devoted to drills and evolutions. All of the gun crews were required to spend time on the loading machines to maintain or improve the rapidity with which they could service the guns.
Loading a 5»/54 caliber gun was not a simple evolution. Breech block dropped opened, hot casing ejected, rammer spade drops, fresh brass powder charge placed, shell man-handled ahead, both rammed into the gun, breech closed, shoot. Every day, every mount crew practiced; again … 7 seconds, again … 6 seconds, again … 5 seconds, again, again, again. The 40mm mount crews practiced passing the four round 20 pound clips and placing them in the loading slots at the breech ends of the quadruple mounts. To maintain the firing rate of 160 rounds per minute per gun, a clip had to be loaded every second and a half into each of the four guns. Forty clips a minute for each gun. It was easy to understand why the inside of the gun shields were lined with ready service clips in three rows.
Loading drills for the 18-inch turrets were much more complicated; requiring the efforts of hundreds of men to ensure a steady supply of projectiles and powder bags. The vast majority worked to move the 3,850 pound projectiles or 110 pound powder bags to the hoists. As long as the hoists were full and waiting on the gun captain to load, those legions were doing their jobs well. In any of the three 18-inch turrets it is not hard to imagine the effort required to manhandle forty-eight powder bags a minute into the three hoists during rapid fire. The projectile men also had to move six shells a minute using ropes and capstans in a method called parbuckling into the three pusher hoists that led to the gun chambers.
Each gun had its own separate compartment inside the armored turret. Only four men were with the gun and one more looking at the gun chamber through an armored glass window controlling the upper powder hoist. Bore clearing blast of air, breech open, gun captain inspects bore for cinders, breach mushroom seal wiped, spanner emplaced, shell rammed, rammer withdrawn, breech plug primed, four bags rolled to spanner, bags pushed fore and aft, four more bags, powder carefully rammed (too hard the turret explodes), breech closed, gun captain signals ready, gun elevates and fires. Practice, practice, practice … . The Americans were fastest! By regulations, the cycle was not allowed to take less than 25 seconds. Anything over 30 seconds was considered unacceptable. Every one of the nine gun crews on Argonne could meet a 27 second mark.
The 6-inch guns for each turret were all in the same gun chamber. Their loading was very similar to the 5 inch, with one important difference. The projectiles at 135 pounds were too heavy to be man-handled and had to be placed (rolled actually) into the gun tray from a loader that took the shell from the hoist, and rotated it on an arc from the trunnion to the gun tray where it was put in place after the 64-pound powder case was positioned next to the spade. The 6-inch gun crews on Argonne could reliably load and fire every 6 to 7 seconds; just slightly slower than the 5 inch.
All of the repair parties were manned up in the afternoon watch and had to respond appropriately to simulated fires, flooding, machinery casualties, electronic failures, shell holes, torpedo hits, bomb hits and a host of other potential disasters all under the watchful eye of the Damage Control Assistant and his division officers. If the gun crews and fire-control parties were the offense these men were Argonne’s defense.
Even Commander Hugh Blankenship the ship’s surgeon and his battle dressing parties were presented with simulated blood and gore to deal with appropriately. Sheppard always enjoyed personally watching his doctor try to cope with whatever mayhem Sheppard could dream up in the most difficult locations in the ship; after all, his own life had been saved by the battle dressing party and skilled surgeons on Shenandoah. Sheppard even convinced Admiral Hamblen to simulate a heart attack when Hugh least expected it.
Lieutenant Commander Thaddeus Furlong, Argonne’s supply officer had to get his storekeepers to run down repair parts that were ‘suppose-to-be’ located in specific parts lockers and store rooms scattered around the battle cruiser wherever no one else needed the space. That was inevitably the long leg in the timelines to return damaged electronics or fire-control equipment to service.
Only Commander Chris Petersen’s engineers on watch in the machinery spaces were exempt from the training schedule. The race was too important. The propulsion plant could not be spared for drills.
Amiral Phillipe D’Aubigné had called a meeting in the wardroom onboard the French cuirassé Languedoc of all his admirals and ship captains at 0900 on May 22nd. Normally a pleasant flag officer with kind words of greeting and small talk, this time the admiral’s officers were struck by the seriousness of his expression and dark circles under his eyes. They wondered among themselves if it was something more than the approach of the German army and the inevitable showdown.
It had been decided last year, shortly after Hitler had occupied the rest of metropolitan France; that the fleet would stay in Mers el Kébir. If the Germans or English tried to take them, they would fight and then scuttle. Neither side would get the advantage of these ships. After the war France could salvage those that she needed and scrap the rest. As far as the officers present were concerned the only issue was how long each of them was willing to fight and take casualties before scuttling to preserve French honor. That was an individual decision that Amiral D’Aubigné had left up to his ship’s captains.
Phillipe began, “My comrades in honor, we had previously agreed on a course of action to cover any eventuality that we could foresee in the current war. We have been attacked by both sides. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure than to sail into battle against either the axis or the British, but we no longer have the supplies to accomplish anything. You know Rommel is closing in on Oran. It will only be a few days before we will be forced to put our plan into action. I have been meeting regularly with General Laroque who has assured me that the Legion will fight to the last man defending the fleet.”
He paused to let his words settle and clear his own thoughts. “I have received a telegram from the Swiss embassy that originated with a German admiral. He claims to be Hitler’s naval representative to Italy and presents an alternative to our dilemma that we had not considered.
“Let me read the important part to you. ‘I am prepared as the Führer’s direct naval representative in Italy and with the full cooperation of the German Army, to offer you a safe passage to Toulon where you and your men can be repatriated to your homes and families without bloodshed.’”
Immediately the room began buzzing with whispers, particularly among the ship captains. This truly was an option that they had not considered. Why would their enemy just let them go home?
Phillipe let the stirring die down of its own accord before speaking. “Let there be no rank or position in this discussion. One man’s opinion is to have the same weight as another’s. When we finish our discussion and every man has had an equal chance to convince the others, we must decide on what course of action we will follow. I insist that the decision we reach is unanimous, our strength lies in our unity and that we must preserve. Is there any among us who is not prepared to act together as one?”
No one initially rose. Then Capitaine de Vaisseau Charles Fournier, Commanding Officer of the cuirassé Aquitaine, stood to speak. “Gentlemen, the Boches have no honor. Look what they have done in France. They t
ook the rest of our country without provocation. I for one say, Tell them to go to hell!”
Contre-amiral Verne Bertrand of Le Quatriėme Escadron de ‘Croiseur Lourd spoke. “We have a chance to save our men. We have a chance to allow everyone to go home to France. The war is over for us. Let us leave for France and forget the past.”
Others rose and spoke, many for leaving the war behind and returning home. Some believed it was more important to preserve the honor of the French Navy and to support the Legion. A few asked what of the officers and men who had their families here in Oran. What was to become of them? Should those men be left behind? The hours dragged on with Phillipe becoming less convinced than ever that his officers could reach a consensus.
Then Capitaine de Frégate Destin Moreau of the Contre-torpilleur Mogador rose. Though very junior, he had distinguished himself in action against the Italians early in the war. None doubted his courage.
“My friends, someday the war will end and France will rise again as she always has. Whatever action we choose, we must consider how future generations of French naval officers will look back on this day. Will they remember brave men resolute in the face of adversity? Do we sail for France to leave Algeria defenseless for the sake of personal considerations? What plot lurks behind this offer of the German admiral? What if the Italian battle fleet waits over the horizon? Do we fight then? There are many unknowns, but I for one believe in duty, honor, and country!”
He sat. The space was silent.
The last glimmer of light was fading in the western sky as Sheppard directed his Officer of the Deck to slow to 42 knots. The loom of the lighthouse at Cape Spartel in French Morocco was on his starboard bow. Soon he expected to see the one from Cape Tarifa fine on his port bow. His Navigator Commander Art Roberts had done an excellent job in bringing them this far. He was exactly where he wanted to be as night began to envelope Argonne for the passage through the Strait of Gibraltar.
Commander Oliver Halverson RN VC KCB had stopped the masquerade as Admiral Hamblen’s aide and was back in his own uniform. The former Commanding Officer of the destroyer Swift, he had been knighted by King George VI and presented with the Victoria Cross for the Battle of Dover Strait. Afire and sinking Swift had managed to sink fifteen invasion barges before Ollie had run her aground and continued to fight his guns from what remained above water until captured. When the Germans surrendered he was released, more dead than alive. For the last three days he had been entertaining and educating Argonne’s wardroom with his firsthand knowledge of the Kriegsmarine and the brutality of their common enemy. Unfortunately, Sheppard and his subconscious did not hear him.
Ollie had come up to the conning station where Art had set up his quartermasters to pilot Argonne through the Strait. As a precaution, Sheppard had manned battle stations, but was not really expecting any action. Ted Grabowski had taken over the OOD duties from Art and was keeping a watchful eye on things from the armored command tower. Sheppard directed Chuck Williamson to load the hoists with High Capacity shells in the event that trouble came looking. With every gun manned, all radars humming, and condition Zebra set throughout the ship, Argonne was ready for anything. If they did hit a mine, at least the flooding would be minimized.
Art’s quartermasters were taking bearings to both Cape Spartel light and Cape Tarifa using the alidades on the open part of the conning station. The SG radar operator was getting beautifully clear returns from the cliffs in the strait. Crossing the bearings from the two light houses with the ranges reported by radar Art was sure he knew where he was within 250 yards as they entered the strait. Ollie had assured Sheppard that the swept channel was a thousand yards wide in most places.
Sheppard looked at him with a smile, “Most places? Commander, would you care to elaborate?!”
Ollie looked at Sheppard knowingly. He had also listened to the stories of Shenandoah at Pearl Harbor and how Argonne had pulled a rabbit out of the proverbial hat in defeating Schröder at Cape Vilan. Surely exaggerated in the retelling, nevertheless, Ollie recognized a fellow warrior on whom he might employ a bit of legendary British wit. Ollie smiled, “Well, Captain McCloud, one never knows for sure, does one.”
“Welcome home, Madame.” The head butler of Chateau D’Aubigné, whose family had served the chateau for generations, stood in the doorway as Daphne D’Aubigné returned from visiting friends but more importantly soliciting funds to feed her husband’s sailors and marines.
“Thank you, Chevir. How is Marie? Has the baby come?”
“She is resting well, madame, as her time approaches”
“I see, and my son Étienne, is he coping well?”
“No, Madame, he is like every expectant father filled with trepidation for Marie and what will come.” Mainard Chevir knew all too well the dangers of child birth having lost his first wife during the delivery of a dead son. “Was your trip successful, Madame?” he solicitously inquired. The senior staff of the chateau were well aware of what Madame D’Aubigné was doing to preserve her husband’s ships, and with it some of the honor of France.
“I fear not, Mainard,” breaking tradition, calling him by his first name, “my husband will only have enough to feed his men for another month or two.” She sighed as she spoke, “I wish I could be with him and the world returned to the way it was before this horrible war.”
Admiral Schröder was frustrated. He did not have an answer. The German ambassador to Switzerland had assured him that the Swiss were trying to make contact with their consulate in Oran but that there were problems with the cable under the Mediterranean. Who knew, perhaps the German advance had cut it. They had sent a wireless message but that had not yet been received clearly according to the Swiss. Well if the Swiss could not carry the mail perhaps the Spanish could. At least they would be more sympathetic to the German position. He sat down to compose the second message. This message the French could not ignore!
4
DIPLOMACY
GRUPPENFÜHRER KARL BODERMANN HAD been very specific in his instructions to SturmbannFührer Otto Reiniger. The task had to be completed quickly; not later than 0800 on the morning of the 24th. If there was anything Otto was good at, it was completing a task on time. That skill was the principle reason for his meteoric rise in the SS. It was also the reason that Karl had chosen him to get the information that his brother had requested. Fritz had promised that it would end the war with the British in only six months, if the operation that his boss Admiral Klaus Schröder had devised was successful.
That was all that Otto had needed to enter the former French Naval Ministry with a platoon of storm-troopers and start working. Of course the French had resisted his demands. He had expected that. However, hanging the first two bureaucrats that spoke, questioning his orders had solved most of the problems. It always worked to just throw a rope over a convenient railing or beam at the entrance and hoist the noosed, condemned up without tying their hands or feet. They struggled longer that way to impress the other workers, as slow strangulation eventually ended their protests. All the others were very compliant following such demonstrations of German resolve.
What Otto did not know was that the French were just as resolute in their resistance to the German wishes. As the list of individuals was being compiled, the bureaucrats were making and smuggling out a second list of the same names and addresses to the French underground. The so-called Maquis started to notify the named individuals, mostly women and children that they were being put on a German list for some reason and should go into hiding. Before the final list was given to Otto Reiniger, just before the deadline, many were safe in the countryside or soon would be. Only the Maquis knew their locations.
The pounding on the door would not stop. Mainard Chevir finally opened the door to this insistent stranger and the two men with him. “Who are you to be pounding on our door at this hour?”
“I am called Commandant César of the Maquis, it is imperative that I speak with Madame D’Aubigné immediately.”
“I don’t care who you are, Commandant, I will not wake Madame on the say so of a ruffian.”
“Then get out of my way. We will find her ourselves.”
Awakened by the pounding, Madame D’Aubigné dressed in her night gown and robe, entered the great hall. “It is alright, Chevir, I am already awake from the pounding and will talk to these men.”
“Madame, it is of utmost urgency that you come with me at once.”
“Never! Who do you think you are to order me to leave my home and the people I am responsible for in the middle of the night with no explanation?”
“Madame, you, your son, and daughter-in-law are being placed on a list by the German SS. We believe all of your husband’s officers’ families are in great danger. Those are the names that the SS has gone to great lengths to quickly acquire. You must come at once.”
“But my daughter-in-law can’t travel; she is too late in her pregnancy.”
“Madame, if she stays, I fear she and her baby will die at the hands of the Germans anyway.” A look of horror crossed the delicate features of Daphne D’Aubigné’s patrician face.
“Bastards!”
“Madame, we must go now!”
“If you insist, Chevir, get the Grand Renault. Wake Étienne and Marie, tell them to pack light and bring everything they need to be gone for several days.”
“No, madame. There is no time. You cannot use the car. We will have to stay off the roads and remain in the woods.”
“Impossible, Marie can’t walk!”
Sheppard and the French Rescue Page 10