“Madame, if I may suggest,” Chevir interjected, “perhaps a horse cart filled with straw would be acceptable to the Commandant.”
“A horse cart would be too big for the terrain we must traverse. My men may be able to pull a small donkey cart. That should be large enough for Marie by herself.” Commandant César thought for a moment. He needed to be careful to not betray his real identity. “If Marie needs medical attention, I am sure we can quickly arrange it.”
Bowing to the inevitable, Madame D’Aubigné acquiesced, “It appears we have no choice. Chevir, get the cart while I wake Étienne and Marie, but you are coming with us.”
She awoke suddenly. What was happening? Was it the strange surroundings since she had left their home? Was it the absence of friends in this strange place? She was bathed in sweat. A gnawing fear filled her with dread.
What of her love? Somehow she knew he was concerned, nervous at their situation, but also confident of their safety. She knew many of his officers and men. They too shared his determination—to do what? She would do everything in her power to see them safe on this new adventure, pray for them; hold them tight in her thoughts.
What more could he ask of her? It was impossible to do more!
The first hint of dawn was beginning to color the eastern horizon as Argonne glided toward the position that Sheppard and Admiral Hamblen had selected off of Mers el Kébir. There was no sign of reaction yet from the French as both men prayed that when they finally awoke to the American battle cruiser’s presence, the immense stars and stripes flying from both of Argonne’s masts would also be seen. Sheppard had briefed his crew on what was going to happen, but he could not allay their fears that Argonne was too close to the French fleet, and should hostilities start, she would be quickly overwhelmed and destroyed.
The guns, though loaded and ready for immediate action were all trained fore and aft. Even the directors were trained to their normal peace time positions. That did not prevent the fire-control parties deep below the armored deck from using Art Roberts’s accurate navigation fixes and observations of the locations of the French warships to generate fire control solutions in the Ford computers. Attached stern first to the mole in what was referred to as a “Mediterranean moor” they were for the most part heading directly away from Argonne’s location. In a curious application of design more than half of the French battleships and all of their battle cruisers had their entire main armament in quadruple turrets located forward. The heavy guns that faced Sheppard only slightly outnumbered those he could bring to bear with his broadside.
The great armored hatch covering Argonne’s hanger on her fantail slowly slid aft, opening the huge space containing the ship’s boats and six OS2U-5 Kingfisher aircraft. The aircraft and boat crane lowered its hook into the hanger and Seaman Goldstein put the lifting bridle of the captain’s gig over the hook, signaling Chief Aviation Boatswain’s Mate Walter Bledsoe to haul away. Rising quickly from its cradle in the hanger, Sheppard was surprised at the fresh coat of dark blue paint that had been applied to the hull of his gig. He raised his 7 x 50 binoculars and saw his smiling coxswain BM2 Raymondo Cruz looking back at him. How Cruz had managed to turn his gig into a shiny Admiral’s barge with everything else that had been happening, Sheppard could only guess at. As he looked closer, he saw four large five pointed silver stars neatly aligned in a horizontal row on each bow, completing the transformation of the gig to the barge of Admiral Hamblen. Even the flagstaff was now topped with a halberd indicating that the Admiral was onboard the gig.
Using a bow line to keep the barge pointed into the water flowing past Argonne, Fireman Russert started the boat’s engine just before it touched the water. Cruz and Russert controlled the position while Goldstein and Seaman Johansen unhooked the lifting bridle from the barge. The moment it was unhooked, the First-Repeat pennant was raised at Argonne’s starboard yardarm signaling the Admiral’s absence from his flagship; as Cruz rang four bells to Russert and then held a fifth clank to make sure Russert gave him every bit of speed possible, The bow line was cast off. Goldstein and Johansen practiced their synchronized routine with the boathooks one last time that would have put smiles on the faces of Broadway’s choreographers.
The only item that seemed out of place was the large white flag flying from the flagstaff below the halberd as Admiral Hamblen left with Sheppard’s best signalman for his historic meeting with Amiral D’Aubigné.
Vizeadmiral Joachim Moeller watched as the last of the four Bf109T fighters left the flight deck of his flagship Peter Strasser. Even though his fleet would be off the Luftwaffe’s base at Stavanger Norway before the RAF reconnaissance patrols would be in his vicinity, he was determined to remain unlocated until the late afternoon. By then he would be north of the latitude of Scapa Flow and Tovey could not catch up using his slow British battleships. With luck the RAF would not even note his sailing until the afternoon photo recon Mosquito had landed at RAF Benson. It would take an hour or two to develop the films and then the interpreters could begin to count noses.
It was good to be back at sea. This raid into the Atlantic had every chance of success. The English had redeployed some of their battle cruisers to Gibraltar; without them, Tovey was not strong enough to detach more squadrons to stop Joachim at the Denmark Strait. The cruiser patrols were too weak to do any real damage. If the weather was fair, his JU87 Stukas would make short work of any attempts to shadow him. With the addition of the four armored cruisers he could even afford to detach two for a gun action in the event of foul weather. No this time Germany would prevail. The lessons from Schröder’s foray had all been digested by the Flottenchef’s staff. They had assured him that if he could annihilate three east bound convoys of which two had to be mostly tankers, the English would be forced to surrender. The only unknown was the Americans.
What were they up to this time?
Rear Admiral Hamilton was also glad to sortie from Norfolk. Admiral King had made good on his promise to replace Sabine and Belleau Wood in Task Force 48, Columbia (CV-7) was delayed in starting her overhaul. Even though her electronics and anti-aircraft armament were woefully out of date she could still operate her full air group of F4F-3 Wildcat fighters, SBD-3 Dauntless dive bombers, and TBD-1 Devastator torpedo planes. A sister of his new flagship Raritan (CV-10), Admiral King’s decision had made it easy for Hamilton’s staff to incorporate her into all the existing operation plans, particularly the air plan. He was more concerned with the Chateau Thierry (CC-48). She was fresh out of her post shakedown availability and undoubtedly would need some time to get the inactivity of the shipyard out of her crew. At least she had all the latest electronics. Dolf Hamilton was counting on her to be his radar eyes and ears.
As he stood on the flag bridge of his carrier, he mused with his Chief of Staff Captain Henry Burke, “Henry, I would feel a lot better, if we had Argonne and Sheppard with us right now.”
“Yes sir, I too am concerned about the increased wireless traffic originating in the Jade Bay that the Brits have reported.”
“Do you think Lütjens is going to sortie, or is it just another feint?”
“Hard to say for sure, Admiral; we gave them a good thumping at Cape Vilan, but they know how vital the convoys are just as much as we do. I was talking to a friend of mine on the CNO’s staff. Hardly a day goes by that Admiral of the Fleet Pound doesn’t remind Admiral King that the real war is in the Atlantic. King took it personally when the Japs devastated Pearl Harbor. It’s clear his heart is in the Pacific and can’t wait to divert ships to avenge the attack.”
“It is too bad that King could not find us another fighting admiral to replace Ray Calhoun. He never should have left the armored command tower to override Kevin Bailey’s incompetent orders. It is going to take a couple of months before Ray recovers, if ever, from the loss of his left arm at Cape Vilan.”
“I know how you feel, Admiral, but it is a blessing in disguise. Sheppard is senior to Jake Gibbons of Chateau Thierry, which makes him i
n charge if you detach the battle cruisers.
“Does Sheppard know that?”
“Not until we tell him, Admiral, but do you really think it will make much difference to him?”
“Only the difference between an order and a request, though Jake would be a fool to ignore any suggestion Sheppard makes.”
Both men continued to watch as the Chateau Thierry’s Kingfishers wove back and forth over the ocean that Task Force 48 was heading towards. Destroyer Squadrons Thirty and Twenty-eight were already deploying into an anti-submarine screen for the heavy ships as they came out of Thimble Shoals channel. Dolf looked at Henry as both men smiled. Sheppard may not be with them now, but his experience was. No German U-boat was going to ambush Raritan the way Sabine had been hit in these same waters the month before.
To say that the French were surprised by the sudden appearance of the American battle cruiser off the port of Mers el Kébir at dawn would have been the understatement of the century. The first lookout spotting Argonne had raised the alarm and quickly the fleet was alerted. Sailors ran to their battle stations, boilers were lit, and engines began warming. Amiral D’Aubigné briefly considered opening fire as the Americans were allied with the English, but this large warship was not showing any hostile intent. Her guns were all trained fore and aft; not one director was pointed at a French target. The launch with the large white flag had also come into view, dutifully being reported by the flagship’s lookouts as battle stations were being manned.
As the launch entered the western gap in the mole, Phillipe saw through his binoculars the four silver stars on the bow and the halberd on the flagstaff. This was significant; the Americans were sending a full Admiral to talk with him. He went below to don his best full dress white uniform pausing to order the Languedoc’s Commanding Officer to prepare to receive an American Admiral with full military honors.
Boatswain’s Mate second class Cruz knew how to handle the captain’s gig turned admiral’s barge. He put on a show worthy of an Oscar as he darted between ships at high speed. Before they had left Argonne, he knew which one was the French flagship. The French tricolor with four white stars arranged in a diamond on the blue field was clearly visible on one of the largest battleships using a long glass. By custom he made directly toward the aft starboard accommodation ladder, backing full to stop no more than 3 inches from the fenders. As had happened before, the rapidity of his approach and landing caused the French boatswain to swallow the last note of the pipe for coming alongside. Admiral Hamblen stepped nimbly onto the landing stage and started to ascend the steps to the quarterdeck. Chief Signalman Evan Bryce also leaped to the landing stage but remained standing on it as Johansen and Goldstein used their boathooks to shove off from the Languedoc’s accommodation ladder.
Cruz only went a few hundred yards away and then idled the gig to wait. He did not use his usual maximum speed, deliberately slowing enough for Johansen and Goldstein to complete their synchronized boathook routine under the watching eyes of the French fleet. Cruz smiled to himself that a kid from a west Texas border town who grew up with a record and no future was now part of a diplomatic mission of vital national importance. He knew that he had one man to thank for this opportunity. He would make any sacrifice; do whatever was needed, to again save Captain McCloud as he had on Shenandoah. When he idled the gig, he personally removed the halberd and replaced the white flag with the stars and stripes.
The echoes from the last of the seventeen gun salute were dying away when Admiral Hamblen stepped forward to greet his old friend Amiral D’Aubigné. “Phillipe, thank you for the warm welcome.”
“John, I am surprised by your visit and forgive me for not rendering the proper nineteen guns to the Commander in Chief of the United States Fleet.”
Raising his hand to reassure his old friend, Admiral Hamblen replied, “Phillipe, you were correct, I no longer hold that position. The seventeen guns was the correct number.”
“Let us adjourn to my flag quarters; my steward still knows how to make an excellent cup of American coffee.”
“Phillipe, before we do, I have a request of you. My flagship is in a vulnerable position and I wish your permission for her to launch her spotter aircraft for an anti-submarine patrol.”
“John, but of course, I will order a signal immediately.”
“Phillipe, that is my second request, I brought along my own signalman to avoid the difficulties yours may have with English. He is waiting on the landing stage. If you would be so kind as to have him taken to the signal bridge, he will send the signal necessary to Argonne.”
Amiral D’Aubigné turned to his flag lieutenant, spoke briefly, and turned back to his guest. “John, you doubly honor me. Not only with your own presence, but you also brought America’s most famous ship. I wish my officers could have a chance to meet the famous Captain McCloud. Is he still in command of Argonne?”
“Yes, he is, Phillipe, and perhaps your officers will have that chance,“ Admiral Hamblen concluded as both men turned and walked arm in arm to Amiral D’Aubigné’s quarters.
Sheppard’s Conning Officer alerted him. “Captain, the French flagship is signaling.”
Sheppard turned and began his usual absentminded reading of the Morse code being sent by the signal light. A habit he had developed early in his career, there were very few signalmen in the fleet who could send faster than Sheppard could read. One of them was Evan Bryce, but this time he was slowing his usual blistering pace. When the message was concluded, Sheppard walked to the 21MC ‘squawk box’ selected the command tower, and ordered, “Officer of the Deck, prepare to launch aircraft.” He then walked out onto the conning station platform to look at the fine day that was dawning as the sun began to peek above Montagne de Saint Augustin and Jebel Kahar. Admiral Hamblen’s initial meeting had gone well enough for him to be allowed to fly his Kingfishers. It therefore made little sense to keep his crew at battle stations while they talked and he idly cruised off the harbor entrance.
He turned back to the conning station and directed his JA sound powered phone talker to pass. “Officer of the Deck; secure from battle stations with the exception of underway anti-aircraft mounts and directors, set condition Zebra below the second deck modified to allow passage of personnel above the fourth deck.”
The starting cartridges for the two Kingfishers on his Mark 7 catapults fired almost together as an out of breath Signalman third class arrived on the conning platform with the written out message.
“Is there a reply, sir?” the young petty officer asked.
“No, not at this time, thank you,” Sheppard answered. Was there anything he needed to do to insure a safe launch of his aircraft? Sheppard knew they were armed with two 325 pound Mark 17 depth bombs. One was fused to detonate at 50 feet of water depth and the other at 25 feet. That put the Kingfishers at their maximum gross weight. He decided to improve their chances of successful launch by increasing speed and directed the Conning Officer to come to ahead two thirds. With Argonne’s increased speed, there would be a greater lift for the aircraft relative to the wind at the end of the catapult track.
It wasn’t long before the Officer of the Deck reported, “Ready to launch aircraft.”
A quick look aft to confirm in his own mind readiness, was followed by Sheppard’s order to, “Launch Aircraft!”
The two admirals entered the flag cabin onboard Languedoc Phillipe, ever the gracious host that John Hamblen had known when they were both attachés in London, gestured to two overstuffed wingback chairs with a small table conveniently nearby. John sat as the cabin steward politely asked how he wished his coffee. Phillipe made a show of his good memory by answering for John, “Black with one sugar.”
Admiral Hamblen began, “Phillipe, I trust that my floatplanes will not find any of your submarines in the vicinity. I would hate to start the relationship between our forces with an unfortunate incident.”
“Do not concern yourself, John; unfortunately, I do not have the fuel to support m
y ships at sea.”
“I understand, Phillipe.” Slowly Hamblen began to speak seriously. “We have known each other for many years; in all that time have you ever known me to take advantage of our friendship?”
Suddenly serious, Phillipe looked at Hamblen wondering what the destination of this conversation was. “No, John, why are you asking?”
“Because, Phillipe, I am about to.”
“Clearly I have not brought a capital ship into the Mediterranean unescorted on a social call. I bring a letter to you from President Roosevelt. I asked him to be allowed to deliver it personally because of our friendship and the hope we could discuss the future honestly.”
Phillipe André D’Aubigné leaned back in his chair with a hardened face as he stared at John Hamblen handing him the letter.
The 5-inch cartridge fired when the lanyard on the starboard catapult was pulled. Lieutenant Commander Bronco Burdick USN flying the Argonne’s OS2U-5 Kingfisher call sign ‘mustang zero-one’ accelerated down the 80-foot track, became airborne, and cleared the lifelines by two feet. As he flew past the superstructure, Sheppard smiled at the ever present white silk scarf wrapped around his Scout Observation Squadron commander’s neck. Sheppard also had to smile at the one broken submarine painted on the side of Bronco’s aircraft beneath the single German flag boasting Bronco’s ‘almost airborne’ to air victory in the Battle of Cape Vilan.
Sheppard turned at the crack of the second catapult firing which hurled Bronco’s wingman Lieutenant Barry Jensen off the port catapult in mustang zero-five. With both of his first two Scout Observation aircraft airborne, it was time to ready two more for launch. The plan that Sheppard had discussed with Bronco earlier was for Barry and Bronco to search out to 50 nautical miles while the second group of Kingfishers flew only to a radius of 15 miles, but at a higher altitude. According to the charts the north coast of Africa had a sand bottom and a submarine should be visible against that background as the sun rose higher in the sky.
Sheppard and the French Rescue Page 11