Paradox Hour

by John Schettler

  Before the action he had discussed the situation with Admiral Volsky, and came down to a grim conclusion. Fedorov had pointed out that they had only 28 anti-ship missiles, still more than a normal combat load, due to the fact that they had pirated missiles from the submarine Kazan.

  “This is the heart of the German fleet, is it not, Fedorov?”

  “It appears so,” said Fedorov. “We’ve identified all three battleships, the two battlecruisers, the carrier Graf Zeppelin and the light escort carrier that was with Hindenburg.”

  “Then if we use the power we now have, we can literally take the German fleet out of the war. Yes? I am not speaking of a nuclear option here. Yet my question to you is this—can we cripple the German navy for good here by using the conventional warheads we still have?”

  “Very likely,” said Fedorov. “That will depend on how we hit them.”

  “Hard, Fedorov. We must hit them very hard. A carrier must be saturated to achieve a certain kill. I know this is our tactic in modern times, but will it apply here?”

  “The Graf Zeppelin has only a third the displacement of a typical Nimitz Class carrier, sir. And the Nimitz could sustain three times the damage of even the best built carrier in WWII. We may be able to mission kill this German carrier with two or three hits.”

  “Yet that would allow it to survive, would it not? Now I begin to sound like Karpov, but would that mean we must fight this same battle all over again, and without the missiles we fire here today? No. I think we must take a hard line here. If we engage, then we must do so with the intent of killing these ships, not just putting damage on them to discourage them. Do you agree, Fedorov?”

  After a deep breath, Fedorov nodded his assent.

  “But you still have reservations,” said Volsky. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  “It’s not that, sir,” said Fedorov.

  “That hand again? Is all well there?”

  “Yes sir, my hand seems to be fit and staying put now. I think that was a temporary effect, or at least I hope as much.”

  “Then what? Tell me why you hesitate?”

  “It isn’t the tactics, Admiral. I agree. If we fight here now, and with a limited missile inventory, then we should seek a decisive engagement. Yes, I know I also sound like Karpov now, but we both admit that in many ways he was correct when it came to battle. I was thinking about something else—how the Germans could have learned about Rodney.”

  “Volkov? Might he have tipped them off?”

  “I’ve wondered about that, but cannot see how he would be privy to that information Miss Fairchild disclosed. Yes, he might be able to look up the service record and see that Rodney did have that gold bullion aboard, and the Elgin Marbles, but that would be of little consequence. It would not be anything that would compel the Germans to maneuver as they have here, and seek out that single ship.”

  “Could we be reading more into their maneuvers than they really know, Fedorov? After all, both task groups now appear on a course to rendezvous by mid-day, and they are merely heading away from the British battleships behind them.”

  “Yes, and directly towards us. I think they must know we have followed them through the straits of Gibraltar, sir. Yet that northern group is not bearing on our position. It is on a course to intercept Rodney. So is the Hindenburg group.”

  “Mere coincidence,” Volsky suggested.

  “No sir, they know the position of Rodney well enough. The U-boat that torpedoed it will have reported this information.”

  “Then they are obviously out to pick off the wounded water buffalo, and thin out the herd,” said Volsky.

  “Possibly, but I would think they would not perceive Rodney as a threat here, given the speed advantage they have over that ship. The Invincible is a real threat to them, and yet they are not maneuvering to intercept us at this time, even though they had a fix on our position yesterday with that seaplane.”

  “It does seem odd,” Volsky agreed.

  “And don’t forget that we have that previous message intercept. It appeared Lütjens was ordered to take this course—ordered to seek out Rodney.”

  It was then that Nikolin turned with a report that deepened the mystery. He had picked up another signal using the German naval code, and was translating it with the application Fedorov had in his pad device. When he finished, it soon appeared that there was now some confusion on the German side. Wilhelmshaven was asking what orders needed confirmation.

  “Repeat order needing confirmation. Objective is as per original orders in Fall Rheinübung …” Fedorov’s eyes narrowed. That was the first time they had picked up the actual name of the operation now underway, and it was identical to the one put forward by the Germans at this same time in the history he knew. It was an oddity, as the history here was vastly altered. And now it also seemed that the intent of the German battle strategy was no longer clear. Fedorov did not have the original orders, as they must have been given by other means than coded signals, possibly transmitted to Lütjens before he left Toulon. The sudden turnabout made by the Hindenburg group appeared to be in response to a direct order from Wilhelmshaven, but now this directive seemed to contradict that and re-affirm the original plan. What was going on here?

  “Confusion in battle is commonplace,” said Volsky.

  “Yet we have the decoded message received earlier, Admiral. It was a clear order to find and sink Rodney. Lütjens requested confirmation, and now we have this? Wilhelmshaven seems to know nothing about that earlier order.”

  “Very strange,” Volsky agreed. “Yet I do not see how this impacts our decision here on how to proceed. I believe we must eliminate the German carrier as our opening move in this chess game. Correct Fedorov?”

  The Captain nodded, again with some sense of misgiving obvious on his face. Minutes later they began their attack, and now the next move was plotted in this uneven chess game, where the Russian ship could move to develop all its pieces before the enemy could lay a finger on a single pawn.

  “Twenty four missiles remaining,” said Volsky. “Two must have struck a smaller escort ship.”

  “They are learning, Admiral,” said Fedorov. “They are trying to steam in tight formations around the carrier to protect it.”

  “Correct,” said Rodenko. “I can now read two ships in close proximity to the primary. They must have redeployed the cruiser escort to replace the ship we hit with those first two missiles.”

  “All the more reason to change our angle of attack,” said Volsky. “I was told we still have several Moskit-IIs programmed for vertical strike profiles—is this so, Mister Samsonov?”

  “Correct Admiral. I have three of nine missiles in that system programmed for vertical strike.”

  “Then I think this is the next move, Fedorov,” said Volsky. “A knight leaping from above, and not the slashing, sea-skimming attack of the Bishop.”

  “I’m seeing air activity over the primary,” said Rodenko. “I think they’re launching.”

  “So out first strike was not enough,” said Volsky.

  Fedorov hesitated, just long enough for Volsky to turn his head from Nikolin to regard him more closely. Then the young Captain swallowed, nodded, and turned to Samsonov.

  “How many Moskit-II missiles remain?”

  “Nine missiles loaded and ready—one in the number ten bay.” Samsonov was reminding Fedorov that one of the nine was mounted in the special weapons bay, where a nuclear warhead could be loaded onto the missile if so ordered. That was not to be the case today, but Fedorov took note of that. They still had three special warheads, and if they ever had to use them, they would need missiles. So instead of 24 missiles available, he really had no more than 21 now if he wished to retain three for those special warheads. It was time to do some heavier hitting.

  “Ready one Moskit-II for immediate launch,” he said. “Vertical attack profile. Target the primary, carrier Graf Zeppelin.”

  With over twice the warhead weight of the missiles they had
received from Kazan, this was the ship’s premier ship killer. It was normally programmed to be a fast supersonic sea-skimmer, but they had found that the heavy side armor of the battleships of this era had been able to survive hits at the water line. So it was decided to reprogram missiles to pop up and hit the superstructure, or simply strike from high above, where the thinner deck armor could easily be penetrated by the big 450kg warhead moving at the blistering speed of Mach three.

  “Very well,” said Fedorov. “Mark your target and fire.”

  * * *

  Two of three fighters on deck had been damaged by shrapnel hits from the missile strike that struck Graf Zeppelin near the bow. This had prompted Kapitan Böhmer to urge his flight engineers to get as many Stukas up on the deck as possible. He was determined to launch, even if it meant his planes would have to storm right through the smoke forward, blinded by the dark smoke now rolling right down the flight deck when he turned into the wind, and licked by flames as they took off over the bow. The British had done the very same thing with those fluttering moths of theirs. So he urged his crews and pilots on.

  While Fedorov and Volsky had discussed how to proceed, sorting through the contradiction in German orders, the Germans got up a flight of six Stukas and had them all airborne.

  And then it came…

  It was the same as before when Böhmer saw it, a bright light ascending from the purple edge of the coming dawn, climbing, climbing. Then it arced over and began to fall, a fiery comet that seemed to grow larger and brighter with each passing second. Down it came, swift and silent, as it was moving three times faster than the roar of its own engines. The eerie silence of its coming was deceptive, and then it thundered down on his ship, plunging right through the armored deck amidships with a shattering explosion.

  Graf Zeppelin rocked with the blow, the orange fire erupting from the guts of the ship in a broiling mass. It was as if the carrier had been struck by a swift kamikaze, but one weighing over 4500 kilograms, and with a 450kg warhead. The rest was the great fuel laden mass of the rocket itself, which penetrated the deck, exploded with torrential fire and shock below, and plunged right through the maintenance deck where another twenty Stukas were still being armed. The explosion erupted from the machinery spaces below, and set off 500 pound bombs, one after another, in a terrible sequence of death and destruction. Planes and flight crews were immolated, bulkheads blown apart, fuel set fire in a raging inferno. The damage extended all the way down to one of the two propulsion shafts, severing it, and then the shock of the attack blew completely through the hull.

  Graf Zeppelin keeled over to one side as the hull was breached below the water line. But it was the raging inferno within that would consume the ship, the fires reaching one plane after another, the ordnance and aviation fuel feeding the conflagration. The ship was doomed. Germany’s first aircraft carrier, famous even though it never steamed on the high seas or saw combat in the war Fedorov knew, would not survive the hour.

  High above, the six lucky Stuka pilots who bravely took off through the deck smoke, now saw the volcanic eruption below, and gasped at the fireball that now consumed the ship. The destroyer Thor, steaming off the port side, had to make an emergency turn away from the carrier to avoid the holocaust. Even so, the sides and superstructure of the smaller ship were lacerated with shrapnel. Prinz Eugen had fallen off to take up a position to the starboard side of the carrier when it turned after the initial missile strike. Now the men aboard the heavy cruiser gaped in awe at the scene unfolding.

  The carrier was soon in a heavy list, still burning fiercely when it began to keel over, the hot fires hissing into the sea. All the remaining fighters and Stukas, and the elite pilots that had trained to fly them off the carrier, would die in those desperate, violent minutes, along with nearly 1,700 officers and crew of every rank.

  There would be twenty two survivors.

  Chapter 27

  Numbers…. Facts that Fedorov could call up from the library of his mind, or look up if he ever forgot them. Carrier Graf Zeppelin, 33,550 tons displacement, 262 meters in length, four geared turbines producing 200,000 shaft horsepower. Aircraft carried: 42. Ship’s Compliment: 1,720.

  It had taken just one missile, angled at the right attack, and falling into what amounted to a readymade explosive mass of 500 pound bombs and volatile aviation fuel. The damage was violent, catastrophic and final, and this was a ship they would never have to face or fight again, thought Fedorov. The legend was gone—killed by me. All those lives… I’m responsible…

  Admiral Volsky was watching him closely again, understanding what he was feeling. He knew that he could never reason away the emotion, and the heavy burden of having to kill. It was not even as if the ship itself were in any danger. They struck down their enemy before they even knew they were in harm’s way.

  “It had to be done, Mister Fedorov,” said the Admiral.

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Yes,” said Volsky. “I know it was a hard blow to those men out there. Yet we must be prepared to do more here. This was a ship that was never even supposed to be at sea in this war.”

  “Another interloper,” said Fedorov, “as we are, sir.”

  “Very well,” Volsky nodded. “Now we must consider the battleships. There will be time enough later to think about what we have done here. At the moment, the enemy is approaching our horizon. One missile—one ship.” Volsky shook his head with as much amazement as he had regret.

  “I’m afraid that the battleships may not die so easily,” said Fedorov. “When Tovey caught the Bismarck in our history with three British battleships, Rodney included, they put 2,878 rounds of all calibers into that ship, and Bismarck was still afloat. It took three more torpedoes, and some say deliberate scuttling, before the great ship went down.”

  “Nothing is unsinkable,” said Volsky.

  “Yes sir, that we know all too well. Oh, we’ll hurt what we fire at, but it will take a good deal to sink these ships.”

  “Then our intention will be to disable them, mission kill them, and leave the rest to the Royal Navy.”

  “In that case, we may wish to program more of these high angle attack profiles. And I would also suggest we use the Vodopads”

  “Torpedoes?” said Volsky. “I see. That was how we bested that big Japanese battleship.”

  “Yes sir. Our missiles hurt the enemy, but have not really killed any battleship we engaged. Yet a torpedo hit, particularly one designed to break a ship’s back, or follow its wake to the rudder, is a very dangerous weapon, for any ship.”

  “Agreed. We are in range of this same task group now. The Vodopads rocket assisted approach can take it out 120 kilometers. How many rounds do we have remaining on that system?” Admiral Volsky looked to Tasarov, who seemed lost beneath his headset, his eyes closed, listening very intently to something.

  “Mister Tasarov?”

  “I’m sorry sir…”

  “An undersea contact?” Volsky moved to the young Lieutenant’s station now.

  “No sir… I do not think so…”

  Volsky took one look at Tasarov, and he could see that something was very wrong. The man looked like he had not slept in days, with dark circles under his eyes, and a haggard expression on his face.

  “Mister Tasarov, when was the last time you took leave?”

  “I was off during the night shift, sir. But I could not sleep.”

  “Oh? Have you seen the Doctor?”

  “No sir…. I’m not sick. It is just that I cannot shake off that sound.”

  “Sound?”

  Now Rodenko looked at Fedorov, and the two men shared a knowing glance. “He’s been trying to process a sound, Admiral,” he explained. “Tasarov reported it some time ago.”

  “The same sound Dobrynin reported,” said Fedorov. “They both still hear something, but cannot seem to localize it, even though I disposed of that object Orlov found some hours ago.”

  “You still hear this sound, Tasarov? You
can hear it now?”

  “Yes sir, very deep sound. I hear it with or without my system acoustics. I hear it even in my sleep.”

  “I see…” Volsky could see the man needed some help. “Go and see the Doctor, whether you are sick or not. Tell him what you have told us here, and see if he can give you something to help you rest. Then after that, go to the officer’s mess and eat well. This is an order. Tell the Chef this comes directly from me, and he is to prepare any meal you request. Understood?”

  “Yes sir… Thank you sir…” Tasarov saluted, and started to stand up, but his legs would simply not hold him. He collapsed.

  Rodenko and Fedorov were quick to his side, and Fedorov told Nikolin to send for a stretcher team. “And get Velichko up here to take the sonar station.”

  “Now I find myself hoping his ears are not as good as Tasarov’s,” said Volsky. “Yet that would do us very little good on sonar.”

  “Velichko is competent, sir. We’ll be alright.”

  “This is getting serious, Fedorov,” said Volsky. “It would be my guess that many others are in the same shape as Tasarov, or they may be soon if we do not solve this riddle. So this sound, whatever it may be, was not being caused by that thing Orlov had?”

  “Apparently not. We are hours and miles away from the Peake Deep now. There is no way Tasarov could be hearing that sound if the object caused it.”

  “Get Dobrynin on the intercom. See if he can still hear this noise.”

  Nikolin put in the call, but soon reported that the Engineering Chief had also reported to sick bay that morning, and so they got Doctor Zolkin on the line.

  “He’s sleeping now,” said Zolkin. “I had to give him a sedative. The same problem many others have reported. Some kind of sound that nobody seems to be able to describe. I cannot hear it, but they certainly perceive something.”