Kirov k-1

by John Schettler

  Chapter 23

  August 5th, 1941

  Admiral Tovey was still in a state of shock and disbelief. He was trying to sort through what had happened with Brind, collating reports that were now coming in fast and furious. They had turned about, and were running south until he could gather his ships, and his wits, and determine what to do. He shook his head solemnly as he pointed at the chart.

  “Wake-Walker is over 200 miles to the north, Brind, up above Reykjavik. If this enemy ship is where we think it is, how in the world could he have been struck up there? Furious has been gutted with fire. She took two hits just as we did, but we were lucky enough to have five times her armor protection. They've managed to put the fires out, but I’m afraid she's no good to us now-no planes and a shattered flight deck due to the explosions.”

  “Best to get her into Reykjavik and then off home for repairs,” said Brind. “But the real question is this: what do we do about the Victorious? She's just as vulnerable, sir, and with little more than a few Fulmar fighters aboard, she’s not much good as a strike asset now. In fact, her planes can’t even reacquire the enemy ship on radar. Everything's gone haywire. None of the equipment seems to be working from these latest reports. Walker believes the Germans are using some kind of powerful jammer.”

  “You're probably right. Signal Wake-Walker that he is to transfer his flag to cruiser Suffolk and make for Reykjavik as well to refuel his ships. It’s likely I’ll leave Victorious there. Without an air wing she’s just a target.”

  “That pairs down Force P to just the two cruisers, sir. Unless you suggest we refuel the destroyers as well.”

  “As soon as possible,” said Tovey. “We were fighting this threat as if it were a battleship, Brind. But it’s a carrier, or at least it fights like one. It stands off and strikes at us from extreme range, as any carrier would, but instead of planes it’s throwing these damnable rockets at us. So we can’t go steaming about like this, unescorted and without a proper screen. Yes, I want those destroyers along as well. And anything else in the harbor that’s in any way seaworthy.”

  “The Canadians were going to send out three destroyers to pick up Prince of Wales, sir.”

  “The more the merrier,” said Tovey. “And we’re going to rendezvous with that ship as well. It’s entirely too lonesome out here. Home Fleet is bloody well going to start looking like one again. Signal Force K and Vian’s two light cruisers and put them on a course to join with us. We need to form a larger task force, and the cruisers were made for screening duty.”

  “Right, sir, but what about Repulse? She took two hits as well, and they bruised her quite a bit. Who knows how many more of these long-range rockets the Germans have aboard that ship? My god, sir, how in the world did they develop this weapon without us knowing about it?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Brind. Lucky for us that they gave us a couple of body shots. If King George V had been slapped about the head and shoulders, the damage would've been far more extensive. Not that we have a weak chin, mind you, but I’d hate to take one of those rockets here on the bridge. All things considered, we haven’t really been hurt that much. Repulse is seaworthy, and Tennant says he can still make thirty knots. Should we risk her further?”

  “As it's been demonstrated the enemy rockets can penetrate her side armor sir, I’d think twice about that.” The two men still had dark thoughts over the fate of HMS Hood. Tovey thought about it for a moment, and then decided.

  “She can still fight, but I don’t want her out in front on her own like this. Let's reel her in and put her in our wake again. Tennant won't like it, but there it is. We’ll bring Walker and Vian down to join with us with their cruisers and destroyers, and then we’ll swing south. I'm afraid it's an entirely new game now. As amazing as it sounds, we’re are on the defensive. I want to steer in such a way as to put our ships between the enemy and Prince of Wales’ route to Newfoundland. Our best play now is to form a covering force for her until we can make a proper rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.”

  “We might simply send Prince of Wales home, sir,” Brind suggested. “Then we can stay in the hunt a while longer.”

  “And we might try getting the Prime Minister to agree to that,” said Tovey, somewhat frustrated. “It's time we called in the heavy cavalry. Let's get a message off to Admiral Somerville and bring Force H out from Gibraltar into the Atlantic. He's got Ark Royal, Nelson, Renown, and several more cruisers he can sortie with. Strength in numbers. The pilots aboard Ark Royal have considerably more experience than Wake-Walker's boys did. After all, she stuck a few torpedoes into Bismarck, didn’t she? We could use her, even if we utilize her aircraft for spotting purposes only.”

  “Yet she'll be vulnerable to these German rockets, sir; so is Renown. As for Nelson, she can't make much more than twenty knots, and that will slow down Somerville considerably.

  “Twenty knots will have to do for the moment,” said Tovey. “I need ships with big guns and the armor to stand in a fight for a time. Nelson may not be able to catch this German ship, but we might, and if we get her by the ankles and hold on tight enough, then Nelson can come up join the party, just as Rodney did against Bismarck. Let's get on a heading to the south. This German ship is not likely to try steaming into the Labrador Sea. They'll be heading south as well. Eventually we can work our way to join up with Prince of Wales. As long as Somerville will be making no more than twenty knots, if he has a fast tanker in port at Gibraltar, tell him to bring it along. Vian’s cruisers would be in need of fuel by the time we get down south. It's either that or we send them home soon.

  “Very good, sir,” said Brind, thinking. “What about the Americans?” he said at last. “Don’t they have a convoy headed for Iceland at the moment? They'll have warships bound for this meeting in Newfoundland as well. It would be wise if we brief them as to the nature of the threat, sir.”

  “Yes, they’ll run right afoul of this rogue and won’t have any idea what the Germans are capable of. We’d best warn them as soon as possible.”

  “Admiral Pound is aboard Prince of Wales with the Prime Minister,” said Brind.

  “Let's leave the Admiral to his tea and crumpets for the time being,” said Tovey. “He’s likely to sit on things if we go through channels. We’d best let the Yanks know directly. I'll take full responsibility.”

  “Very well, sir. I'll see that the orders are sent out at once.”

  Kirov raced south, passing the distant Cape of Greenland to the west and heading into the North Atlantic. She pushed on through the Denmark Strait without the slightest scratch from the enemy. Karpov was pleased when Rodenko informed him the British battleships had turned about, heading southeast for a time until they vanished, beyond the range of his surface radar. The British carriers that had been following also disappeared from Rodenko's screens.

  Tovey was steaming south on course almost parallel to that of Kirov, but Karpov could not know this unless he sent his KA-40 helos up to extend his sighting range. For the moment however he was content to have shaken off his pursuers. He had given the British another hard lesson, demonstrating that he could strike them heavy blows well outside the range of their guns. They had turned tail and sped away, bruised and battered by his missiles. Yet before he had too much time to gloat, he needed to handle a maintenance problem that had come up at a most inopportune time.

  Chief Dobrynin in engineering had called up and asked him to make slow revolutions on the turbines again while they investigated a reactor cooling problem. There was no immediate danger, but Karpov knew that a ship’s reactors at sea could be temperamental pieces of equipment, and there had been more than one ‘incident’ in the navy over the years. What had happened to the Orel? As much as he wanted to get down south quickly, his better judgment led him to slow the ship to a sedate 10 knots while the engineers investigated. There was nothing wrong with Kirov’s radars, and she could defend herself from any and all threats well before they became a problem. Yet he wanted
speed when he needed it, and so he decided to linger on the 5th of August and effect repairs. It would put the ship in its best, battle worthy condition, and also give him time to think as he set his mind on bigger fish to fry.

  Somewhere to the east there was another British battleship at sea, he knew, and she carried a gaggle of high-ranking officials, and officers from every arm of the military, including fat Winston Churchill himself. He thought what a tempting target Prince of Wales would make for his Sunburns. Then again, he could allow the ship to complete its journey and see all the eggs in one basket, there in Argentia Bay of Newfoundland, where he could keep them as long as he wanted, or deal with them in any way he saw fit.

  With the American president and the British prime minister holed up, he had any number of choices. One was to join the negotiations himself, standing in for his uninvited countrymen and assuring that the Soviet Union would not be marginalized in the postwar environment the two Western powers were now scheming to build.

  He passed a moment imagining his arrival, with all three helicopters used to ferry in an honor guard of marines, led by the formidable Kandemir Troyak. He pictured them in their dress olive greens, long double breasted trench coats with gold buttons and collar tabs, braided gold belts and the brilliant red sash strap from shoulder to waist, where a six inch tasseled gold horsetail tied it off. Their black Ushankas rose proudly as they marched, stiff backed, their pace timed precisely to the beat of black jack boots polished to a mirror like finish. Each man would carry a bayoneted rifle, and the squad leader would hold a long silver sword, gleaming balefully in the morning light. Behind him would come the flag bearer, with the tricolor of the new Russian Federation snapping proudly in the wind. The symbolism would be apparent to all those who watched them come, their eyes glazed with awe, jaws slack with fear and surprise. They would be the sword of Mother Russia. They would seem a phalanx of doom as they marched, with the Captain strutting boldly in their midst as commanding officer.

  Karpov smiled to himself, dwelling on the image. But it would not be mere theater, he mused. The considerable weight of Kirov's firepower, and the nuclear weapons he could demonstrate on some empty forsaken tract of Newfoundland would be his big sticks in the negotiations, sure to bend the minds of both heads of state. If they gawked at his helicopters, he could only imagine their shock at the sight of a nuclear detonation, and their fear as he calmly told them his ship was laden with a hundred similar warheads, lozh to be sure, but a lie that would surely be believed after his demonstration. What would the duplicitous titans of the West do, he wondered?

  Roosevelt and Churchill had given their assurances time and time again, toying with Stalin throughout the war as they promised to eventually open a second front in Europe, while in fact they left most of the fighting to the Russian army. They might do the very same with him, he thought, promising him the world with sweet tongued graces, yet delivering nothing in the end. What would he do with the ship in the meantime, while the British and Americans most likely gathered every fighting vessel they could get their hands on and vectored them in? He needed to know more about the enemy capabilities to make a firm decision one way or the other. As much as he disliked Fedorov, the navigator was the only man on the ship he could rely on for the information he needed. The book he had been reading was in no way comprehensive.

  “How many more ships might we expect to encounter if we proceed south now,” he asked.

  Fedorov was grateful for the opportunity to speak. Perhaps he could persuade the Captain to alter his course and avoid further combat. “I've done some research, sir, and we are fortunate that many British capital ships are laid up for repair and refit at this time. They have four or five more aircraft carriers available, but two are in American ports for refit, and one is in the Indian ocean. Aside from the two we have just driven off, that will leave them only the Ark Royal at Gibraltar. This is a more experienced ship and could pose a threat.”

  “It will serve only as a good target for our Sunburns,” said Karpov. “And we have already seen what happens to their aircraft should they dare strike us again. But what about battleships?”

  “Well, sir, we've driven off Home Fleet for the moment, but as I said earlier, I don't think we seriously damaged either Repulse or King George V. The Prince of Wales is at sea, and that ship will likely be on Admiral Tovey's mind. Given the shock and surprise they must have experienced with your missile attack, I believe they have probably fallen back to consolidate and reassess the situation. But they are out there sir, and they'll have several heavy cruisers to throw in the mix as well. If Ark Royal sails from Gibraltar, she will most likely be escorted by the battlecruiser Renown, and possibly the battleship Nelson with several more cruisers. Nelson is slow, however, but given what has happened, I would have to believe the British would put everything they have to sea. In a few weeks time her sister ship Rodney will also be on the list. She was refitting at Boston and was ready for action again later this month. They could bring her out early in great need. If, however, we turn east, I think we could safely slip through the net and out to sea to get in a better tactical position.”

  He was hoping this array of ships would give the Captain second thoughts about keeping on this heading, but Karpov was simply stacking these ships up in his mind. They were nothing more than names to him. Unlike Fedorov, he could not quote their speed, gun caliber, armor thickness, but these things did not matter, as his navigator was always close at hand. For now they were nothing more than targets to him, and he was mentally pairing them with various missile systems aboard ship, deciding how he would engage each task force the enemy was likely to assemble against him. Then the same question occurred to him that Brind had asked Tovey.

  “What about the Americans, Fedorov? They're not yet involved in this war, yes?”

  “Officially, they are noncombatants. They've only just begun to relieve the British garrison on Iceland, and to take responsibility for the sea route we are sailing on at this very moment. In fact…” Fedorov thought hard for a moment. “If I’m not mistaken they have a convoy ferrying more troops, planes, supplies and equipment to Iceland even now.”

  “I saw such a notation in your book,” said Karpov, “but the dates were vague.”

  Fedorov wished he had never told the Captain about that book but nothing could be done about it now. “Just a second, Captain. I think I can get more specific information.” He was hoping that the added weight of the American presence in the region would be enough to tip the argument in his favor. He reached for another volume from the shelf above his station, and quickly looked up a reference while Karpov watched with some interest, his eye drawn to Fedorov’s small book collection, noticing them for first time. “Here it is, sir. Two groups: Task Group A with the carrier Wasp, the heavy cruiser Vincennes and two destroyers. They were ferrying those Army P-40 fighters to Iceland-” His eyes widened. “They’re due to arrive on August 6th, Captain! They must be just south of us, and very close by now. It would be best if we steered to avoid them.”

  “Rodenko has seen nothing south of us for hours.”

  “We may pick them up soon, sir. And behind them will come Task Force 16 with the battleship Mississippi, heavy cruisers Quincy and Wichita, five destroyers and several transports.”

  “Another battleship?”

  “An older ship, sir. Her keel was laid down in 1915. She’s slow, perhaps no more than 21 knots, but had decent protection with belt armor just over 340 millimeters thick, and she has twelve 14 inch guns and fourteen more 5 inch guns. We cannot get anywhere within twenty kilometers of that ship, sir. The carrier may pose no immediate threat, given that she is on a ferry mission and probably not at full battle readiness.”

  “Well we’ve already beaten off the professionals,” said Karpov, speaking of the Royal Navy. “I suppose it’s time to send the amateurs packing as well. Rodenko!” He shouted at his radar Chief. “Let me know the moment you have any contact south of our position. Samsonov, how is t
he missile reprogramming progressing?”

  “The men are working on it now sir. I have a few Sunburns reset to disable their low altitude descent. They’ll just come right down on the target, sir.”

  “A few? How many, Samsonov?”

  “Four, sir,” the Chief said sheepishly. “But we’ll have another four ready in a few hours. As for the other missiles, some will have to be taken out of their firing tubes to get at the guidance module. It may take a while.”

  Karpov was not happy. All his ship’s weapons were still largely calibrated to fight another class of warship altogether. “Will the Americans be hostile?” Karpov turned to his navigator again.

  Fedorov was thinking what to say. Was the Captain seriously thinking of engaging the Americans too? What could he say to dissuade him?

  “If they believe us to be a German raider, I fear they will treat us that way, sir. As I explained earlier, there were policies in place at this time to treat any hostile contact within a hundred miles as an enemy and sink her. There was a great deal of discussion about it, but the end of it was that the Americans decided to consider any German surface raider or U-boat as a hostile threat if found in these waters. Their naval forces were given the orders to engage and destroy such contacts if encountered.”

  “Then we must consider any American ship hostile as well,” said Karpov. “What else may lay ahead?”

  “But sir, you don’t want to engage the Americans, do you? I thought your plan was-”

  ”What else is out there, Fedorov. Don’t concern yourself with my plans.”

  “Well, sir, they’ll have two battleships anchored in Argentia Bay, the Arkansas and New York. And they will also have another available on the East Coast, the Texas. The Carrier Yorktown is also operating with the Atlantic Fleet at this time, but she is in the Caribbean at the moment. The heavy cruiser Augusta is already en route to Newfoundland with the American president aboard. There will be other ships in that group as well.”