Empires Lost
Charles S Jackson
Copyright 2015 Charles Jackson
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The Gift of Years
Lyrics reprinted with the kind permission of Eric Bogle
book two:
Winds of Change
Contents:
Empty Quivers
Beta Testing
Wolves in the Fold
Red Sky at Morning
Acts of Defiance
Smoke on the Water
Sacrificial Lambs
Here There Be Tygers
The Destroyers of Worlds
Rats in the Ranks
Harsh Realities
Buying Time
Machinations
Spiders and Flies
Fight or Flight
Schwerpunkt
Mêlée
Decisions
Vengeance
Exodus
Dangerous Games
Jedem das Seine
Promises to Keep
Winds of Change
Author’s Note:
1. Empty Quivers
Friedrich Krupp Shipyards
Kiel, Nazi Germany
September 11, 1942
Friday
Korvettenkapitän Theodor Detmers had joined the Kriegsmarine at just nineteen, serving as a junior officer aboard the pre-dreadnought battleships Hannover and Elsass early in his career. He’d visited Australia while posted as a staff officer to the cruiser Köln, had served predominantly aboard torpedo boats and destroyers during the mid-Thirties, and had been in command of the destroyer Hermann Schoemann as war broke out in 1939.
Detmers was an intelligent and capable officer with a broad, serious face that could unexpectedly transform into a wry smile accompanied by a matching, equally dry wit. His exemplary service record had immediately recommended him to his superiors as a perfect choice to take command of the Kriegsmarine’s newest commerce raider, known to the OKM (the Oberkommando der Kriegsmarine) simply by the German administrative designation of Schiff-41.
From his elevated position on the main deck, well above ground level, Detmers was able to look out with an almost 360° field-of-view across the entire Kiel cityscape. Capital of the northern German state of Schleswig-Holstein, the city was home to several hundred thousand people and was a vital commercial and military transport hub, built as it was around the southern end of Kiel Fjord beyond which lay the Baltic Sea to the north.
His view to the south was dominated by the vessel anchored directly behind his own. A large assault ship, it was currently engaged in the loading of troops and supplies prior to deployment for active duty. A military train had pulled in earlier that morning and commenced unloading troops, tanks and armoured vehicles that were part of a Waffen-SS heavy amphibious battalion. While the vehicles themselves had been simple enough to load quickly, the troops had been left to their own devices as dockworkers continued to load fuel, munitions and supplies, the huge cranes constantly turning this way and that.
Both ships were docked near the southern end of the harbour’s eastern side, surrounded by a fine example of the true power of German industry in the shape of the mighty Krupp shipyards. Friedrich Krupp Germaniawerft had originally been founded in 1867 as Norddeutsche Schiffbau-Gesellschaft in the town of Gaarden, near Kiel, with the intention of building ships for both military and commercial use. A series of financial problems that began with a bankruptcy in 1879 saw the company change ownership several times before finally being taken over by arms manufacturing giant, Krupp in 1896.
Numerous battleships were launched from its slipways prior to the outbreak of war in 1914, at which time the company’s focus switched to the construction of U-boats. Following a return to commercial shipping through the inter-war years, production was once again centred predominantly on submarines as the renewed threat of war loomed during the late 1930s. Tens of thousands of workers were employed at any one time during that period with a significant percentage drawn from forced labour.
At that southern end of the harbour, looking north-east toward the Bay of Kiel and the Baltic, the site was bordered to the east by the Werfstrasse access road and was also serviced by a rail line that connected to the rest of the national rail network on the opposite side of the docks, south of the city’s main railway station. Eight individual slipways opened out into the harbour, five dedicated solely for construction of the Kriegsmarine’s Type-X U-boats, and the yards themselves sprawled across several square kilometres of waterside land. Thousands of steel-workers and shipwrights went about their daily business while cranes dominated the skyline, towering above a mass of warehouses, factories and chimney stacks that pumped streams of black smoke into an already grey, overcast sky.
Moored a few hundred metres beyond the main slipways, Detmers’ new command had originally been launched toward the end of 1938 under the name of Steiermark. She was a large vessel with a displacement of almost 20,000 tonnes, a length of 157 metres and a beam of twenty, and had spent her first two years plying her trade as a freighter in a quite conventional fashion with the German merchant marine. All that had changed however, following the outbreak of the Second World War.
Many in the Nazi hierarchy had already recognised during the 1930s that Germany was likely to suffer from a marked discrepancy between the strength of the Kriegsmarine and the forces of other nations – particularly that of its most likely opponent in the Royal Navy. One of the contingency plans developed to counter this situation was an intention to make use of converted merchantmen as commerce raiders against unsuspecting enemy merchant fleets. Listed as Hilfskreuzer (auxiliary cruisers) with the German navy, these vessels were requisitioned from existing commercial fleets as needed.
Steiermark had been acquired by the Kriegsmarine early in 1940 as part of this initiative however the demand on resources arising from a massively-accelerated capital ship building program and the subsequent invasion of Great Britain had postponed the vessel’s conversion as a auxiliary cruiser for over two years.
Detmers, the youngest man ever to have commanded a commerce raider at the time of his appointment in July of 1940, had patiently waited out the months of frustrating delays and bureaucratic wrangling, preferring to spend the time in rigorous training with his new crew, honing their skills aboard other vessels in preparation for the new ship many began to believe would never actually be completed. Yet there she was now, her captain standing proudly upon the deck of the largest ship he’d ever commanded, and Detmers’ mind was crystal clear regarding how important a role his ship would be destined to play in the ongoing battle against the enemies of The Reich. As he waited at the edge of her main deck, staring down at the long flight of steps leading to the dock below, he was pleased with the progress his ship and her crew had made in those last few months.
His thoughts were brought back to the real world as he spotted a small convoy of military vehicles turning off Gablenzestrasse at the southern end of the docks and heading quickly toward them, waved through into the yard without any hesitation or delay at the gates. As the vehic
les drew closer, he realised why the guards there had allowed them through without security checks and a faint chill rippled through his body at the same time: there was no mistaking the huge limousine at the head of the convoy.
“Looks like we’re being shown a ‘royal’ send-off, Theodor,” a familiar voice observed softly, and he turned his head for a moment to note Kapitänleutnant Oetzel, his navigation officer and Steiermark’s former civilian captain standing at his right shoulder, making a bleak attempt at a thin smile.
“I suspect it’s an omen of some sort, Gustav,” Detmers replied sourly after a moment’s thought, “although whether a good or bad one may be open to conjecture. Considering the cargo we’re expecting, he’s probably here wearing his DFG ‘hat’, not that that makes any difference.” He shrugged with simple resignation. “It’s not our place to ask questions in any case, kamerad,” he added with a wry smile, referring to the lot of the military man in general, “any more than the leaf has a say in where the wind blows it…
“Come on then,” Detmers said finally, stretching his back and making a show of straightening his uniform. “I suppose we’d best make an appearance.” He delivered a light slap of encouragement to Oetzel’s shoulder before mounting the top of the gangway and making his way down the steps toward the deck as the convoy of trucks drew nearer.
The vehicles had come to a complete stop just a dozen metres away as Detmers and Oetzel reached the bottom of the stairs and the officers walked briskly toward them across the concrete surface of the dock. A quartet of 3-tonne Opel trucks comprised the bulk of the group, two of them uncovered cargo models with wooden side rails and filled with rifle-armed Wehrmacht troops, while the two middle trucks’ cargo beds were covered by large tarpaulins that protected the loads within from both the elements and prying eyes. The single, large limousine that had been the source of Detmers’ attention and consternation was at the head of the group while a single Wirbelwind self-propelled flak vehicle brought up the rear, its wide, flat turret turning this way and that in search of any potential target.
Based on a lightened version of the standard Panzer Model-4 hull, the P-11D mounted a 23mm four-barrelled cannon that was lethal against low-flying aircraft under direction of the small radar dish currently folded flat on the vehicle’s turret roof. There was little use for it in its normal role that day, as the threat of aerial attack in the middle of Germany was of course non-existent, however one thing that had been discovered during the British campaigns two years before was that the Wirbelwind was also a devastating weapon in urban environments where it’s ability to deliver a heavy weight of fire at high angles of elevation allowed it to engage targets in taller buildings that were invulnerable to attack from conventional tanks and armoured fighting vehicles. There was no real expectation of any danger of attack from the ground either that morning yet the P-11D had been requisitioned all the same, as much for its intimidating presence and the importance accorded the convoy as for anything else.
No other part of the convoy oozed quite as much pure malevolence however as did the simple presence of that large, black limousine at its head. Powered by an eight litre V12 engine and weighing more than three tonnes, the Maybach Zeppelin DS8 was a huge vehicle by any standard. That particular vehicle had been part of the model’s final production run and had been purchased by Oscar Zeigler, one of the Nazi Party’s well-known ‘Board of Directors’ (although some might’ve used terms other than ‘well-known’ to describe the group). The vehicle had since passed into the possession of one of the man’s colleagues following Zeigler’s assassination in September of 1940.
A powerful group of incredibly rich industrialists and entrepreneurs, the six remaining men were all generally referred to by the honorific of ‘Direktor’ both within and outside their own presence. In the case of Wilhelm Hegel however, the title was in fact a literal one: in addition to his involvement with business and investments, the man was also the Director of the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (German Research Foundation), a position he’d held since its official creation out of the reorganisation of the Emergency Association of German Science in 1937.
An SS bodyguard armed with a machine pistol stepped from the front passenger seat and moved around to open the door for Hegel as they drew near. Although Detmers and Oetzel mightn’t have considered themselves Nazis, they nevertheless certainly saw themselves as patriots of the Fatherland, and yet both men felt a faint chill ripple through their bodies at the sight of the man as he stepped from the limousine and made a show of stretching after a long journey.
Sixty-nine years old and of no more than average height, Hegel was a man of small stature and what would’ve been unassuming appearance were it not for the perennial seriousness of the man’s expression and the marked intensity that seemed to radiate from some dark, unknown place behind his cold, blue eyes. Thin, wispy hair that had once been the pure blond of a true Aryan was now almost entirely silver-grey and the NSDAP had no greater a believer or exponent than that of Wilhelm Otto Hegel.
“Korvettenkapitän Detmers, I presume?” Hegel began with little emotion in his voice, already knowing full well the identities of both men before him.
“Jawohl, Herr Direktor… Heil Hitler…!” Detmers responded immediately, raising his hand in the expected Nazi salute as Oetzel came to attention beside him.
“Heil Hitler,” Hegel nodded in a perfunctory manner, raising his hand in return in a vague attempt at a salute as if he had more important things on his mind, which was undoubtedly the case. “I assume you already know who I am,” he continued, “however, may I also introduce… when he finally manages to grace us with his presence…” there was almost the hint of amusement in the mildly sarcastic tone, as he waited for another man to clamber from the rear of the Maybach and stand beside him. “…Standartenführer Gerhard Fuchs of the Reichsforschungsrat.”
“Heil Hitler, gentlemen,” Fuchs also saluted, then checked the name and shook the hand of each man in turn. As he cast a glance up at the overcast sky, seemingly unperturbed by the presence of one of the most powerful men in Germany beside him, he added with a dry grin: “Lovely weather you’ve managed to put on for us this morning… there’s a thing called ‘sunshine’ that we’ve developed in our laboratories back in Berlin… perhaps it should be ‘tested in the field’ up here sometime, do you think?”
Thin to the point almost of malnourishment, Detmers might’ve described the man’s appearance as cadaverous were it not for a broad smile and openly outward nature that went a long way to placing the pair of naval officers completely at ease in that moment of introduction. Although nominally a colonel of the Schutzstaffeln, Fuchs also wore the unit insignia badges of the Reichsforschungsrat – the Reich Research Council – and that, combined with the man’s manner and bookish features (complete with thick, dark-rimmed spectacles), was enough for the men to safely assume Fuchs was a scientist or technician holding an honorary rank that befitted his high civilian position.
“We have clear skies forecast for this afternoon, Herr Fuchs, but I suspect we’ll be well out to sea by then, God willing,” Detmers replied, managing a wry smile of his own. “Assuming of course this cargo you’ve brought doesn’t delay our departure greatly.”
“Your expected time of departure is whatever time it happens to be after you’ve finished loading,” Hegel interjected, not really believing Detmers had intentionally implied any displeasure at the delay but deciding to take a sterner tone just in case. “You’ve already received several pieces of classified equipment for the mission you’re about to embark upon however none of them deserve even a fraction of the importance of the items you’re about to take aboard. Herr Fuchs will supervise the loading with the dock workers but I’d expect you to ensure the utmost care is taken by your men once they’re on board.”
“Of course, Herr Direktor,” Detmers nodded seriously, the rebuke duly noted.
“Try not to frighten them, Willi… it’s not their fault you haven’t had your
morning coffee yet,” Fuchs shook his head with a grin. Detmers and Oetzel said nothing, both inwardly horrified at hearing the man addressed in such a familiar and overtly disrespectful fashion, although Hegel seemed to think nothing of it himself and gave no reaction save for a faint roll of his eyes as if completely accustomed to the man’s irreverent manner.
“I’ll leave you in Gerhard’s capable hands,” the Director noted finally, releasing a soft sigh of exasperation as a slight smile threatened to tweak the corners of his thin lips. “I think I’ll retire to the car and observe the proceedings in relative comfort.” In what was almost an apology for his earlier remarks, Hegel added: “I’m confident your crew will take all the appropriate precautions, Herr Korvettenkapitän… my concern for the cargo’s safety is borne purely from its value and importance rather than any doubts over the abilities of your men.” He grimaced, as if making a difficult concession within his own mind. “The simple fact that your ship and crew have been chosen for this mission is evidence enough of the esteem in which they’re held… gentlemen…” With a single nod of acknowledgement, he executed an almost military-style ‘about-face’ and returned to the limousine, leaving Fuchs to deal with the dumbfounded naval officers.
“You see, gentlemen; not so bad as he tries to make us believe,” the Standartenführer began as he raised an outstretched hand and led them away from the vehicles, back toward the ship. “May I call you ‘Theodor’?” He asked quickly, continuing immediately without awaiting a response from Detmers. “Tell me, Theodor, does your vessel have coffee making facilities?”
“Of course, Herr Fuchs,” Detmers replied with a nod. “Our cook makes an excellent coffee… they even have an espresso machine in the galley, although I’ve been informed its best not to ask details regarding its acquisition.”
Winds of Change (Empires Lost Book 2) Page 1