Altered States k-9

by John A. Schettler

  They snookered us good on this one, he thought. Two damn cruisers and a good submarine Captain. Well, at least I put a heavy round into that cruiser. But the scales have not yet been balanced. If they thought sinking Altmark was going to cancel this operation then they will now get the bad news.

  He went to his Flag Bridge, sitting down at a small desk there and removing a plain brown leather folio from the drawer. There were his original orders, to be destroyed should the ship ever be placed in a compromising position.

  By now Kapitan Lindemann will have pushed his nose towards the Iceland-Faeroes Gap to see what the British have waiting for him there. He is either running the gap as I sit here, or perhaps shifting further west to take the Denmark Strait on our heels.

  He flipped ahead to his support schedule. There it was: Altmark — 0:600 hours, June 18. Too bad we were just a little late. Running his finger down the page he looked for his alternate refueling point. Nordmark, DHRX — Discretionary — Currently holding: diesel, lubricants, armament stores, victuals. On station through 21-6-40 before moving to grid location 3C.

  He noted the planned operations zone of the ship, somewhat discouraged. It would require him to backtrack to the north if he wanted fuel now. Otherwise it could be three or four days before he could find another tanker in the Atlantic. He would keep Nordmark in his back pocket. It was a long way back to Trondheim. Even if Bismarck and Tirpitz do get through, they will be hungry as well when they get into the Atlantic. That was the one thing Hitler and Raeder should have thought a little more about when they built the fleet-the goddamned fuel! Where do we get the fuel to keep all these ships at sea? The Russians are sitting on top of half the oil, and the British in Persia have the other half. Yes, Orenburg has declared itself and joined Germany this week, but getting any oil from them will be no easy matter.

  The ship was already turning, moving, the powerful engines building up speed. He did not like the feeling settling in his gut now. Something was not right here. That engagement with the British cruisers still galled him, and he had the lingering suspicion that there had been a third ship nearby when that action was fought. No cruiser he had ever heard of could score two direct hits like that at over 18,000 meters in bad visibility. Something else hit them, hidden, unseen in the concealing mist and fog. Then there was the strange interference affecting the radars and now even his ship to shore transmissions. And was that attack on Altmark just a chance occurrence, the fortunes of war, or was there something more sinister behind it?

  Settle down, he told himself. You are tired, cold, hungry now. A man never thinks right when he’s hungry. What you need now is a good cup of coffee and a little food. That will set your mind right. …But why do I have the strange feeling that someone is watching me, reading me like a book, gauging my every move?

  Chapter 27

  When the message came in Admiral Holland did not know quite what to make of it. Now he was conferring with Captain Glennie when a midshipman handed off a note. The W/T room had received a message: ‘SIGHTED TWO LARGE WARSHIPS, BELIEVED GERMAN BATTLECRUISERS, POSITION 67.14,-31.27 — COURSE 180 — SPEED 20 — SS KRV’

  “SS KRV? What ship is that?”

  “I’m told that is the call sign for the Russian cruiser Kirov, sir. Convoy HX-49, sighted it some days ago heading northeast for the Denmark Strait.”

  “Nothing more from Birmingham?

  “Not since we were last notified of Manchester's departure for Reykjavík. We may run into her soon if we stay on this course. It seems they had a run in with the Twins, and thought the better of trading with them.”

  Holland took a look at the map, laying out his rulers to cross index those coordinates. “That would put this sighting about 120 nautical miles west of us, and now heading south at 20 knots. If this is so the Germans have certainly shaken off our cruisers.”

  “Yet Birmingham signaled they were engaged again, and believe the ship was firing 8-inch rounds.”

  “That would be the Hipper,” Holland concluded. “Most likely detached to keep our boys busy while the Twins made a run for it. But what are they doing so far west off Greenland?”

  “They could be meeting a tanker, sir. It’s a long way from Trondheim, and it also puts them in a very good position to get by us, and out into the Atlantic. We would have to turn immediately to have any chance of staying with them. Look here…” He laid out a pair of rulers, one to mark the contact’s course south at 20 knots, and the other to plot an intercept. Hood would have to travel the long edge of the triangle.

  “They’ll travel a 100 nautical miles in the next five hours if they are moving as this sighting report suggests. To catch them now we’ll have to cover 160 miles, and run up at 30 knots the whole way.”

  “Yes, but on the word of a Russian cruiser? Wasn't this ship being regarded with some suspicion by the Admiralty? Cruiser Kirov? All the information we have placed this ship in the Baltic. What do you make of this, Captain Glennie?”

  “We know Scharnhorst and Gneisenau are out there, sir. The hole they put in Manchester is ample evidence of that. This position sighting would correspond to their last known heading after that engagement.”

  “Damn, what's happening with Birmingham? Why haven't we heard anything further?”

  “Last word we had she was still under fire. There's been nothing since.”

  “I can't say as I like the sound of that.” Holland leaned heavily on the map table considering what to do. He was noting position of convoy traffic out of Halifax, his eyes dark and concerned.

  “TC-5 left on 11 June with a full brigade on troop ships.”

  “They should be well east and out of the threat zone by now, sir.”

  “Yes, but have a look at HX-50. Forty-eight ships, and a good number carrying fuel oil, petrol, gasoline, crude, even benzene. They’ll be four days out now and the Commodore’s report on sailing was that there were eleven neutrals in the sailing order, very slow, most unable to make even nine knots in fair weather and calm seas At that speed they would be about 100 miles south of Cape Farewell by now, and a fairly ripe tree for the picking. Captain Glennie, I think we must turn southeast and see about this sighting, yet I want this contact verified before we go running off into the blue. We have orders to link up with Admiral Tovey, but if this report holds water, then the Twins will sink their teeth into HX-50 and raise havoc. The only escort presently with the convoy is the armed merchant cruiser Voltaire-just a former passenger ship with a few 6-inch deck guns.”

  “Nothing that will bother the Twins, sir.”

  “Indeed. Contact Repulse. As soon as this weather breaks I want them to get a Fairey III up and search out ahead of us to look for the Germans.”

  The Fairey III was a three-seat spotter-reconnaissance biplane adopted by the Fleet Air Arm for use on large ships and carriers. It was small enough to be launched by catapult from a ship like Repulse, which was carrying two planes at the moment. Hood had her catapult, crane, and turret-mounted flying off platforms removed some time ago when they were deemed too wet for suitable use.

  “If we do spot them,” said Holland “then we’ll go full out and attempt to engage. For now we turn on 230 and increase to 28 knots. At the very least we may be able to get close enough to protect this convoy.”

  Captain Glennie nodded. “Shall I look into this business concerning the Russian cruiser, sir?”

  “See what more Admiralty has on it. Events are stacking up like dirty dishes here, Captain. Tovey ran into a hornet’s nest east of Iceland. Jerry put a couple of 500 pounders into Renown-Stukas! Now Home Fleet is heading back our way. It looks like Bismarck and Tirpitz are swinging up north of Iceland, and they obviously have Graf Zeppelin with them.”

  “That’s a rough go for Tovey now, sir. Without Renown he’s badly outgunned.”

  “Which is why he’s consolidating with us. We had better pass this sighting on to him as well, and I can tell you now he won’t like it. Tell him we’re investigating the contact but will
remain in a good position to effect a link-up with Home Fleet at his discretion. If we don’t act on this information now the Germans could slip right out into the Atlantic and raise hell. HX-51 was supposed to have left Halifax today. That’s another thirty-five ships on our watch. If nothing turns up in the air search we can always swing back east if need be, but we can’t leave these convoys exposed like this.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  * * *

  Kapitan Hoffmann was below decks, checking on the condition of the super-heaters in the boiler rooms. Scharnhorst had difficulty with them for some time, most recently in her encounter with the British carrier that managed to slip away, in part because the ship’s speed fell off at a crucial time and she could not pursue effectively. The Kapitan did not want anything of the sort to plague him out here. To conserve fuel and keep the pressure on the heating tubes reasonable, he had kept speed to 20 knots. They would need nothing more unless the ship had to go into action.

  He spoke with Rolf Zanger in the number one boiler room, and all seemed well.

  “How are our new recruits faring, Kapitan,” asked Zangler.

  “You mean the men off Altmark? Still drying out with a belly full of rum. Half of them will be scrubbing the oil off their backs for days.”

  “We had one man in here an hour ago looking for work. He told quite a tale, sir. Said he thought he spotted us to the east, and that we were going to leave them in the water. Says we sailed right off, sir.”

  “That’s nonsense. We were north of Altmark when we came on the scene. The man was obviously disoriented.”

  “Could be, sir, but he seemed fit and ready for work, an old salt. That sort knows a compass heading well enough.”

  “Who was this man?”

  “Called himself Fritz, sir. I told him to rest and come back tomorrow.”

  “Alright, Rolf. Keep my boilers in line. I may need speed in the hours ahead.”

  “You can count on us, Kapitan.”

  Hoffmann headed forward, thinking about what Zanger had told him. It dangled in his mind with all the other odd threads that had been bothering him ever since they first engaged those two British cruisers. The man says he saw another ship out east…It was probably nothing, but with the radar still down we’re blind as a bat out here. It’s time we got an Arado up and had a look around. I’ve learned more than once to follow a hunch when it won’t leave me alone.

  He resolved to get two search planes up at once, one from his ship to have a look out east, just in case this survivor’s report was more than his wishful thinking, and a second from Gneisenau to have a look north and see about Hipper and the British cruisers.

  * * *

  “Well, Mister Fedorov, it seems our plan has achieved mixed results.” Volsky was looking at the latest long range radar plots, clearly not happy. “The Germans are moving south in spite of our intervention. We apparently have a man with considerable backbone in command of that squadron, and though our message to the British seems to have prompted them to turn as well, it does not look like they will intercept any time soon. What is the predictive plot on this, Rodenko?”

  “If both contacts hold present course and speed they will sight each other in five hours, and the Germans be on our horizon in less than an hour if we remain here. They’ll pass just west of our present position, very near the horizon.”

  The ship had been hovering, describing a wide circle about twenty-five kilometers from the scene of their torpedo strike on Altmark. Now Volsky had to decide their next course.

  “Five hours. That would be a sight to see, eh Fedorov?”

  “Under other circumstances I might agree, sir, but after dueling with Rodney and Nelson, and then hammering it out with Yamato, I think I’d prefer to keep as far from a hostile battleship as possible.”

  “Agreed.”

  A call from the intercom interrupted them, and Rodenko flipped the switch. The voice of Chief Dobrynin was on the line, and he sounded bothered and very concerned. “Admiral, we have a problem.”

  “What kind of problem, Chief?”

  “I’m getting those unusual flux levels in the core of number one reactor-that’s the system we used in this last shift, sir. I don’t like it, and I want to cut power there immediately to have a closer look and see what is going on.”

  “What will that mean, Chief? We may have company soon.”

  “You’ll have fifty percent power until I bring that reactor back up, and it could be several hours.”

  “How serious is it? Can the procedure wait?”

  “I would not advise it, sir. I’m not happy about these flux levels. If they get any higher we could get a reactor scram, and I have had to lock out our special control rod.”

  “What does this mean, Chief?”

  “If a scram occurs all the unused control rods are immediately inserted into the core to stop the reaction, sir. But I’ve locked out the special rod in the number 25 position. We won’t get a complete shutdown in an emergency and I could be forced to use a boron injection. That could contaminate the fuel cladding. In that event restart is much more complex and could take a good long while.”

  Volsky folded his arms. This was not good. The ship was already hobbled by the hull damage to the bow, and now to have the reactors acting up was even worse. They had superb situational awareness, able to see any potential threat on radar long before it could close with them, but without the speed to evade contact, they could find themselves in a very uncomfortable situation.

  “Very well, Mister Dobrynin. I’ll need power for at least an hour. Can you hold things together that long?”

  “I will monitor it closely, Admiral.”

  “Keep us informed if the situation worsens.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Volsky looked at his senior officers. “Not a very satisfactory situation. Plot a safe course to evade the Germans as they come south, Mister Fedorov. The last thing we need now is a pair of German battlecruisers darkening our horizon.”

  They turned east at twenty knots, chasing the last squall lines as they fled towards Iceland. Rodenko was keeping a watchful eye near the radar station when he was surprised to suddenly pick up airborne contacts. He started to report, then stopped himself, realizing how he had been hovering over Kalinichev there, and assuming his duty. So he tapped the man on the shoulder. “Make your report, Kalinichev. I’ll update the situation map.”

  Kalinichev nodded. “Con, Radar. I have two airborne contacts. One bearing two-eight-zero, very close at 22,000 meters. Designate Alpha one. The second bearing one-one-five, range 150, flying low and slow. It just came on my scope, sir.”

  “They have to be seaplanes off the capital ships,” said Fedorov. “The German battlecruisers carried the Arado 196.”

  “So we have jammed their radar and they want to have a look around,” said Volsky. “I assume the British are doing the very same thing.”

  “The weather is clearing, sir. This is a logical deployment.”

  “Very well…We’ve already been sighted once by British search planes without incident. The Germans are another matter. Are these planes armed?”

  “They could carry 250 kilograms of bombs, but I doubt they will be configured that way for a simple search operation. It’s unlikely they would attack if they sight us, sir.”

  “But they would reveal our position to this German Captain out there. How fast are his ships?”

  “Both were rated for thirty-two knots, Admiral.”

  “And Dobrynin is asking us to reduce to fifteen. Well that cannot happen any time soon now. If we hold this speed we may just be able to ease off to the east, but if those German ships get curious?”

  He raised his thick grey brows, a warning in his eyes.

  * * *

  Schulman saw the ship plain as day. He had been flying the Arado for three years now, and was well experienced. The Kapitan had told him to have a look out east, and lo and behold, what was this hovering just over the horizon? It was big,
a large warship to be sure, and every line and angle of the ship looked threatening. There was power there. He immediately notified his signalman to send off a message.

  “Let’s hope they hear us,” the man returned. “The ship’s communications were all fouled up, from what I heard.”

  “Send it anyway. This ship is very close. If need be I can turn around and get back to Scharnhorst in a few minutes.”

  Even as he said that he knew that it was the wisest course. That had to be a British warship out there, a battleship, he thought. It was just his luck that he came upon it as Kirov was still cruising west, ready to make its turn to evade any possible conflict here. But the course change came too late. Schulman had seen enough to be justifiably worried. In his mind the ship was bearing down on his comrades and he set his mind to make sure they were warned.

  “Has Scharnhorst confirmed receipt of our signal?”

  “Not yet, Leutnant.”

  “Then we go and deliver the mail ourselves. That ship is not far over their horizon and it looks to be trouble.”

  He banked away, feeding power to his engines and turning for Scharnhorst again. It was the easiest search patrol he had ever flown.

  Part X

  Shadow of Death

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

  I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff

  they comfort me…”

  — Psalms 23:4

  Chapter 28

  Kapitan Hoffman had just settled into a chair in his ready room for much needed coffee when the lookouts spotted the plane returning. They called the air warning, sending the ship to battle stations and quickly ending his anticipated rest. He was up on his feet again at once, and out onto the weather bridge.