Altered States k-9

by John A. Schettler

  “Radio message? Not on the W/T?”

  “Radio, sir. Captain Madden off Birmingham.”

  “Well it’s about time we heard something. Where is he?”

  “About a hundred kilometers off, sir according to Captain Madden, but he’s not on Birmingham.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “She ran afoul of the Hipper, sir, and got the worst of it. 8-inch shell hit her forward magazine and blew the forecastle sky high. We lost her. Madden made it off alive but there were only fifteen survivors.”

  “Fifteen? My God…there were over 700 men aboard…Damn bloody business.”

  “He was picked up by that Russian cruiser that Tovey asked us to investigate.”

  “All this was transmitted in the clear? What’s gotten into Madden’s head besides seawater. The man took a hard knock but the security breach is appalling.”

  “I did mention that, sir. But this ship was not identified in the transmissions. I suppose he hasn’t revealed anything the Germans don’t already know. A request has been made for a rendezvous, sir. The Russian Admiral wishes to speak with you or Admiral Tovey.”

  “Admiral? On a cruiser? This is most irregular, Mister Smith.”

  “Yes sir, but the Russians would like to transfer the survivors off Birmingham. Shall we arrange it? The Captain says they can join us in three hours time.”

  “How in blazes would he be able to say that? The man has no idea where we are.”

  “That thought crossed my mind as well, sir, but Captain Madden says he can explain later.”

  “Will he? At least he kept something under his hat.”

  Holland thought about it. All this in the clear for the German B-Dienst signals teams to intercept. But other than the number of survivors off Birmingham nothing of import was revealed.

  “Well I can’t see any harm in it. Tovey wanted us to investigate this contact earlier, but the Twins set us off on another course. So I suppose we would be following orders to arrange such a meeting. See to it, Mister Smith, but use the W/T please. No radio transmission.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Were holding in place here to await Home Fleet. See that Admiral Tovey is informed.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  * * *

  Far to the north another meeting was being arranged, this time in the silent wink of a lamp from the German destroyer Beowulf as it made its approach to the rendezvous point with the tanker Nordmark. The destroyer was leading in the core of the German fleet, some three kilometers behind in a line of four big ships with another two destroyers keeping station to either side of Graf Zeppelin.

  Aboard Bismarck, Lindemann had received Hoffmann’s request and decided the rendezvous would be wise. It would further strengthen his task force, and when they caught sight of Scharnhorst looming out of the thick fog to the south, he smiled with the realization that he was now commanding the largest joint task force, and certainly the most powerful one that Germany had put to sea since Jutland. It was an historical moment, but he chided himself for basking in the glow, the sober thought that the British were most likely gathering to the south reminding him that this was not a time for chest thumping.

  An hour later Kapitan Hoffmann was in a launch coming across from Scharnhorst while repair crews from Nordmark shipped over to see how they might assist with the damage control on Gneisenau. When the man finally boarded, Lindemann could smell Hoffmann coming as he ascended the stairway up from the lower decks. His cigar was leaving a nice aromatic trail on the cool air. He sat in the chart room with his First Officer, Korvettenkapitan Oels. All the other Kapitans were there, Karl Topp who had come across from Tirpitz and Kurt Böhmer off Graf Zeppelin. The two “Helmuths,’ Brinkmann off Prinz Eugen and Heye off the Hipper were exchanging notes together. Lastly Otto Fein was over from Gneisenau. He had not been scheduled to take command until August, but that was moved up for this mission, and now he was unfortunate to find his was the only ship that had been hit and damaged by the enemy.

  “Greetings, Kapitan Hoffmann. I don’t suppose you brought one of those cigars for the rest of us?”

  “A whole box,” said Hoffmann, “and you can split them up any way you like. They were a gift from Kapitan Langsdorff when he returned from South America. Now there was a man who loved a good cigar.”

  “I suppose the honor of the first pick must go to Kapitan Böhmer,” said Lindemann. “His Stukas put a couple of dents in HMS Renown, or so we now know from Seekrieigsleitung. Give the next to Kapitan Heye for sinking that British cruiser, and the third I think you have already smoked, Hoffmann. That is for sending the other cruiser running off home. But it appears the celebration stops there, gentlemen. In exchange the British have sunk Altmark and poked a good size hole in Gneisenau from the looks of it. Now what is this business about another British warship in the strait and how is it we have repair crews from Nordmark all over your ship, Kapitan Fein?”

  Fein looked at Hoffmann, a knowing glance, and then spoke. “Damndest thing I ever saw at sea,” he said. “We spotted what looked to be a large British warship, very large, but there was something very odd about it.”

  “Odd is not but half a word for it,” said Hoffmann, still puffing on his cigar. “This ship was big, threatening, clearly a warship by design, yet for its size we could see no real guns to speak of. Now I have heard of trying to camouflage your ship to make it appear smaller, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you do not easily hide guns of the caliber that would normally be mounted on a warship of that size.”

  “Just how big was this ship?” Lindemann was listening closely, his eyes narrowed, prominent ears vectoring in like radars.

  “To be honest, Kapitan, I thought it was the size of HMS Hood. In fact at first blush we thought it might be Hood, but the silhouette was all wrong.”

  “It had no stacks as Hood should have,” Fein put in.

  “That was another thing,” Hoffmann held out his cigar, letting the thin trails of smoke curl their way up from the ashen tip. “No smoke either. The ship was cruising at probably fifteen knots, but making no visible smoke.”

  “You engaged this ship?”

  “We did. I fired a warning shot across the bow thinking this might be an American ship. That is the last time I act as a gentleman in these waters,” said Hoffmann. “But I wasn’t quite sure what I had in front of me. It’s what came back that we must now discuss, gentlemen.” He looked askance at Fein, who waited, a grim expression on his face.

  “Your dispatch said something about a rocket. I assumed you were writing poetry, Hoffmann. You say this ship had no big guns but it obviously returned enough fire to blast that hole in Gneisenau.”

  “Oh it returned fire, Kapitan Lindemann, but not with its guns. We were hit by something else, something quite extraordinary, and every man here would be wise to heed my words on this, because if the rest of the British fleet has this weaponry, the entire nature of warfare at sea has just sailed into new waters and we have missed the boat.”

  Chapter 32

  “We are taking a bit of a risk here, Admiral,” said Fedorov. “I know the British were accommodating before, but our ships were separated by the straits of Gibraltar back then. Now we are under the guns of all these ships, and it is just a bit unnerving.”

  “I understand how you feel, Fedorov, but a man must have some trust in life. We are prominently flying the Russian naval ensign, the flag of a neutral state in this conflict, and one the British would be wise not to antagonize.”

  “Well, we are not really affiliated with Soviet Russia here.”

  “The British will not know that at the moment.”

  “Yet they will know we are not the cruiser Kirov on their current intelligence rolls, sir. There will be questions here. Have we decided how to best answer them? I mean, we cannot tell them the truth.”

  “No, I suppose we cannot. Well I think we must simply say we are a highly classified secret project of Soviet Russia, out on a training mission t
o test new weapons. That will hold water long enough for me to accomplish what I am after here.”

  “What are you after, sir?”

  “A meeting of the minds, Fedorov. If Karpov were here he would be arguing that we lay down the law to the British, or else he would have already attacked them. We are not to be excused in that regard, but at least we gave some consideration as to the consequences of our actions in choosing sides here, and I think we chose wisely. Now our task is to persuade the British to chose wisely as well. This Admiral Tovey is here, is he not?”

  “Yes, sir. That large ship off the port quarter-but this is another anomaly, sir.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at it, Admiral. That is a G3 class battlecruiser! It’s configuration is unlike any other ship in the fleet. Note the positioning of the main guns, two triple turrets forward and a third right behind the conning tower and placed amidships. Those are all 16-inch guns, sir. Four of these ships were ordered, and in the world we came from none were ever completed due to the limitations imposed by the Washington Naval Treaty.”

  “So that is a big crack in your mirror, Fedorov. Are there any other unusual ships present?”

  “No sir. That is Hood there behind the G3, and that is the battlecruiser Repulse if I am not mistaken. Those other two ships are cruisers, and it looks like we have two carriers of to the south as well, most likely Ark Royal and Illustrious, though that ship is a tad early. Things have changed, Admiral.”

  “Well don’t be so surprised, Mister Fedorov. Look down at your feet and note the ship you are standing on. Kirov should not be here either, and we are likely going to raise quite a few eyebrows. I would say that at least a hundred pairs of field glasses are trained on us now, and I am grateful that no gun barrels are so trained.”

  “Captain Madden spoke well on our behalf, sir.”

  “Good for him. Now the question is whether we should take a launch over to see Admiral Tovey, or perhaps invite him here.”

  “I would suggest the former, sir. It may mean fewer questions.”

  “I understand…but I also think you would give your right arm to step aboard that G3 battleship.”

  “Battlecruiser, sir, though it certainly has the power to stand with any battleship of this era. That said, you may be right, Admiral. I would dearly love to get a look at that ship.”

  “Then let us conference with Captain Madden and see if we can make the arrangements. Request permission to escort the Captain and the survivors off Birmingham to that ship, and a meeting with Admiral Tovey at his discretion.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Fedorov had suddenly lost all his reservations about the meeting, and the lightness in his step brought a grin to Admiral Volsky’s face. Well, he thought. I suppose I had better get into my dress uniform. Appearances always matter, especially for the British. They’ll look me over as closely as they look over this ship. So now we see if the character of this man John Tovey has changed in this altered reality. This will be very interesting.

  The last time I met this man both fear and respect were invited to the conference. He had seen us in combat, knew what we could do. We had driven him off in King George V, and bested both Rodney and Nelson together. We blackened the aircraft carrier Furious, and then Karpov unleashed that awful attack against the Americans. He undoubtedly saw the mushroom cloud that day. Fedorov tells me they had a name for us in their code books-Geronimo. But it is only 1940 now. None of that has happened yet, and in this world it probably never will. This time we have only mystery to bring with us to the table-no-that is not quite so. We have another guest that I can bring along, and he is right in Fedorov’s head: information, intelligence, a full accounting of the situation Tovey now faces should the Germans come south again. Yes, this will be very interesting.

  An hour later the word came that the meeting was approved and they were invited to join Admirals Tovey and Holland aboard the HMS Invincible for lunch.

  “Very well, gentlemen,” said Volsky, and they went over in a large launch. Admiral Volsky, Fedorov, Nikolin and Captain Madden were sitting forward with Sergeant Troyak and two Marines to accompany the British survivors off Birmingham. Rodenko had the ship, watching them go from the bridge and remembering how Karpov had strutted out the entire Marine honor guard and the ship’s band when he went ashore to see the Mayor of Vladivostok in 1908. A pity he could not find a way to parley with Admiral Togo.

  Volsky boarded the British battlecruiser up a lowered metal stair, and was duly piped aboard. There he saw a small honor detachment standing at attention, which he saluted.

  They were greeted by a young man in smart dress whites. He saluted and stepped forward to extend a hand. “Lieutenant Commander Christopher Wells,” he said. “Admiral Tovey sends his compliments and invites you to follow me, sir. Greetings Captain Madden, and welcome back. We’ve been missing you.”

  “Thank you, Mister Wells, it seems that you and I have both been through the fire lately. Good show bringing Glorious home. Wish I could say the same for my ship.”

  “I’m sure you did your best, sir, and everything possible under the circumstances.”

  “Yes, but when a magazine blows…well, that’s another story. Lead on, sir.”

  They made their way along the deck, past the high aft mast where the naval jack of the Royal Navy flew proudly above the fleet flagship. Fedorov’ eyes were big, a light of discovery in them, and quiet elation. Once he paused to gape up at the big twin funnels and then stare at the main battery amidships, his eyes sweeping over the massive barrels of steel.

  “Come along, Mister Fedorov,” said Volsky with a smile. “We mustn’t let Admiral Tovey’s soup get cold waiting for us.”

  “Sorry sir.” Fedorov quickened his pace. “This is quite a remarkable ship. If built to designed specs, it would have belt armor 14 inches thick, over 17 inches on those gun turrets, and the deck under our feet is all of 8 inches thick in key places.”

  “Very well protected,” said Volsky. “How different we are with Kirov, wearing only a helmet and breastplate near the reactor room compared to the full body armor and chain mail of this heavy knight. But while he must charge valiantly in and fight with lance, sword and shield at close quarters, we use the longbow from beyond his reach. Therein lies our real armor, Fedorov-ranged firepower. It is the reason aircraft carriers were proved so dominant by the end of this war. Yet we even better that weapons platform, in that what we target we hit, and without fail in this era, as they have no SAM systems capable of tracking or hindering our SSMs. If they would ever hit one it would be sheer happenstance.”

  “Well put, Admiral. And when we add in the fact that we can find the enemy unerringly, see him first and then hit him well over the horizon, it is clear that Kirov is the mightiest ship afloat here, but it is strange to think that no more than that intangible element of trust now stands as our only shield sitting this close to those ships. One blast of those 16 inch guns at the moment would blow us sky high.”

  “Just be sure you do not mention that in these discussions, Fedorov,” the Admiral warned him half seriously.

  “Of course, sir. Yet for all the power we see assembled here, I fear the German fleet may have the advantage, sir. Nikolin and I have intercepted and decoded a good deal of signals traffic. The Germans Have the carrier Graf Zeppelin with their main body. That is a game changer, sir, and it has already made a successful strike on Tovey’s squadron, damaging the battlecruiser Renown and forcing him to withdraw. That is, in fact why I believe he has chosen to consolidate here.”

  “I may call on your analysis of this situation, Fedorov. If the opportunity presents, do not hesitate to speak your mind. I think we must find a way to convince the British we are valuable to them as an ally here.”

  They climbed several levels, which Volsky found somewhat arduous, leaving him a little winded when they reached the Admiral’s stateroom high up in the forward conning tower structure. He huffed in to find a row of Britis
h officers, in dress whites, all standing to meet him. There he immediately recognized Admiral Tovey’s tall stocky frame, the narrow eyes, calm demeanor, and walked directly to him, extending his hand in greeting. Nikolin padded behind, quickly translating what he said.

  “I would pay dearly to find a naval architect with a fancy for elevators,” he said, which immediately drew a polite laugh from the officers assembled. “I am Admiral Leonid Volsky. A remarkable ship you have here, Admiral Tovey. My Captain Fedorov has been admiring it greatly.” Volsky extended an arm, beckoning Fedorov to his side to shake hands with the British officers.

  There stood Tovey, with his Flag Lieutenant Villers, then Captain Bennett standing with Admiral Holland off the Hood. Vice Admiral Aircraft Carriers had been invited, but Ark Royal was busy mounting air patrols at the moment and coordinating her efforts with HMS Illustrious. The young staff officer that had escorted them here stood dutifully by the hatch.

  As Tovey looked at the man before him he had the sudden and distinct impression that he knew him; that he had met him somewhere before. Was it the way he singled me out as if he, too, knew exactly who I was without counting stripes? I could swear I have spoken with this man before. It was a feeling that had taken root in him the moment he set eyes upon the arriving Russian ship. There was something about it that stirred deep memories, hazy now yet crystal clear in places, where the image of a distant dreadnought lashing out with wrathful fire were still riveted in his mind. That was far away in time, and in the Pacific, but he could not escape the feeling that he had once seen this towering ship, its long raked hull, tall prow, and the strangely open forecastle that was devoid of any heavy armament. Yet that was clearly not possible, and for all his life he could not place any moment where he could recall meeting this man, a high ranking officer in the Soviet Navy.

  Now, however, there was the matter of the intelligence he had received from the Admiralty indicating that the Soviet cruiser Kirov had been properly accounted for in the Baltic. Yet it was not time for that yet. Courtesy first, then lunch, and business after with gin.