by Colin Gee
Ears attuned to the sounds of the sea suddenly wrestled with a new sound as the growl of engines rose.
Snowy-two-two flew on a course almost perfectly perpendicular to the bearing of the submarine, and at a height that seemed no more than a few feet above the waves.
The RAF Lancaster MR-3, a coastal command conversion of the successful heavy bomber, guided in by the infra-red line that Loch Tralaig used to show where the submarine was, suddenly illuminated its own searchlight, a powerful Leigh Light, which bathed the waves ahead with roughly twenty million candelas of penetrating light.
The nacelle mounting the light was slung under the rear belly of the giant aircraft and, to the watching seamen, gave the Lancaster a deadly halo.
Aboard the coastal command aircraft, the snorkel was clearly marked by the small wake it left as its parent submarine moved gently ahead, although it suddenly disappeared, which the crew assumed meant they had been detected.
Behind them, HMS Loch Tralaig, its work done, came about and cleared the immediate danger zone whilst readying the Squid launchers, should Snowy-two-two’s attack fail.
Inside the Lancaster, the order was given and two objects detached themselves.
The two Fido acoustic torpedoes were newly modified versions, whose attack patterns could be pre-programmed just before launch from within the aircraft, and these two were told to go to active sonar search from the moment they entered the water, and to look straight ahead.
Both the Fido torpedoes also had improved engines that offered nearly twenty knots, which was roughly three times the speed that the submarine was achieving, and more than enough to chase her down, if they acquired her.
The Lancaster pulled up and turned away to port, leaving both submarine and frigate behind her.
It would not put any more Fidos in the water unless specifically authorised by the commander on the surface, for the acoustic torpedo tended to be indifferent to the nationality of any metal it detected.
Both found the lump of metal they had been fired at and both struck within a second of each other.
Aboard HMS Loch Tralaig, headphones had already been removed to avoid ruptured eardrums. With the successful hits, they were replaced and the listeners bore witness to the death of whatever it was that threatened them.
Commander Taggert accepted the confirmation with little elation. His brother and his wife’s cousin had both died in submarines in the last show, so he had an understanding of the terrible death that awaited the men who sailed beneath the waves, but it didn’t stop him sinking them, just from overly celebrating the end result.
Throughout the ship there were whoops of joy as the result was announced over the ship’s tannoy, immediately followed by an order to maintain silent routine.
Snowy-two-two rose back up into the night, her patrol not yet finished.
“Number One, reposition us to the east and trail the eel again. We’ll make a sweep at daylight for any survivors. Not risking ourselves now.”
There were no further contacts and the Lancaster was back at her Dutch base by the time that HMS Loch Tralaig returned to the area of the kill.
The sea was covered with the detritus expected after the sinking of a submarine.
Paper.
Cork.
Oil.
Lifejackets.
Wood.
Bodies.
The presence of smashed corpses in Soviet naval uniform relieved the last vestiges of doubt.
The whaler was deployed and Loch Tralaig moved away again, leaving the small boat, commanded by one of the Sub-Lieutenants, to sweep through the remains of a Soviet submarine and her crew.
No one was more surprised than Taggert when the cutter signalled for pick up and confirmed it had two survivors recovered.
The two men had somehow survived the night by finding enough wreckage to keep themselves out of the water. They were also equipped with some sort of dry suits, a subject on which they would be questioned when they were suitably recovered.
Both were placed in the sick bay, with a fierce looking Leading-Seaman armed with a trusty Webley pistol positioned to act as gaoler.
HMS Loch Tralaig was due back in her temporary patrol base at Gedser two days later, so the Admiralty were informed by radio of the two survivors.
The other items recovered were kept ready to be handed to naval intelligence as soon as HMS Loch Tralaig docked at the small Danish port.
By the time that Commander Taggert had brought his vessel alongside at Gedser, a lot of things had changed.
Naval Intelligence had become aware that the Soviets were trying to contact something called‘Karusel'’, broadcasting on the Baltic Fleet frequencies that had become associated with their submarine units, which analysts considered final confirmation of the identity of their target.
Concern had grown that a Type XXI submarine had been constructed and put to sea without Allied knowledge, which caused a wave of reviews of everything from photoreconnaissance evidence to reports from human resources on the ground.
Of greater concern to the Admiral overseeing operations in the Baltic were the reports of problems amongst the crew of his best ASW platform.
HMS Loch Tralaig docked ahead of schedule and the quay was immediately cordoned off and secured by business-like Royal Marines with orders not to let anyone on the ship, and especially not off the ship.
An initial party of four medical personnel, suitably attired, boarded the frigate and found a medieval scene acted out on every deck.
Even as they walked up the gangplank, a party from Porton Down landed on the Gedser Landevej, the straight road having been closed and isolated by security detachments provided by the Danish Army.
Aboard Loch Tralaig, the dead were already set aside and placed in the meat locker where their temperature was kept low.
Both Russians, the Sub-lieutenant and two of his boat crew, the ship’s surgeon, and one sick bay attendant had joined them only a few hours previously.
The rest of the whaler crew were extremely ill, presenting with a range of symptoms, from sickness and diarrhoea, respiratory problems and vomiting blood; some also presented with black lesions on the skin.
The newly arrived personnel took command, and organised the care of the five men directly affected, although three other members of the crew had reported sick that morning.
It was not until the personnel from Porton Down arrived that suspicions were raised.
One of the men, dispatched on a gut reaction by Admiral Parry, head of Naval Intelligence, understood precisely what he was looking at and HMS Loch Tralaig became a quarantine area.
By the time the information had reached England, another seven men were sick, and one more had joined the men in the freezer.
1122 hrs, Monday, 3rd March 1947, NATO Headquarters, Frankfurt, Germany.
“Good morning, General.”
“Brad, thanks for coming so quickly. You know these gentlemen. Grab a coffee and take a chair.”
Omar Bradley had been in the air before the message came, causing him to divert to Frankfurt and be part of an urgent meeting of NATO top brass.
“OK, Colonel. You may proceed.”
Hood nodded to Eisenhower and, with Anne-Marie Foster’s assistance, outlined the general events in the Baltic over the previous thirty hours.
“Admiral.”
Hood ceded the floor to Rear-Admiral Dalziel, now second in the pecking order at British Naval Intelligence, and the man chosen to impart the bad news.
“Thank you, Colonel. I should hasten to add that the Captain in command of the operation followed the rules of engagement to the letter. It has since been confirmed that this was a Soviet submarine, most probably of the excellent XXI type designed by the Germans in the last show.”
He nodded at von Vietinghoff who remained impassive.
“The frigate vectored in a Coastal Command aircraft, which successfully launched torpedoes that hit and sank the enemy submarine.”
He turne
d to the map and selected the red marker point.
“Here, some twenty miles due south of Rønne on Bornholm.”
He allowed them a moment to orient themselves before forging ahead.
“Quite correctly, the captain did not immediately search for survivors but swept the locale for signs of any other threats. He subsequently returned some hours later and dropped a small boat to investigate the floating wreckage. Major, if you please.”
Foster illuminated the projector and the small group were shown photographs taken from the whaler, ones that showed the dead as well as the two recovered alive, and a plethora of other items that were fished from the water.
“Both these two survivors subsequently died, which would normally be reasonable to expect, given the fact that they were immersed in icy water and left unrecovered for many hours. Major, thank you.”
Anne-Marie Foster removed the photographs and placed them carefully back in the top-secret folder, extracting the next set, ready for her cue.
“Loch Tralaig continued on her patrol, again quote normal, but reported on a strange illness that affected some of her crew. These were originally, without exception, members of the whale boat crew who had rescued the two Soviet submariners.”
He again turned to the map and drew their attention to Gedser.
“The ship returned to her temporary patrol base earlier than planned as a number of fatalities occurred amongst her crew. These included the ship’s surgeon, his senior rating, a rating assigned as security, and two of the whaleboat crew. Major.”
Foster switched on the projector and some of the assembled senior officers almost recoiled from the graphic images that assailed them.
“On docking, the ship was quarantined immediately, and medical personnel went aboard. They were unable to identify the nature of the affliction. Admiral Parry, given the nature of some of our recent intelligence, took the step of ordering a party from Porton Down to the area, and it was they that identified the disease in questi… sir?”
“Porton Down? Don’t know the place.”
Dalziel did a mental check on the questioner and reasoned he would be cleared for such knowledge.
“General, Porton Down is a British facility that deals with research into counter-measures against special weapons.”
“Special weapons?”
“Such as the Tabun used against us, or the plague the Japanese let loose on the Chinese and your naval facilities.”
“Thanks, Admiral.”
“One of the scientists that went to Gedser had previous experience in one particular field of research, and swiftly identified the nature of the infection.”
He had already decided not to mention the goings-on at Gruinard Island.
‘On going goings-on.’
He laughed to himself at the thought.
“Gentlemen, to date, nine men have died and another five are grievously ill. The cause of death has been identified as Anthrax.”
A number of voices gave vent to a mixture of shock and anger.
“Anthrax?”
“Yes, Anthrax. All the sufferers showed what I am told are classic signs of exposure to the disease. The black lesions and abscesses we saw in the photographs are typical of Anthrax, especially if it has entered the skin through sites where there were already lacerations or scratches. It’s also possible to spread through contact with bodily fluids and possibly from inhaling any fluids produced by a patient coughing.”
Everyman sat around the table had made the connection to the intelligence assessments regarding the Japanese research and the sudden appearance of Anthrax in the Baltic.
“I should say that there is some disagreement amongst the scientists on this, and there’s still much work to be done, but it’s felt by many that this is a new, virulent, and particularly resilient strain of the infection. You will recall that such an infection was included within the possible items researched by the Japanese biological units.”
The murmurs clearly confirmed that they did.
“At this time, more tests are being carried out. The Loch Tralaig is in quarantine, which does affect our anti-submarine capability but the Admiralty is taking steps to cover this vital area with another Loch class ship, which has already received orders to relocate.”
Naval problems were naval problems to most present, and therefore of little consequence.
“As soon as Porton Down has any further information, I will ensure it’s presented to you. I should also say that intelligence reached us from special units with the partisans in Lithuania… intelligence that confirms that Soviet NKVD units transported a large number of drums of hazardous material… as much as one hundred and fifty drums of it, roughly one hundred litres per drum. The drums appear to have been specially weighted so as to sink, not float as I’m assured they would do normally. We’re unsure if that is significant.”
Eisenhower stood and stopped the barrage of questions in their infancy.
“Gentlemen, quite clearly we simply don’t know enough at the moment, but I think I can summarise matters quite simply.”
They quietened down quickly and Ike delivered the bottom line.
“The Soviet Union appears to have attempted to transport a biological weapon into our lines but, thanks to the Royal Navy, failed. We have no idea if this was the first or only attempt to do so. At this time we remain at peace, but we cannot ignore this new threat… this unusual and deadly menace.”
He moved across to the map and examined it quickly.
“From where the sub was sunk, they could be accessing Denmark or Germany directly, or maybe they even intended to go beyond… Holland… the North Sea… England?”
The muttering stopped when he turned back to face them.
“One thing’s for sure. Things just got a whole lot more complicated again. After the enemy use of a nerve agent, certain stocks were released for our use, should it be felt prudent to use them. I immediately dismissed it, as I felt it was more dangerous to use when set against the advantages it gained. Progress on some protective clothing was made, but only recently did it see a genuine leap, and that was when we discovered the information from Japan. Basically, we don’t have enough good protection in country if this thing gets outta hand.”
He put his hands on his hips and set his jaw.
“The best protection we have is to be vigilant… as it always is of course. I don’t like this at all. Everything points to the Soviets thinking about attacking, and yet they comply, in the main, with the terms agreed at Camp Vár. Our intelligence agencies can find little of substance on their intentions… which helps us not one goddamned bit!”
He slapped a hand on his thigh to emphasise his point.
“So I’m going to need to develop a plan, so now’s the time to ante up if you’ve any ideas.”
The discussion was energetic to say the least, and covered anything from pre-emptive air strikes to first use of the chemical stocks recently dispatched from the US.
The matter of informing the Soviets about the submarine and what they knew was heavily discussed, and the intelligence view of not doing so won the day.
Subsequently, the political view agreed.
The nature of the submarine’s contents would also be kept secret amongst the Allies, limited to those in the room, and certain others cleared for such grave matters.
By the end of the meeting, the senior officers went back to their respective headquarters and let their men know that, yet again, the game had been ramped up by events and that the stakes were getting higher and higher.
Once the main group had left, Eisenhower waited until the equipment had been stowed away before ordering the staff out, leaving him, Bradley, and McCreery alone with the intelligence officer.
Ike tackled Dalziel on the one burning question that had been avoided by those who were in the know.
“Sir Roger, is there any possibility that this submarine was one of those missing from the Japanese navy?”
Dalziel nodded in a
cknowledgement that Eisenhower and the others had resisted asking in front of those who were not cleared for such matters.
“Sir, that’s a question that is presently troubling us. From what I know, the sonar operator aboard Loch Tralaig is a genius who recognised the sub as a Type XXI or derivative; he’s steadfast in that belief and is backed up by his watch officer, despite continuing questioning. The uniform means nothing of course, as Soviet seamen could be aboard a Japanese submarine for a number of reasons… plainly, none of them good.”
Bradley made a sound like a labouring water buffalo, outlining his annoyance and feeling of helplessness with one all-encompassing display.
“We share your discontent, General Bradley. If it’s a Soviet manned Type XXI then we can probably look at the possibility that items came overland from the East, as we understood. If it’s a Japanese submarine, then we’ll have failed to prevent it entering the Baltic, which suggests it has a capability for hiding that has defeated our systems. That, in itself, is of major concern, without the possible cargo they carried from the Empire.”
…Twenty-two minutes earlier, seven miles north-northeast of Ceuta, North Africa.
“Well, I suppose their lordships know what they’re doing… but damn and blast it, Jimmy… damn and blast it!”
“Quite, Skipper.”
“The men may mutiny, you know.”
Lieutenant-Commander Hamilton-Hewitt RNR made the comment only partially in jest.
“You’ll soothe their troubled minds, Skipper.”
The order to relocate had arrived at the worst possible moment.
The following day they were to be relieved on station and allowed some time ashore in Tangiers, where much was anticipated by way of female company and alcoholic entertainment.
“Still, nothing for it. Clueless!”
The navigator came running, his name no reflection on his skills or the esteem in which he was held.
“Set a course for Brest… that’s Brittany to you Cambridge types. We’ll refuel there before proceeding on to our destination.”