Stormtide Rising (Kirov Series Book 29)

by Schettler, John

  To be or not to be…. Now he had to decide whether or not to engage. He could just as easily continue looking for those carriers. Thus far, Chernov had heard no sign of a sonobuoy being deployed, which would be common for a helo up there hunting for him. Yet if he engaged here, and he did not get a hit early on, he would be facing the prospect of attack by ASW helos off the Takao , and possibly off the carrier he was looking for as well. It had to be close by…. Somewhere.

  “Secure from missile combat and belay that order to run shallow. Hold present depth and all ahead flank.”

  “Aye sir, depth currently 420 and all ahead flank.”

  He ran on his current heading for about 30 minutes, pleased with the stillness of the situation. It seemed to him that the enemy had not acquired him, so at 20:00 he made a turn to come to 235, on roughly the same heading as Takao . Chernov reported his contact was now very old, and its position report no longer reliable, but Gromyko had a good idea where the destroyer was. He liked his position when he was in the ship’s wake, but knew his torpedoes would never catch it if he fired from there. Instead he sprinted west, then turned southwest on 235, putting him in a position to get a decent firing angle on the destroyer if he got a firm location again. He was faster than the other ship, and would slowly close on it over time. In the meantime, he would pause every 15 minutes to let Chernov listen, and freshen up his contact on Takao . Then he would increase to flank again, and sprint.

  Lather, rinse, repeat.

  Ivan Gromyko was a very patient man.

  Chapter 3

  Admiral Kita soon realized that he could not continue operations against Kirov in the short run. They had recovered the first 100 men rescued from Takami , but he still had that operation underway, another 100 crewmen in the water out there, which was one more mission out and back for his helos and Ospreys. While one side of him wanted to strike while the iron was hot, another voice raised caution.

  What sunk the Takami ? It had to be that Russian sub, because nothing Kirov fired touched the ship. Now here he was, his entire TF racing in pursuit of the Russian battlecruiser, and cavitating like a pack of wailing banshees.

  “Captain Jenzu,” he said. “I think we ought to slow things down here.”

  “Sir?”

  “With Kazan out there, that sub is likely to pick up our position easily enough, and all we have in close is Takao , with one helo up on ASW watch. It’s pretty thin. If we run after the battlecruiser, we could be ambushed again, and losing Takami was difficult enough. Send orders to the forward screen. They are to come about and move north. The fleet will conclude search and rescue operations. You may plot the intercept course. I want my destroyer screen back.”

  “Aye sir. It does seem a little lonesome out here. What about Omi?”

  “That’s another issue. We know where Kazan was when it fired on Takami , but look at this farthest on circle now. That damn sub could be up north, and what if it runs across Omi? We’re too spread out now. I want to regroup. Then we’ll convene a meeting with Harada and see what he and that hot little Samurai of his think now.”

  “You mean Lt. Commander Fukada?”

  “That’s the one. That was damn imaginative—his little sortie to knock out the Panama Canal and then ease on over to destroy all the American shipyards, but neither one is going to happen. This entire situation continues to drive me completely insane, but I’m just running on training and reflex here now.”

  “That goes for the rest of us, sir.”

  Kita settled into the Captain’s chair, his privilege when on the bridge. “If the old IJN really is out there, this Karpov fellow is heading into deep dark waters. He’s apparently already stuck his nose in the beehive at Truk. Now he seems to be running southwest towards Rabaul. There’s a lot of Japanese power down there, and I think we need to tap into that. I want Harada and Fukada in my wardroom as soon as the ship’s physician releases them.”

  “Aye sir, I’ll send down the word.”

  * * *

  “Con—Sonar. I think we have a course change on that destroyer.”

  It was Chernov, listening as best he could on the passive hull array. “Can we slow for a better reading?”

  “Very well,” said Gromyko. Mister Belanov, come to 5 knots and creep.”

  “Aye sir, securing from high speed sprint, and the boat will creep on present heading at 5 knots. We remain just over the layer.”

  “Good enough.”

  A few minutes later, Chernov had refined his contact on the Takao , but still had no other contacts. “I was right sir,” he said. “Takao has turned on a new heading of 270, and reduced speed to 28 knots. The range is now 23 nautical miles.”

  “Interesting,” said Gromyko. “The boat will come to 270.”

  “Aye sir, coming around to 270.”

  “Keep listening Chernov….”

  He did.

  At 22:14 the hull array sonar detected a new contact, just after Gromyko stopped after a sprint of nearly 1 hour. He wanted Chernov to refresh his fix on Takao , but what he got instead was a hot new contact, almost dead ahead, but at a range of 37 nautical miles.

  “What about Takao?”

  “Still listening, sir, but nothing yet.”

  Gromyko did not like the sound of that. Chernov should have that bastard, and they should be very close. The nearest bear in the water was at 272, the range now refined to 36 nautical miles, speed 20.

  But Takao was gone.

  “What’s happening, Chernov?” This was a question the Captain needed answered quickly.

  “Sir,” said Chernov. “Assuming they were on the same bearing as before, they would now be masked by the Mokil Atoll—right in the shadow, sir. It’s the only way they could drop into oblivion like that.”

  “Very well.” The Captain pulled Belanov aside. “What do you make of this latest contact?”

  “Could be anything,” said Belanov.

  “Yet it’s running at 270, just like Takao . I think it may be what I’ve been looking for.”

  “That enemy carrier?”

  “Something launched those fighters at Kirov . It wasn’t Takao . I make that ship to be an escort picket.”

  “Latest message from Kirov indicates the three destroyers that were shadowing them turned on a new heading and broke off.”

  “What heading?” Gromyko scratched the back of his neck.

  “The last we had was 352, then they lost them. They went dark.”

  The Matador nodded knowingly, his eye playing over the chart. “Momma Bear has called home her cubs,” he said with a thin grin. That course would bring them right up here, right across our present heading, and that of that new contact out there.”

  “Sure sounds like we have something here.”

  “That it does. Mister Belanov—go wake the Admiral.”

  Nothing firmed up on the sonar, so Gromyko made another 15 minute sprint before slowing to creep speed again, just 5 knots. Then his day got a little more complicated.

  “Con—Sonar. I have two new contacts both on identical headings. The leading contact is bearing 290, range 36 nautical miles. The shadow is trailing it here,” he pointed to his screen, “about 15 nautical miles behind.”

  This wasn’t adding up. Neither contact could have been the Momma Bear Gromyko was gunning for a half hour earlier. They were just too far north, so they had to be something new. But what?

  “This is a lot of traffic for a big empty ocean like this,” said Admiral Volsky. “You say you had a destroyer bearing southwest, a second contact due west, and now two more, north by northwest? I agree that they may be trying to make a rendezvous, but you are now possibly running into many overlapping sonar spheres. I am told this boat is very stealthy, but how good is our enemy?”

  “Sir,” said Chernov. “There’s a lot of mixed surface cavitation off on 270. I think Takao and the other contact are still out there, and these new bears are latecomers to the den.”

  “Thank you, Mister Chernov.”
>
  Gromyko looked at the Admiral. “The question is whether to attack or not? We don’t have a firm reading on either of these two new contacts. For all we know, they could be IJN traffic from this era. Nor do we know whether or not any of those other ships have gotten a whiff of us yet. I think Chernov is correct, the main body is off on 270, but we would be putting ordnance on a blind target if I attack these other two, and giving away our position at the same time.”

  “Agreed,” said Volsky. “Save your missiles, Mister Gromyko. See to the safety of the boat first. This is going to be a very long war, and at the moment, I do not even see a reading for Kirov on that screen. Where has our Mister Karpov gone?”

  Gromyko had just found a very important target. The lead contact was the helicopter destroyer Kurama , and it was being followed by fat Omi , the fleet replenishment ship. They were, indeed, the last two bear cubs heading for Admiral Kita’s den, but Gromyko did not know that yet. All he could fire at was an assumption, and that had not been good enough for Volsky.

  As for Kirov , when the three foxes in pursuit broke off, Karpov was elated. He ordered the ship to alter course, then went EMCON, hoping there were not already more stealth fighters inbound on his position. Round one of this strange new duel at sea was over, but the long grueling hunt for Kirov by a newly emboldened Imperial Japanese Navy was only just beginning.

  * * *

  Admiral Raeder stepped onto the bridge of the Prinz Heinrich , watching the ships ahead of him ease out of the harbor through heavy night fog. He still had grave misgivings about this undertaking, and he could feel that in his elevated pulse as the fleet departed. It was not that he felt his men and ships were unequal to the task ahead. No. He had every confidence in them.

  He would lead the task force aboard Prinz Heinrich , this time rigged out as a full fighting carrier, laden with 27 Stukas and 13 Me-109s. The Goeben under Falkenrath would bring another 12 planes to sea, giving him 52 aircraft at his disposal when he was far from land based air power. For battle at sea, he knew he would be unmatched. He was taking the best he had left in the Med, the Bismarck under Lindemann, the Kaiser Wilhelm under its able Kapitan Werner Heinrich, and the fearsome French built heavy battleship Normandie , now fully crewed by survivors from the Hindenburg , and renamed Friedrich de Gross. He gave that ship to Kapitan Helmuth Brinkmann, who trained the new crew for these last two months in the waters off Toulon.

  To escort all these ships, he needed destroyers, and he had three of the new German built SPK Beowulf class ships, Odin, Agir and Thor . They were fast at 38 knots, each with 12 dual purpose 4.7-inch guns, and six torpedoes. To these he would add as many of the French destroyers as could be spared from the supply run duties to Tunisia—only three. Yet he selected the best they had, the Fantasque class ships, again renamed and fully re-crewed by sailors sent from Germany. It had been necessary to completely de-crew the remains of the French Navy and send all those experienced sailors home. Now any ships that could be kept serviceable were being crewed by sailors from Germany and Italy, and others impressed from the Balkans. The three French ships were renamed for ships listed in his building program that would now most likely never be realized. They would be dubbed Hildr, Sigrun, and Mist .

  Two battleships, the carriers, a fast battlecruiser, and six destroyers, thought Raeder. I could use six more destroyers, but they cannot be spared. Yet the Italians have promised me support from their fleet. I will pick up Maestrale, Alpino and Ascari when we enter the Tyrrhenian Sea. There will also be three superb fast light cruisers, Regolo, Mario and Silla . This is a fleet that can confidently meet any other at sea, well balanced, very fast, with far ranging strike power in the carriers, and the murderous fire of those heavy guns up close.

  The mist rolled over the flight deck of the carrier now, and the air smelled cool and clean. They were hoping to move unnoticed, but even if they were seen, a cover story had been circulated in humdrum signals traffic meant to be snooped by Allied ears. It would indicate that plans were in the offing to relocate certain ships from Toulon to the Italian ports of Genoa, La Spezia and Livorno, so as to make them more secure against Allied bomber attacks.

  The Allies had occupied the strategic islands of Mallorca and Menorca for exactly this reason, replacing Malta with these superb bases for air operations that could be projected into the waters off the Algerian coast and also the Ligurian Sea. Britain was also sending bombers to the vicinity of Barcelona, which was only 212 miles from Toulon. It seemed that no stone would be left unturned in this war.

  The fact that Spain was now an Allied occupied state presented the Allies with many places to build up aerodromes for their bombers. England was still a much better place for Bomber Command, but some units had been sent down to Spain to support operations there.

  I warned Goring that Toulon would soon come under increasing air attack, thought Raeder. This move would have been inevitable in time, but it does cede control of the Central Med to the enemy. Up until now, with the fleet at Toulon. The Allies would not contemplate trying to risk the Sicilian Narrows. Now that might change. Goring says he can keep that channel closed with his Luftwaffe, but I will file that away with many of his other broken promises. The Reichsmarschall has enough to deal with keeping Kesselring supplied, let alone this new operation dreamed up against Crete.

  I told them we should have taken Crete in 1941. They did not listen, so now we fight that battle anyway. I do suppose it is necessary. Hitler has launched this amazingly ambitious Operation Phoenix , and his life line for that depends on keeping the Allies from interdicting the Bosphorus. That is only 475 miles from Crete. He is also striving to clear the Kuban this winter—for the oil, of course. And he frets that the Allies will use Crete to bomb our main oil facilities at Ploiesti, only 660 air miles from that island.

  Has anyone told him that the British can still strike the Bosphorus from Alexandria, not to mention Palestine and Syria? Perhaps he has it in mind to conquer all of that in Operation Phoenix as well, but I think not. No, he is really reaching this time, all the way to Baba Gurgur, Baghdad, even Abadan on the Persian Gulf. Will our troops ever get there?

  Admiral Raeder ran all this through his mind. His first objective would be the surprise attack on another outpost showing signs of buildup for RAF units, the Island of Crete. Operation Merkur had been delayed to allow time for the troops withdrawn from Algeria to refit. It was now rescheduled for Mid-February, and that was his first stop on the journey east. His fleet would transit the Ligurian Sea, above the long finger of Corsica for a stop at Livorno in keeping with their deception plan. There they would take on more Italian sailors, and pick up those three destroyers. They would then leave at dusk the next day for a high-speed 12 hour run down the Italian coast through the Tyrrhenian Sea to the Straits of Messina—about 430 nautical miles in all. That would put them in the Ionian Sea after dawn, and it would be one more high speed daylight run to the invasion support zone off Crete.

  If all went according to plan, they would arrive on the 20th of February as scheduled, those big guns waiting to blast the British defenders on the northwest corner of the island. Hopefully, Cunningham and his Med-Force ships would not realize what was happening until it was too late to interfere.

  Let them try, thought Raeder. What do they have left at Alexandria? They have the Nelson , and the Valiant , and I can outrun and outgun them both. No. I do not think I need to worry about Cunningham. We will make our planned stop, punish the British on Crete, then turn north into the Aegean Sea. It is a brilliant and audacious plan. I will enter the Dardanelles a day later. All the arrangements have been made with the Turks. One more day to transit the narrow Bosphorus, and the world will read my name in every paper on this earth.

  The Russians will certainly know why I am coming, won’t they? Yet there will not be anything they can do to escape their fate. There is no place they can run. Once in the Black Sea I will join Rosenburg’s little squadron of U-boats which will already be deployed in a d
efensive arc when I transit the straits. We will have lavish support there, ports at Varna, Constanta, Odessa, and the excellent forward base at Sevastopol, which is under 200 nautical miles from the main base of the Black Sea Fleet at Novorossiysk.

  The Führer has promised me those four Zeppelins with our new special munitions, and I will see what that is all about. Goring has promised me bomber support and long range patrols against the numerous enemy submarines. On paper, their fleet looks quite substantial, but I will destroy it easily, and finally regain the respect and honor which I am due. I will show the Führer what a combined arms fleet can do at sea, and set the template for operations I have been planning in the West. So very much is riding on this now, not only my personal fate, but that of the entire surface fleet.

  Failure is simply not an option.

  Part II

  Sturmflut

  “ Time and Tide wait for no man.”

  — Geoffrey Chaucer

  Chapter 4

  Rommel’s retreat after the battle of Bir el Khamsa had been inevitable, or so he now believed. He had broken through British lines, sweeping south and east through the lonesome bir as he moved to reach Mersa Matruh on the coast. He had chased General Richard O’Connor’s Western Desert Force all the way from El Agheila after his final crushing blow to the hapless Italians at Beda Fomm. The time and tide of his fortune was running high.

  Yet it was not to be. His able desert scout Lazlo Almasy, was out on the extreme southern flank of his turning maneuver when he reported an enemy force emerging from the south. First believed to be no more than a reconnaissance, it soon coalesced into a strong mechanized attack, lightning swift, and completely unstoppable. The enemy was said to have a brigade of heavy armor, the likes of which the world had never seen. The German Pak 50mm AT guns simply bounced right off the monster tanks, so massive that the German infantry deployed on defense literally could not believe what they were seeing.