Grand Alliance (Kirov Series)

by John Schettler

  It was a hard lesson of war, but in the end the success or failure of this attack would come down to only one thing—how many missiles were Kirov and Argos Fire willing to use?

  Chapter 18

  The planes came on, pressing through the 80 kilometer mark after 24 Vipers had smashed the initial formation of Stukas. Now the Klinok system on Kirov would come into play, the missiles rising to the challenge to strike at targets throughout the incoming arc. Kirov had only 82 of these missiles left, and so Volsky determined to fire 20 in two salvoes of ten missiles each. One salvo would find the JU-88s again, with nine kills and one plane there taking two missiles. The second salvo would take a significant bite out of StG 2 Stuka Squadron, and get eight kills there. The remaining two missiles found escorting fighter planes.

  Disorganized and shocked by these deadly attacks from lightning fast rocket systems, the Germans struggled to regroup as they passed the 50 kilometer mark. Now Admiral Volsky had a difficult decision to make.

  “That lowers our medium range defense system to 62 missiles,” he said to Rodenko. What is the status of this incoming strike now?”

  “Sir, the situation is confused, but we’re still reading about 116 air contacts inbound.”

  “More than all our remaining medium and long range SAMs,” said Volsky. We cannot engage further. I will turn the defense over to the Argos Fire and see what they can do. Who knows what we will be facing after this?”

  Now he wished Fedorov were here with facts and figures on the German and Italian air strength they might be facing in the days ahead. Yet Volsky knew they could only do so much. He could hurt the enemy further, but at what cost to his future operations capability? So they waited, switching over to their Kashtan system, reserved solely for close in defense. The only missiles they would fire now would be aimed at any aircraft that managed to penetrate the final British defense and target Kirov.

  The Argos Fire had topped off its ready ammo bank on the Viper-15 class missiles. MacRae had 48 in the silos now, and began firing just inside the 30 kilometer mark. They would hit nine more JU-88s, twelve more Stukas and three fighters with the first two salvos of twelve each. But the strike was coming in at speeds of 450 to 500 KPH and would be over the fleet in no more than 5 minutes. Firing cells of four missiles each, Argos Fire was lighting up the sky with missile tracks. They got eight Heinkels and four more Ju-88s, and then Dean announced a new contact on his long range radars.

  The Germans had launched their second wave.

  Ground controllers had heard the frantic calls from the pilots, and they had already learned what had happened to the Italian SM-79s. General Fiebig was coordinating the attacks, and was considering calling off his second wave, until he was informed that the Italians were mounting yet another effort, eager to avenge the beating their fleet had taken.

  “Well,” he said. “If the Italians can take losses like that and still be brave enough to fly, so will we. Get everything we have into the sky, before that weather front makes further operations impossible!”

  Everything they had was another twenty Stukas with an equal number of JU-88s, thirty operational BF-110 fighter bombers and seven more Heinkel-111s. Fiebig would put a second wave of 77 planes in the sky, and the Italians had another mixed bomber formation of 48 planes. So just as the brave survivors of the first wave were finally over the British fleet, the long range radar sets were reporting another 125 planes inbound. By sheer attrition, the enemy would wear its way through the SAM defense.

  80 planes were over the fleet now, and among them the five planes that had risen from the deck of the light carrier Goeben. They were a little late into the game, and on the extreme northern edge of the attack, and so had managed to avoid the worst of the missile shoot.

  “Look at that!” Ritter called. “Amazing! We had better get our business done soon, boys. We’re losing a lot of good men out there today.”

  The five planes would go in together, Ritter leading in his Bf-109 in case the British had any fighters up, and the other four planes were Stukas being flown by some of the best pilots available, Rudel, Heilich, Hafner, and Brendel. They found the main British fleet and dove relentlessly on the battleships and cruisers of Cunningham’s squadron. Heilich put his bomb right into the guts of the heavy cruiser Berwick, still seeing missiles in the sky aimed at other planes to his far left. Hafner’s bomb missed, but closely straddled the Malaya. Brendel was a little better, staying in his dive through blistering flak and feeling his plane shudder with a shrapnel hit. But he scored his hit on Malaya’s foredeck, very near A Turret. It was Hans Rudel that would again strike the most grievous blow, coming down right on top of Queen Elizabeth in a screaming dive and putting his 500 pound bomb right behind her large trunked funnels.

  Captain Claud Barry had just ordered hard a port and ahead full, but it did not fool Rudel’s deadly aim. As the turbines of the big battleship spun up to maximum rotation, there was an audible clatter, as though someone had thrown a spanner in the works.

  They had.

  Queen Elizabeth had spent time at Fairfield’s Works, Glasgow, and there was a man there who was working for the other side. During that maintenance overhaul, he had dropped not a spanner, but a long metal file into the enclosure. It was a miracle the problem was not discovered for 18 months, and the British would only trace the sabotage to Fairfield’s Works when another report was filed by the cruiser Suffolk, with turbine damage on that ship as well. It also had maintenance there, and the Admiralty became suspicious. Once the turbines were closed and sealed off, they were almost never opened while in regular operations. The file had been there, but caused no noticeable problem beyond occasional odd noises, but that was because Queen Elizabeth had had a rather sedate start in her deployments, and she never really pressed her engines to top speed. Now, with the seas rising and her turbines running full out, the metal file raised havoc.

  That problem and the bomb which penetrated to one of her boilers, saw the ship quickly slow to 16 knots and fall out of Cunningham’s formation. With the air duel still thick about them, the Admiral ordered Queen Elizabeth to turn about and make for the safety of open sea. He would detach a pair of destroyers with the ship, but now would have to face the wrath of the combined Franco-German fleet one battleship light.

  The action remained hot and furious over the fleet for another ten minutes, with three more British ships taking bomb hits, and Malaya taking a torpedo from a daring attack by a low flying He-111. Only twelve of an initial twenty Heinkels had survived, but those that did accounted for two hits. Calcutta, Coventry, Orion all took bomb hits from the remaining Stukas. Invincible was spared serious harm, as was the light cruiser Ajax and both Kent and York sailing close by. Of the 12 destroyers, Echo was unlucky enough to run right into the path of a torpedo and the ship was a total loss.

  When the action finally cleared, and the ragged formations of enemy planes turned for home, they took stock and realized they had come off better than might be expected. Being well behind the action with the carriers now, neither Kirov nor Argos Fire were found or attacked, and Eagle and Hermes were able to recover their own strike planes unmolested.

  It was mid-day, and Tovey had just been informed by Admiral Volsky that another strike wave was inbound. He went into the plot room and leaned heavily over the table, noting the last known position of the Franco-German fleet. That was soon updated, and he could see that he would shortly have another major fleet action on his hands. They were just emerging from the maw of the Strait of Messina

  The enemy’s second strike wave was now just thirty minutes away, but the weather was clouding over much faster than anyone expected. The collision of warm and cold air masses was causing thunderheads to mushroom up well ahead of the planes now, and Tovey saw in them a brief possibility of shaking the fleet loose from the hounding enemy aircraft. Admiral Volsky communicated one last message. ANTI-AIR MUNITIONS LOW, BUT WE ARE PREPARED TO CONTINUE DEFENSE. ADVISE YOUR CURRENT INTENT.

  Mun
itions low… He knew there were limits to the power of the sea gods that had come to raise their swords and shields for the Royal Navy. This would not be the last time they might face the enemy like this, but now Tovey realized it could not be here, so close to Sicily and the airfields thick with German and Italian planes. He already had achieved the victory he had come here to fight—giving the Italian Navy a severe shock. Instinct now compelled him to end this engagement. If he persisted, and now attempted to engage the Franco-German fleet, he might throw away everything he had just won.

  So he decided, collaring an aid and sending him off to the W/T Room. “Signal all fleet units. Come about and steer one hundred degrees southeast at best speed. The fleet will reform at point B as planned at 18:00.”

  He was going to live to fight another day. Point B was also Plan B, which stood for Benghazi. It was a fallback operation they had chosen should it seem impractical to proceed to Malta for the fire support mission there. Instead they had chosen a coordinate off Benghazi to give the Italian garrison there a taste of some good naval gunfire. By moving south now, Tovey hoped to get out from under the immediate threat of enemy air strike, and possibly compel the Franco-German fleet to pursue him into waters where they would not enjoy the advantage they now possessed.

  As it happened, the Italian planes followed a vector that took them much too far to the north, thinking the British had continued that way in pursuit of their own fleet. The second German strike of 77 planes reached the scene 35 minutes later, but by then the fleet had already dispersed as per prior orders, so as not to present a single target. Both Kirov and Argos Fire decided to commit another 12 medium range missiles each if necessary, but the worsening weather was enough to keep the enemy from doing any serious harm. The German pilots realized the British were on the run, and seeing the thunderheads rising all around them now, they turned back for their bases. So the missiles stayed in their silos this time around.

  What Tovey did not realize, however, was that the enemy also had a plan. It had been partly foiled by the impatience and hubris of Admiral Iachino, who had decided he had the strength to engage the Royal Navy on its own. Lütjens had strongly argued that all three fleets should combine before facing their enemy, but that was foiled. Now the German Admiral was also looking at his map aboard Hindenburg, with Captain Karl Adler at his side.

  “What do you make of this, Adler? All reports from Tenth Fliegerkorps indicate the enemy has dispersed and is now withdrawing.”

  “They had more than enough from the Luftwaffe,” Adler said calmly.

  “I’m not so sure. The British are very cagey, and they seldom do anything without good reason. They have been very aggressive here, and in past operations, always so eager to get into the hunt.”

  “But now we are the hunters, Admiral. They may have taken significant damage in either the naval battle, or from this air strike. The pilots are claiming their hits in the squadron rooms by now, and we may soon know more.”

  “Their last reported course was southeast. Do you believe they are retiring to Alexandria?” Lütjens tapped the map with his pencil, pointing the route they would be likely to take.

  “Where else?” said Adler. “We showed them that we now control the Central Mediterranean. There’s only one place where they can sail with any confidence now, and they will head for the safe shores off Egypt.”

  “And we will follow.”

  Adler raised an eyebrow at that. “Into the Eastern Med?”

  “Of course not, but I am not so sure that is where the British are heading just yet. Signal the fleet to steer for Crete as planned. That way we’ll be shadowing the British if they are heading for Alexandria, and Operation Donner may proceed as planned.”

  “And shall I inform Fiebig?”

  “Of course. We’ll want his squadrons redeploying to airfields on Greece as soon as this weather clears. For now it will provide us with welcome cover as we make this move east. We’ll steer southeast, then east to muster in the Messenian Gulf off Greece. That will give Fiebig time to move his air strength to Greece to cover us again. Then we visit Crete as planned to begin softening that place up for the planned air operations. We’ll hit the ports and airfields around Chania, Souda Bay and possibly even Heraklion if things go well.”

  “Has the Führer approved?”

  “I hear he was more than pleased with how the attack went in against Malta. So yes, we have authorization to carry out Donner as a preliminary operation. As to the invasion plans for Crete, that remains to be seen. In the meantime, we’ll show the British they are not the only ones able to utilize sea power in the Mediterranean now. This is a whole new kettle of fish here, Adler. Now we fight in fleet actions like the British, not as solo raiders trying to sneak past Iceland and joust with the convoys. We leave that to Doenitz and his U-Boats. So we will carry out Operation Donner as planned. Let’s see if the British have the stomach to come up and do anything about it.”

  Finally, thought Adler. Lütjens has found his backbone after all. This is good. If we make a strong show of force here, we demonstrate that they are no longer masters of this sea while we remain a strong force in opposition. Yet he had one misgiving. They had thought to achieve complete sea dominance with this action, but the Italians were now a most questionable element in their equation.

  “You realize we may not be able to count on the Italians,” he said with the obvious reservation in his voice.

  “When have we ever been able to count on the Italians?” Lütjens smiled, but the point Adler raised was going to matter more than he realized, because the British fleet wasn’t sailing for Alexandria, and it would not be long before they would find that out.

  Part VII

  The Battle

  “There’s only one principle of war and that’s this. Hit the other fellow, as quick as you can, and as hard as you can, where it hurts him most, when he ain’t lookin!”

  ― British Sergeant Major: Unknown

  Chapter 19

  Hauptmann Hans Kummel had a frustrated look on his face that morning. He was commander of 1st Company. I/8th Panzer in Cramer’s regiment, but thus far his war in the desert had been a headlong rush east over tractless sand and limestone gravel, through occasional briar scrub and camelthorn, and over parched, wrinkled wadis barring the way. The mid-day heat was intense, even now in the winter, so he had one consolation knowing the coming fight would be in the morning, with the chill of the desert night still heavy on the barren landscape. He was eager for it, a real fight at last with a British Armored force, or so the rumors had it.

  “So the British found their backbone,” he said to his driver, a man named Kruschinski. “See that ridge line there? They will have to flow to either side of that. It will split their force, and when they come, we’ll take the company on a wide swing to the east and catch them on the flank. Our job is to get at their support group. The Panzerjagers will engage the tanks.”

  “Good enough, Hans. You aiming to get a third Iron Cross this morning?”

  Kummel smiled. He had three medals already pinned to his uniform, two Iron Crosses and a Panzer Assault Badge for work in Poland and France. Yes, he thought. A third cross is good luck for me, and bad luck for the British. He saw the beginning of the little artillery duel, three rounds on either side, and then heard the whine of heavy shells coming in, which surprised him. He looked to see the small hill where the Commander of 5th Light had been observing. It erupted in smoke and fire and he saw what looked to be a heavy gun tossed up into the air with the power of the explosions.

  “Those are big guns!” he shouted to Kruschinski. “At least 150mm! I would not want to be on that hill.”

  More rounds came, seeming to walk westward along the German line now, right through the Pakfront that had been set up there to cover the wadi approach. It was difficult to see what was happening, but he saw at least one big 88 flak gun blasted onto its side. How the British could have registered that fire so accurately amazed him.

 
What he did not see that morning was the battery of AS-90 Braveheart self propelled 155mm howitzers, well behind the advancing British force. With shells that could range anywhere from 25 to as far as 40 kilometers, all it needed was a good target call, and that had been provided by spotters using lasers to tag the hilltop. The position of the spotting vehicle was seen on the digital screen of the firing Bravehearts, which then knew that the target was 3000 meters beyond that, and with precise coordinates on the digital map. The hilltop had been a known terrain feature, and a bad choice for Streich and his small battery of 150s.

  Lieutenant Reeves had also done his work and he was out on the left flank, about 5 kilometers from the German Pakfront he had seen on his thermal imaging systems. Now he was painting the suspected gun positions with a pulse coded laser. The Bravehearts picked up the signal, and gunners loaded the new Excalibur Laser Guided Rounds, programming them to the same code. When fired, the rounds would activate a seeker as they approached the target, and fins would deploy to allow the round to guide itself to the spot being lazed. It was not as accurate as GPS guided munitions, but there were no satellite links, and it was good enough on a cloudless morning like this. Reeves’ artillery call would take out three 88s before their crews ever sighted the enemy.