Grand Alliance (Kirov Series)

by John Schettler

  “And what about Hitler. Have you considered that?”

  “Of course. But one must be very careful here, Kirov. We had no intention of causing these changes in the history—at least that was the way Admiral Volsky and Fedorov tried to play it. Yet Volkov slipped through, probably by sheer coincidence, and here he is now, a boil on our backside and the undoing of the Russian State. Perhaps I was rash and thoughtless in believing I could deliberately re-write the history, and have it all come out they way I might choose. I have learned a few things, Kirov—learned the hard way. Loyalty means something. Power is one thing, but it is not something one can wield thoughtlessly, and it is sustained and nurtured by those the powerful hope to lead.”

  “Or so I have learned as well,” said Kirov. “So then you will think long and hard before you rebuild that back stairway at Ilanskiy, or ever think to walk those seventeen steps again.”

  “Seventeen? I hadn’t taken any notice of that.”

  “I did. I counted them every time I went up those stairs, and every time I walked back down. It is dark there, Karpov. There is a frost on that stairway that chills one to the bone, to the root of your soul, the cold breath of infinity. Rebuild it, if you must, but be cautious. Fear that place, Karpov. You may think it is the stairway to heaven, Lucifer, but it can also be the stairway to hell, just as you said earlier.”

  “I understand what you are saying. That said… Have we reached an understanding here? Do we stand together as allies and friends?”

  “I will draw up a formal accord, if you wish, and we can make it a diplomatic reality. Hitler will take notice, as will Ivan Volkov. Who knows, this news may even compel them to move against us sooner, so there is some risk in all of this.”

  “Yes, but you know they would come one day soon in any case. Perhaps now they will take pause, and know that they will find stronger opposition than before. There is much we must do, Kirov. Build those tanks! I can send you my engineers with plans for new weapons that I believe your industry could bring to life.”

  “These terror weapons you spoke of earlier?”

  “No, merely more advanced versions of the things you may be designing even now. Yes, we could build the awful weapons I spoke of, and perhaps we will be forced to do so in time. We must certainly be ready to do so, and we must use all the skill and guile we can muster to determine whether our enemies are building these things. Volkov is the real threat. Hitler has the industry and the military might, but Volkov has knowledge of things that can lead Germany forward as well. We must know what they are up to, and be prepared to oppose it.”

  “How do you think Volkov will react to our newfound accord here?”

  “He already considered that when he launched his attack at Omsk. Frankly, I believe he thinks he can beat us to the punch by standing with Hitler.”

  “Yet he knows about Ilanskiy. He must fear that you could wield that ultimate power against him.”

  “Perhaps. He obviously had some reason to try and seize that place. I do not know if he fully understands what that stairway opens, but he was suspicious enough to try and find out. Well now that opportunity is lost to him, and I will make sure that he never gets his chance there again. I will be calling up more troops from the east soon, enough to begin a real offensive on Volkov’s exposed right flank.”

  “You will be calling up troops? What about Kolchak? What about the Japanese?”

  “We have time, Kirov. Not much time, but a little breathing space now before Japan gets serious about entering this war. In our history they did not become an active belligerent until December of 1941.”

  “But can you be sure that will repeat?”

  “Not entirely. In our history the Japanese never took Vladivostok, and all of Amur province from us either. I was trying to see to it that they never could pose a threat to us again, but as I have said, Volsky interfered and this is the outcome of his stupidity. Who knows how much time we really have, but we may have some months yet before Japan becomes a strong threat in the east. When they did enter the war, they drove into the South Pacific and incurred the wrath of the United States. That was their undoing. As they already have a strong position on the Asian continent, and all of Amur province, my best guess is that they will drive for the South Pacific Islands again.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Oil again,” said Karpov. “Oil is the blood of war. Over half a million men died on both sides in the fighting to control the Caucasus. Your operation has already began that tally. So the Japanese needed oil, rubber, and natural resources to sustain their empire. The US and British initiated oil and steel embargos against Japan in August 1941. The Netherlands East Indies followed along, so the Japanese just took them. They nearly drove all the way to Australia.”

  “I see… Is Kolchak prepared for what might happen?”

  “Kolchak, he is a tired, sick old man. I’ve been handling this entire affair with Volkov, and as you said, I will soon replace him. That is one thing I am certain of.”

  “Well enough. Kolchak was never going to amount to anything in any case.”

  “Yes, in our history your Red Guard had him executed! But it was Stalin’s Red Guard that time around. Things will be different this time, Mister General Secretary, very, very different.”

  Karpov extended his hand, and as Kirov took it, he felt, on one level, as though he were shaking hands with the devil. The man called himself Lucifer, he thought. I must be very careful in my dealings with Karpov. There is more driving his ambition than his love of the Motherland. But for now… I think I will build those tanks!

  Part X

  Better Late Than Never

  “I fell in love with her the moment she was late, though neither one of us knew it at the time because she hadn’t arrived yet.”

  ― Jarod Kintz: This Book Has No Title

  Chapter 28

  The helos landed with deck crews ready to service and re-arm the X-3s, though they were waiting on orders from the bridge. It was there that Captain MacRae was taking final stock of the situation noting that the enemy destroyer group targeted was badly disrupted. Three of the five destroyers had reduced speed dramatically, their officers frantically radioing the flagship that they had been attacked by rocket fire, with heavy damage. While most of the ships were still seaworthy, two had been struck aft and had fires that were threatening the powerplant and boiler rooms. A third had a holed hull very near the water line that would force it to seek a friendly port. These ships could no longer run at the speeds necessary to fulfill their mission. Half the French destroyers in the fleet had now been largely taken out of the fight.

  “Those Sea Skuas are good for something,” said MacRae. “A pity we didn’t bring more along.”

  That was their real dilemma now. They had left port in 2021 with ample munitions to carry out their expected mission to the Black Sea, but somewhere they had crossed an unseen border to this new mission, and there had been no time to replenish the ship’s stocks. They had hit a battlecruiser and the French flagship, but with uncertain results. Both vessels were still on an attack heading and making 30 knots. They had hit a light cruiser and five destroyers, but the core of the enemy fleet remained intact.

  The Captain huddled with Miss Fairchild, Mack Morgan and Mister Dean, and the look on MacRae’s face spoke volumes. “So it’s come to this,” he said. “With the last four missiles you’ve authorized for this fight, we might put some serious hurt on at least one of their capital ships, but I think we’d have to use them all.”

  “That would even the odds a bit,” said Morgan, but they’ll still outnumber the British fleet nearly two to one.”

  “Aye. It’s either one good blow like that, or we wait for this bar fight to actually begin and then break a bottle or two over the heads that seem to be doing the most damage on the other side. Mister Dean?” MacRae looked to his XO for an opinion.

  “It will be a rough go for the British,” he said. “The enemy will have a tremendous spee
d advantage, and the weight of superior firepower. Yes, we might take one out if we use four GB-7s in a tight attack salvo. That’s going to put 800kgs of high explosives and a lot of excess fuel for the fire on one ship out there. That will likely take it out of the fight. But that will also still leave them four capital ships to the two British battleships, and from the intelligence report these are some tough fellows out there, The Normandie alone has enough throw weight in firepower to take on both the older Queen Elizabeth class battleships with a good chance of winning that fight.”

  “So do we hit that ship now, or wait and see what develops.”

  “I’ll say this much,” said Morgan. “If we hold until the action opens we can still hit them with one good shot, or jab at them as you suggested. And at least they’ll see us fighting. Fire now and we just have to tell them we’re done and wave goodbye.”

  MacRae nodded. “Miss Fairchild?”

  “I like Mack’s angle on this. Let’s see what they actually do and then, when the action opens, you do as you see best, Captain. But I’ll have to hold the line on that missile count. God only knows what lies ahead, and those missiles could save this ship in a difficult situation, and everyone aboard.”

  “Understood.” MacRae took a long breath. “Inform Captain Barry on Queen Elizabeth. Tell them we’ve hit seven enemy ships, but they’re still coming at them like banshees on the fen. We’ll stay in the fight, but they need to stand to arms and be prepared for a tough battle here.”

  So it was decided.

  * * *

  Aboard the Hindenburg a final signal was flashing out to Bismarck—‘take position ahead.’ and Kaiser was ordered to stand off with Goeben. The Germans had decided to commit just two ships to the fray, the heavy battleships that now moved to cooperate more closely with the French Squadron. Lütjens had seen the missiles in the sky again, and saw the flaming descent of one seaplane spotter after another.

  “That air defense is too precise and effective against a small number of aircraft,” he said. “So I am ordering Goeben to stand her air crews down. No sense sending those planes and pilots up to be blown out of the sky by these rockets. Any word from the Luftwaffe?”

  “Goering was none too happy with the losses reported by the Tenth Fliegerkorps, sir. Fiebig wants to husband his planes on Sicily. That said, Eighth Fliegerkorps has planes massing for the planned attack on Crete. They have promised us support, and by the time we catch up to the British they may be close at hand.”

  “Good then. Let them provide the primary air threat and we can save the handful of Stukas we have for better use.”

  “One of Ritter’s young new pilots has been making quite a name for himself—Hans Rudel. He’s the same man who hit the British battlecruisers up north.”

  “Oh? Well if the air situation looks promising I will order them up. For now they stay in reserve. How long before we can sight the British?”

  “At the rate we are gaining on them, no more than an hour.”

  “Good. That will be enough time for me to address the crew. We have not had our chance against the Royal Navy, but now we test our guns and armor, Adler. Now you get the battle you’ve been waiting for.”

  The Admiral spoke to his crew, telling them not to fear the new weapons of their enemies, and to rely on their skill, and the guns and armor that made their ship the finest in the world. Axel Faust, the brawny commander of the ships Anton Turret, was listening with a smile.

  “Hear that boys?” he said. “Now we get to earn our keep. Let’s hope Wolfgang has sharp eyes today. We’ve waited a long time to get our hands on the British.” He was referring to the forward gun director where Wolfgang Fuchs would be sending him his targeting data. His job was to see that the turret was properly trained and sighted, the guns elevated to make the appropriate range, and the big shells properly chambered for firing. Faust was the best in the fleet, scoring more hits in gun trials in the Baltic than any other turret, or any man before him. He had put a good many target barges under the sea, and now he wanted to test his hand against a real enemy ship. Pounding the airfield on the Faeroes was nothing more than a throat clearing operation, as far as he was concerned.

  The red light glinted off the dome of his large bald head, for he never wore his cap when it came time for action, and he often removed his coat, particularly when things got hot in the turret during a fast paced gunnery trial. He had served aboard Bismarck when that ship went through trials, but was glad to be selected to this prominent post aboard Hindenburg. He and Hans Hartmann in Bruno Turret were the forward might of the battleship, and would most likely be the first to fire given the approach they were making.

  High above in the bridge, Klaus Jaeger was watching his radar for any signs of the enemy fleet, and he was soon able to report his first contact.

  “Radar contact, bearing 140, south by southeast at thirty-five kilometers. Hydrophone confirms.”

  “Bismarck sees it as well, sir,” said Adler looking at a message just handed to him by a breathless signalman. The other ship was alongside now, moving ahead to take the vanguard of the two ship German group. About two kilometers off their port side they could see the shadowy silhouettes of the French ships. The heavy cruiser Colbert was leading, followed by Strausbourg, Normandie and Dunkerque in the main battle line. Another heavy cruiser, Algerie, cruised with the light cruisers Marseilles and Jean de Vienne off the forward port quarter of this line, and three fitful cats, Lynx, Tigre and Panthere were fanned in front of this formation as a destroyer screen.

  There were two other ships in the French Fleet still unscathed by the missile strike. Destroyer Aigle was attending the wounded light cruiser La Galissonniere, which was still struggling to put out fires and retiring to the nearest German controlled port in Greece, along with the survivors of the X-3 missile attack. The last ship was one of the five superb large fast destroyers, Indomitable, which were really a light cruiser class vessel given their size. Capable of 45 knots, it was the fastest ship ever built, and had been assigned to assist as a screening ship for the German carrier Goeben.

  “We should sight them soon,” said Lütjens. “You may signal Bismarck and tell Lindemann that he has a free hand and may fire at his discretion.”

  “You will not reserve the honor of the first salvo for Hindenburg?” Adler gave Lütjens a searching look.

  “Kapitan Adler, it is not the first salvo that matters, but the last.”

  The Admiral tipped his officer’s cap, then strode out onto the weather deck to use his field glasses. Soon he heard the watch on the mainmast call out the alarm, ship ahead, and he knew a fateful hour had come. This ship was conceived and designed long ago, built over many years by artisans from all over Germany. It had the latest guns, the best Krupp steel armor that the nation could provide. Then it spent months working out in trials before making its daring breakout at a place the British least expected. All that comes down to this hour, he thought. We build these ships at enormous cost, invest them with as much national pride as anything else. They steam and sail and we proudly thump our chest. But when it comes to the bottom line, it is a single hour like the one before me now that really matters.

  It is surprising to me that I even find myself here at this moment, in the Mediterranean Sea! Kurt Hoffmann did his job well, he thought. The British have learned to fear the Twins, and as soon as they got wind that Scharnhorst was at large and heading for the Denmark Strait, they reacted just as we expected and moved their heavy ships too far west. That allowed me to stride right through the Faeroes gap, shelling that airfield as we went. By the time the British realized what was happening, they could only get one ship south after us, HMS Invincible. That is the one ship I must be wary of. It matches me in armor, firepower, and even betters me in speed. Is it out there today?

  They were running with the wind at their back, which was always good, thought Lütjens. He studied the enemy fleet as the ships began to appear on the horizon. They must be the old WWI battleships the British
have patched up and kept floating all these years. No wonder we’re closing on them so quickly. He saw the battle ensign hoisted on Bismarck’s mainmast and knew the time had come. The roar of his lead ship’s forward guns cracked like thunder and he saw the bright orange yellow fire ahead. A full salvo, he thought. Lindemann means business. Time I was back on the main bridge.

  “Kapitan Adler,” he said with a proud smile. “Fight your battle!”

  “Aye sir!” Adler was quick to get reports from his gun directors, and his senior artillery officer, Lutz Eisenberg called out the opening range at 28,000 meters. Bismarck had come ten points to starboard to continue closing while allowing Hindenburg an unobstructed line of fire.

  “Helmsman,” said Adler. “Follow Bismarck’s wake. Fire when ready!”

  Eisenberg was ready, and then the guns of the Hindenburg shook the wind with their power, the only 16 inch guns in the fleet. The waters seemed to burn red with the reflection of that blast, and the glow was soon masked by the deep brown smoke of the guns, billowing out like a pyroclastic flow from some wrathful volcano, as tall as the ship itself and many times its beam in width.

  Down in Anton turret, Axel Faust was moving from one station to the next, receiving information from the gun directors and checking to see that all was well. He could also use optical sights in his turret in the event communications with the director were ever interrupted, and he had the good habit of always using them to compare his reading to the information he had from the director. Now he was watching for shell fall, and Bismarck had correctly waited for Hindenburg’s rounds to register on the distant targets before firing again. Faust smiled when he saw the rounds fall very near the enemy ships, and he could tell they were short when the upwelling of white water was superimposed on the long dark silhouettes of the ships. If the two formations had been running parallel, he might add 200 meters to his next salvo, but they were closing the range at nearly fifteen knots, and so the calculation was much more complex.