“A sound tactic,” Volsky agreed. “Well we have certain assets that may assist your search. We have set up one of our radars on the northwest cape of Iceland. It will see any ships as they enter the Denmark Strait, with coverage nearly all the way out to the Greenland Ice floes, about 200 kilometers for surface ship contacts. How might we cover the passage east of Iceland, Mister Fedorov?”
“The airship Narva is meeting us here in six hours, sir. They have an Oko Panel radar system aboard, and if we send them out to a position on the northeast coast of Iceland, that will see any ship attempting to take that passage. The airship can loiter over land indefinitely.”
“Good, that will be much better than using our KA-40. Well, Admiral Tovey, I think we can assure you that if the Germans come anywhere within 200 kilometers of Iceland, we will find them.”
“Thank you, Admiral. I am truly grateful for your assistance. We’ve a number of convoys to and from Liverpool, and we wouldn’t want to let the fox into the chicken coop.”
“Or the wolves,” said Volsky.
Tovey smiled, wondering how to bring up his next question, then he decided to just come out with it. “As to the other matter revealed in that Enigma intercept,” he began, “you say it bore the code name Felix?”
“Yes sir,” said Fedorov. “It was a German operational plan for an attack on Gibraltar.”
“I see… Well, you will forgive me for wanting to take a peek at the cake while its baking, but I cannot help myself. This operation Felix… Does it succeed?”
“We do not know,” said Fedorov flatly. “It was never attempted in the history we know. If it does take place, then it would be a major divergence in the course of the war as we know it. I must tell you, however, that if the Germans do launch such an operation, at least as planned, I believe it has a very good chance of succeeding.”
“You know of this plan?”
“It was well documented. The Germans would commit at least three full regiments, all veteran troops, and they will also have two divisions in reserve on the Iberian Peninsula to forestall any move you might make by landing troops in Portugal. I can give you the exact German order of battle, though it may have changed from the history we know.”
“I will gratefully pass it on to the War Cabinet, though I don’t know what good it will do us to know just how steep the odds are. A landing in Portugal? I’m afraid that is out of the question. It would take months to plan an operation on any scale that would make a difference, and we’re still on invasion watch.”
“Admiral, if the Germans do launch Operation Felix, then I think it is safe to say their plan to invade England has been cancelled. We have followed the radio reports on the air battle over Britain. You have done remarkably well in checking the Germans there, just as it occurred in our history.”
“Yet not without great cost. It was very thin with the R.A.F. at times, and I was tempted to ask you for one of those radar sets. As it happened, we managed on our own. The pressure seems to be easing now. In fact, we’ve learned that the Germans have pulled out several bomber squadrons for other deployment—possibly this operation Felix we are discussing.”
“That would be very likely,” said Fedorov. “I must also tell you the German Plan Felix also contained provisions for the possible occupation of Spanish Morocco, and the Canary Islands.”
“That would be a matter of some concern to us. We do have plans to kick a little sand in Jerry’s face should he get pushy at Gibraltar. We have several operations, some underway even as we speak. It will be our intention to immediately seize the Azores, and then Madeira. Our recently failed operation against Dakar will be revisited, this time with adequate naval force to deal with the French. And Wavell has been ordered to begin an offensive against the Italian advance into Egypt.”
“Operation Compass.” Fedorov knew of the operation.
“You know of it?”
“Yes sir, though it did not occur quite this early in our timeline.”
“Yes, Wavell tells us he’s not quite ready,” said Tovey. “But the War Cabinet has urged him to do anything possible to defend Egypt. My God, the thought the Germans may be coming for the Rock is enough to deal with, but we simply cannot lose Egypt…” His eyes carried the obvious question, and Fedorov could see the terrible dilemma. Here they were holding the keys of time and fate, with knowledge of the entire course of the war, at least as it once played out, and Tovey was knocking at the gate and asking to be let in.
“Wavell may surprise you,” said Fedorov. “But I’m afraid that if the Germans do launch this operation, the war will hold many more surprises, even for us if we remain here. Everything will change and I can only take an educated guess as to what may or may not happen. Will Wavell and O’Connor hold off the Italians? They did in our history, but if the Germans attack Gibraltar it may mean they have chosen the Mediterranean as the main focus of their war effort in the next year. That could mean you will be facing more than the Italians in the Western Desert, and possibly very soon.”
Tovey took a deep breath, and his anguish and worry were quite evident. “I must tell you, gentlemen, that this whole affair is on the razor’s edge at the moment. When you arrived on the scene in June we had only seven planes on Malta, another vital outpost. We’ve 36 there now, and plans to deliver 12 more Hurricanes in a few days time. We have exactly three radar sets in the entire Mediterranean theater—one at Gibraltar, one at Alexandria and the last at Aden. The operations we have planned against the Azores and Madeira will involve no more than a single Royal Marine Brigade of three battalions. We’ve got one more teed up with the Free French to have another go at Dakar, or perhaps the Cape Verde Islands. Our effort now is purely defensive. We must seize these outposts to secure the convoy route to Freetown, South Africa and by extension to Suez and Egypt. But I must tell you that it will be some time, perhaps as long as another year, before we can build up enough strength to contemplate further offensives. We’ll be fighting to hold Egypt for the foreseeable future. The question now is when will Russia and America join in?”
Fedorov looked to Admiral Volsky, who nodded, giving him quiet permission to speak further. “As to Soviet entry into the war,” he said, “Hitler decided that in June of 1941 when he launched an operation called Barbarossa and attacked the Soviet Union. That may or may not occur now. It all remains to be seen. As to the American entry into the war, they are of a mind that they can remain neutral until such time that they have adequate forces built up to make a meaningful entry. But you can count on their support, Admiral. I think you already know that much. The timing of their entry, as we knew it, was late in 1941.”
“A long wait,” said Tovey with another sigh.
“And there is one more thing you must know,” said Volsky. “We are here now, Admiral Tovey, but we do not know how much longer we can stay put. Our candle is burning as well, and if Mister Fedorov is correct, it may soon blow out. We may be forced to leave this time before late July in 1941, or we could be facing another problem—annihilation.”
“I don’t understand,” said Tovey.
Volsky explained. “We first shifted in time to arrive on the 28th of July, 1941. That date therefore looms as quite a threat to our continued presence here.”
“I see…” Tovey thought for a moment, suddenly remembering Alan Turing’s long discourse concerning his watch. He shared the story with the Russians to see what they might make of it.
“Amazing,” said Volsky. “You say the watch vanished the day we arrived here, and then turned up in that box?”
“Quite so, Admiral, and our Mister Turing seems to think that when faced with the inconvenient problem of having to account for two identical timepieces trying to occupy the same moment, time seems to have simply moved his watch. Might the same thing happen to your ship come next July?”
Volsky raised his heavy eyebrows, wondering. “Fedorov? What do you think of this?”
“Very strange, sir. Time seems to have exercised a little
sleight of hand, just as Kamenski might describe it. I would like to think we might get off just as easily, but we are human beings, sir, not pocket watches, and moving us about like that may be… uncomfortable.”
Part X
Wolves
“Don’t expect justice from the Lord of the Manor,
nor mercy from the Wolf Pack.”
—German Proverb
Chapter 28
Convoy HX-69 was making good time, though it was just a little late embarking from Halifax for the long journey to Liverpool. Now it was three days out from its destination port, and though the sailors could almost smell the scent of home in the tang of the rising wind and sea, this was one of the most dangerous legs of the voyage.
It was 23 ships when it first set out from Halifax on the 28th of August, under command of Commodore J. S. Ritchie of the Royal Navy Reserve, aboard the Dutch steamer SS Ulysses. Nine more ships joined the odyssey at sea two days later, and another 15 ships on September 1st to swell the ranks to 47 ships. Ulysses was a stately looking merchant steamer, with a long black hull trimmed in white at the gunwales and a tall single stack amidships. There had been no suitable British ship available at Halifax, and so the Commodore gratefully accepted Ulysses as his convoy flag. The Dutch crew was smart and efficient, though Ritchie noted they were a bit loose in maintaining steady revolutions on the turbine. The ships speed might vary between seven and ten knots, but maintained a good average over time.
Captain Jugtenberg and the other Dutch officers were excellent navigators, taking regular measurements with compass and sextant, and there was easy cooperation between Ritchie’s staff officers and the Dutch crew. The convoy was carrying a wide range of minerals and supplies—iron ore, bauxite, steel, lumber, diesel oil, gasoline, sulfur, and other general cargo.
Commodore Ritchie had been pleased to have had a fairly uneventful crossing until they encountered heavy swells on September 3rd. One sheep, the SS Condor fell astern with engine trouble, but managed to catch up in time for the planned emergency turn maneuver executed on September 5th. Ritchie remarked that the station keeping and overall speed of the convoy was the best he had ever seen. On the 7th, however, the sea increased at midnight, with a fresh gale force wind from the northwest frothing up rough seas at dawn the following morning. Fimbulwinter was upon them, though no man in the convoy knew it just then.
The ships were spread out in lines of nine abreast, with Ulysses in the number five position on row one. Seven of the ships were newly arriving escorts, sent out to bring the convoy home on this final three day run. They included older Admiralty Class destroyers like HMS Arrow and Winchelsea, the Canadian destroyers Saguenay and Assinboine, and corvettes HMS Heartsease, Clarika and Camelia.
Ritchie felt fairly well protected to have seven sheep dogs escorting his flock now, but the wolves were about on the wild sea that day and they would have more work than they expected. Arrow was part of the Western Approaches Defense Force based at Greenock. Commander Herbert Wyndham Williams, had her out in front of the convoy, nervously sniffing the waters for any sign of the U-boats that made this place a favorite hunting ground. He was supposed to have been destined to take a promotion to the light cruiser Birmingham one day, but that would not happen in this timeline. The Germans had already put that ship at the bottom of the Denmark Strait.
HX-69 was also supposed to have completed its run into British ports without incident, but that history was about to change as well. Williams had already seen evidence of wolves on the prowl when he stopped to pick up survivors of Poseidon, a Greek ship that had been torpedoed a few days ago. Now he was feeling just a little ill at ease, the cold wind biting, with the promise of a hard winter to come in the months ahead.
At 09:00 a signal came in that a periscope had been spotted off the starboard side of the convoy. HMS Winchelsea was on the watch there, and was quick into action churning up the choppy seas even more with a burst of speed. Commodore Ritchie ordered the convoy to make an emergency turn to port, away from the attack but he was too late. A torpedo wake was sighted and within a minute the oiler Charles F. Meyer exploded in an angry red fireball and was soon enshrouded with acrid black smoke.
U-99, a Type VIIB boat under Kapitan Otto Kretschmer, had just taken the first bite out of HX-69. When he saw the massive explosion in his periscope, Kretschmer smiled, thinking his good luck was holding after a shaky start. On his first patrol, he was returning to Bergen with a medical casualty when he sailed into the path of the German battlecruiser Scharnhorst. An eagle-eyed Arado pilot thought he was seeing a British submarine and swooped into attack. Before he reached port the submarine was attacked a second time by German aircraft, and six days later he had to make another emergency dive when a German plane dropped three bombs on his position, sending him all the way to the seabed where he bumped his nose with a hard knock.
Those days were over, and he had settled in to three more good patrols since that time. He logged 22,700 tons on his second patrol, bettered that with 57,890 tons on his third patrol, and already had over 18,000 tons up on this patrol with another two weeks left to hunt. Kretschmer already had one Knight’s Cross for his work, and he was aiming to get his oak leaves this time around, and destined to be the number one U-boat ace in the Kriegsmarine.
“That had to be in oiler,” he said quietly to his First Watch Officer, Leutnant Klaus Bargsten. “Come right twenty degrees. Emergency down bubble, and make your depth 150 feet. There's a pesky destroyer up there looking for us.”
Winchelsea would have no luck that day, because Otto Kreschmer was a fated man. Bargsten nodded with a smile, not knowing at that moment that his own personal fate would be destined to become entangled with that of a mysterious unknown ship. In one telling of those events, Bargsten would command U-563 with orders to join the Grönland wolfpack forming up south of Iceland in August of 1941, but the boat’s Captain would see something in his periscope lens that pricked his curiosity. He spotted what looked to be two British battleships, which were in fact King George V and Repulse hastening west. Both ships were hit and burning, and Bargsten came to believe that there must be other U-boats about. Eager to get into the action, he turned west, and eventually came very near another strange looking vessel, which he tried to engage with a badly planned long shot. He paid for that mistake with his life, because the long shot he took came in a moment of great tension on the bridge of the battlecruiser Kirov.
At that time Captain Vladimir Karpov had just seized control of the ship in the North Atlantic, intending to force a decisive engagement with the Allied fleets that were hunting him. The strident warning called out by Tasarov, torpedo in the water, set Karpov off like a time bomb, and before the incident ran its course, the massive angry mushroom cloud of a nuclear weapon would blight the Earth for the first time in human history.
In so many ways, Bargsten was the match that lit the fuse to begin the great unraveling of the history that had taken so many centuries to weave. His was but a single errant thread, yet, when pulled upon, it precipitated chaos in the loom of fate and time. And there he was again this day, huddled in the conning tower of U-99, smiling at his Kapitan, taking silent lessons as he watched how easily Kreschmer commanded his boat—the devil’s apprentice.
Kreschmer would hit 46 ships in his brief career, under the emblem of the lucky golden horseshoe painted prominently on the sail of the boat. A quiet, methodical man, Kreschmer had earned the nickname ‘Silent Otto’ as he worked his craft. His motto was ‘One torpedo… one ship,’ and he demonstrated that with the swift kill he had just logged against the oiler Charles F. Meyer. He would always say that his mission was to sink ships, and not men, and would render assistance to any survivors he ever could, but this time the close proximity of the British destroyer forced him to evade. But he had his kill, on his way to become the tonnage king of the U-boat service sinking over 273,000 tons.
One day I will get my chance, thought Bargsten as he watched his Kapitan with admiration. He
would end up sinking less than one percent of Kreschmer’s unmatched tonnage, just 22,171 tons in the five kills he would log in his career, but the last torpedo he would fire would shatter the history of the world.
“We’ll linger here for a while, then creep up on them again tonight,” said Kreschmer. He was famous for his night attacks, firing from the surface, but with the moon waxing, the weather would have to stay clouded over for him to risk that tactic. He would end up getting one more ship later that day, a vessel carrying sugar and rum called Traveller, much to the chagrin of sailors back in Liverpool who were expecting the rum. That kill convinced Commodore Ritchie that he was in infested waters here, which prompted him to make a fateful decision.
“We’ll get no mercy from the wolf pack,” he said to his first mate. Let’s alter course just after sunset and come fifteen points to port.”
The convoy would execute the maneuver smartly on command, and it would take the remaining 45 ships right into the path of another great wolf, the Lord of the Manor, flagship of the German Navy, battleship Hindenburg.
* * *
Tovey was back aboard HMS Invincible when he got the news that a scout plane out from the fledgling air base on the Faeroe Islands had failed to return. What he first took to be trouble with the thickening weather soon became cause for alarm. A message was received saying the plane had been engaged by German fighters, and shot down. That could only mean that the German aircraft carrier Graf Zeppelin was on the prowl somewhere near those islands, as they were too far from Bergen to be bothered by fighters based at that location.
Kirov Saga: Hinge Of Fate: Altered States Volume III (Kirov Series) Page 24