So it would be early October before Patton was approaching Algiers, and he ordered 34th Infantry to demonstrate against the town on the open ground to the southwest. Then he moved a strong force, all of 9th Infantry and 2nd Armored, below the rugged Tellien Atlas Mountains, intending to have them take the town of M’sila and then push north to cut the rail line east to Constantine. His intention was to try and compel the Germans to yield Algiers by threatening to envelop and isolate it.
Yet now Kesselring was strongly reinforced, appointing von Arnim as his field commander. He could clearly see what the Americans were attempting to do, and with the veteran 10th Panzer Division in hand, he sent them by rail to a point north of M’sila and them moved south on the narrow mountain roads south to confront the Americans. It was to be the first meeting engagement of German and American armored forces in the war.
Further north, the British had moved their 3rd Infantry Division to Cartagena, where it was refitting and preparing for a planned embarkation to North Africa. The two Brigades of 78th Division would also embark from smaller ports. Air squadrons were moving quickly into bases on the east coast of Spain, mostly at Almiera and Cartagena, with plans to move on Valencia as soon as it was clear of German presence. Gibraltar was under siege, with a stubborn German garrison holding out, the airfield and harbor approaches heavily mined, and tough troops in the tunnels and warrens of the Rock.
The only question was whether the Germans would contest the Western Med approached to Algiers. So in many ways, before the battle for Algiers could be fully engaged and settled on land, it was an argument between the ships and planes that would weigh heavily in the outcome. That battle was shaping up on the night of October 2nd, when Admiral Tovey gave the order to the newly reconstituted Force H to pass through the Straits of Gibraltar, pounding the German shore batteries on the Rock as they did so, and then move aggressively into the Western Med, with their objective being to cover the port of Oran and threaten a further eastern movement towards Algiers.
This move would effectively call Admiral Raeder’s bluff. He would either have to commit his combined battlegroup, or cede the sea-lanes to the British. He decided to fight.
Chapter 14
Captain Gordon MacRae was on the bridge when the contact was first made. Argos Fire was out on point, its radars and towed sonar array alert for any sign of the enemy. A Sunderland out of Cartagena had been looking over the waters some150 miles east of his position, spotting what looked to be a large surface warship a little after mid-day on the 3rd day of October, 1942. Low on fuel, the seaplane had to turn for home, but MacRae knew he had a big fish on the line, and notified Admiral Tovey.
Now in overall command of the joint US-British Naval Forces, Tovey was making a bold bid to seize control of the waters between Oran and Algiers. The former port was needed as the primary supply conduit supporting Patton’s move east towards Algiers, and it was also slated to receive British Divisions that Montgomery was designating for transfer to North Africa from Spain. Hube had withdrawn through Valencia and Barcelona, and was now entering France by rail with the three divisions he had under his command. Spain was a chaotic place, with Franco out of country in Lisbon, no real power center, and the Spanish Army melting away into the countryside for fear of Allied reprisals.
Gibraltar had been sealed off, but not taken, and the Straits had been cleared of mines, the shore batteries on the Rock pounded by the Allied Air force. The German garrison was a lost battalion that was now designated “Festung Gibraltar” By Hitler. They were a fanatical bunch, all SS men, and determined to make the Rock their final resting place, preferring death to surrender. For that reason, after a battalion of the Black Watch tested the defense and found it very potent, Churchill gave an order that no major assault was to be made. The fear was that the Germans would use heavy explosives to collapse the tunnels and caves, ruining years of engineering work. The truth was, the SS did not have such munitions at hand, and what little they did have was used in the town and harbor area to demolish the quays, sub pens, and other dockyard facilities.
“Let them stew,” said Churchill. “We’ll send them a message about gasoline and fire soon enough, and repay the courtesy they extended to our troops by giving them one last chance to surrender before they go up in smoke.”
Another hidden truth to the delay was the mystery that lay beneath Saint Michael’s Cave. It was not known whether or not the Germans had discovered anything there, and Churchill did not want an attack driving the enemy troops deeper and deeper into the dark recesses of those tunnels and caves. Instead, a plan was being devised for a raid by commandos. The British had detailed maps of every passage, gate, door, stair, ladder and tunnel under the Rock. They also knew of special hidden entrances that the Germans may not have discovered. It was thought that if a team of elite soldiers could penetrate the fortress, something might be found and guarded before the Germans ever had the chance to do the same. In this effort, Elena Fairchild was only too happy to offer the services of the highly trained group of Marines she had aboard Argos Fire—the Argonauts.
When she learned of the planned raid, she also requested a private meeting with Tovey to relate some information she had shared with only one other man, Captain MacRae. It concerned the fate of a British Sergeant, discovered in the Port of Ceuta, and not in the time he was born to…. The Raid, as it was now being called, was scheduled for October 15th, and so now the ship and crew had other business, the eyes and ears of Tovey’s fleet, well out in the vanguard.
The U-boat threat was the first worrisome problem. Nothing had been found as Argos Fire passed about 70 nautical miles north of Oran. All was quiet, but that was because the German U-Boat Kapitan Gerhard Feller on U-653 was also quiet. He had been laying low, still and unmoving, waiting for the vanguard of the British force to pass. Once Argos Fire was well to the east, he risked coming to periscope depth to have a look around.
MacRae’s crew had picked up some movement in the sound field, but there were a lot of ships churning up the sea. He nonetheless posted an indefinite undersea contact warning, but it would arrive too late for a doughty British Knight. Sir Galahad was 2nd in a line of three ships, with Sir Lancelot in the van and Sir Percival following. Tovey had grouped these three fast battlecruisers together as his forward scouting force, and their combined thirty 305mm main guns were thought capable of taking on all comers.
They were operating about ten nautical miles behind the Argos Fire, yet the one threat they were ill suited to defend against was a stealthy U-Boat. Feller saw them late in the day, their silhouettes dark on the sea ahead, and he was very close. He put one torpedo in the water to see if he could take the lead ship from behind, but then decided the number two target was better. He could fire from just under 5 miles, a fairly long shot, but within the range of his G7 Torpedoes.
And that is what he did. Three went out. One hit, and Sir Galahad was knocked from the saddle before it had a chance to join the fight. It was not a fatal hit. The fires it caused would put two 76mm guns out of action, temporarily sooting over the Type 275 Radar antenna, and also putting light damage on one of the 152mm secondary batteries. There was flooding, and resulting loss of speed, and so the ship was ordered to make for the Spanish coast, the nearest Allied occupied port being Almeria.
The British had a pair of fast destroyers off the port side of Argos Fire, and they moved out ahead to feel their way towards the contact reported by that Sunderland. At a little after 01:00, Executive Officer on Argos Fire, Commander Dean, took a radar report that confirmed the contact at about 23 nautical miles, due east. Word was passed forward to the British destroyers, Beagle and Brilliant, but there was grave trouble ahead. By the time they got the warning, their own lookouts were sounding the alarm, “Ship ahead!”
The crack of small naval guns soon followed, and the sea began to plume up with small water splashes. Hot fire erupted on the forward deck of Beagle, and then a second hit amidships struck her 21-inch torpedo tubes. The s
hip wallowed as it turned, still receiving very accurate fire from small secondary guns. Then that fire shifted to Brilliant, and Lieutenant Commander Arthus Poe knew he was in trouble. Whatever was out there, it was more than a match for his four 4.7-inch deck guns, and he immediately turned, sending off a warning message: “Contact with large enemy ship, visibility limited. Under fire.”
Neither destroyer would survive, both going down before 01:30 that dark morning. The signal they got off would then awaken Captain Thomas ‘Sandy’ Sanford on board Sir Lancelot. He was already resting uneasily in his room off the main bridge where he kept a small cot for cat naps. The incident earlier that had sent Sir Galahad off to the Spanish coast annoyed him—now this.
“Somebody picking a fight out there? Quite the bully. Helm, bring us about. Fifteen points to port please. I think we’ll see if they want to pick on someone their own size, eh Mister Laurence?”
Executive officer Laurence was quite stoic, and usually reserved, but this time he asked a question that was veiled with just the hint of a warning. “A night engagement sir? Have we any idea what we might be up against? There was no detail in that message.”
“If it’s shooting at our destroyers, that will be enough reason to intervene,” said Sanford. “Day or night.”
“Very good sir,” said Laurence. “Shall I signal Sir Percival to follow? Misery loves company.”
Sanford thought for a moment. “No, I think we’ll have a look about on our own. Sir Percival is to carry on to the rendezvous point. We’ll rejoin later.”
Laurence didn’t like this at all, a night action against an unknown contact that had just dispatched a pair of destroyers, and the Captain splitting his force, heedless of the risks involved in what he was now ordering. Sanford could perceive his discomfiture, and spoke up.
“Reservations, Mister Laurence?”
“Well sir, it’s just that I’d feel a good bit better if we had Sir Percival behind us. This is obviously a capital ship.”
“And we are standing on the same,” said Sanford. “Percy has other business. We’ll verify this contact, make our challenge, and give the fleet a better look at what’s out there.”
The Captain would get a very good look indeed. Twenty minutes later the first rounds came in off his port bow, small caliber, and when one struck a 76mm AA gun, he was quite perturbed. “Mister Kingston!” he shouted. “No one pushes my shoulder with such impudence. Answer that, and use the main battery.”
Kingston answered with the forward A-Turret, a pair of 303mm guns booming out, the fire and noise shaking the night. They waited, the watchmen barely able to make out signs of the distant shell fall, as the range was over 17,000 yards. Then they clearly saw the horizon light up with orange fire. Was it a hit? It would be rare indeed if that were the case on the first probing salvo. Sanford had been lucky in his engagements thus far, but not that fortunate. Instead his watchmen had seen the enemy ship replying, and that was evident when two heavy rounds came thundering in, quite close, and the sea erupted with white, moonlit water.
The size of the water splashes revealed a great deal, two large caliber rounds, easily 14-inch guns or bigger to Sanford’s eye. “A tap on the shoulder, and now a swing at my chin!” he exclaimed. “That’s no cruiser—not with shellfall that big. Mister Laurence?”
“If it was a single salvo, sir, then it wasn’t a French ship. Their main guns set up four abreast. And it wasn’t an Italian ship, at least not a newer one. They set up three guns per turret.”
“Well then,” said Sanford. “That will narrow it down to the Germans. We know they have ships operating here. Could this be that raider we were chasing in the Atlantic?”
“Possibly,” said Laurence. “Kaiser Wilhelm would throw rounds that big. The only other ship would be the Hindenburg. The Bismarck is still laid up at Toulon.”
Sanford chewed on that a while, his eyes shifting about before he spoke. “The Hindenburg…” The name had the ring of dread about it, and the guns were firing again. “I can see why you proposed we keep Sir Percival at our backside,” he said. “Notify Admiral Tovey. Tell him we’re in an argument here with a large capital ship, twin gun turrets, heavy rounds, possibly Hindenburg.”
He was, indeed, in an argument he should have never started, and ten minutes later, the fires on the starboard quarter convinced him of that. He had taken a direct hit from a 15-inch round, and lost a pair of flack guns to that one. At the same time, he was certain he had scored two hits, possibly three, but the enemy seemed completely unphased. When a message returned at 01:40, he had his marching orders. He was to come about on a heading of 260 and retire at once. Tovey did not want one of his new fast heavy cruisers in a fight with a German battleship. So Sir Lancelot reluctantly turned as ordered, and Mister Laurence was quite relieved.
That course would move the ship towards Tovey with his battleship squadron, where there was enough throw weight to settle any argument, with no quarter given, and none to be asked.
The assumptions made by Captain Sanford and his XO were spot on. The ship that had been pounding the British was indeed the Hindenburg. It was planning to rendezvous with three other battleships in the Central Med, but the British had come much faster than Kapitan Adler suspected. Fredric de Gross was still well south, coming up from Algiers after being seized in that daring raid by the Brandenburg Commandos. It now had a Chief Gunnery Officer from his own ship aboard, and half the crew of Bismarck had joined with other German naval personnel sent over with the reinforcements arriving at Tunis. They were now attempting to man that unfamiliar ship, and Adler had his doubts about its ability to measure up to the task at hand.
Behind him, the Italians had also sent three cruisers and two battleships, the Roma and Impero. How many ships did the Allies sortie with this time? They had three British battleships covering the Lisbon operation, and three more American heavy ships at Casablanca. They also had cruisers and destroyers in good numbers.
We will need the advantage of our land based air power, he thought. Prinz Heinrich has good pilots, but the British never undertake an operation like this without carriers. They will send at least two, and the Americans have more. So I must take this fight into friendly waters. I must either go south to Algiers, or withdraw towards Sicily or Sardinia. If I do the latter, the enemy might decline to engage there, but they most certainly want Algiers. That is where the fighting is now. So south it is, and I must signal all units to rendezvous with Fredric de Gross off Algiers.
I gave them a little taste of what they might have in store. Those two British Destroyer Captains are not going to enjoy their time in the sea. What was that ship we just drove off? The shell fall looked big, and the salvo patterns were very much like a King George V class battleship. They fired a two round spotting salvo, then threw a second salvo of six rounds at me, and by god, they got a hit or two in that little scrap. Yet it was nothing more than a scratch on my chin. This is a sturdy ship, good in any fight where I choose to stand. But for the moment, I will use the night, and speed. I must get down south and meet up with the Italians. Then we get a battle that might decide the fate of naval operations in the Mediterranean for some time to come.
So Hindenburg turned and ran southeast, buying time, and intending to rally much closer to Algiers with the Italians and Fredric de Gross. By dawn the following morning, October 4th, the action would be well underway.
Chapter 15
Vice Admiral Hellmuth Heye Had been languishing on the coast of Rumania, ostensibly the Commander of all German naval forces in the Black Sea, which amounted to very little. Yet after the seizure of the French Fleet, Raeder was looking everywhere for competent officers and trained crews to man as many ships as he could. He had always liked Heye, who had commanded the heavy cruiser Hipper in the Norwegian Campaign, and sunk the destroyer Glowworm there. So Heye got the call, and to a posting he never imagined. They were giving him the captured French flagship Normandie, now flying the German naval ensign under the new nam
e Fredric de Gross.
He had very little time to familiarize himself with the ship, which now had half the crew from the Bismarck aboard, and many men sent over from the Hindenburg. But Heye was a quick study, and he soon realized that if the crew could figure out the equipment, all he had to do was command, sail the ship as he might any other, and that he could do easily enough.
Now he was out as the southern wing of the naval screen covering Algiers. Hindenburg was calling the tune, having made contact with the enemy that night, pounding a pair of destroyers and dueling briefly with a ship Adler called a battlecruiser before breaking off east to rendezvous with the Italian battleships. Heye was now heading 080 to make that same appointment, and off his port side were three captured French Destroyers, all running with reduced crews, a mix of Germans, Italians, and even a few Frenchmen that had sworn continued allegiance to the Axis.
The Vice Admiral thought about the situation as he looked out over that long beautiful bow of the ship. There sat those two quad turrets, each really a pair of twin turrets sharing the same armored castle. He had eight 15-inch guns up front, and four more aft, more sheer throw weight than any other ship in the world. He glanced at the ship’s chronometer, noting the time at a little after four in the morning. In a few hours the sun would be up, and he did not like the idea that all the Axis fleet would be silhouetted. The British, cagey at sea as always, had chosen the time for the main engagement to occur at dawn, when they would sit out west and see the enemy ships starkly silhouetted by that rising sun. There we will be, battleships on either side, like fish in this barrel we call the Mediterranean Sea. Only the fish will be shooting at each other this time.
* * *
Well behind the main battle force, a little pre-dawn drama played itself out when the Italian Submarine Emo emerged inside the patrol station of the British carrier Formidible. She had been cruising with destroyers Sikh and Tartar, but when an undersea contact was reported, additional help was summoned, and DDs Gurkha, Matchless and Lightning came on the scene from the north.
Tigers East (Kirov Series Book 25) Page 12