He turned the wheel slightly to pass above and to the right of the enemy formation.
The crew waited as the airship lumbered slowly on its path. At this point they had been unnoticed, but that would not last.
“Captain, they have spotted us. Lead airship turning 5 degrees toward us and clawing for altitude. They won’t be able to get to us in time.”
“Thank you Midshipman Powell. Take note of the enemy surface ships if you please and prepare a report.”
He watched the enemy formation as he closed the distance and increased the ship's altitude to compensate for the enemy’s maneuvering.
Powell moved to a cabinet at the rear of the cabin and withdrew a few sheets of paper containing the silhouettes of the current German fleet. Then taking a pad of paper and a pencil he secured the cabinet and returned to the observation window and his telescope. Shortly thereafter he began taking notes.
He was taken by surprise when he saw the streaks of light and the thump of the Bow Winans gun begin to fire. The gunner was a bit premature and the rounds arced out and came short of the target. The firing stopped after a short five second burst.
…
The bow gun room was packed tightly with equipment. The gun itself dominated the space. At the back of the weapon the gunner was standing in his harness with his knees bent. He was stripped to the waist as were his assistants. Each was sweating profusely as the heat from the steam gun made the air nearly shimmer. Hissing steam bled from the safety valves on each of the accumulator tanks. This created the oppressive heat that forced the men to strip out of their cold weather gear. The slightly cooler air from their rebreathers was the only thing that allowed them able to remain at their stations in the gun room.
“Aw, son of a...”
The profanity was muffled by the rebreather.
“We missed. Boys we need to lead them a bit better with this string.”
Stoe was a talker. He was the only one responsible for aiming the weapon. His loaders had input on the placement of the shots but they were used to his non stop prattle.
The other two men were in a constant state of motion loading the tubes connected to the collector tanks that lined the walls of the room. Lucius was carrying two tubes at a time to the loading port. As soon as Stoe paused in his firing, Petrus would take the tube from Lucius and mate it with the loading port and feed in the replacement ammunition. So far two empty tubes lay discarded to the side after the first string of shots had been released against the enemy.
Knowing it was too soon, the gunner adjusted. The glass bubble that surrounded the gun and gunner moved as he flexed his knees. Judging the distance again, Stoe grabbed the firing lever with his right hand and squeezed the safety and pulled back on the lever as he counted.
“One… two… three…. four…. five”
…
On the Bridge, Devareaux spoke to his crew.
“We will turn behind them and attempt to run back to San Juan after this first pass. We have done our job and found the enemy.”
Another minute went by before the bow gun barked again. This time Devareaux could see the phosphorous rounds arc out and down towards the enemy airship. The first few rounds fell short but the last second of the burst impacted with the bow. He could not see any definitive results of that first strike. The Winans gun barked again and this time the entire five second string hit the airship.
The Hamburg’s bow Gatling battery began to respond and fired up at the Appy. The bridge crew could see the tracer rounds rising to meet them. The German gunner knew his business and was aiming right for the bridge of the Appomattox. But he did not quite have his shot lined up correctly. Midshipman Powell was standing near the glass with an eye to his telescope making note of the surface fleet. Devareaux unplugged from the rebreather and grabbed the young man by the shoulder and hauled him away from the window.
“Powell, pay attention to what is going on around you as well as your assignment.”
The sound of the impact of the rounds was heard and felt beneath their feet from the Gatling gun, which did much to emphasize Devareaux’s point to the young man. Powell stepped back from his exposed position by the window glass and resumed his observations on the fleet but now kept an eye out for other danger as well.
Quickly regaining his console, Devareaux plugged back in and barked in his repeater.
“Stoe, kill that Gatling gun.”
“Aye, aye,” bubbled an excited response from the repeater.
…
Stoe looked out of the glass bubble to find his new target. He could see the tracers coming near him in his position forward and beneath the bridge. The noise of the steam pipes and the pressure concentrators eliminated the sound and vibration of the impact of the Gatling rounds.
Seeing his target, he adjusted for the distance and motion. Sweat streamed down his naked pale back and he fired his gun.
…
Devareaux looked out of his window and could see the large tracer rounds from the Winans gun fly out towards the German Gatling gun. The burst flew true. A flash of shattering glass was seen by Devareaux. The enemy fire turned as the gun slew to the left and petered out. A shape could be seen lying on the floor of the enemy position. The Gatling gun now pointed towards the deck of the German airship.
“Good work Henry.”
Devareaux hauled on the ship’s wheel to turn the Appy slightly more.
“Sir, the Port Rocket Battery is ready to fire.”
Elijah Thompson’s voice came over the bridge repeater line.
“Port Rocket Battery, commence firing.”
Devareaux smiled beneath his mask
...
The rocket gunner, Elijah Pickens Thompson, stared through the view port on the side of the airship. He had close cropped brown hair, prematurely shot with gray. His lips moved behind his rebreather mask in prayer.
In spite of the cold, his sweat was steaming his goggles and obscuring his vision. He moved and double checked the rocket in the enclosed trough. As the range closed, he pushed the lever forward and sealed rocket one and nodded to Julius, his assistant gunner, who locked rocket two into place. He moved the trough to aim the rocket and continued more audibly.
Julius was a short but broad chested man. His short cropped curly hair. Years as a farm hand had built muscle on his frame that he was able to put to good use here loading the heavy rockets into their trays.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley and the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod…"
Elijah, at the word “rod,” he pulled the lever to ignite the rocket. A brief flash came through the seams of the box and a wispy curl of smoke came through the seams of the launcher. The roar of the rocket was briefly heard as the rocket built up force before tearing itself out of the launcher and clawed for sky. He nodded to his partner and continued.
"..and staff, they comfort me."
The second rocket screamed away from the airship toward its target.
With practiced effortlessness a flick of the wrist reopened the launching trough. Elijah turned and moved to the storage locker to heft another rocket.
"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over."
He broke off his prayer to wrestle the heavy rocket into open trough. Once in place, he began again.
"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."
Having just finished his evolution of loading at nearly the same time, Julius nodded and muttered his response.
"Amen."
...
The whole of the Appy shook as they felt more than heard the rush of the rockets discharging towards the enemy airship. The first two rockets missed. One passed before the bow of the airship and the other went wild and curving below it before passing out of sight.
…
In the bow Winans bow battery, Henry kept up
its rhythm of a five second burst and five seconds with no firing.
“Come on baby. Do it. Tear it up. Come on.”
Lucius and Petrus exchanged looks with wide but slightly amused eyes. They did not dare say a word to the rather enthusiastic gunner now, but later there would be some time to inquire of the reasons for his obvious excitement.
…
Slapping the whole ship circuit, Devareaux whooped out in a loud voice.
“Yes! Keep it up fellas. The German has a tear in the airbag near the bow. Let’s finish Herman off and move on to his friends.”
This pulled Tobias away from the dials and setting he had been monitoring and looked at Devareaux with a raised right eyebrow.
“Excuse me, sir, but we are close enough now to see that the ship is indeed the SMS Hamburg. Who is this Herman you are talking about?”
“You never heard of Herman the German? Reread your history man, I have no time now in a battle.”
The Appy shook again with the second rocket volley. The first pierced the Hamburg near amidships. The rocket exploded within the enemy ship’s airbag. The result was immediately seen by everyone on the bridge.
“Great merciful God,” was the awed response by Midshipman Powell. Devareaux was slightly less awed but none the less reverential in his reply.
“Oh, yes. That’s it. She is done for.”
Tobias turned from Devareaux in time to see the horrible yet mesmerizing flower of flame blossom from within the airship and burst forth into full bloom.
The Hamburg’s airbag broke in half and portions of the break were in flames. The second rocket passed through the tail of the Hamburg and exploded out some 100’ beyond the far side of the broken airship. The large gondola suspended underneath the airship groaned under the strain of the fracture and its seams began to burst. Aircrew could be seen falling from the split opening in the gondola.
“Holy crap. Those poor bastards.”
Devareaux let out a voluntary gasp. He could not decide which would be worse, falling to death or burning alive in a doomed airship. His moment of empathy with his stricken enemy lasted only a brief moment. He watched the initial descent as the Hamburg started to drop from the sky. The Appy had scored its first kill.
Devareaux’s attention snapped back to the larger picture. That was only one of three enemy airships they had to contend with. He raised his glasses and scanned the sky.
Chapter 2: First Blood
The second airship in the formation was a Dessauer Class vessel. The five hundred foot long airship was in the process of turning towards the Appy when the Hamburg had broken. Now it and its sister ship began to turn ponderously away from the Appy once they saw their consort destroyed. The two Germans attempted to maintain a parallel formation with one another, but the further airship was a tad slow in reacting to the closer one’s movement. Both airships were some 100 or more feet below the Appomattox.
Devareaux had his telescope to his right eye examining the distant vessels. On the bridge a call was heard on the repeater from the Port Winans Battery.
“Hey, save one for us!”
The voice of Andrews the gunner was cheery and excited. The crew was young and aggressive. It was a good sign to Devareaux. He depended on their fighting spirit to survive the next few hours.
“Attention to orders, we will be passing the next ship to the port side. We should be in range to engage in two minutes.”
Devareaux scanned the men on the bridge with him. They all busied themselves at their duty stations. Powell was scratching at his notebook with the telescope under his arm again standing nearly pressed up against the windows.
The first shots began to ring out against the Blucher. The thumps of the Winans battery startled the bridge crew to again focus on their foes. Even the bow Gatling Battery took a few shots at the distant airship.
…
Stoe clenched his fists and shook one in the air in frustration. He squatted lower and fired again.
“That’s the stuff. Closer…. Closer….”
Lucius fumbled a pass of an ammunition tube from Petrus and a full tube of large sixty-four caliber balls fell and began bouncing across the floor. The yellow phosphorous rounds and iron shot scattered on the floor, making the footing treacherous.
“Ignore it. Keep loading.”
Stoe was surprised that they had not dropped a tube earlier. They were good boys and those loading tubes were notoriously clumsy. He pulled the firing lever and launched another five second burst of fire out towards the enemy airship.
“There we are. That one got him.”
They only achieved a few hits on the broadside of the airship as it turned away from the Appy. No effect could be observed by the gunner.
…
Devareaux could not see any effects from the bow gun’s hits either. The Appomattox was drawing broadside to broadside with the German airship. In a matter of moments the Appomattox’s rocket batteries would be ready to fire.
“What are those crazy Germans doing?”
The Powell lifted a telescope to his goggles to peer at the enemy airship.
The closer enemy came into view in his telescope. As he focused it, he saw the ship's name in ten foot tall letters across its port side.
“Sir, it’s the Blucher.”
Powell’s poor attempt at pronunciation made Devareaux smile. It was a smile that quickly vanished as he watched the Blucher begin to roll. The enemy airship canted over about 25 degrees to their starboard.
Devareax stabbed his finger at the all ship channel for the repeater without even looking.
“Brace for impact,” Devareaux shouted into the repeater. He realized what they were doing moments before the side of the Blucher blossomed with fire and smoke.
The German steam recoil cannons launched a smaller shell than conventional cannons, but they were able to fire almost twice as fast. It was less than thirty seconds from the first volley to the second. The first volley missed the Appy entirely, but the second volley found its mark. Two rounds passed through the airbag but did not detonate. They just passed straight through. Another passed through the one of the port sails.
…
In the galley, the sail tending crew was waiting patiently at their action station. They were nearly useless at this height. They would occasionally raise their masks to take a sip of the coffee that Julian had made for them.
“Lawd, help me, what was that.”
Julian had cried out from within the kitchenette area as the thump of the rounds passing through the airbag above their heads reverberated through the ship. The cook took a precaution, he thought, was sensible and ducked down, clinging to his cabinets at the very limit of his rebreather tube.
The six sail tenders, while visibly nervous, laughed at the cook’s expression of fear. The other cook, Vern, just shook his head.
“You are mighty jumpy Julian. Maybe you should lay off the coffee.”
It was at this moment that Isaac Lutes opened the door to the crew mess.
…
Elijah paused in his firing procedure to glance out the viewport and saw the enemy ship's evolution and the direction that their weapons were aimed. His eyes widened with understanding.
"Lord into your hands we commit our spirits."
His hands shook as he saw the bloom of the enemy guns firing for the third time. The Appomattox rocked with the impact. Elijah was thrown against the bulkhead and cracked the left lens of his goggles from the impact. Julius was bounced clear to the roof of the compartment before landing with a loud grunt as his body hammered into the floor.
“What happened?” stammered the now dazed Julius.
Elijah began moving to get to his feet again and pulled himself up with the aid of the rocket trough.
“We were hit. Are you alright Julius?”
Julius was moving slower and was clutching his left elbow as he staggered to his feet. Elijah knew he had to get the battery back into operation again and he could not do so with
out Julius’ help.
“We have got to get these weapons back into action or that German is going to kill us. Help me Julius.”
Elijah’s rocket had unseated itself from the trough but fortunately had not bounced completely out of it. With a bump, he knocked the rocket back into place and sealed it. Taking the briefest of time to aim, he adjusted the position of the rocket tube. Then, with a flick of the firing lever, he sent it out towards its target.
Julius' rocket was locked into place before the explosion. He fired his rocket shortly thereafter.
…
The explosion shook the airship.
“Sir, Starboard Rocket battery OK.”
“Port Rockets OK.”
The reports from the rocket batteries came in before Devareaux had time to clear his head from the explosion.
Powell lay sprawled on the ground with his notebook, pencil and telescope sliding away from him. Tobias had fallen directly backward and was now painfully rubbing his rear-end. Devareaux had grabbed the console in front of him and only managed to fall to one knee.
“What the hell? Is everyone alright?”
Devareaux stood again and scanned his controls. Nothing was immediately amiss. He reached for the repeater tube.
“All stations, report in. I need a damage assessment.”
…
The explosion had rocked the boiler room. One of the engineering mates was thrown face first into one of the boilers and was rendered unconscious, mercifully leaving him unaware of the burns to his face. Frank pointed and shouted through his rebreather and the other mates, who dragged Mark’s inert form away from the boiler and lashed him to a pipe running along the bulkhead to keep him out of the way.
Hauling himself up on the gangway, Frank peered at his controls. The delicate balance of pressures within the boilers seemed remarkably unaffected by the blast.
Francis Budroe Hinkney was a son of the hills of Tennessee. His technical expertise came from his family's passion for recreational distilling. The man just knew boilers and steam. He tapped the glass on the gauge for number two boiler and the needle did not move. A quick visual inspection showed him no issues that had to be addressed.
CSS Appomattox: A Thomas Devareaux Alternative History Military Adventure (The Thomas Sumter Devareaux Series Book 1) Page 2