Ragnarok (Twilight of the Gods Book 3)
Page 45
YOU WILL PROCEED TO HOOD. ONCE ALL SURVIVORS ARE OFFBOARD, YOU ARE TO SCUTTLE.
“What in the bloody hell is that idiot talking about?” Gordon exploded. He did not have time to send a counter message, as the King George V continued after a short pause.
YOU HAVE TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES TO REJOIN. FORCE WILL PROCEED WITHOUT YOU IF NOT COMPLETE. TOVEY SENDS GOD SAVE THE QUEEN
“God save the…oh my God!” Gordon said.
Eric looked at the Exeter’s captain with some concern as the man staggered backward, his face looking as if he had been personally stricken.
“Ask,” Gordon began, the word nearly coming out as a sob before he regained his composure. “Ask if I may inform the ship’s company of our task?”
Three minutes later, the King George V replied.
AFFIRMATIVE. EXPEDITE. HER MAJESTY’S SAFETY IS THIS COMMAND’S PRIMARY GOAL.
“Acknowledge. Hand me the loudspeaker,” Gordon said, his voice incredibly weary. Eric could see tears welling in the man’s eyes.
This is not good, Eric thought. This is not good at all. Although he was far from an expert on British government, he dimly remembered seeing a newsreel when Ranger had been in port where the Royal Family had been discussed. He felt his stomach starting to drop as he began to process what the King George V had just stated.
“All hands, this is the captain speaking,” Gordon began. “This vessel is proceeding to stand by the Hood to rescue survivors. It appears that His Majesty has been killed.”
Holy shit, Eric thought. Isn’t Princess…no, Queen Elizabeth barely sixteen?
Eric looked around the bridge as the captain broke the news to the Exeter’s crew. The reactions ranged from shock to, surprisingly, rage. As Exeter’s master finished, the young American had the feeling he was seeing the start of something very, very ugly for the Germans.
I would hate to be someone who got dragged out of the water today, he thought. That is, if any Germans get saved. Eric’s father had fought as a Marine at Belleau Wood. In the weeks before Eric had left for the academy, his father had made sure that his son understood just what might be required of him in the Republic’s service. One of the stories had involved what had befallen an unfortunate German machine gun crew when the men tried to surrender after killing several members of the elder Cobb’s platoon. Realizing the parallels to his current situation given the news he had just heard, Eric fought the urge to scowl.
Looks like you don’t need a rope for a lynch mob, Eric thought as he reflected on the “necessity” of leaving the German and French sailors to drown. He was suddenly shaken out of his reverie by the sound of singing coming from below the bridge.
“Happy and glorious…long to reign over us…”
The men on the bridge began taking up the song, their tone somber and remorseful.
“GOD SAAAAVEEE THE QUEEEEENN!!”
Almost a half hour later, the Exeter sat one thousand yards off of the Hood’s starboard side, the heavy cruiser’s torpedo tubes trained on her larger consort. The Hood’s wounds were obvious, her bridge and conning tower a horribly twisted flower of shattered steel. Flames licked from the vessel’s X turret, and it appeared that the structure had taken a heavy shell to its roof. Further casting a pall on the scene was the dense black smoke pouring from the Hood’s burning bunkerage, a dull glow at the base of the cloud indicating an out of control fire. The battlecruiser’s stern looked almost awash, her bow almost coming out of the water with each swell, and as Eric watched there was an explosion of ready ammunition near her anti-aircraft guns.
Might be a waste of good torpedoes at this point, Eric thought. He realized he was starting to pass into mental shock from all the carnage he had seen that day.
“I’m the last man, sir,” a dazed-looking commander with round features, black hair, and green eyes was saying to Captain Gordon. “At least, the last man we can get to.”
“I understand, Commander Keir,” Gordon said quietly. “I regret we do not have the time to try and free the men trapped in her engineering spaces.”
“If we could have only had another hour, we might have saved her,” Keir said, his voice breaking. It was obvious the man had been through hell, his uniform blackened by soot and other stains that Eric didn’t care to look into too closely.
It’s never a good day when you become commander of a vessel simply because no one else was left. From what he understood, Keir had started the day as chief of Hood’s Navigation Division. That had been before the vessel took at least three 15-inch shells to the bridge area, as well as two more that had wiped out her gunnery directory and the secondary bridge.
Captain Gordon was right—she was a very powerful warship. Unfortunately that tends to make you a target.
“Commander, you are certain that…” Gordon started, then collected himself. “You are certain His Majesty is dead.”
“Yes sir,” Keir said. “His Majesty was in the conning tower with Admiral Pound when it was hit. The Royal Surgeon positively identified His Majesty’s body in the aid station before that was hit in turn. We cannot get to the aid station due to the spreading fire.”
“Understood. His Majesty would not have wanted any of you to risk his life for his body,” Gordon said.
“I just…” Keir started, then stopped, overcome with emotion.
“It is not your fault lad,” Gordon said. “Her Majesty will understand.”
Gordon turned and looked at the Exeter’s clock.
“Very well, we are out of time. Stand by to fire torpedoes.”
“Torpedoes report they are ready.”
“Sir, you may want to tell your torpedo officer to have his weapons set to run deep,” Keir said. “She’s drawing…”
There was a large explosion aboard Hood as the flames reached a secondary turret’s ready ammunition. Eric saw a fiery object arc slowly across, descending towards the Exeter as hundreds of helpless eyes watched it. The flaming debris’ lazy parabola terminated barely fifty yards off of Exeter’s side with a large, audible splash.
“I think we do not have time for that discussion,” Gordon said grimly. “Fire torpedoes!”
The three weapons from Exeter’s starboard tubes sprang from their launchers into the water. Set as a narrow spread, the three tracks seemed to take forever to impact from Eric’s perspective. Exeter’s torpedo officer, observing Hood’s state, had taken into account the battlecruiser’s lower draught without having to be told. Indeed, he had almost set the weapons for too deep a run, but was saved by the flooding that had occurred in the previous few minutes. In addition to breaking the battlecruiser’s keel, the triple blow opened the entire aft third of her port side to the ocean. With the audible sound of twisting metal, Hood started to roll onto her beam ends. She never completed the evolution before slipping beneath the waves.
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