Breakout (Kirov Series Book 38)

by Schettler, John

  “True, but there’s still a chance that it might occur. It was quite odd the way it came about. All the charts and weather maps missed its development. Some post war analysis suggested that the thousands of ships involved in the invasion had churned up the waters of the Channel so badly that the warmer water heated by the sun began sinking, and was replaced by the colder water below. This dramatically cooled the ocean surface, but this is still speculative research. Let me see if I can scare up weather data for the coming days in 1944.”

  Fedorov had access to a lot of data on his jacket computer, but he was missing the more complete resources he might have used aboard Kirov . In the next hour, he found a series of weather charts in his historical almanac. It showed the odd atmospheric conditions for 19-21 June 1944.

  “Look here,” he said. “There was a high pressure system over northern UK, at 1025 millibars. That increased to 1030 the next day. But look up here where we are, near Svalbard, there was a mild low at 1000 millibars on the 19th, and another off Nova Scotia at 995 millibars. The winds were rotating clockwise around that big high pressure over Scotland, which increased to 1030 millibars. The low in our area organized somewhat on the 20th, and by the 21st, it had strengthened to 995 millibars, but it was migrating towards the Kara Sea.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “It’s a typical Low. 950 millibars would put it at a Category 1 Hurricane.”

  “I see… But its way up here, Fedorov. How could it have effected weather over the English Channel?”

  “The low off Nova Scotia moved to the southern tip of Greenland, even as our low here began migrating towards the Kara Sea. So the winds from both those lows swept up and over Greenland, cooling further, then right over the top of the Scotland high and right down the English Channel. There it is, the Channel Storm. And have a look at my pressure reading here this morning—1000 millibars.”

  “You’re saying the same conditions are setting up?”

  “Hard to be sure,” said Fedorov. “Yet we know there was bad weather over the channel in that three day period. It may at least be worth an investigation.”

  “Well,” I rode a storm ashore over the UK myself once,” said Karpov. “That was how I realized Tunguska could move in time during highly energetic storms. It was quite harrowing.”

  “This jaunt will be equally daunting,” said Fedorov. “If this does develop, we’d be looking at sustained Force 7 winds at 60KPH, with gusts to 75, or even 90KPH.”

  “We can handle it,” said Karpov. “Tunguska is a tough old bird. Look how we rode out that event in 1908.”

  “Don’t remind me,” said Fedorov. “Alright. I’ll plot us a course south, but we’ll have to be careful. Remember, the Germans have been mixing in airship bombing raids over London with their V-1 attacks. We could be mistaken for a German raider.”

  “We have a radio set,” Karpov admonished. “How far to the English Channel?”

  Fedorov looked over his charts and had an answer a moment later. “That will depend on which direction we take. If we avoid the airship routes from Nordstern to London, then we’d swing around Ireland in the Atlantic and come to the Channel from the southwest, right into those severe headwinds if the storm does take place. That’s about 3000 kilometers—40 hours at 75KPH. If, however, we head straight for the Orkney Islands into the North Sea, I make it about 2000 kilometers to the northern entrance of the Channel, and we’ll have a strong tail wind. We’ll be riding the storm as it develops.”

  “Let’s see what the Air Commandant thinks,” said Karpov.

  They briefed Bogrov on what they were considering.

  “Dangerous either way,” he said. “The RAF will be quite reactive to the presence of an airship in the North Sea when they pick us up on radar.”

  “We can warn them off by radio,” said Karpov.

  “Alright, but what about the Germans? What if they have one of their raids underway? Can we warn them off?”

  “A calculated risk,” said Karpov.

  “We could get mixed up in such a raid,” said Fedorov, “and without IFF, the Brits might shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “Like I said,” Bogrov reiterated. “It’s dangerous either way. If we come from the southwest, then that headwind will stop us cold. We’d have to run the engines full just to hold position, and it would be a very rough ride. Tail winds are better, but we’d really get moving, probably over 120KPH if we ride that storm in from the north. The danger there is the war zone.”

  “I can’t imagine there would be a raid up in such weather,” said Karpov.

  “True,” said Fedorov, “but this storm wasn’t predicted. It caught the Allies completely by surprise.”

  “Bogrov, can we ride that storm in?”

  “Aye, Tunguska can handle it,” said the Air Commandant. “Might I ask why we need to do this?”

  “We’re storm hunting,” said Karpov. “That should be obvious.”

  Bogrov pursed his lips, never quite comfortable with this business. Storms were challenging enough, from a ship handling perspective. That they could ride one clean out of this decade into another was most unsettling, but he said nothing more.

  “We could split the difference and just make for Scotland,” said Fedorov. Then from there we could take either route I mentioned.”

  “Good enough,” said Karpov. “We still have time. The storm did not build until June 19th. That said, let’s prepare to get underway. I think we should have the crew do a full inspection of frame and rigging, and check every gas bag. Rig for rough air and high winds. Get men out to look over the outer canvass and repair any damage. Engineers should make sure all engines are in good working order, and let’s be sure we have a good look at those repairs we made on the tail.”

  “I was just going to mention that,” said Bogrov. “That could be a problem. If we loose rudder control in a storm, well…”

  “I understand,” said Karpov. “Forewarned is forearmed. At the moment, we aren’t even sure there will be a storm. This is all speculation based on the history we know, which has been quite skewed here. But just in case, we should be well prepared.”

  Bogrov nodded, uneasy again with the whole notion that these were men from another time, from the future. That they could even predict the weather here from their knowledge of what had happened was most unnerving.

  * * *

  The cargo safely delivered by Wolfgang Lüth rested in a secret bunker at Nordstern for some days. Himmler had good news from Ivan Volkov. His centrifuges had produced enough fissile material to make two more bombs, and one was now enroute to Nordstern on the Orenburg . Admiral Voloshyn was therefore told to delay the raid planned for early June, and wait for the arrival of Orenburg .

  Now they had two bombs, the second much larger than the sleek missile Lüth had delivered, which was no more than 1.7 kilotons, the W-25 warhead developed by the US well after the war for use as an air defense weapon. Volkov’s bomb was nearly ten times bigger, 15 kilotons, the size of the ‘Little Boy’ that had destroyed Hiroshima. The Admiral was given a most unusual order, and designated targets for each weapon. He assembled all the Zeppelin Captains to brief them on this next raid.

  “This will be a most unusual mission, and we will be carrying very powerful new weapons. I can say nothing of them here, but you all know what happened at Leningrad. Now… We have two targets, which I will assign in one moment. First we must make certain that there will be no mishaps concerning the enemy defenses. We cannot risk losing a single airship, so this will be a high altitude mission from the moment we take off. Make certain you have adequate warm clothing, respirators, oxygen. We all know what is required.”

  “Will we be at maximum altitude, sir?”

  “Very near that,” said the Admiral. “For this mission, only two airships will be carrying live ordnance. One will be my ship, the Orenburg . The second will be your fleet flagship, Fafnir . All the other high flyers will be re-rigged for air to air combat. I will want two gunshi
ps to accompany each bomber, with one flying cover a thousand meters below the bomber, and the second up on close escort. I do not think the British fighters can get to us when we are up much over 12,000 meters, but just in case, the bomber will fly at 15,000 meters. That is above all their known fighter ceilings, even that of this new Welkin fighter they have been using to engage our smaller airships. None of those ships will be assigned. This mission will see only the five German Zeppelins , and the Orenburg .”

  “I’m told that two of your ships cannot reach the designated altitude,” said the German squadron commander, General der Flieger Hans-Joachim Herrmann. The men took the first two letters of his given names, and simply called him “Hajo,” and he had been active in the development of Germany’s night Fighter defense squadrons for some time before being assigned to lead the new German Zeppelin raider squadron.

  “That is why Omsk and Baku will not fly this mission. They can reach 13,750 meters at best, which might be good for low cover ships, but your German Zeppelins can do the job. Angatyr and Fenrir will accompany Fafnir on the long range strike. Baldr, and Heimdall will escort the Orenburg for our closer target, which is London.”

  “Long range strike?” asked Hajo. “What do you mean? Are we going to Paris?”

  “No, I think we will spare the City of Light,” said the Admiral. “After all, the French are not bombing Germany day and night. It’s the damn Americans and British that will pay the price. They have refused to cease their strategic bombing campaign, even after being warned, and even after the onset of your V-1 attacks. So we must take stronger measures. The tonnage we are delivering in the Hexenkessel drops is not sufficient, so the Orenburg will carry the warhead Himmler delivered by U-boat, and you, Herr General, will get the prize, an even more powerful weapon to be carried by Fafnir .”

  “But not to London?”

  “We mustn’t forget the Americans,” said Voloshyn. After all, their B-17’s and B-24’s visit Germany many times each week. Now we will pay a little visit of our own, an uninvited guest.”

  “I see…” said Hajo. “Then this is the long range target you speak of, on American soil?”

  “Correct,” said Voloshyn. “New York City, to be precise. Once we burn that to cinders, then I think these Americans will think twice about making their next visit to Berlin.”

  He smiled.

  “Yes, Fafnir strikes the hardest blow that Germany will probably ever deliver in this war. And now you get your revenge for what they did to Hamburg. You will be in the air a good long while. It is 5700 kilometers to New York by the route we have planned. The most direct flight path would take you right over Reykjavik, and you will likely be detected on radar. To avoid that, we take a most unexpected route—first well north of Iceland, and then over Greenland into the Labrador Sea. The Americans have several weather and radio stations in Greenland, but no significant radar stations until the Newfoundland Island defense zone. There are five radar sites there: Allan’s Island, St. Brides, Torbay, Sandy Cove, and Bonavista. Our flight path must avoid that area by flying further east.”

  “And if we are spotted?”

  “It’s a desolate area, sparsely populated, but we will also conduct a mission to put troops down in and sabotage the long line telephone cable the Allies installed there, and inhibit their communications. This can be done by one of the gunship escorts. Fafnir always stays at higher altitude, so this will be a grueling flight. I hope your men are well prepared.”

  “So where is our flight path?”

  “Just east of Newfoundland Island, over the Gulf of St. Lawrence. It avoids the 150 mile radius of their radar station coverage. By the time we get to New Brunswick, we will still be over 800 kilometers from the target, but that is when we move to real high elevation. No one on the ground will ever see us coming, but once we have finished, they will certainly know we were there. This attack could deliver a strategic blow that could have dramatic repercussions. It might even force the Americans to reconsider our offer of a negotiated settlement.”

  “Sergei Kirov took such a blow at Leningrad, and yet he had not changed his demand for Orenburg’s unconditional surrender. All that attack did was set his armies upon you with a thirst for vengeance.”

  The Admiral squinted at the Captain, somewhat perturbed.

  “I am well aware of that,” he said. “But know this… The two warheads we deliver to our enemies on this mission will not be the last. Sergei Kirov may have more regrets than anger before we are through with him. Now gentlemen, look to your airships. The weather looks to be fine over the UK, a nice stable high pressure zone, with no heavy cloud cover or rain. We’ll still have moonlight over London on the 15th of June, but by the 20th, it will be dark. Let us take advantage of what light we have, and hope for a good bomber’s moon.”

  Chapter 32

  It was going to be a chance meeting in the high cold air of the Norwegian Sea. On the 15th of June, two Zeppelin squadrons set out from the big German naval base at Nordstern. One moved southwest, on the typical course to overfly Bergen and then enter the North Sea, a flight of three ships led by Admiral Voloshyn on the Orenburg . By the time they were approaching Bergen, they were already beginning their ascent to high altitude, the crews muffled up, wearing heavy overcoats and gloves, the oxygen flasks strapped to each man’s waist to ward off the giddiness of high altitude and keep them clear headed.

  The second flight would be led by Hans-Joachim “Hajo” Herrmann, a steely eyed lawyer before the war, now in his prime at the age of 31. He was a handsome man, recruited into the Luftwaffe by Goring himself, where he first flew JU-52 bombers in Spain with the German “Condor Legion.” When the war began, he flew Heinkel-111’s over Poland and Norway, and JU-88’s over France during the Blitzkrieg before joining the Battle over Britain as commander of the 7th Staffel, KG-4. After 320 bombing missions, he moved to the organization of Germany’s night fighters when the Allies returned the anger he had delivered with their own bombing campaign over Germany. In 1943, he helped create the elite Jagdgeschwader 300 Night Fighter Squadron, and developed the Wilde Sau (Wild Boar) tactics against the British Bombers.

  While he had hoped to transfer in to the new Me-262 Squadrons, Goring personally asked him to supervise the delivery of special weapons to London with the Zeppelin fleet, and so there he was. It would be the second time that Fafnir carried a dark, exotic warhead into battle, and now the great ship led the way, with Angatyr and Fenrir trailing 1000 meters behind and below the flagship. Fafnir was the Great Dragon, bearing its evil egg. Fenrir was the wolf, soon to prowl ahead as the vanguard, scanning with its radar sets to look for enemy fighters. Angatyr was the Norse warrior who wielded the magical sword forged by the Dwarves.

  Both gunships were rigged out with four 88mm guns, one forward in the nose, one on either side of the ship and one in the tail. A host of 20mm and 37mm flak guns replaced all the other recoilless rifles. It was never thought that they might encounter another enemy airship rigged for battle. Only the Siberian fleet had such ships, and they were thousands of miles away, or so they believed.

  Fenrir was equipped with the new FuG 218 “Neptun” experimental radar device, with a 30kW transmitter that extended its operational range from 5000 meters to 10,000 meters. That wasn’t going to deliver much of a warning, for a British Welkin fighter would gobble up that range in a single minute at its maximum speed of 625KPH. But The airship had already ascended to 40,000 feet, and the Welkins would be slower as they climbed up to that lofty altitude. It was reasoned that the airship crews might get a vital three minute warning on the approach of enemy fighters, but that chance lessened with each meter added to the ship’s altitude. The best the Welkin could do was reach 44,000 feet. All it could do is shake its fist at anything flying much above that height.

  Yet there was another airship up that day, moving south towards Scotland, and the German flight was fated to cross its path. Tunguska was headed for the Channel Storm, or so Fedorov hoped. They were still not s
ure if the event would even repeat, the randomness of nature being what it was, but there was at least a chance, and so they were going south to investigate.

  Tunguska was the largest craft that had ever flown in the skies above the earth. With 225,000 cubic meter lift capacity, it was also the longest craft ever to fly at over 1000 feet. A modern day 747 jumbo jet would seem a small thing in passing. And the ship had power to match its size, with twelve 76mm recoilless rifles, and twelve more larger guns at 105mm. To these Karpov had added two missile racks, one with 36 RS-82mm rockets, and one with 24 larger RS-132mm rockets. For air defense the ship deployed six twin 20mm gun mounts and eighteen heavy machineguns, though these were mainly used against small aircraft of the day. In a duel between airships, it was the larger recoilless rifles that would do the real damage. The innovative self-sealing lining on the interior gas bags could be frustrated by a round of at least 76mm, which could defeat the resealing effort and cause a permanent rupture. The 105mm rifles were even better, and came to be called “the bag busters” in the air service.

  Tunguska had one other great advantage, the two men that stood in the main control gondola amidships, Karpov and Fedorov, and the technology they had brought with them on the battlecruiser Kirov . Karpov had stolen away a long range Oko Panel early warning radar set, and he had trained Marines to operate it. They were going to see the German airships 150 nautical miles out, and that would give them time to plan an intercept course.

  “Contact!” came the alert. “Large airborne contact bearing 210. Range, 140 nautical miles—260 kilometers. Three discrete contacts at 12,800 meters and climbing. Speed approximately 100KPH.”

  “That last estimate of the contact speed turned Karpov’s head. “100KPH? That cannot be an aircraft. Only an airship would be moving that slow at such an altitude.” He looked at Fedorov.