“You see the carrier as the real threat now?”
“The German Stukas hurt the British once before, and it is clear that they have already engaged and damaged ships in Admiral Holland’s task group.”
“Apparently so, but what about those German battleships?”
At the moment, sir, it looks to be Bismarck and Tirpitz against HMS Invincible, Hood and Repulse. That is even money. Perhaps your thought of allowing that battle to proceed without our intervention there is wise now.”
“What about those ships to the northwest, Fedorov?”
“ Scharnhorst and Gneisenau? We can stop them, sir. We did that once already. As for the carrier, here is what I suggest.”
Schettler, John
Kirov Saga: Darkest Hour: Altered States — Volume II (Kirov Series)
Part II
“The sun turns black, earth sinks in the sea,
The hot stars down from heaven are whirled;
Fierce grows the steam and the life-feeding flame,
Till fire leaps high about heaven itself.”
Chapter 4
Commander John Warrand held firm at the wheel of HMS Hood, the smoke and shock of the hit the ship had sustained finally abating. Like another young navigator aboard Kirov who was thrust unexpectedly into the Captain’s chair, Warrand suddenly found himself the only senior officer on the bridge, with the battle thickening about him and the sea erupting in wild geysers of blood red water.
He had served as a navigator aboard the carrier Furious, and cruiser Neptune in the 1930s, and more recently as Navigating Officer aboard Devonshire, and finally the venerable battleship Rodney. He had just settled in, arriving aboard Hood months ago in March of 1940 to assume his post as Navigation Officer, Battle Cruiser Squadron.
Even as he struggled with the wheel, he was haunted by the face of Ted Briggs, the last man he had spoken to before the shell struck the conning tower and killed so many men on the compass platform. The men were crowding in there to get a look at the action, and he thought to have a look himself when he met Briggs at the door, gracefully stepping aside with a gesture and a brief word: “After you, old chap.”
Then he remembered Captain Glennie had asked him to get a map from the chart room, and so he went there instead. It saved his life. The compass platform was a long way up from the Admiral’s Bridge, which was tiered up over the forward gun director behind B turret. He doubted if any man there had survived the spray of shrapnel that must have exploded upwards after that shell struck home and hit the compass platform like a shotgun blast.
“Coming left twenty,” he shouted, maneuvering to instinctively avoid the fall of heavy shells ahead of the ship, but also with the thought that he would be opening his rear turret firing arcs to enable them to get into action. “Hoist Blue Two!” Now Hood would at least bring all her functioning guns into the fight, and along with Repulse that would give them twelve 15-inch guns.
He gave an order to slow the ship down, hoping to briefly throw off the enemy’s calculations and also stabilize the ship. Hood ran very low in the water, and when running at high speeds the spray from her own bow wash could often mist and veil the lower gun directors mounted on the forward turrets.
There came a loud roar and Warrand knew the finger of the Gunnery Officer had just squeezed the trigger on his firing pistol again, blasting with every gun trained and ready in one mighty salvo. Headless, bloodied and bruised, Hood was still fighting. No, he thought, not headless. Use your own noggin, Johnny. You’re the man at the helm now. This fight is yours.
Smoke still trailed from the damaged B turret, and the anti-air rocket system there was completely destroyed, not that it was any great loss. The weapon basically deployed long trailing cables from a parachute in the hopes of snagging a passing airplane, and it had never been effective. The real damage was the loss of those two big guns in the heat of the battle.
Warrand had no idea what was happening on the boat deck amidships where the Stukas had planted a bomb that seriously damaged the aft funnel. Now, at least, he had someone on the Flag Bridge to hoist ensigns and he soon learned that there were still men alive on the compass platform above when someone shouted through a voice pipe that they had sighted another contact.
Then the ship shook again, and Warrand was nearly thrown from his feet. At the same time he could see what looked to be an explosion on Repulse ahead. The Germans had quickly found the range again, but the voice of 1st Gunnery Officer Lieutenant Commander Colin MacMullen was reassuring him that they were still in the fight.
“Down 200 and steady on bearing. Four guns ready. Fire!” MacMullen had been adjusting his fire using down-ladder corrections in 200 yard increments, and this time he was spot on. Hood’s mainmast soon called out a hit amidships on the lead German ship, presumed to be Bismarck, and Warrand took heart. A yeoman came running with more bad news, however, and he knew that a clock was ticking on the ship’s prospects for survival.
“Sir! That last hit amidships has slipped our armor and we have damage in the number four boiler room!”
Two guns down, speed off a third, fires amidships, a hull breach that will mean we’ll be taking water, all the senior officers wounded or killed but me, and now Repulse takes a hit for good measure. The question in Warrand’s mind now was whether he could risk further damage to the ship by holding to this course and trying to stay in the battle, or whether he should attempt to break off and live to fight another day.
We’re wounded and down on one knee, but we can still hold a sword, he thought. Then came the news he had longed to hear. It was shouted from the mainmast top watch, clear and high through the voice pipe and relayed to him by a Yeoman.
“Sir! Ships sighted on the horizon off the port bow!”
Anything on his port side was likely to be British, he thought. Dear God, let it be Tovey. Let it be HMS Invincible and then let’s get on with it!
John Warrand’s prayer would be answered that day. It was, indeed, Admiral John Tovey on Invincible, and with him, running like hounds to either side of the big battlecruiser, were the destroyers Fortune and Firedrake.
“Signal destroyers to swing round to zero-two-zero and make a run at the enemy,” Tovey said coolly. “Gunnery officer, what do you make the range to that big fellow second in line?”
Lt. Cdr. Edward Connors answered, clear and confident. “I make it 23,400, sir. Right in our wheelhouse after that hit on the Twins, with all guns training on target now.”
“Very well…” Tovey clasped his hands behind his back, even as his signalman runner Wells returned, breathless from his running climb back up to the Admiral’s Bridge. “Hoist battle ensign. Good of you to rejoin us, Mister Wells. Please take up a post at the signal room voice pipe and let’s give you a chance to catch your breath. Kindly call down and advise the W/T room to signal Hood and ascertain the condition of Admiral Holland’s squadron.”
Wells was quick to reply, his high voice echoing the Admiral’s mannerly order, which prompted Tovey to smile again.
“You may reserve that octave for the order to abandon ship, should it ever come, Mister Wells. Otherwise a clear and calm order is best served to your purpose.”