“Aye, aye, sir.”
He gave the order to slow the big ship down, and thinking it best to observe radio silence, gave instructions that Ark Royal and other nearby ships should be signaled by lamp and advised of the speed change. Sheffield in the van was some ways off, however and, as it happened, her aft watchman was fishing about for a walnut that had slipped from his grasp to the deck of his conning station.
“Blast,” he said, getting down in his hands and knees briefly to grope for the nut. When the lamp signal was beamed his way, it was not seen.
Aboard the Gneisenau, German hydrophone operators soon picked up the thrumming sound of many ships off to the south. Kapitan Fein hesitated briefly, wondering if this were another battle force coming up from Gibraltar.
“Kriegsmarine Intelligence has no northbound convoy scheduled,” said his first officer. “But we are getting more on this Tiger message lately received in the second cable. Group West sends that this may be code for a particularly vital convoy heading south and due in Gibraltar tomorrow morning. They may have already passed us, sir. This could be that very convoy!”
Fein considered for a moment. He was alone, and suddenly his mission to the Atlantic had an unwelcome edge to it. There was entirely too much activity to suit him this early on. He had hoped for a few days quiet steaming until he could get into position well out in the Atlantic, possibly linking up with a U-Boat pack or two. Yet if this was the vital convoy naval intelligence was angling for it was incumbent upon him to at least have a look. Yet if it was vital to British interests, it would most likely be well protected.
“What about Force H?” he asked. “Have we any more news?”
“Last word was that they were still in the Med, sir, haggling over a captured Vichy French cargo vessel.”
“Just like the British,” said Fein. “They’ll tussle like a bulldog for any bone they find. But that is good news.” He decided. “Come round to compass heading 195 degrees. We’ll see if we can sneak up on the heels of this convoy and have a look at it. Perhaps we can take a nip or two as well.”
“If this is an important convoy there may be battleships escorting it, sir.”
“That being the case we will simply tip our hat and make off into the Atlantic,” said Fein.
The powerful ship came smartly around on the new heading, and the crew was soon ordered to full battle stations. Minutes later the magazines were alive with activity, and the massive shells, over a thousand pounds in weight, were loaded in her guns, and packed off with baled cordite charges. Soon the red lights winked on signaling “guns ready,” and the crew waited anxiously for word from the bridge. Another big cat was on the prowl that night, closing rapidly, albeit unknowingly, on Force H, for Tiger convoy was still well north of Fein’s position.
It was not long before the hydrophone operators indicated the sound of rapid screw rotation dead ahead. As radar was yet in its infancy, the hydrophone actually outranged the new devices, and was usually the first to give warning of enemy approach.
“Listening station thinks we may have a cruiser out there, sir.”
Captain Fein nodded, no longer happy to have indulged his curiosity. Whatever it was, that ship would not be alone. There would be more behind it, close at hand. He realized that with both ships making high speed the distance between them was now closing at over sixty miles per hour. He had little time to decide whether to hold this course or turn off now before he was discovered, and attempt to get out into the Atlantic.
Then again, if this was the convoy it would be very like the British to send a brave sheep dog out like this to try and frighten off a potential threat. He decided to hold course until they got closer to make an assessment.
Twenty minutes later he had his answer.
“Ship ahead on Seetakt radar, sir.”
“One ship?”
“Aye, sir, and from the sound of its props on the hydrophones it looks to be a single cruiser, or possibly a destroyer.”
That made sense if this was his sheepdog, thought Fein. He was already within range of the contact, but firing blind at night based on radar and hydrophone readings alone was not wise. All he would do would give away his position.
“Steady as she goes, and ready on forward turrets,” he ordered. A few minutes more and he might get good optical ranging on the other ship, he thought, and his gamble paid off. Forward spotters signaled one ship ahead and Fein immediately gave a steering order.
“Come to 270 degrees rudder.”
He wanted to turn his ship to the right so as to bring all his guns to bear in a broadside. The maneuver would also get him headed in the direction he wanted to move next, west, and out into the Atlantic. The seconds ticked off as the great ship surged ahead, coming around on the new heading where she was now picking up a twenty knot headwind. The spray from her sharp bow as she lanced through the grey swells was washing back and over the massive forward turrets, which were even now completing their turn to range on the oncoming enemy ship. It was now or never, thought Fein, and he gave the order to fire.
The forward watch on Sheffield was staring ahead into the grey night, eyes straining at the thickening of a shadow in the distance. He had been an Able Seaman aboard “Old Shiny” as her crew affectionately called the cruiser, for eight long years now.
While the bigger battleships in the fleet had proud names like Renown, Repulse and others, all the cruisers bore the name of a city, though the city of Sheffield had waited some time before she got her first fighting ship. London, Nottingham, and Newcastle had ships at sea for centuries bearing their names, but Sheffield was only just commissioned in July of 1936, a shiny new addition to the Royal Navy cruiser fleet, and one that made the locals there equally proud. She was one of ten in her class, each named for a similar town. All together the class itself was named after the first ship off the line, that being the Southhampton.
Sheffield was called “Old Shiny” for another reason as well. All the fittings that were normally crafted in brass on the other ships in the line had been machined in stainless steel, a high chromium content metal that was very resistant to corrosion at the time. Her railings gleamed in the pale moonlight as it broke through the overhead cloud cover briefly, and the stanchions, horns and ships bells, also made of steel, winked as she rolled in the turbulent sea. Her main ship’s bell had been made by a local company in the city, Hatfield’s, and the ladies club had taken it upon themselves to make a silken Union Jack and snappy pennants for the ship as well.
She also had forward directed radar, one of the first ships in the fleet to get the new devices. It was mounted well up on the foremast, which came to be called the “cuckoo’s nest” when the odd antennas and metallic siding of the radar equipment were added there.
With this equipment she was pressed into service as a patrol ship over many a long, cold and lonesome night in the North Atlantic. Her first prize of the war had been the German freighter Gloria, which she captured and delivered to a British port. And she had distinguished herself with good service in the Norwegian campaign, going so far as to send her crew ashore armed with anything they could find to try and hold off German paratroopers in the early hours of the invasion. But her virtue remained as a patrol ship, so it was no surprise when she got the order to steam ahead.