Tonight “Shiny Sheff” was rolling forward in increasingly rough seas and, unbeknownst to her captain, she was slowly pulling away from the rest of Force H.
It was well after two in the morning when her radar antenna detected something amiss in the cold night ahead. She had contact on another ship, and word soon went out to the watches to keep a sharp eye out for the enemy. Action stations jangled the crew from their fitful sleep as the cruiser made ready for battle. Eyes were pressed hard into the rubber cups of field glasses and the watchmen scoured the angry seas ahead. The aft watch perked up as well, suddenly realizing he could no longer make out the familiar shape of Renown behind them. He was about to call the bridge and notify the captain, but events took another turn.
The shadow the forward watch had seen suddenly changed shape, growing larger and more extended. He removed his field glasses, trying to clean the sea spray from the lenses, and rubbed his eyes for good measure. When he looked again he saw an ominous silhouette, dark and threatening, as if the night itself had taken shape and form, thickening into the angled contours of a massive ship.
He gave the warning cry just as the darkness was brilliantly split open by the orange fire of many big guns. Seconds later he heard their crashing report, a loud boom in the dark. Agonizing seconds passed and he heard another, more chilling sound as heavy shells sailed over the ship, falling in her churning wake and adding to the wild white water there. Huge spumes of ocean leapt up where they fell, and one flew directly over the cuckoo’s nest where the watchman was stationed, close enough that he could feel the swoosh of the massive metal projectile as it passed overhead.
Captain Larcom was shocked at the suddenness of the attack. He was only just getting radar reports on the contact ahead when the first salvos landed near his ship. Sheffield had sailed right up on a large German warship, though the enemy was still some ways off. His mind raced, considering at once that the enemy may not yet be in range of his smaller six inch guns, and he had already been straddled by a fairly accurate barrage.
“Make to Renown,” he said quickly. “German battlecruiser, dead ahead, and we are under fire. Turning about to lead her home.”
Then he gave the order hard a port to bring his ship about and make smoke. There was no way he could stand in a fight with this enemy alone. Once Renown came up it would be a different matter, but for the moment his only move was to cover Old Shiny with thick, black smoke and high tail it back to Force H.
How in the world did we get this far ahead, he thought? He should still have Renown in sight off his aft quarter, but by the time the watch there reported empty seas it was too late.
The cruiser heaved over, turning sharply in response to the helm, and at that moment the enemy fired again, this time with deadly effect. A single 11 inch shell struck the cruiser amidships and there was a considerable explosion. One of her stacks was blown clear away and the round splintered the whole area with shrapnel, penetrating deep into the ship.
Aboard Renown, Captain McGrigor saw the action lighting up the black horizon ahead, and heard the distant boom of heavy guns a moment thereafter. The ship had clamored to action stations and the bleary eyed men were taught at their posts, the cold night air chasing the last remnants of sleep from those who had been lucky enough to find a place in a hammock or bunk.
“Twenty degrees to port and ready on main batteries,” said McGrigor. Wee Mac was ready for a fight.
The ship turned and the captain turned to his executive officer. “Give me 28 knots or better,” he said coolly. “I’m afraid the Chief of Engineers will have to keep his ice water handy on bearing number nine.”
“Aye, sir. All ahead full battle speed.”
“Now then,” said McGrigor. “Let’s see if Jerry cares to pick on someone her own size.” Moments later he gave the order to fire and the Renown’s six big 15 inch guns growled out their warning salvo. He did not yet know whether he faced one or both of the twin German battlecruisers, but he would let his guns announce his angry presence nonetheless.
Part IV
The Red Herring
“She is neither fish nor flesh nor a good red herring…”
Chapter 10
“So we have our answer,” said Paul, leaning heavily on the desk next to Kelly. The two men had been perusing the history for some time now, comparing the narrative to what they had recorded as the actual history in their RAM Bank data.
“Tiger convoy was a tempting target,” said Kelly.
“But it doesn’t seem as though the captain of the Gneisenau was much aware of it until he was well out of port. Yet I suspected the answer had something to do with Sheffield. That ship was simply too vital to the sinking of the Bismarck. And now we’ve got a double whammy here—Sheffield out of action and another battlecruiser loose in the Atlantic.”
“You mean Gneisenau? I didn’t note anything on that. here let me see what happens.” He keyed in a specific Golem search and soon called up a document from the altered time line on the service history of the German battlecruiser.
“Well I’ll be—” he began. “She gets hit in the engagement too! Got a little too eager chasing Sheffield and Renown came up on the scene a few minutes later. The Gneisenau wanted no part of her, and turned away, but Renown got off three salvos from her forward guns and scored a hit high up on the German ship’s superstructure. It took out radar and fire control to one of her forward turrets and so the captain wisely turned full about and sped northeast, back to Brest. Then the damn thing gets hit in that same RAF attack that damaged her in our Meridian.”
“Wow,” said Paul. “The continuum is fairly elastic here.”
“More like quantum memory foam,” said Kelly. “The German ship never should have left Brest in the first place, and that’s exactly where she ends up again after this little sortie.” Kelly pointed to a passage in the narrative he had been reading.
“Yes,” Paul agreed. “I like that, Kelly. Time tends to resist change. We’ll have to make a new entry in the lexicon. Gneisenau was supposed to have been moved from number eight dock to a berthing out in the outer harbor and hit by that torpedo attack. Instead it suffers damage in this engagement and returns to port. The only difference is the life of that airman—what was the pilot’s name?”
“Campbell,” said Kelly.
“Well he’s one lucky man. I wonder what happened to him, as he was supposed to be shot down and killed in that attack. Yet he held the plane steady enough to deliver a torpedo before he crashed in the real history. The damage was enough to lay up Gneisenau, and the RAF got to her again in short order. She was out of commission for seven months, which is why she was unavailable to sortie to Bismarck’s aid.”
“Well that’s what happens after Gneisenau returns to port in this altered Meridian,” said Kelly.
“But while this big cat was out on the prowl she managed to at least take one good bite out of the history, enough to take out Sheffield,” said Paul. “Pretty amazing!”