“It was that damn fishing trawler,” said Kelly. “He made right for the spot where Gneisenau was to have been berthed in our Meridian—or at least in our old Meridian.”
“Yes, and it’s suspicious that the harbor police never apprehended the skipper of that boat either.”
“It does have a smell about it,” said Kelly.
“Well let’s see if we can put some flesh on these bones,” said Paul. “Suppose that was their intervention, to simply sail that fishing trawler in the night they were planning to move Gneisenau from number eight dock. How do we counter-operate?”
Maeve had been in the kitchen warming up one of the three loaves of freshly baked bread she had salvaged, and they decided to get her in on the discussion. Robert was off at another desk, doing further research comparisons between the new and old history data. Kelly took a moment to read Maeve some of the altered history they had uncovered concerning Sheffield.
“Well it’s pretty clear that ‘Old Shiny’ is a fated ship in this scenario,” said Maeve. “Was it badly damaged in the battle with Gneisenau?”
“Enough to lay it up in Gibraltar and take it out of Force H,” said Paul.
“Which is why it wasn’t there to be spotted by the incoming swordfish strike from Ark Royal,” said Kelly.
“Right, right,” said Maeve. “Sheffield is not on station behind Bismarck, and that means no case of mistaken identity and no knowledge of the faulty magnetic pistols on the torpedoes.”
“So the air attack on Bismarck fails,” Paul finished. “It’s a perfect little line of dominoes, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Maeve agreed, “but a counter operation is going to be difficult here as well. The trawler could have come from anywhere.”
“Well it would have to be within a reasonable distance of the harbor,” said Paul.
“True, but what kind of cruising speed does it have? If it could make as much as ten knots then we’re looking at a lot of potential coastline here, either north or south of the harbor. You don’t have any idea when it started on its way either. Suppose the trawler left six or eight hours before it arrives at Brest? In that case we’re looking at over a hundred and fifty miles of coastline, so trying to shift in at its point of origin for an operation is out of the question.”
“Then we’d have to be at the destination, right there in Brest,” said Kelly.
“That sounds more plausible, but it will be dangerous,” said Maeve. “Wouldn’t that be a secure area? How would you get to the docks?”
“We’d just shift in there,” said Kelly. “It would be dark, quiet in the pre-dawn hour. I could put someone right on the money, close enough to that berthing site to intervene.”
“And do what?” said Maeve. “Are you going to hang a no vacancy sign?”
Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting off a mild headache. What could they do? He went round and round with it in his mind, considering possible plans.
“Well… We could pose as fisherman,” he began, and sort of lay claim to the area—“
“Fat chance,” said Maeve. “You’ll need fishing tackle, rods and reels, bait, and a bad temper if you want to stop a trawler from docking. You’d only stir up trouble for a moment.”
“Then we’ll need to pose as someone with authority,” said Paul. “A gendarme or harbor patrol officer. We could wave the trawler off as it tried to berth.”
“And if he plays dumb and just forges ahead?” Maeve was a real devil’s advocate. “Remember, the fire starts when the boat nears the mooring, at least according to the narrative Kelly read me. He could just barge right in, no pun intended, and wait until that oil drum goes up. Then his purpose is achieved. I don’t think the presence of a couple policemen will dissuade him, particularly given the stakes involved.”
“You’re probably right,” said Kelly. “This is sounding more fishy all the time.”
“No,” said Maeve. “Methinks ‘tis neither fish, nor flesh, nor good red herring.”
“What do you mean?” asked Paul.
“Just an old English proverb,” Maeve explained. “Fish was eaten by the clergy, pious as they were. Flesh was eaten by those who could afford it, the wealthy classes, and the dried and kippered herrings were left to the poor. The expression lists the foods eaten by every class of society, and it was a therefore metaphor for something that encompassed every possibility. But I don’t see fish, flesh or anything else here. There doesn’t seem to be any possible intervention you could run, short of getting hold of a weapon and firing on the trawler while she was still out in the harbor.”
“Paul’s got a .22 rifle in the storage cabinet,” said Kelly.
“I know,” Maeve frowned. “Well you won’t sink it with that! Forget the rifle. That’s not what bothers me about this scenario. It has an odd smell about it. Maybe this whole thing is a red herring.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know… something with a ripe odor that pulls you in and turns out to be rotten,” Maeve said flatly, half serious, half joking.
“Oh, I know what a red herring is,” said Kelly, “but how does that apply to this situation?”
“OK, let’s start knocking down Paul’s dominoes,” Maeve folded her arms, the pose she often took when launching into battle over Outcomes & Consequences. “It’s clear that Sheffield is important to the outcome of the air attack on Bismarck, but this scenario is pretty shaky—don’t you agree? I mean, even if the trawler does force Gneisenau to berth elsewhere—“
“As it obviously did,” Kelly pointed at his computer screen.
“And even if the Germans do decide to pick this night, of all nights, to sortie out—“
“As they obviously did,” Kelly countered again.
“Then how do they have any control after that point? How do they assure that Sheffield is ordered to take the lead in Force H?”
“She had the damn radar!” said Kelly.
“True, but that’s still a very wide variable. Wasn’t there another cruiser in Force H? It could have taken the lead, or the whole fleet could have kept station together. Lots of possibilities there. And how would they have known Renown would develop a problem with her number nine bearing on the main turbine shaft and reduce speed? And how could they assure that Sheffield would not be informed of the speed change? That’s another variable a mile wide.”
“They could have sabotaged that bearing,” Kelly suggested.
“Which is another kettle of smelly fish altogether,” said Maeve. “Then, assuming all their educated guesses pay off here, how can they assure Gneisenau decides to even attack, and further, that Sheffield is actually hit in the battle that ensued—hit so decisively that she is put out of action.” She raised her chin, fixing Kelly with her patented “I dare you” stare.
He raised a finger, as if to say something, then simply said. “I’m hungry. Is there any of that bread in the kitchen? A peanut butter sandwich sounds really good about now.”
“With apple jelly,” said Paul, laughing. “Alright, Maeve. What you say makes sense. The angles on those variables are really too wide here. The dominoes appear to fall neatly onto one another when we look at the outcome of these events, but hindsight is 20-20, and as you so ably demonstrate, getting them to do so is another matter entirely when we push from the other direction. This could be a red herring after all, at least insofar as our efforts are concerned.”