He repeated the updated details of the sonar contact, all on the bridge accepting that it was an enemy, as there were no ‘friendlies’ within a hundred miles.
HMS Charity was swinging in the light breeze.
“She is moving ahead of our bow.”
The Admiral burst onto the bridge, his call of nature caught short in the excitement.
Experienced enough to let the captain do whatever needed to be done, he held his peace, and waited to discover what was happening.
“Range ahead now, Number One?”
A moment’s pause as the officer ducked his head into the cabinet.
“Two-five-zero yards, Captain.”
Ffoulkes eyes burned bright with instant decision.
“Hedgehog. Fire!”
The Midshipman keyed the switch, alerting the forward crew manning the multi-warhead Hedgehog and, within three seconds, two dozen sixty-five pounds charges started to leap from their rails.
The sounds of the surface vessel coming to life above them had given everyone on L3 a real fright, so unexpected was it.
L3’s commander shouted his orders, bringing his men back to focus on their duties, and ordered the engines to the fullest possible speed as he tried to manoeuvre.
The multiple splashes were heard by the Soviet crew, as was the first explosion.
The spigot charges dropped through the cool water, relying on a direct hit to explode.
A charge detonated against the engine room main hatch, destroying its integrity in the blink of an eye. A second charge struck four foot further towards the bow, accelerating the flooding in the huge space.
The engine room crew died without reporting their impending deaths.
None the less, Korjus knew his ship was finished, the sudden up angle informing him, and the more experienced members of the crew, that their end was nigh.
Three more charges struck home, and the control room was breached.
L3 sank to the bottom of the Baltic, the forward torpedo crew condemned to some more tortured hours of absolute terror, before they resorted to detonating one of their charges to end their suffering.
Four of her mines floated free, and headed towards the cloudy winter night sky.
“Now, Ffoulkes.”
“Yes, Sir. Sparks, send it.”
HMS Charity’s radio officer clapped his hand on the signaller’s shoulder and nodded.
The key tapped out the simple words that initiated the last but one phase of Spectrum Red.
By the time the radio officer was happy that the message was out, the signs of its recognition and implementation were converting darkness into light as, across Force V, the towed vessel’s second electrical circuit was energized.
The small ships contained mixtures of high-explosive and ingenious contraptions designed by naval minds trying to outdo each other.
The minesweepers and MTB’s fired off depth charges and main weapons, adding deep rumbles and tracers to the growing confusion.
For those aboard the Lembit, it seemed like the hounds of hell had been unleashed, all baying for their blood, and totally determined to hunt them down. The venerable submarine went deeper, but could not avoid the storm of noise that was being generated on the surface.
Above, back in the fresh air, the towed vessels were becoming less and less numerous, as explosions and fire claimed them one by one, which was the idea.
Much of Force V started to disappear below the waters of the Baltic, the towing vessels extinguishing their own lights, and immediately running northwards, through Øresund, past Saltholm.
The Soviet party on the small island now had other problems, the continued disturbances seemingly having attracted a strong force of Danish Marines, who were all over their secret position, forcing them to keep well hidden, and therefore unable to spot anything passing to the north.
Meanwhile, across Soviet-occupied territory, telephones started to ring.
Chapter 118 – THE TRAP
Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.
“Comrade Nazarbayeva. Why is there an Allied naval force in the Baltic, seemingly in large numbers, which none of my intelligence services know anything about?”
Woken from a deep sleep, Tatiana sat upright in the camp bed, set in her office as usual, her mind starting to clear rapidly as doubts and fear entered her mind, an effect only too common for those woken early by a call from the General Secretary.
“What has apparently happened, Comrade General Secretary?”
Poboshkin averted his eyes as his commander stood and moved to her desk, picking up a pad and pencil, not the blouse and trousers that would have caused her aide a lot less embarrassment.
She started to record his words, listing reports from various arms of service in and around the Baltic, all of which combined seemed to indicate that a large-scale Allied operation was in progress.
“Comrade General Secretary, there has been nothing regarding any large enemy naval force in the area. Not from ourselves or from the NKVD. I find it difficult to imagine that any large force could have assembled and moved in undetected, but I will look at that again.”
Even Poboshkin could hear the anger in the replying voice.
“No, Comrade General Secretary, that is not what I’m saying. Clearly, these reports have some basis in fact, but what they represent may not be what they say they represent.”
The situation was getting unbearable for Poboshkin, so he gallantly held out Nazarbayeva’s tunic, in an attempt to draw her attention to the fact that a bra and knickers were insufficient to protect her modesty, and moved him closer to seeing his commander naked than he wanted to get.
She ignored the item, placing her hand over the telephone.
“You’ve seen a woman before. Now, get me the file on their Allied Second Army Group immediately, and order up any naval reports we’ve received on unusual assemblies and groupings of enemy vessels over the last month, now.”
Returning to the receiver, she spoke in a controlled fashion, buying time for Poboshkin to return.
“Comrade General Secretary. The only ground force of note that would be available is the new Allied Second Army Group, a formation that has raised suspicion in both GRU and NKVD circles.”
Stalin understood this, and also understood his ‘protégé’ was stalling. His reply focussed her on his needs.
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary. I will review everything we have that can have a possible bearing on these reports and contact you immediate… as you say, Comrade General Secretary.
Poboshkin placed the folder in front of her and she flicked to the page she had summoned from memory.
“There was a brief rise in activity, immediately followed by a modest reduction in radio traffic three days ago, Comrade General Secretary. Our view was that it was an exercise, given the lack of naval activity.”
Nazarbayeva winced, and the phone moved away from her ear.
“That may well be the case, Comrade General Secretary. But the only reports of any substance are the usual convoys from America.”
She summoned something from memory.
“One of our agents reported a large force of their motor boats flotilla leaving Harwich some while ago. That was passed to Navy for review.”
She didn’t mean it to sound like passing the buck, but the man on the other end of the phone was an expert in the field,and interpreted it as such.
“No, Comrade General Secretary. As you say, it was not considered important at the time. They are small vessels of little worth. However, we have recently seen a concentration of larger Allied naval assets in the southern end of the Adriatic. Again, w…”