“Can’t see a thing,” said his Chief Gunnery Officer, Schirmer.
“The same will be true for them,” said Heinrich. “Helm, bring us back on zero-six-zero northeast and steady on.”
“Aye sir, zero-six-zero northeast and steady, engines ahead full.”
But not for long, thought Heinrich, looking at his watch. I just don’t have the fuel to run like this. “Radar, do we still have them?”
“Aye sir, range about 16,200 and holding.”
Kaiser Wilhelm had a FuMO 23 search radar on her rangefinder tower, and a Timor antenna for the FuMO 4 Samos. That reported range was nearing the maximum for this equipment combination. The Germans were always tinkering with their radars, mating different sets with different antennae, and there was never any single standard from one ship to the next, even within the same class. This suite might range out to 18,000 meters for active surface search under ideal conditions, but that was not the case here, and Kaiser Wilhelm’s radar hold on the enemy was very tenuous.
The gunfire ceased, and now it was storm, sea, and darkness that would be the primary factors in the engagement. That and the minds of the two commanders involved.
Off to the southeast, Captain Sanford stood on the bridge, thick legs planted firmly on the deck, one hand on his field glasses, which were now useless, his eyes casting about, like a frustrated man who was looking for something he could not find.
“Curtains,” he said under his breath. “We won’t get a sighting in this mess.”
“No sir,” said Laurence, the steady Executive Officer at his side, and quite his opposite, a head taller, thinner, trim and cool under fire. He was a good balance to the Captain’s squirrel like energy, for he was never ruffled, always composed, a proper British gentleman. “It’s work for the radar now.”
The British cruisers had the latest Type 218 search radar sets, mounted high up on the mainmast. It was really an early warning radar, with a good range out to 220 kilometers for aircraft at high altitude, 20,000 feet or higher. That diminished if the planes came in lower. Aircraft at 10,000 feet might be detected out to 170 kilometers, or 120 kilometers at 5,000 feet. For surface contacts, it was just a bit better than the German system, capable of seeing another ship out to 22 kilometers. Under these conditions, with wind and rain batting the antenna about, they might keep contact out to 18 klicks.
“Yes,” said Sanford. “Work for the radar, and the boilers. How is our propulsion?”
“Running smoothly, sir. 34 knots, though we’re likely making less in this weather.”
“Same for the enemy,” said Sanford. “A pity we couldn’t get to them sooner. We had three ships on radar earlier. In my mind, that third vessel was most likely a tanker.”
“A reasonable assumption, sir.”
“That ship broke off due east. We could double back and have it for a late supper, but the real action is right in front of us. We’re good in a chase, Mister Laurence—six guns up front on each ship. If that is Kaiser Wilhelm out there as we suspect, then they’ll only have two guns aft. Is Galahad keeping pace?”
“That they are, sir.”
“Good… Good… I’d expect nothing less. The Germans have pulled a fast one on us just now. They’ve split up. That must be the carrier we’ve heard about, the Goeben. They’ll have nothing aft that can bother us at all, and they can’t put those damnable Stukas up in this weather; not at night.”
“A good read on the situation, sir.”
“Yes it is… A very good assessment. Well, we have a decision to make now then, don’t we.”
“We do indeed, sir.”
“Which ship would you get after, Mister Laurence?”
“Well sir, two guns aft isn’t much, but they are 15-inchers, and if they do get lucky, our deck armor won’t stop those shells. In effect, their main battery is Bismarck class, and we were trained to avoid engagement with battleships. They turned just now to warn us off, and if we do press them, they’ll likely turn again if they have to give battle. Then we’ll be facing all six 15-inch guns. Under the circumstances, gunnery is likely to be less than accurate, but it is a risk we’d have to consider. That ship is running up towards the cape at La Guerra, but the carrier had to break away to the east. They’re going to run out of sea room there, and eventually turn north.”
“Right,” said the Captain. “Then if we persist as though we were after this other ship, it would still leave us in a good position to cut that carrier off when they turn, correct?”
“I would think as much, sir.”
“And I as well. Very good then, we’ll keep after the Germans on this heading. Ignore the carrier for the moment, but I think that will be our real quarry later.”
“You intend to turn soon sir?”
“That remains to be seen. A turning point in an action like this is a rather delicate thing. Get it wrong and you can muck up the entire works. What I do intend, however, is getting up towards the cape at La Guerra and putting myself right astride the route that carrier will have to take. We’ll get well north of them as they run east now. I think we can cut the bastard off. How does that sound?”
“A good plan, sir. I’d advise it. And let’s not forget that HMS Formidable is still off to the south. Yet they’ve an appointment in the Indian Ocean to keep. I wonder if Admiral Somerville can afford to come north now?”
“He might not,” said Sanford. “In which case the whole job is in our lap. Let’s keep after this Kaiser Wilhelm, and we’ll see what the situation warrants, hour by hour.”
They were going to have to play it that way, play it by ear, assuming the radar could keep a hold on the speedy enemy ahead of them. The Germans were already getting within range of their air cover out of lower Spanish Morocco. That area had once been called Rio de Oro and Spanish Sahara closer to the Canary Islands, and the Germans southernmost airfield was at El Aaiun, about 15 kilometers inland from the coast. Another hundred kilometers to the north, they had more planes at Tarfaya.
Sometime later, Captain Sanford went over to the chart table. “Let’s have a look at the situation,” he said, with Laurence following in his wake.
“The Germans will have planes here,” he pointed. “We’ve no worries tonight. It’s thick as a brick out there, and the moon will be down at about 02:00. That closest enemy field is about 500 miles northeast of our present position.”
“They may have Ju-88s there sir, and we’ve seen them used in a shallow angle dive bombing role before, with decent accuracy.”
“I’m not worried about those,” said Sanford with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They won’t hit a fast ship like this. It’s the Stukas that bother me. Now, where will we be in the morning? I suppose that depends on how long we run full out like this… Five hundred miles to that airfield…. That’s about 800 kilometers. We’re running at about 60KPH now. When is sunrise tomorrow, Mister Laurence?”
“05:40 sir.”
“Then we would gobble the distance up and be approaching that airfield by the time the moon sets. It will get very dark after that, weather or no weather. Those last three hours before sunrise will be pitch black.”
“No need to bother with the threat from aircraft in that interval,” said Laurence.
“Then at sunrise we would be roughly 720 kilometers further on at this speed. Right under their noses by the time they can get planes up. That must be what Jerry is planning. He’ll run up there and then they’ll stick it to us with anything they have, rain or shine, tomorrow morning.”