Winter Storm

by John Schettler

  “No, but we will have to try. We need capital ships in the Norwegian Sea now, as Hitler will certainly demand we close the convoy route to Murmansk. The Army tells me they will settle the matter, but I am not so sure. In any case, Tirpitz and Scharnhorst should be enough, with the support of our older cruisers and destroyers. As for your group, you will head for Gibraltar as soon as possible. Then we will see if we can persuade the French to move their center of gravity from Toulon to Casablanca. With that fleet, we pose a real threat to the Atlantic. They can add the battleships Normandie, Richelieu, and Dunkerque to your southern group. And they are still working on Jean Bart. Those ships, and the many fine cruisers and destroyers they have, will be more than enough to support our operations in the Atlantic. That is where we focus our entire effort now—the Atlantic.”

  “What about the Italian fleet?” said Adler.

  “The Italians are useless, but they still have enough good ships to guard the sea routes to North Africa. I wish I had trained crews to take them all off their hands. There are still three or four very good battleships there. If they can keep Cunningham preoccupied in the Med, that is all they need do.”

  “Yet we are pulling more troops out of Africa than we send there,” said Adler.

  “That will change. Hitler has been focused on Moscow, but I am told that 10th Panzer was refitted with new tanks for Rommel, and 5th Panzer already has desert Camo scheme painted on the tanks. Our desert loving General will finally get something to try and match those new British tanks. A pity, our strategy in the Mediterranean was shattered by all these recent setbacks, both for Rommel, and now for us. We’re on the defensive there now. The war in Russia is all Hitler can think about.”

  “We’ll change that sir,” said Adler optimistically. “Once I close the British convoy routes to Africa, Rommel will be in a much better position.”

  “Precisely,” said Raeder. “And to aid that cause, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. We captured a French carrier in the docks, and nearly complete, the Joffre. In another month or so, we will christen it the Prince Heinrich. And the captured French cruiser DeGrasse is being converted to a carrier, and renamed the Hanover. It won’t be much, but together with the Goeben, those ships will allow you to put 76 aircraft at sea! Up north, we are also converting the Seydlitz to a light carrier to join Peter Strasser. That will put 62 planes at sea to operate with Topp’s squadron.”

  “Excellent,” said Adler. “When will we have them ready?”

  “Soon enough. First we must see to the battleships. Get the fleet ready to move.”

  “We will work day and night,” said Adler.

  “Good. Get the job done, and then wait for my orders to move south to Gibraltar. We will fight a new kind of naval war now. Necessity forces us to resume a raiding strategy. No more massive fleet actions where we risk everything at once, unless the situation dictates that would be best. There is also a question of fuel here. Stocks are not as plentiful as you might think. The Italians have been begging us for oil, and taking out the entire fleet is very costly in that regard.”

  “Then how will we fight, sir?”

  “A new strategy,” said Raeder. “The one arm of the navy that has been given a loose budget is the U-boat construction program. Doenitz is getting anything he wants. So our strategy now is to augment and support the effort of his wolfpacks. As much as I had hoped otherwise, I realize now that they will sink far more enemy ships than our battleships. Things have changed, Adler, and we must change with them. Even so, once you move to Casablanca and join the French fleet, the British will have a great deal of trouble matching us pound for pound. Our mission there is twofold. We pose a dangerous threat to the British convoys to Egypt, and we also defend the French colonies in West Africa from allied invasion. You will learn more later, but for now… Let us hope Hitler doesn’t order us to stand down the whole goddamned fleet, and use the steel to build more U-Boats for Doenitz.”

  “Agreed, sir.”

  “Very well,” said Raeder. “I will get you all the support I can. Now let us go and have a close look at the repairs. I’m told Axel Faust insisted on getting that gun in Anton turret back into proper position before you made port.”

  “He did, sir. He said he would not sail home with his middle finger in the air.” Adler smiled. “A good man, that one.”

  All this sounded very exciting to Adler, whose youth and inexperience only saw him eager to redress the failures of the fleet thus far in the war. Raeder, however, was a realist, in spite of his evolving strategy in placing more importance on taking air power to sea. Yet there were considerations involved in that which might never enter Adler’s mind, he thought.

  How do we keep those carriers operational at sea over any length of time? Yes, we have been running exercises in underway replenishment, but the movement of aviation fuel in any quantities is something we have never done before. We do not have a ready fleet of merchant ships and enough tankers for the job, and so I will have to turn to the French for that. Coordinating these operations could also be very difficult.

  And what about trained carrier pilots for all these grand little projects I have secreted on the docks in France? We just lost most of the air wing on Graf Zeppelin. It will be months before I can replace those pilots, and, when we do start operations, we will take even more losses. Inexperienced men will crash on takeoff or landing. Some may even get lost at sea, as we have no real experience in carrier operations out in the Atlantic. We could easily expect to turn over the entire air wing on a carrier in six months time, and certainly in any given year, assuming the ship survives even that long. Then there are those naval rockets that go after planes as well!

  Losses will be inevitable, he knew. So building the ships is only half the problem. Supporting them at sea with fuel, fresh planes, and trained pilots is the rest of the work. We have a great deal to learn, and something tells me I will put all this effort into our naval air program, and find it good for only one throw of the dice when it comes to real operations.

  There was one other ship that he failed to mention to Adler, Hindenburg’s brother ship, the Brandenburg, cancelled by Hitler many months ago. The hull was intact, and a good portion of the superstructure. One of the forward turrets was ready, and the guns had been machined. All of her engines and most underdeck work was complete, except for large segments of the aft section, as the crews had been working bow to stern. That gave Raeder an idea, fueled by intelligence the Japanese were converting one of their super battleship projects into a massive heavy carrier.

  He went to the drawing board with the engineers in secret, thinking how he might convert Brandenburg into a hybrid battle carrier. If they used those empty underdeck sections aft for a maintenance deck, and then simply cleared everything aft of the conning tower… There is my fleet replenishment ship, he thought with some excitement!

  Hindenburg has an at sea duration of 20,000 miles. That’s room for a lot of fuel. If we convert some of those fuel bunkers for aviation fuel, and store it below the water line with a good armored deck above it, than all we need is pumps to fuel the planes on that maintenance deck. That ship could replenish all the other smaller carriers, and still have plenty of fuel left over for its own operations. It was a daring idea, and he ordered plans drawn up, saying nothing to anyone about it until they were complete. Crews were already working day and night, for it was his hope that he could surprise Hitler by April with a very nice birthday present.

  He sighed. Perhaps I am chasing shadows with these carrier projects. It may be that all we can do is get one or two operational and use them as a scouting and small air support asset for raiding sorties. The Goeben performed very well in that role. That may be a much more useful ship than a bigger carrier like Graf Zeppelin. When one of those damn rockets can wipe out years of work in a few seconds, it gives me pause… All the more reason to put that armor that is already on the Brandenburg to good use. Losing Graf Zeppelin was a very hard blow, but Brandenburg would be a mu
ch tougher nut to crack. Now I must set my mind on putting what is left of the fleet to some good use… Before I lose those ships too.

  Chapter 26

  Admiral Volsky was walking quietly along the shoreline, watching the moon that had so confounded him earlier, his hand in his pocket, thinking of all that had happened. What was this thing Fedorov had given him? It was a very strange key, but where did he get it? Why was it so important that he deliver it to the British Admiral? None of this made any sense to him, and Fedorov had no time to explain in detail, but he was wise enough to do whatever he could in any case.

  His first decision had been to get to a radio and send a coded message to the British. He knew exactly what he could do, using the very same protocol that Fedorov had given him, and he was much gratified when the response came back. After an awkward moment, arranging a translator, he managed to convey his wishes, and make a request for British support.

  Thankfully, if Karpov still had any suspicions about him, he did not seem overly concerned. Once the Captain got his hands on Kirov, he left Kola Bay soon after, and that was that. And that was quite enough. The Admiral spent hours and hours, walking along the familiar shore that now seemed so desolate and foreign to him. Home was not what it once was, and now he fought with the sadness of knowing he might never see the world he grew up in again. Everyone he knew there, his family, his dear wife, was gone... not even born yet!

  He realized that he was lost, marooned, adrift here in another time, and now bereft of his command. All of his authority, the long career that stretched back over 40 years behind him, now counted for nothing. He was a stranger in this strange new world, and did not quite know what to make of himself. His mind was even considering what might happen on the day he was born, less than twenty years from now. Fedorov had filled his mind with so many things, that he spent long hours thinking about them, trying to sort everything through and come to grips with it all.

  So there he was, a beached whale, and left to his own devices. He commiserated with Admiral Golovko, assisting him with fleet planning to support the land battle, still amazed to realized just where and when he was—1941! It was all he could do to keep himself busy for a few days, while he set his mind on the mission he needed to perform.

  Fedorov’s hunch soon proved accurate when he was approached by a sailor, a man dressed in British uniform, and speaking Russian. “Admiral, sir, would you be so kind as to follow me? Commander Bone wishes to speak with you.”

  That was a name Fedorov had also given him, and so Volsky followed, the sallow light fading with the day stretched out to late evening. The man found a truck, and they soon trundled off in a direction Volsky knew well enough, further up the bay to a place called Polyarny. There, at Catherine’s Harbor, there would one day be a big naval base for his Northern Fleet. It was much less developed now, but he was not surprised to find a pair of British submarines waiting for them, and he was soon ushered aboard one such boat, the Tigris, a new T-Class sub laid down just before the war in 1938. A very powerful boat, she had eight tubes forward, and three more aft, giving her quite a sting when lined up on a potential target. The boat would come to be much feared by the enemy, getting eleven kills in her many patrols, for 38,500 tons, and a DSO for Bone along the way

  “Greetings Admiral,” Lt. Commander Howard Bone was a short, round faced man, and he had already completed nine war patrols, with a number of successful merchant ship sinkings to his credit. Now, his tenth patrol was to be a special delivery. He was to ferry this Admiral safely to a British cruiser in the Norwegian Sea. It was just another gift from the Russians, he thought, who had proudly presented a reindeer doe to the British during the welcoming ceremony when the two subs arrived. His sister boat, Trident, got the reindeer, and he got the Admiral, he thought with a wry grin. Though this one looks like he eats a good deal more than that doe.

  The sailor translated, and Volsky had a quiet chat with the man, grateful to find support here, and yet feeling very strange as he boarded the submarine. It seemed to stir up an old memory, though he could not quite put his finger on the time and place. While the Admiral had spent many days on the sea over the years, he never much liked the idea of riding beneath it in a submarine. Somehow, he saw himself on one in his mind’s eye, and with Fedorov, though he knew that it must have been a dream.

  Yet the time he spent on that sub seemed like a chisel, slowly chipping away at something in his mind, and giving it shape and form, though he could not quite discern what it was. He had the strangest feeling that he knew much more about all the things Fedorov had told him, all the things he had supposedly lived out himself, though he could not see any way that could be possible.

  The journey was quiet, as Commander Bone had been instructed by Tovey to sail with the utmost stealth and caution, and in no way endanger the Admiral. So combat was strictly forbidden until the rendezvous was made, and Volsky safely transferred to the light cruiser Nigeria, the flagship of Rear Admiral Vian’s Force K cruiser squadron operating off the Norwegian coast. In taking on this special passenger, Vian would miss his chance to get the German gunnery training ship Bremse, and a pair of transports carrying 1500 troops of the German 6th Mountain Division, for he was also ordered to proceed to Scapa Flow with the utmost speed.

  It was there that Volsky would meet the British Admiral Tovey for the very first time, though Fedorov would tell him otherwise. Yet Volsky also knew that he was supposed to be well acquainted with this man, sailing and fighting by his side, both in the Mediterranean Sea and the North Atlantic. When he finally set eyes on him in Tovey’s headquarters at Scapa Flow, Volsky passed yet another moment of Déjà vu, thinking that Fedorov had been correct all along, and that he surely knew this man. Tovey’s tall, trim form, thin nose, narrow eyes, and ready smile seemed very familiar to him, and yet he remained clueless of all their supposed prior conspiracy.

  The two men spoke through a translator, a man well vetted by Tovey, and sworn to complete secrecy in all matters, at forfeit of his own life should he ever reveal a word of what he heard in these meetings.

  “Admiral Volsky,” said Tovey, shaking the other man’s hand warmly. “I’m very glad to see you again, and I trust the journey was not too uncomfortable. Submarines can be very claustrophobic, and Vian’s cruisers a bit drafty, even though the real cold has yet to set in up here.”

  “I’m no stranger to the cold,” said Volsky amiably, “though I must confess that I remain a stranger to you, at least in my own mind. You tell me it is good to see me again, though for the life of me, I cannot remember ever seeing you.”

  That puzzled Tovey for a moment, but he remembered all that Professor Dorland had told him, and warned him of—that this man might not be the one he knew and sailed with, which left him feeling a little sad, for he had come to know and like the Russian Admiral very much.

  “Don’t feel awkward about that,” said Tovey. “I was once told, by you and your Mister Fedorov, that I had met you both before, and I was much in the same place with that as you are now. I couldn’t recall a wink of that, yet took it on faith, and always did have a kind of inner hunch about it, some half formed recollection. I’m told it was on a small island near Gibraltar, but here we meet again, and whether or not it is the first time, I certainly hope it will not be the last. And I shall have the distinct pleasure of getting to know you all over again, for which I will always be truly grateful.”

  A most gracious an accommodating man, thought Volsky, smiling. And now he came to the thought of why he was here. “As to our Mister Fedorov,” he said. “His own memory was not blighted as mine seems to be. In fact, he spoke very highly of you, though the fact you requested to speak with him did put him into some jeopardy at the outset. You see, the ship and crew I led here is somewhat … different from the one you may remember.”

  “I understand,” said Tovey. “At least I think I do. I’ve had it explained to me several times by a very smart man, and then again by our Mister Turing, who took a whack a
t it all himself when I briefed him. Yet all I can grasp of it is that this is a kind of second coming for you and your ship, Admiral. Welcome back.”

  “I’m afraid it’s just me this time,” said Volsky, and he told Tovey all that had happened concerning Karpov, his strange transformation, the letter from Moscow, and the transfer of command of his ship.

  “This is most unfortunate,” said Tovey with a shake of his head. “I’m sure you must feel the loss keenly, and the thought that Sergei Kirov authorized this whole affair is most unseemly. Yet I can perhaps understand why he did so, given the Germans are at his throat now. Then your Captain Karpov has command?”

  “He does, though he was not the man he should have been… I know this sounds insane, but he was different.”

  “I’ve had that explained to me as well,” said Tovey. “The word used was Doppelganger, double walker. I must say, from all I’ve heard of the first man, to think a second is at large in the world gives me a shudder. You say he planned to sail to the Pacific? I wonder why?”

  “I can answer that in one word,” said Volsky, “Japan.”

  “I suppose that fruit is ripening and ready to fall from the tree,” said Tovey. “The Siberians and Japanese have been facing off for some time in the Trans-Baikal region. Do you have any idea what this Captain of yours might be planning?”

  “Several,” said Volsky, “and I’m afraid none of them are pleasant to contemplate. Admiral, what you say of the Japanese is very true. They will surely enter the war soon, most certainly by December of this year. I’m told that the Japanese control territory that was once Siberian?”

  “Yes, and that goes back a good long way, and was laid at the feet of the very same man—this Captain Karpov. It’s strange to think you were also involved in all of that, and yet you say you have no recollection of anything. Welcome to the club, Admiral. We’re two peas in the same pod now, as I’ve read reports by my own hand that I had no recollection of whatsoever… except in these strange fits that come and go. I was even told that I was also involved in that incident, and this I do recall, as a very young man.”