Turning Point (Kirov Series Book 22) Read online

  Kirov Saga:

  Turning Point

  By

  John Schettler

  A publication of: The Writing Shop Press

  Turning Point, Copyright©2016, John A. Schettler

  KIROV SERIES:

  The Kirov Saga: Season One

  Kirov - Kirov Series - Volume 1

  Cauldron Of Fire - Kirov Series - Volume 2

  Pacific Storm - Kirov Series - Volume 3

  Men Of War - Kirov Series - Volume 4

  Nine Days Falling - Kirov Series - Volume 5

  Fallen Angels - Kirov Series - Volume 6

  Devil’s Garden - Kirov Series - Volume 7

  Armageddon – Kirov Series – Volume 8

  The Kirov Saga: Season Two

  Altered States– Kirov Series – Volume 9

  Darkest Hour– Kirov Series – Volume 10

  Hinge Of Fate– Kirov Series – Volume 11

  Three Kings – Kirov Series – Volume 12

  Grand Alliance – Kirov Series – Volume 13

  Hammer Of God – Kirov Series – Volume 14

  Crescendo Of Doom – Kirov Series – Volume 15

  Paradox Hour – Kirov Series – Volume 16

  The Kirov Saga: Season Three

  Doppelganger – Kirov Series – Volume 17

  Nemesis – Kirov Series – Volume 18

  Winter Storm – Kirov Series – Volume 19

  Tide Of Fortune – Kirov Series – Volume 20

  Knight’s Move – Kirov Series – Volume 21

  Turning Point – Kirov Series – Volume 22

  Steel Reign – Kirov Series – Volume 23

  More to come…

  Kirov Saga:

  Turning Point

  By

  John Schettler

  Kirov Saga:

  Turning Point

  By

  John Schettler

  Part I – The Chase

  Part II – Winter War

  Part III – Too Many Cooks

  Part IV – Feather Light

  Part V – A Roll of Thunder

  Part VI – The Gates of Hell

  Part VII – Down the Rabbit Hole

  Part VIII – All or Nothing

  Part IX – Resurrection

  Part X – Fool’s Paradise

  Part XI – Supercharge

  Part XII – Hill 498

  Kirov Series: Battle Book I

  Other Books by John Schettler

  Author’s Note:

  Dear Readers,

  The chase is on, yet no one on the Allied side really knows what’s at stake. Tovey has another mystery on his hands in those strange photographs that have been delivered to Hut 4 at Bletchley Park, but Fedorov is too far afield to solve the riddle for him. So we’ll begin where we left off, as Kaiser Wilhelm and the Goeben attempt to slip by the Royal Navy with their hidden cargo.

  The long awaited Soviet Winter Counteroffensive will be presented next, a real turning point in the war that is often overlooked by historians in Fedorov’s books. It wasn’t really the loss of 6th Army at Stalingrad, or the grinding attrition of Kursk that turned the war in the east. It was that desperate and stunning Russian counteroffensive in the winter of 1941-42.

  After that we move to the Pacific again, where Churchill has a most difficult decision to make, and “the Rock of the East” gets a new assignment. Then, one of those moments I truly love in this process happened while I was wading into that segment of the story. Like the strange dream that took us to Admiral Knight in the Siberian Intervention, another of those moments occurred while I was staring at a map of the great barrier islands, Sumatra, Java, Bali and east to Timor, Japan’s final objective in their stunning opening offensive of the war.

  What resulted from that muse will be much in keeping with the general premise that first bloomed in the opening novel, Kirov. Yet it creates a thorny problem for all those involved, and will weigh heavily in the outcome of the Pacific War. Sometimes a Turning Point lurks in some quiet, insignificant corner of unrecorded history, like the hidden Pushpoints Professor Dorland might expound upon from his Berkeley Arch facility. Other times it comes in the violence of thunder and lightning, and in a way no one, not even I, expected when I started writing the opening chapters of this volume.

  By the end of this novel we will have reached April of 1942, with the Allies contemplating offensive operations for the very first time. Yet 1942 remains a year of precarious and quavering balance. The Axis powers reach their high water mark, but still find the Allies unbowed. Britain holds on in the Libyan desert, and now boldly contemplates the end of Rommel’s Afrika Korps in one final battle. The Soviets struggle to consolidate hard won gains from their Winter War, but the coming of warmer weather and good ground after the Spring thaw will see Germany renew its offensive, and with newly equipped divisions that are even more potent than before.

  Each side will have real opportunities and also vulnerabilities, for while the Turning Point comes here in this novel, it is not fully appreciated or understood by those struggling in the thick of the fray. There are still two more volumes in this season, and a lot of war to cover in 1942. The conflict in the west will be much different, as the Allies must plan how to deal with the French colonies in Northwest Africa, and the issue of Spain and Gibraltar. Germany will not want those vital territories to fall uncontested, and OKW must find badly needed divisions to face the threat slowly blowing in from the Atlantic like a storm at sea. Yes, the Americans are in the war now, and they are coming to the story soon as Eisenhower makes his debut in the war in the west in Book 23.

  You will forgive me as I leave our favorite battlecruiser for a time in this novel to focus on these many operations that need to be covered. But I assure you that we will soon be back with Karpov, Fedorov, Rodenko, Nikolin, Tasarov, Zolkin, Orlov, Dobrynin and all the rest. Things in the Pacific are about to get very complicated, but for now… the winds of war are swirling in listless currents, and find in some lone forsaken place, a turning point.

  Enjoy.

  - John Schettler

  Part I

  The Chase

  “Slow animals always become prey in the end.”

  ― John Connolly: The Wolf in Winter

  Chapter 1

  The sun was low on the horizon, about to be swallowed by the blackness of the sea. There, sharply silhouetted in the distance and crowned in gold, were two enemy ships. Kapitan Heinrich had thought they were battleships, and knew his only course was to attempt to break away. He didn’t need orders for that, for even with Goeben by his side, he would be badly outgunned. Increasing to 30 knots had not been enough, which puzzled him at first, for he knew the British King George V class battleship topped out at 28 knots. Yet still they came, even closing the range at that speed, which told him his initial assessment of these ships had to be wrong.

  But what could they be? They weren’t battlecruisers, as both Renown and Repulse had been dealt with off Fuerteventura. Could these be the new large cruisers Naval Intelligence had warned about? It was thought that those ships would not be commissioned for some months, but something was out there, firing at him with gunnery patterns that made it look like a King George V class ship, and a silhouette to match. Yet they were running like the wind. Even at his best speed of 36 knots, he had only barely edged away, opening the range ever so slowly. But he knew he could not hold this speed for very long. He had perhaps an hour, in which he would burn off all the fuel he had so greedily taken on from the Ermland before this encounter, and Casablanca was very far away.

  At the urging of Kapitan Falkenrath on the Goeben, they had decided to split. It was the only thing to do. To begin with,
an engagement here would risk the loss of all their valuable cargo in one place. Darkness and the coming storm would prevent any air operations off Goeben, and all her main gun turrets were mounted forward. At 36 knots, a scenario where she would need to fight a gun duel while in flight with an enemy riding her wake, never entered the minds of the designers who built her. The ship was built to hunt and kill, with all its teeth up front like a shark. The plans for the Goeben were drafted knowing the fastest British Capital ship was HMS Invincible, and the Goeben could even outrun the speedy British 8-inch gunned cruisers…. But not these cruisers, if that is what these ships were. If they had been County Class heavy cruisers, they should already be lost in the gathering darkness, left well behind the foaming wakes of the two swift German ships.

  Yet there they were, the bright wink of their gunfire now barely discernible against that blazoning sun. The two senior officers on the German ships waited through tense moments, flashing lantern signals at one another until a decision was reached. They would go their separate ways, and the turning point was selected at a specific time. Kapitan Heinrich would wheel about, making a bold challenge to his pursuers, while Goeben veered off to the east. He wanted to hold the British here for a moment, giving the light carrier the chance to slip away, and it was looking like that was going to work.

  Three booming salvoes were fired, with high golden water splashes illuminated by the last rays of the dying sun. He clearly saw the enemy guns answering, the big rounds falling very close off his port side. Then his ship passed into a squall line, the sudden rush of rain very heavy, the seas higher. Even though he was running full out, the ship’s true speed might be only 33 to 34 knots now in the choppy swells. But the gloom and rain imposed a protective masking curtain between the two sides.

  “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 tonig
ht. 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.”

  “That sounds likely, sir.”

  At that point the radar watch sounded a warning. “Sir, range decreasing. My contact is much stronger now, I make it just under 18,000 meters, and closing.”

  “Closing? Then they’ve fallen off in speed.” The Captain’s eyes narrowed. He wondered if his enemy had turned to give battle again. “How fast is that range diminishing?”

  “Very slowly sir. I’d make their current speed at about 24 knots.”

  “24? Then they’ve gone to ahead two thirds. Steady on at this speed for the moment….” He looked at Laurence. “What do you make of this? He hasn’t turned, because the range would be diminishing much faster if that were the case, but why reduce speed like this? Might he have difficulties with his engines?”