Golem 7 (Meridian Series) Read online

  A man of 46 years, Fein had entered the navy in 1914 and made his way steadily up through the ranks from Radio Officer, to Watch Officer on minor ships until he was finally made Navigation Officer on his first decent fighting ship, the heavy cruiser Koln in 1934. It had been a long twenty years, but his persistence soon landed him in positions of increasing responsibility, an able Chief of Staff at the Naval Station of the Baltic Sea, a stint in the Naval Academy as advisor to OKW just before the war, and then another Chief of Staff position in Naval Group North. Yet his itch for combat command was finally satisfied when they gave him Gneisenau in August of 1940. Since that time he had made good use of her!

  In his estimation he was already too late getting away this night. It would have been better if he had slipped out five days ago when the moon was still young, but the combination of unusually clear weather that week and pesky British air raids had prevented him from leaving. Now the clouds were heavy overhead, assuring the RAF would not be visiting, and the low lying coastal fog was thickening up nicely. He could not even see the crescent moon, which was a good sign.

  Just after midnight, his ship was finally ready to pull up anchor and slip out of the harbor, the blackout curtains pulled tightly shut on every window, her speed low so as to quiet her engines as well. One never knew who might be watching on the coast, though he found it hard to believe the British naval intelligence would not soon learn he had departed. All able seamen and sailors who should have been roiling about the pubs and brothels of the city that night were discretely missing, a fact that any careful observer would not have failed to note.

  No matter. He was adrift and away from his mooring, and under his own power as the last of the harbor tugs chugged away. Gneisenau was ready for a fight if he could find one, though he had no idea just how soon he would be heavily engaged again.

  He broke out to sea, relieved to see the sharp bow of his ship knifing smartly through the ocean swells as the battlecruiser picked up speed. How long would it take before he would find anything worth shooting at, he wondered? His answer came two hours later while he slept in his wardroom.

  A quiet knock on the door roused him from sleep. A Ward Officer had news the enemy was already on to him! “We’ve just been notified by Kriegsmarine intelligence, sir. The cable was decoded and reads as follows: ”Salmon and Gluckstein are out for a stroll.”

  Salmon and Gluckstein were a firm of tobacconists in the U.K. at that time, but it was also an easy to remember handle the British sailors had given to the battlecruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisenau. They were also called “the twins,” being of the same class and design, but tonight Fein would steam alone. Scharnhorst was still fussing with her leaky steam boilers.

  They already had wind of him, he thought. So much for secrecy and bad weather. And it appears the British thought both battlecruisers had gone to sea. Perhaps they were just admitting to that possibility in the service of caution, but it also might mean he would soon find himself in a roiling naval chase.

  “Increase speed to 28 knots,” he said, wanting to get well out to sea as fast as he could.

  “Aye sir, and we also have this cable. Orders having to do with a “Tiger 1,” or so it reads.

  Fein took the cable, reading it in the dim cabin light. It was addressed to a force designated Tiger 1, and simply read: “Tiger, Tiger, burning bright.” There was nothing more. Kipling, he thought. Now what in the world can that be about? He resolved to get bundled up and head for the bridge at once.

  Over a hundred and fifty miles to the south, Force H was making good speed and steaming north to rendezvous with Tiger Convoy and its precious cargo bound for Alexandria. The task force was comprised of the Battlecruiser Renown, fast carrier Ark Royal, light cruisers Fiji and Sheffield along with three smaller destroyers. They had been making good speed, particularly after hearing that an old nemesis had put to sea. The two German battlecruisers were reported to have sailed from Brest after all! The RAF had pounded them for the last three weeks, but apparently the Germans had been able to make them seaworthy.

  Tiger Convoy was already escorted by the battleship Queen Elizabeth, and battlecruiser Repulse on her way as part of the force to reinforce Admiral Cunningham’s fleet at Alexandria. But the Admiralty was apparently taking no chances on this mission. They wanted additional support from Force H as the convoy neared Gibraltar. All had gone off like clockwork until the cable came in: ”Salmon and Gluckstein are out for a stroll.”

  The Renown was captained by Sir Rhoderick Robert McGrigor, a man of 48 years, and he was much like his German counterpart on board Gneisenau. He had risen through the ranks, serving on destroyers in the Med and with the Grand Fleet at the famous Battle of Jutland in the First World War. Dubbed “Wee Mac” for his stature, he had been in a foul mood in recent days.

  Of late he had been ping-ponging back and forth between the Atlantic and the Med with Force H. Just a few days ago they had him cruising in the Med to escort a captured French steamer. The navy had it towed to Gibraltar for inspection and then set back on its course to Casablanca. But someone got it in his head that the Vichy French there might try to recover the ship, and so Renown was ordered out to provide naval cover against that possibility. It was a damn good waste of petrol, he thought, employing the efforts of a battlecruiser to guard a lowly tramp steamer!

  Renown was fast and powerful, designed back in the era that had spawned ships like the pride of the Royal Navy, HMS Hood. In fact, she was very similar to that ship in design. With her six fifteen inch guns she outclassed the smaller German battlecruisers in terms of firepower, and her armor, while not as strong as later British designs, was adequate to the task. The ship had tangled with Salmon and Gluckstein once before during operations surrounding the German invasion of Norway. There Renown carried herself quite well, inflicting hits on Gneisenau and driving the two German battlecruisers off in the ensuing action, even though she was outgunned.

  “Now it seems we may get another round,” he said aloud to his bridge staff. He was making good speed, but had need of haste given the close proximity of the valuable Tiger Convoy. There were too many ships laden with troops, tanks, and crated planes to put at risk. And the Prime Minister seemed to have a particular interest in the fate of this particular convoy as well. Now that it had come under threat, the coded message “Tiger, Tiger, burning bright” was sent to all ships of the fleet. It was no surprise to him, then, when Admiral Somerville ordered him to alter course slightly so as to put his task force between the convoy and any possible approach by the German raiders.

  “I want to get some eyes out in front of me, what with Ark Royal along for the party,” he said. He did not want to stumble upon the Germans with a vulnerable aircraft carrier at his side. “Let’s get a cruiser out in front. Make to Sheffield: increase speed to maximum and take station in the vanguard of the Task Force. I’m sure Admiral Somerville would concur.” The cruiser’s radar set out in front would also extend his forward awareness of the battle space.

  The admiral had no objection and so HMS Sheffield, under the command of Captain Charles Arthur Larcom, steamed on ahead, his watches well manned and searching the dark night for any sign of enemy ships. Sheffield could make all of 32 knots, while the Renown fell back at 28 knots as the force sped north in the dark. She held that speed for a good while until the engine room called up with a warning. The ship was having trouble with her bearings again. They had a tendency to overheat when she was running up near top speed, and in fact had been completely removed, re-metaled, and replaced some six months ago for this very same reason.

  “It is number nine again?” he asked his Chief of Engineers when the man had been summoned to the bridge.

  “Indeed sir, it is. That bearing gets a lot of rotation at high speed, sir.“ The number nine bearing had been the culprit last time as well, and the last thing the captain wanted as he steamed into possible battle situation was a dodgy bearing on his main engine turbine.

  “If we could ea
se off a bit we might get her cooled off, sir,” said his Chief of Engineers.

  “Very well,” said McGrigor. “I’ll roll her back to 24 knots. Would that do?”

  “It would help, sir, and we’ll get it sorted out straight away.”

  “See that you do, Johnny,” said McGrigor. “I don’t fancy the idea of going into a fight with a gimpy leg.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  He gave the order to slow the big ship down, and thinking it best to observe radio silence, gave instructions that Ark Royal and other nearby ships should be signaled by lamp and advised of the speed change. Sheffield in the van was some ways off, however and, as it happened, her aft watchman was fishing about for a walnut that had slipped from his grasp to the deck of his conning station.

  “Blast,” he said, getting down in his hands and knees briefly to grope for the nut. When the lamp signal was beamed his way, it was not seen.

  Aboard the Gneisenau, German hydrophone operators soon picked up the thrumming sound of many ships off to the south. Kapitan Fein hesitated briefly, wondering if this were another battle force coming up from Gibraltar.

  “Kriegsmarine Intelligence has no northbound convoy scheduled,” said his first officer. “But we are getting more on this Tiger message lately received in the second cable. Group West sends that this may be code for a particularly vital convoy heading south and due in Gibraltar tomorrow morning. They may have already passed us, sir. This could be that very convoy!”

  Fein considered for a moment. He was alone, and suddenly his mission to the Atlantic had an unwelcome edge to it. There was entirely too much activity to suit him this early on. He had hoped for a few days quiet steaming until he could get into position well out in the Atlantic, possibly linking up with a U-Boat pack or two. Yet if this was the vital convoy naval intelligence was angling for it was incumbent upon him to at least have a look. Yet if it was vital to British interests, it would most likely be well protected.

  “What about Force H?” he asked. “Have we any more news?”

  “Last word was that they were still in the Med, sir, haggling over a captured Vichy French cargo vessel.”

  “Just like the British,” said Fein. “They’ll tussle like a bulldog for any bone they find. But that is good news.” He decided. “Come round to compass heading 195 degrees. We’ll see if we can sneak up on the heels of this convoy and have a look at it. Perhaps we can take a nip or two as well.”

  “If this is an important convoy there may be battleships escorting it, sir.”

  “That being the case we will simply tip our hat and make off into the Atlantic,” said Fein.

  The powerful ship came smartly around on the new heading, and the crew was soon ordered to full battle stations. Minutes later the magazines were alive with activity, and the massive shells, over a thousand pounds in weight, were loaded in her guns, and packed off with baled cordite charges. Soon the red lights winked on signaling “guns ready,” and the crew waited anxiously for word from the bridge. Another big cat was on the prowl that night, closing rapidly, albeit unknowingly, on Force H, for Tiger convoy was still well north of Fein’s position.

  It was not long before the hydrophone operators indicated the sound of rapid screw rotation dead ahead. As radar was yet in its infancy, the hydrophone actually outranged the new devices, and was usually the first to give warning of enemy approach.

  “Listening station thinks we may have a cruiser out there, sir.”

  Captain Fein nodded, no longer happy to have indulged his curiosity. Whatever it was, that ship would not be alone. There would be more behind it, close at hand. He realized that with both ships making high speed the distance between them was now closing at over sixty miles per hour. He had little time to decide whether to hold this course or turn off now before he was discovered, and attempt to get out into the Atlantic.

  Then again, if this was the convoy it would be very like the British to send a brave sheep dog out like this to try and frighten off a potential threat. He decided to hold course until they got closer to make an assessment.

  Twenty minutes later he had his answer.

  “Ship ahead on Seetakt radar, sir.”

  “One ship?”

  “Aye, sir, and from the sound of its props on the hydrophones it looks to be a single cruiser, or possibly a destroyer.”

  That made sense if this was his sheepdog, thought Fein. He was already within range of the contact, but firing blind at night based on radar and hydrophone readings alone was not wise. All he would do would give away his position.

  “Steady as she goes, and ready on forward turrets,” he ordered. A few minutes more and he might get good optical ranging on the other ship, he thought, and his gamble paid off. Forward spotters signaled one ship ahead and Fein immediately gave a steering order.

  “Come to 270 degrees rudder.”

  He wanted to turn his ship to the right so as to bring all his guns to bear in a broadside. The maneuver would also get him headed in the direction he wanted to move next, west, and out into the Atlantic. The seconds ticked off as the great ship surged ahead, coming around on the new heading where she was now picking up a twenty knot headwind. The spray from her sharp bow as she lanced through the grey swells was washing back and over the massive forward turrets, which were even now completing their turn to range on the oncoming enemy ship. It was now or never, thought Fein, and he gave the order to fire.

  The forward watch on Sheffield was staring ahead into the grey night, eyes straining at the thickening of a shadow in the distance. He had been an Able Seaman aboard “Old Shiny” as her crew affectionately called the cruiser, for eight long years now.

  While the bigger battleships in the fleet had proud names like Renown, Repulse and others, all the cruisers bore the name of a city, though the city of Sheffield had waited some time before she got her first fighting ship. London, Nottingham, and Newcastle had ships at sea for centuries bearing their names, but Sheffield was only just commissioned in July of 1936, a shiny new addition to the Royal Navy cruiser fleet, and one that made the locals there equally proud. She was one of ten in her class, each named for a similar town. All together the class itself was named after the first ship off the line, that being the Southhampton.

  Sheffield was called “Old Shiny” for another reason as well. All the fittings that were normally crafted in brass on the other ships in the line had been machined in stainless steel, a high chromium content metal that was very resistant to corrosion at the time. Her railings gleamed in the pale moonlight as it broke through the overhead cloud cover briefly, and the stanchions, horns and ships bells, also made of steel, winked as she rolled in the turbulent sea. Her main ship’s bell had been made by a local company in the city, Hatfield’s, and the ladies club had taken it upon themselves to make a silken Union Jack and snappy pennants for the ship as well.

  She also had forward directed radar, one of the first ships in the fleet to get the new devices. It was mounted well up on the foremast, which came to be called the “cuckoo’s nest” when the odd antennas and metallic siding of the radar equipment were added there.

  With this equipment she was pressed into service as a patrol ship over many a long, cold and lonesome night in the North Atlantic. Her first prize of the war had been the German freighter Gloria, which she captured and delivered to a British port. And she had distinguished herself with good service in the Norwegian campaign, going so far as to send her crew ashore armed with anything they could find to try and hold off German paratroopers in the early hours of the invasion. But her virtue remained as a patrol ship, so it was no surprise when she got the order to steam ahead.

  Tonight “Shiny Sheff” was rolling forward in increasingly rough seas and, unbeknownst to her captain, she was slowly pulling away from the rest of Force H.

  It was well after two in the morning when her radar antenna detected something amiss in the cold night ahead. She had contact on another ship, and word soon went out to the watches to
keep a sharp eye out for the enemy. Action stations jangled the crew from their fitful sleep as the cruiser made ready for battle. Eyes were pressed hard into the rubber cups of field glasses and the watchmen scoured the angry seas ahead. The aft watch perked up as well, suddenly realizing he could no longer make out the familiar shape of Renown behind them. He was about to call the bridge and notify the captain, but events took another turn.

  The shadow the forward watch had seen suddenly changed shape, growing larger and more extended. He removed his field glasses, trying to clean the sea spray from the lenses, and rubbed his eyes for good measure. When he looked again he saw an ominous silhouette, dark and threatening, as if the night itself had taken shape and form, thickening into the angled contours of a massive ship.

  He gave the warning cry just as the darkness was brilliantly split open by the orange fire of many big guns. Seconds later he heard their crashing report, a loud boom in the dark. Agonizing seconds passed and he heard another, more chilling sound as heavy shells sailed over the ship, falling in her churning wake and adding to the wild white water there. Huge spumes of ocean leapt up where they fell, and one flew directly over the cuckoo’s nest where the watchman was stationed, close enough that he could feel the swoosh of the massive metal projectile as it passed overhead.

  Captain Larcom was shocked at the suddenness of the attack. He was only just getting radar reports on the contact ahead when the first salvos landed near his ship. Sheffield had sailed right up on a large German warship, though the enemy was still some ways off. His mind raced, considering at once that the enemy may not yet be in range of his smaller six inch guns, and he had already been straddled by a fairly accurate barrage.

  “Make to Renown,” he said quickly. “German battlecruiser, dead ahead, and we are under fire. Turning about to lead her home.”

  Then he gave the order hard a port to bring his ship about and make smoke. There was no way he could stand in a fight with this enemy alone. Once Renown came up it would be a different matter, but for the moment his only move was to cover Old Shiny with thick, black smoke and high tail it back to Force H.