torpedoed and sunk by U-20 on 17 Sept 1939, and the latter sunk by gunfire from Scharnhorst and Gneisenau on 8 June 1940 during the evacuation of Norway. Furious was the last of the oddballs, a strange, anachronism from the First World War bridging the way to a new era. Yet she was fated that morning to be struck by a nemesis from a time no man aboard her could imagine, let alone comprehend.
Two Moskit-II Sunburns arced up into the sky and sped north, accelerating to lightning speed over the first 90 kilometers, then descending rapidly to skim just above the sea. They had each been targeted at one of the two British carriers but, for some reason, both now homed in on the lead contact, hapless and forsaken, the odd man out of the fleet, HMS Furious. Midshipman Bill Simpson saw them coming, just by chance when he was out on the flight deck that morning with Albert Gibson laying lines.
“Look there, Al,” he pointed, and the two men saw something blur silently in from the starboard quarter, impossibly fast, then turn with a suddenness that astounded them and flash in against the ship. There was a thunderous roar as the first missile struck, blasting through the thinner three inch side armor and flaming into the guts of the ship as its remaining fuel igniting in a holocaust of fire and smoke.
The delay off Iceland had seen the task force fall nearly 200 kilometers behind the enemy, and that ended up being a bit of a saving grace. The missiles had expended much of their liquid fuel before they hit home, and there was less to ignite the fires. Seconds later the other missile struck, literally reeling the ship to one side as it thundered home and sent both Simpson and Gibson sprawling onto the deck. Luckily, they were in the aft quarter of the ship, and when the second explosion blasted up through the thin flight deck, they were saved from the flying shrapnel, fire and debris. But Furious had been struck a heavy blow, immolating her vacant, empty forward hanger area, with chunks of twisted steel shot gunned clean through the other side of the ship. Fire and thick, black smoke were everywhere.
Aboard Victorious, Wake-Walker’s head was jerked around as he looked, aghast at the scene. He had been in the plot room a moment ago, and did not see the missiles approach. So he, like Captain Tennant on the Repulse, surmised that this had to be a torpedo attack or enemy air strike off the Graf Zeppelin, and he shouted the order for all hands to stand to battle stations. What was wrong with the ruddy radar sets today? There had been no sign of aircraft about at all. Then he noticed the strange contrails high in the distance, two thin tracks from the south aimed right at his ships.
Thirty kilometers behind Repulse, Admiral John Tovey knew exactly what Tennant was speaking of when he sent his frantic messages. King George V had been struck in exactly the same place, dead amidships, and just above the waterline, though thankfully on the thickest portion of her main belt armor, all of fifteen inches there, with newer cemented armor that was even more resistant to shock. While the missiles had managed to storm through the side armor of Repulse, Tovey’s newer ship was jarred, set afire by exploding fuel, but was otherwise unharmed. The shock, however, was more mental than physical. Both he and his bridge crew were astounded to think that the Germans could have a weapon of this speed and accuracy. There was no enemy ship anywhere in sight, and nothing whatsoever between his ship and Repulse, which meant that this rocket must have been fired from a range of over a hundred kilometers, many times the range of his big main 14 inch guns. In fact, it had been fired at a range of 130 kilometers, running that distance in just two and a half minutes.
Tovey’s mind reeled with the shock of the attack, unable to comprehend it. How could they even see his ship to know how to aim and fire such a weapon? He called to his air watch radar sets and yet no one had seen anything more than snowy static on their screens. No watchman had reported any sign of a spotting plane. Then, just as he was getting an assessment of the damage below, another rocket contrail could be seen overhead, swooping suddenly down to the ocean and skimming right in over the wave tops to shudder against the side of his battleship in another thunderous explosion.
The big ship rocked, then steadied herself, but there was more smoke and fire than actual serious damage. “God, almighty,” said Tovey. “Thank our lucky stars we’re taking these on the main belt armor.” His ship had been designed to take potential hits from the main guns of opposing battleships and survive intact to keep fighting. In fact, his sister ship Prince of Wales had been hit several times by large 15 inch shells fired by the Bismarck weighing all of 1760 pounds. While damaged and penetrated, the ship had remained seaworthy and was even now at sea ferrying the Prime Minister to Newfoundland.
By comparison, the missiles fired that morning from Kirov delivered a warhead weighing just under 1000 pounds. This alone was not sufficient to penetrate the battleship’s main armor when struck full on, though the kinetic power of the full missile itself when it struck, delivered an incredible shock that buckled the armor at the point of impact. Yet it held, the strongest outer wall of the citadel that was the armored shell around the ship’s most vital inner compartments.
In her first incarnation Kirov had carried an even bigger weapon, the P-700 Granit “Shipwreck” missile that delivered a warhead twice the size of the Sunburn on a missile that was nearly twice as heavy. These had been removed and replaced by lighter, faster weapons designed to defeat the real armor of a modern ship, which was its suite of electronic countermeasures and missile and gun defenses. The warheads on the new Sunburns would have been enough to make a shipwreck out of most modern destroyers or frigates with one or two hits, but they were now striking targets with heavier armor they had never been designed to defeat.
When Samsonov and Rodenko reported a perfect six out of six hits, Captain Karpov was elated. “That will let them know we are not to be fooled with,” he said proudly.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Fedorov. “If our missiles struck as they should have, and hit the targets amidships, then it is very likely they have not seriously harmed the battleships. The carriers were probably hurt, and Repulse will be damaged, though I believe she would survive and still be seaworthy. As for King George V, if we hit her belt armor it would feel like a good stiff jab, but she would shrug it off.”
“What are you saying?” said Orlov. “The Germans sunk battleships with guided flying bombs in this war, did they not? Our missiles are much more lethal.”
“Respectfully, sir,” Fedorov knew he was on thin ice, but he needed to make his point. “You are referring to the Fritz-X, and yes, they sunk and damaged battleships, from above. They did not strike flush against the main armor belt of those ships as our missiles would do coming in at just above sea level. They penetrated the deck armor, which was much thinner. If you want to truly hurt a well armored ship, then you must reprogram your angle of attack on our missiles and have them strike well above the hull line, or at a much steeper angle on impact from above. If you bring them in at sea level, as we would do to defeat modern ship defensive weapons, they will burn and break armor in places, but will not penetrate to the interior of a battleship to do serious damage. Our Sunburns were simply not designed to penetrate this kind of armor. They were built to penetrate thin hulled modern ships of our day, and that they can do well enough. Yet we know that at least two hits are thought necessary to disable a modern American destroyer. Three for their Ticonderoga class cruisers, and as many as five hits for their carriers. Our missiles are powerful, but we need to hit the ship’s deck and superstructure, not its belt armor.”
Orlov scowled at him. “You know so much, eh?” But even his own thick skull had been penetrated by the navigator’s argument. “Samsonov,” he said quickly. “Can we reprogram the angle of attack?”
“We can, sir, but it will take some time. I cannot do this while presently engaging targets. I have two more missiles primed for firing.” He look at the Captain, waiting.
“Hold fire, Samsonov,” said Karpov. “Disengage your system and begin reprogramming for a top down approach to the target. Eliminate the final sea skimming run. Mister Fedorov is correct. Our Sunburns used as low altitude sea skimmers will not be as effective as they could be. As the enemy cannot see us, let alone catch us, we will take the time to make these adjustments. But I want all our offensive weapons optimized as quickly as possible. Report on your progress in four hours. For now, secure from battle stations. Mister Rodenko, let me know what our contact is doing now. Perhaps this attack has at least given them something more to think about.”
Chapter 23
August 5th, 1941
Admiral Tovey was still in a state of shock and disbelief. He was trying to sort through what had happened with Brind, collating reports that were now coming in fast and furious. They had turned about, and were running
