Winter Warriors

replacement as commander for that particular group.”

A shudder ran around the bridge at those words. Halsey scowled. He’d given specific orders that the fighter pilots were to beware of the Bearcats operating around the two CVEs. Then he dismissed the task of eviscerating the Lieutenant Commander until later. There were more important things to be done.

“Any sign of the German main body?”

“Came in a few moments ago, Admiral. The scouts have them on radar. They’re clear of the weather front now, about 200 miles almost due south of us. We can launch any time you give the order.”

Halsey grinned. “Lights on. Break EMCON. Radio and radar as needed. All carriers to swing into the wind we’ll launch as planned. 58.2, 58.3 and 58.4 to follow suit as ordered. 58.5 can miss the first wave strikes, give them time to catch their breath.”

There was a gentle rumble under their feet as Gettysburg picked up speed and swung into the wind to launch her contribution to the waves of strikes that would soon be heading south.

Bridge, KMS Derfflinger, Flagship, High Seas Fleet, North Atlantic

“Any word from the Scouting Group?”

“No Admiral. Communications have been trying to raise them for the last thirty minutes. Ever since we came out of the storm. The last message we had was that they were engaging the American aircraft carriers.”

“What does that fool Brinkmann think he’s doing? His orders were to use his aircraft for scouting, not to go charging off after the enemy. He’s left us blind. We need to know where the convoys are.”

“He did find the enemy task group, Sir. It’s to the west of us. And if the transmissions we’re picking up are true, he’s got at least two of their carriers.”

“Two carriers? Out of five. And he’s lost his aircraft doing it? That’s no excuse. Even if he has finished them.”

“Sir. Message from destroyer Z-20.” The Comms Lieutenant’s face was white.

“From Z-20?”

“From Admiral Brinkmann, on Z-20.” If ghostly bells had started to toll at that point, the message couldn’t have been clearer. There was only one reason why an Admiral would be reporting from a destroyer. Nothing larger was left afloat.

“What has he to say for himself.”

“He regrets to report, Sir that all three carriers, three cruisers and nine destroyers have been sunk by American air attack. He says the attacks were ferocious. They were carried out by very large numbers of aircraft and were sustained until the attacking aircraft ran out of ammunition. All his aircraft are gone, either shot down or ditched in the sea when they ran out of fuel. He repeats his claim of two carriers hit in retaliation and over two hundred American aircraft shot down. That’s all Sir.”

Lindemann felt like hurling his cap to the deck. The Scouting Group was the heir to the famous battle cruisers of World War One. Now it has gone without telling me where the enemy convoys were. All it had achieved was, possibly, weakening the screening group. Still, it was possible that they’d depleted their air groups and carriers without aircraft were helpless.

Two carriers, if they were Essex class, and there isn’t any reason why there should be others would make 200 aircraft. Their air groups could be so badly mauled that they couldn’t fight any more. That would make it possible to hunt for the convoys with the spotter planes from the battleships. He had enough of them, more than 30. They were a trump card to hold for later. Lindemann linked his hands behind his back and stared forward. The convoys have to be up there to the north somewhere. The troop convoy was fast, it could slide right across our nose. That thought decided him.

“Order all ships, full speed, course due north.”

He resumed his position, feeling the vibration build up under his feet as Derfflinger accelerated. He barely noted the disturbance on the bridge behind him. The gasp that followed it did gain his attention.

“Admiral, Sir, enemy radars. Long range air search sets.” The report from the signals officer cracked slightly. “It’s the radars on their carriers.”

“Where are they? Make a proper report, damn you. Bearing and number”

“Due north Sir. Metox is picking them up all along the northern horizon. Sir, there are dozens of them. The Americans must have their whole fleet out there.”

Lindemann stared at the officer. He was about to ask for confirmation but shook his head as he changed his mind. There was no need for confirmation, the intercepts of so many radars couldn’t be ignored. Suddenly, he was seized with a desire to turn, to head south, but there was another shake of the head as that plan was negated also. If there were that many carriers up there, their aircraft could easily outrun my battleships.

“Are we being tracked?”

“By airborne radars. There are at least twenty, in an arc, north to west of us.” That decided it. If my ships are already being tracked there was no point in running.

“Maintain course, the radars mark the convoys. We will head straight for them.” Nobody has ever sunk a battleship at sea with carrier aircraft before.

The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. A radar contact. Long range certainly but positive. A large formation of aircraft heading straight at the battle fleet.

FV-3 Shooting Star Bolt From The Blue, First Wave, Over the High Seas Fleet, North Atlantic

The German flak barrage was incredible. The great battleships seemed to be outlined in fire as they hurled shells at the incoming formation. The first wave of American aircraft, from TG-58.1, hadn’t known about the German formation’s turn north until mid-way through their flight. The news had made them make a swift change of course. Now, they were coming in from behind the German force, hitting it in the left rear quarter. The two FV-3 squadrons dropped their tip tanks and hit full throttle, streaking ahead of the rest of the formation. They had the speed to duck the worst of the anti-aircraft fire, so it was up to them to clear the way for the piston-engined aircraft

Lieutenant Alan Bolte saw the gray shapes stretched out before him. The destroyers surrounding the back of the formation could be ignored. Their 20mm quads were lethal only at short range and the German destroyers lacked the fire control necessary to handle crossing targets. The ship at the back of the line seemed smaller than the rest. As Bolte closed on her, he could see her triple turrets. That meant a cruiser, German cruisers had triples, German battleships had twins. According to the briefing, the battleships were top priority. Bolte was a man who believed in obeying his orders. The next ship up the line had a single twin turret aft. It filled his gun sight as he raced towards the formation. Bolt from the Blue shuddered as the flak shells exploded around him. Right above the big twin guns was an antiaircraft mount, Bolte could see the gunners loading and firing as he closed on it. They‘II do.

He’d already closed to close range for his five inchers. Bolte thumbed the button that sent the black smoke tails streaking out before him. The anti-aircraft mount was blotted from sight as the explosions from the warheads rippled around it. There wasn’t time to do much more, the German battleship, it had to be either Scharnhorst or Gneisenau, swelled up in his gun sight. He lifted the nose a little and squeezed the trigger of his six nose-mounted .50 caliber machine guns. The stream of tracer swept across the aft superstructure, bounced off the crane in a spectacular display of ricochets, then tracked across the three portside 4.1 inch twin mounts. He could see the crews working their guns, then being scythed down.

The battleship was still passing him. Its gray structure flashed past to his right. Bolte left off the burst for a second, then resumed as a group of 20 millimeter mounts, some by B turret, others on the turret itself, swept into view. Another long burst, the tracers slashed at the crews at their open mounts. Incredible! The Germans didn’t give their anti-aircraft gunners shields? Had they never heard of strafing attacks? Or did they really believe they were the invulnerable supermen their propaganda claimed?

Bolte flew past the smaller battleship. He still had no idea whether it was Scharnhorst or Gneisenau. Ahead of him were the monsters in the other column. When dealing with a poisonous snake don’t stamp on its tail, crush its head. Bolte angled his Bolt from the Blue for a run on the lead battleship in the second column. To his surprise, the flak from the bigger ships was no worse than the mass he’d already flown though. Every American ship