John Schettler - Kirov

“We just got word of this, sir,” said Admiral King.

“It looks like Wasp ran afoul of this ship,” Marshall went on. “She’s been hit and is badly damaged. It’s likely that we’ll lose her within the hour.”

“I see…” Roosevelt put down his magnifying glass.

“There’s more, sir,” said Admiral Starke. “Cruiser Vincennes and destroyer Walke were also hit. Both sunk, sir.”

“My Lord,” said Roosevelt. “What was this ship, a U-boat?”

“No sir. It’s a surface raider of some kind. The British seem to think it may be the Graf Zeppelin.”

Roosevelt’s face registered real surprise. He looked down at his postcard, eyeing the stamp of the airship he had been examining just moments ago. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Our ships were attacked by an old blimp? How is that possible?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Admiral King. “The Graf Zeppelin is also the name of the new German aircraft carrier-a converted cruiser-and the British say this ship has a new weapon… some kind of rocket system, very accurate and capable of hitting ships and planes at extreme ranges. We just received word, sir. We don’t know how they’re launching them, or even seeing the targets, but the devil is in the details.”

Roosevelt’s eyes darkened. “What did we do to the enemy?” he wanted to know, but the three men were silent for a moment.

Admiral Stark cleared his voice. “Well, sir. It appears our boys never even saw this German ship. It was over the horizon. They had no visual or radar contact of any kind. In fact, the Germans hit our P-40 Squadrons shortly after they launched from Wasp for the run out to Reykjavik. They never knew what hit them, sir. It was a complete surprise-a deliberate attack against a neutral country.”

“I see…” Roosevelt’s face suddenly looked a hundred years old. His cheeks were sallow and drawn, eyes deep set and shadowed, with a distant, icy look in them. It was a look one might only describe as an ominous calm, as if he was suddenly seeing events that would now be set in motion the world over, cascading down through the days, months, and years from this moment, years of fire, and struggle, and the smoke and destruction of battle and war. And something in those eyes spoke to his own renewed awareness of his own mortality, as if some final, inner clock had tolled, and his own days were now to be counted off, like leaves falling from a tree, the long, lazy autumn of his life gone, and the winter of cold death waiting for him just ahead.

“Mister President,” said Marshall. “The casualties were… rather high. We don’t have the final numbers yet but there were well over two thousand men on those ships and planes. In light of the situation, I advise that we turn about and return to Washington.”

Roosevelt thought. “Where is Churchill?”

“His still at sea, sir. Apparently the British got a bit of a bloody nose when they went after this raider as well. Just like the Bismarck incident. Their ships are consolidating around Prince of Wales now, sir. That’s the ship presently transporting the Prime Minister.”

“Well is he coming or not?” asked Roosevelt.

“As far as we can determine, Mister Churchill seems intent on getting here to meet you, but we can advise him of this decision and postpone the conference until-”

“No, no, no, General. That won’t be necessary. If Mister Churchill is steaming on in the face of this threat, we’ll do the same. That’s a battleship out there with us, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Right, sir,” said Admiral King. “But the British inform us that two of their battleships were also damaged when they tangled with this new German ship. In the interest of safety, sir, I second the General’s suggestion.”

“And I veto it,” said Roosevelt bluntly. “That settles the matter. Put on speed, gentlemen. I don’t care how you do it, but get me up to Newfoundland as soon as you possibly can. And tell Churchill I’ll be waiting for him.”

Marshall had seen Roosevelt this way before, and he knew that once the President had made up his mind like this, there was no persuading him otherwise.

“Very well, sir,” he said. “If we increase to full speed I believe we can get you to the conference site a day early.”

“Good…” Roosevelt allowed himself a wan smile. Then his face was set and grim again. “Get word over to Mister Welles and the others. Also send a coded telegram to Secretary of State Hull back in the states. Tell him I’ll want a joint session of Congress convened immediately upon my return-sooner if he can learn to herd cats before that. This isn’t some U-Boat playing with a destroyer on convoy watch, gentlemen. This is something entirely different.”

There came another knock at the door, Roosevelt’s other son Elliot came in, his hat under his arm and eyes alight. “We just got word,” he said, a bewildered look on his face. “The Wasp has been sunk!”

Roosevelt leaned over, reaching for his pipe and tobacco. “Pull up a few chairs, gentlemen. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Aboard Prince of Wales, the doughty prime minister received the word of the American president’s resolve with great satisfaction. He clapped his hands, his eyes alight with an inner fire and renewed hope. It was as if a new sun was finally rising on the gray horizon, dispelling the heavy fog of war and promising a blazoning new hour that would save his embattled nation and assure the eventual defeat of Nazi Germany once and for all.

He was with General Sir John Dill, Chief of the Imperial General Staff, and Admiral Sir Dudley Pound, First Sea Lord and Chief of the Naval Staff. News of the engagement by his forces reached him the previous day, just as he was about to depart on the destroyer Oribi and slip out to Prince of Wales where she waited at anchor, her decks swept clean, guns and forecastle shining with a fresh coat of paint. The Admiralty had not been pleased to hear the results of Wake-Walker’s air strikes against this troublesome German raider, and when Tovey reported his big ships were under attack as well, from an enemy no one had even set eyes on, there was talk of keeping the Prime Minister at home.

Churchill would hear none of it, and insisted on boarding and departing for his long awaited conference with the American president at Argentia Bay. Admiral Pound reluctantly agreed, and the battleship cruised from Scapa Flow a few hours early, wanting to get out to sea as soon as possible. It was not long before they ran into foul weather and the three destroyers escorting Prince of Wales lost contact with the bigger ship, but Churchill demanded that they steam on, determined. “Full steam ahead,” said the ‘Former Naval Person,’ as he oft referred to himself. Churchill had once held the Admiral’s post as First Sea Lord himself.

By midnight, Prince of Wales was well out to sea and some miles east of Ireland. They soon received word of the attack on Repulse and King George V, and Tovey’s intention to gather all his ships and form a strong covering force to insure the Prime Minister’s safety.

“Why doesn’t he just get after this German ship and make an end of it?” Churchill grumbled.

“Under normal circumstances I would agree with you, sir,” said Admiral Pound. “But considering the situation, I rather tend to second Tovey’s decision. You insisted on putting yourself in harm’s way, sir. It’s our duty to see that you reach your destination safely. Tovey’s got a sound head on his shoulders. I expect he’ll want to join up with us in due course. And then, when we have you safely off to Newfoundland, we’ll get out there and settle the matter, just as we did with Bismarck, sir.”

Churchill chewed on his cigar, nodding. “Yes, but at what price, Sir Dudley? We gave up Hood to get at that demon, and now this. What do you make of this new rocket weapon the Germans appear to be using.”