John Schettler - Golem 7

Though the threat to Alexandria was now very real, the Prime Minister had received an Ultra intercept of a report concerning Rommel’s condition at this time. It described the German position as weak, lacking adequate fuel and supplies, and strongly advised no further push into Egypt. But Churchill was not going to tell his First Sea Lord about it for the moment. He wanted to create as much urgency as possible on his side of the discussion, and relieving Tobruk was uppermost in his mind. He had to get Wavell moving! He needed a victory, and he was determined to have one before summer’s end.

“As you wish, Mr. Prime Minister.” Admiral Pound deferred. It was still against his better judgment, but he was unwilling to make an issue of the matter. “We’ll have to keep our trousers neatly folded on this one, sir,” He said quietly.

“Neatly folded and in the drawer,” said Winston. “If word gets out on this, Jerry will spare no effort to insure those tanks do end up at the bottom of the sea.”

“We’ve stood watch on Brest most of April, and it does appear that the two German battlecruisers are laid up for repairs.”

“Perhaps the Royal Air Force can pay them a nightly visit,” said the Prime Minister.

“Without doubt,” said Admiral Pound. “Tried to get at one with a low level torpedo attack a few weeks ago, but there was just too much flak. So I suppose we’ll have to rely on night bombing by the RAF at higher altitudes. ”

Churchill smiled. “Tell Admiral Somerfield at Force H that he’s done a bang up job, and wish him God speed. We’ll be running the convoy his way behind the screen you have already set up on Brest, and he may expect their arrival at Gibraltar by the 6th of May. It will come in two parts, 8A and then 8B sometime after.”

“Very well, sir. The German ships are holed up for the moment, but the situation may change.”

Churchill fixed him with a steady eye as he nodded to leave. “Situations always change, my good man. There’s nothing more certain than that.”

When the Prime Minister had left him Pound sighed heavily. “That they do,” he said aloud. Tiger Convoy indeed, he thought for a moment, then decided. We’ll designate this one Convoy WS-8A. The WS stood for “Winston Special.”

Kapitan Otto Feinwas finally a happy man again. He was putting out to sea, and this time without Admiral Lütjens in command. The admiral had guided the ships on the last sortie with Scharnhorst , but now he was preoccupied with the planning of another operation farther north, the inaugural cruise and breakout of the more powerful battleship Bismarck . Fein had orders to get to sea by any means possible, and head out into the Atlantic to wait for her big brother. Until then he would have free rein to attack any undefended convoy he might encounter along the way. By launching this arrow early, the Germans also hoped to draw off British assets that might be used to oppose Bismarck .

Lütjens will be sticking his thumb in my pie soon enough, he thought. But perhaps I can pick a few berries before that happens.

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 hundredand 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.”