John Schettler - Golem 7

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 ease 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.

Aboardthe 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.