Harry Kellogg III - The Red Sky - The Second Battle of Britain

It took him 15 seconds to flash the message and then he continued his rounds. He made it look like he was urinating. Carrying the flashlight was not suspicious as it was part of his equipment. It was always the longest 15 seconds of his life and now it was over until the next time. He moved on and did his job just like always. He always took a piss at the same spot and always took 15 seconds.

He has no idea what he was sending. Just numbers to him but if he can help to bring the criminals to justice who have put so many families in dire straits by killing and maiming their men then he was glad to do it. Justice for the untouchable aristocrats had to be meted out. He didn’t know the right communist terminology but he was all for it. The workers needed to be avenged and united against the aristocrats and the sooner the better. It was time for a change.

The Soviet version of the Seahund #28 renamed the Malyshka# 2 raised it periscope at the prescribed time and the commander of the 2 man crew turned to gaze due West. It was 5 minutes before the scheduled time but he did not want to be late. For the last 2 days they had seen nothing and would be going back to port with nothing to show for their 4 day voyage. A long way from the Uboat captains and their month’s long cruises with 10s of thousands of tons of sunk shipping in their log.

In talking with his other Seehund commanders, while waiting to go out again, he was always disheartened at the lack of success reported by all. The NKVD commander heaped praise on them for all the messages they brought back but it seemed like little consolation for living in a tin can submerged for days at a time dodging those damn planes and patrol boats. Very few ships had tasted the touch of their torpedoes. He himself had had only one chance and the firing mechanism on the torpedo tube had failed. He was so frustrated he screamed scaring the piss out of Victor… literally. It did not help the atmosphere in the crowded hull. The target missed was a beautiful Liberty ship full of who knows what. What a fat and tempting target.

It passed within easy torpedo range and by the time he was to attempt to shoot with the second shot it had slid out of correct resolution and when he had tried to correct the settings the knob had fallen off and with the periscope raised he could not reach it in time without putting the periscope down which by the time he was able to accomplish this it was too late. 14,000 tons sliding by within easy reach of his torpedoes and nothing to show for it.

He had heard similar stories from other commanders. It seemed like something always fell apart or failed to function at the most critical moment. He knew of at least two dozen stories of Little Sausages being in perfect position for an easy shot and something falling off or failing to connect etc. Thank goodness the Germans had worked out the basic hull integrity and surfacing abilities that keep the vessel safe and virtually undetectable when submerged. But the little things still plagued the machines and sinking’s by Seehunds were rare.

On the bright side it did keep the British busy trying to hunt them down and the appearance of the Little Ones in the Irish Sea must have been a major surprise to the Royal Navy. Their commanders insisted that their mere threat was enough to justify their cost but he was not convinced. He wanted to sink capitalist vessels and their supplies that were being used to kill his countrymen and comrades. He was happy that he did not have to experience the 8 day missions to the far reaches of the British Isles made possible by the refueling at sea of the Seehunds. The larger subs would leave you in a flash if they even imagined a destroyer or heard a rumor of a plane.

One commander said a sea gull had cut his fueling short. Imagine the idiot Captain’s thoughts when he figured that out.

Some of the Little Ones were being trained to surface and loose what was probably a radio beacon for the upcoming battle for the skies of Britain or was it England? Who cares he was not involved. He couldn’t even pickup any downed pilots. They were too small.

He had heard that some beacons would be placed in a special torpedo that would float when it ran out of air and then the beacon would ping away until some Limey tried to destroy it. If they got too close it would start up again. I bet that would scare the crap out of you. I wonder if they will let any of the Seehunds wait around to see if they can put a torpedo into a nice destroyer. He hated destroyers. Too many depth charges and too fast.

Well here he was in the Worker’s Paradise on the other side of the Ural Mountains. Not much but it beat a jail cell or firing squad back in the good old USA. It was early Fall so the cold had not set in yet. He heard it was much colder here than Cleveland even at its worse.

William Perl was in his element. The jet engine he was examining was close to the ones he had worked on for months at the NACA Lewis Flight Propulsion Laboratory. And now he was in Russia for god’s sake. Well it was his own fault for listening to Barr and Sarant. Maybe he should regain his real name of Mutterperl. It might be easier to hide his past. He’ll let the NKVD worry about that. He spent most of his time translating the English instructions so that they could follow the schematics he has provided over the years. He helped out with the metallurgy as well even though that was not his expertise. He made it become one… along with many others he dreamed of doing in the US. He was free here to do what he wanted just as long as he got results, and results he got.

He was unleashed here. Not held back by the older engineers in Ohio. Here he was the big shot and they listened to him. Maybe that’s what he wanted all along… to be the big shot. Is that why he became a Communist? Seems strange to pine for what was supposed to be an egalitarian society so that you could finally be in charge.

Compared to the average worker he was treated like a king here, which wasn’t saying much. He did have a great looking wife. He suspected that she was an agent sent to spy on him but she was a good actress and it was easy to believe she loved him. Man was she good in bed. He didn’t know such things could be done. And those legs went on for miles. He was head over heels and an egghead like him would never get a girl like that in the states or any girl for that matter. So yeah she had to be a spy. But what the hell, He had nothing to hide here.

He estimated that within 6 months they would be cranking out these engines on an industrial scale with that spooky Sergo guy working the angles. He only saw him once. Weird looking little guy to have all this power. I guess Stalin saw the potential and let the guy loose. His henchman Georgie was another matter. That guy got things done like no man he had ever seen even better than Boeing or Ford he bet. Certainly he was bigger. The guy was 6’ 6” and 300lbs. His voice was the loudest thing he ever heard besides this jet engine.

Most of the time he didn’t have to yell at all or even speak. He would just look and point and whatever it was it was fixed right away. No you did not… want to piss him off.

Sticking these engines in the MiG 9 was not the best solution but it would do until MiG came up with that swept wing beauty he had seen. Kind of looked like that German plane he examined… what was that number… oh yea… the TA 183. That swept back tail that NACA developed should come in real handy on whatever number MiG put on their new creation. It would be a real Shooting Star and Super Fortress killer that’s all he knew.

Hell when the US turned Communist he could go back and be king of the aerospace industry. He’d show those assholes who was in charge alright. It would almost make up for that trip through Mexico to this god forsaken place. God what a disaster of a trip that was. He still didn’t know why he didn’t get caught. He suspected that the Reds had someone on the inside in the OSS