John Schettler - Crescendo of Doom

“That’s why we’re out here, sir,” said Lovell with his chin up. “Shall I get a word down to the flight deck as well and get 823 Squadron up?”

“That would be wise but, as it stands, we’ve no fix on the enemy location yet.”

“If that German plane that ambushed Stewart was up on top cover, it would be a good bet they’re very close, sir. We could send 823 to the northeast to have a look. They’ve good range and loiter time in those Swordfish .”

“Very well. See to it, Mister Lovell.”

“Aye sir.”

Lovell was off, but he would not get far before the alarm was sounded. The W/T room had a message from their own top cover—enemy planes inbound!

Wells was out on the weather deck in an instant, neck craned and eyes puckered to see what was coming in. He heard it before he saw it, swinging around to see three birds of prey dropping from the sky, pursued by one of their own Fulmars, which was in turn being tailed by another German fighter. His close escort, the AA cruiser HMS Coventry, was quick into action with her five 6-inch guns able to double as AA guns, augmented by two 3-inchers, and two 2 pounders. The new octuple 2-pounder pom-poms Glorious had received in her last refit were also chopping away, one on each side of the flying-off deck. The sky was soon pocked with exploding flak, but the swift descent and high vertical attack of the Stukas made them very difficult targets to hit. My god, thought Wells. Where are our bloody fighters?

That was a most appropriate description at that moment. For Marco Ritter was a highly skilled ace, along with his two wing mates. Even though they found themselves outnumbered six to three, the German pilots had the better plane, and more experience flying in the heat of combat than their British counterparts that day. Two of the six men up above Wells task force were already bloody, Purdy and Moore, and Ritter was on the tail of the one plane that had managed to get near the diving Stukas .

It was soon clear to Wells that his luck, born on that hot moment when Hoffmann’s Scharnhorst had caught the ship in the Norwegian sea nearly a year ago, was now about to run thin. He heard the whine of the Stukas as they came, the Jericho trumpets screeching, and the whistle of falling bombs. When they fell he was horrified to see the first two straddle his bow, and then, seconds later, a third bomb came thundering down on the forward deck.

He braced himself as the ship shuddered with the hit. Glorious had once had seven inches of armor in that spot, where the barbettes of her big 15-inch guns had been mounted in a previous life as a battlecruiser. But those guns had been removed long ago, and now the deck armor was no more than an inch thick at best. The bomb fell just forward of the flying-off deck, where it dipped in a rounded downward curve. There it struck one of the QF 4.7 inch dual purpose guns, putting it out of action and starting a fire below decks. Hans Rudel had stayed in his dive those few extra seconds, and made certain his bomb would not miss.

Aboardthe Hindenburg , Kapitan Adler was watching the horizon with his field glasses when he noted the curling black finger of smoke in the distance.

“We must be very close, sir,” he said to Admiral Lütjens.

“That could be thirty or forty miles off, Adler.”

“True, sir, but we can be there in an hour with our speed.”

“May I remind you that we steered this course to try and avoid the British fleet.”

“True sir, but what about Kaiser? They are well out in front of us. Why not send them in to have a taste. They can outrun anything the British have, even their cruisers and destroyers.”

Lütjens thought about that. He soon got word back from Marco Ritter as well—three enemy cruisers, five destroyers and one aircraft carrier—position, course and speed. One look at the plotting board told him that Adler was correct. He could send the Kaiser Wilhelm up to engage the enemy, and come right on their heels if he wished. If nothing else, that might drive off this enemy task force, and that smoke on the far horizon meant that their Stuka pilots off the Goeben had already drawn blood. He could see that Adler was like a shark smelling that blood now, his eyes alight, yearning for battle.

“No sign of those new enemy rockets, sir,” said Adler, waiting.

Finally the Admiral nodded his head. “Very well. Signal Kaiser Wilhelm . Tell them to approach and engage at long range. If the enemy attempts to close the range, he is to steer three-zero-zero at his best speed and break off.”

“Break off?” Adler quickly thought that the Admiral wanted to go in for the kill himself. “Shall we turn to intercept the enemy now?”

“No, Captain. We will hold steady on our present course, and come a further five points to starboard the minute Kaiser indicates they are breaking off as ordered.”

“But sir!” Adler thought for a second before he spoke, realizing they were on the bridge, in front of the other crewmen, and recalling the Admiral’s earlier warnings. That turn would take them away from the fight, and it galled to think the Hindenburg was running now, running from a fight it might easily win. He turned stiffly, arms folded behind his back.

“May I understand the Admiral’s intentions?” Adler waited, a restrained anger still noticeable when Lütjens regarded him.

“My intentions have been plainly stated, Kapitan. We are steering for the Atlantic convoy routes. I have no intention of dueling with British cruisers, which should be two hours to the south of us now. We were late leaving Gibraltar, and now we have other business to attend to. Kaiser will lead the British off on a course that will make it impossible for them to catch up with us if they follow that ship. As you so correctly point out, they will then have the speed to shake those cruisers off and rejoin us. As for our battleships, we steer northwest for the open sea.”

It was clear that Adler was not happy, but he said nothing more, silently steaming behind his raised field glasses again. Lütjens is too old for this, he thought. He is too cautious, especially after we took those hits in the Mediterranean. Alright then, at least we have Kaiser out looking for a fight. If the British do have these rockets, we will soon find out. But one day the Admiral will have to realize that Hindenburg was built to fight the enemy, not run from them.

“Those Stuka pilots on the Goeben have certainly done their job,” said Lütjens with a smile. “Hopefully that hit will prevent the British from mounting further air operations.”

“Thankfully someone is doing their job,” said Adler, with just enough ice in his voice to make his feelings known. “Because the British certainly have no reason to fear anything from the Hindenburg .”

“I can see you disagree with this course, Adler.”

“I do sir, and I think it is not inappropriate for me to say as much.”

“Not inappropriate,” Lütjens rejoined, “but also not wise. Yes, I know you want to get those guns out there into action, and the thought of feasting on a wounded British aircraft carrier is very enticing. If the situation changes I will consider your objection, but for the moment, my orders stand.”

Thesituation, as they so often did, was soon about to change. Kaiser Wilhelm was a very fast ship, capable of 36 knots, and it was soon a shadow looming on the horizon of Captain Christopher Wells.

When the sighting was first made by HMS Sheffield , steaming some 3000 meters off the starboard quarter of the carrier, Wells knew he had to act quickly.