Read Three Kings (Kirov Series) Online
Authors: John Schettler
Three Kings (Kirov Series)
Kirov Saga:
Three Kings
By
John Schettler
A publication of:
The
Writing Shop Press
Kirov Saga:
Three Kings
,
Copyright©2014, John A. Schettler
Discover other titles
by John Schettler:
The Kirov Saga:
(Military Fiction)
Kirov
-
Kirov Series - Volume I
Cauldron Of Fire -
Kirov Series - Volume II
Pacific Storm -
Kirov Series - Volume III
Men Of War -
Kirov Series - Volume IV
Nine Days Falling -
Kirov Series - Volume V
Fallen Angels -
Kirov Series - Volume VI
Devil’s Garden -
Kirov Series - Volume VII
Armageddon
– Kirov Series – Volume VIII
Altered States
– Kirov Series – Volume IX
Darkest Hour
– Kirov Series – Volume X
Hinge Of Fate
– Kirov Series – Volume XI
Three Kings
– Kirov Series – Volume XII
Grand Alliance
– Kirov Series – Volume XIII
Award Winning Science
Fiction:
Meridian
-
Meridian
Series - Volume I
Nexus Point
- Meridian Series - Volume II
Touchstone
- Meridian Series - Volume III
Anvil of Fate
- Meridian Series - Volume IV
Golem 7
- Meridian Series - Volume V
Classic Science Fiction:
Wild Zone
- Dharman Series - Volume I
Mother Heart
- Dharman Series - Volume II
Historical Fiction:
Taklamakan
- Silk Road Series - Volume I
Khan Tengri
- Silk Road Series - Volume II
Dream Reaper
– Mythic Horror Mystery
Mailto: [email protected]
http://www.writingshop.ws ~
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Kirov Saga:
Three Kings
By
John Schettler
Kirov Saga:
Three
Kings
By
John Schettler
Part III –
Compass
Headings
Part IV –
Arrivals
Part VII –
Sky Hunters
Part VIII –
The Devil’s Teardrop
Part IX –
The Brigade
Author’s Note:
For
readers who might be dropping in without having taken the
journey here from Book I in the
Kirov Series
, this is the story of a
Russian modern day battlecruiser displaced in time to the 1940s and embroiled
in WWII. Their actions over the many episodes have so fractured the history,
that they now find themselves in an alternate retelling of those events. In
places the history is remarkably true to what it once was, in others badly
cracked and markedly different. Therefore, events in this account of WWII have
changed. Operations have been spawned that never happened, like the German
attack of Gibraltar, and others will be cancelled and may never occur, like
Operation Torch. And even if some events here do ring true as they happened
before, the dates of those campaigns may be changed, and they may occur earlier
or later than they did in the history you may know.
This
alternate history began in Book 9 of the series, entitled
Altered States
,
and you would do well to at least back step and begin your journey there if you
are interested in the period June 1940 to January 1 1941, which is covered in
books 9 through 11 in the series. That time encompasses action in the North
Atlantic, the battle of Britain, German plans and decisions regarding
Operations
Seelowe
and Felix, the action against the
French fleet at Mers-el-Kebir and Dakar, and other events in Siberia that serve
as foundations for things that will occur in this book.
To
faithful crew members, my readers who have been with me from the first book,
the
Altered States
trilogy concluded with
Hinge of Fate
, and this
is now the sequel to that set, and the bridge novel leading to the next
trilogy, which will begin with Book 13,
Grand Alliance
. As we enter
these next six fateful months of 1941, the war moves to the Western Desert, and
so this series will present those actions as well, and not be merely confined
to naval events. And as always, Fedorov, Volsky, Orlov and Karpov and others
will be right in the thick of things, on land or at sea, for good or for ill.
Enjoy!
-J. Schettler
Part
I
Fire
With Fire
“Be stirring as the time; be fire with
fire;
Threaten the
threatener
and outface the brow
Of bragging horror.”
―
William
Shakespeare:
King John
Chapter 1
Sergeant
Hobson stood there in the darkness as the
light from his Ronson wavered. He had been following the Barbary ape, feeling
his way in the dark and expecting to catch it just round the next bend in the
labyrinth of Saint Michael’s Cave beneath the Rock. This tunnel led south, down
the last of the rocky spine of Gibraltar until it ended somewhere beneath
Windmill Hill. It went on for just another few hundred yards, and he could hear
the chatter of the Macaque up ahead, but it was very dark. Then he came up
short, surprised to reach an impasse in a great boulder that blocked his way.
He
knew this rock, as it marked the end of the passage but his Macaque was nowhere
to be seen. He held up his lighter, scanning the strange twisted shapes of the
rocks. He remembered the old legend that said there was a hidden tunnel that
went all the way under the straits to Spanish Morocco, though he knew that was
folly. Then he keened up his senses, looking about when he heard the echo of
his quarry resounding, hollow and very distant.
“Now
where have you gotten to?” he said, hearing only the echo of his own voice.
There was no sign of the beast.
The
Barbary ape was gone, but Hobson wasn’t about to let the creature off that
easily. “If you’ve gone off that way, why it means there may be another passage
down here the engineers have yet to find. It that is so…” He thought about it,
wondering what he should do. Then his mind settled on the only course he could
take. I’d best find someone who can do something about it, he thought. I’d best
get to a Lieutenant, or better yet, a Colonel. We need to get Artisan Engineers
down here to see where that bloody ape has gone.
What
good would that do, he thought? Suppose there is another passage down there, or
a whole bloody network of caves and caverns. Might they go all the way to
Spanish Morocco as the legend has it? And what if they did? There’s bloody
Germans there by now as well. No way out for us any way you look at it… but
then an idea came to him, and he raised an eyebrow. He had been one of the very
few men on the Rock let in an a little secret, a special cave that had been dug
high up on the Rock in a hidden chamber. It was called the “Stay Behind Cave,”
and he knew about it because he was in the detail that moved the rock out when
the engineers finished the work. Six men had volunteered to enter the chamber,
where a year’s worth of supplies, along with a 10,000 gallon cistern of water,
had been stored to sustain their lives after they were sealed inside in the
event the Rock was ever taken by hostile forces. Two were physicians. Others
worked for British intelligence.
Cleverly
positioned high up with two small observation slits, the team could observe
both the Bay of Algeciras and the Straits of Gibraltar. They had rigged up a
stationary bicycle that could be pedaled to generate electricity for a radio
set, and the mission was to observe and report on enemy activity. It was to be
called “Operation Tracer,” the last trace of British occupation of the Rock,
and Sergeant Hobson had little doubt that the men were already there, sealed
away for their long voluntary entombment.
What if
we could hide some of the lads down here, he thought? How many? There was no
way to know until he got hold of the engineers and convinced someone to have a
look. But there was one thing he did know. That Barbary ape was gone, without
the slightest trace, and he knew enough about those wily creatures to realize
they would not go anywhere unless there was a good chance of surviving. No. The
little bugger knows something more about this place than we do, he realized.
And I’m
bloody well going to find out where he’s gone.
* * *
The
loss of Gibraltar had
been a severe blow to British morale. Even though Liddell was still holding out
in St Michael’s cave, there was already fighting for the upper galleries as the
Germans sought to gain entry. It would be a long terrible siege. The German
mountain troops would have to blast their way in, moving from one narrow
passage to the next, around stony corners that led to chambers where the
British could set off mines, booby traps, or simply lay in wait with a couple good
Vickers machine gun teams. It would be a long and costly assault to pry the
last of the British troops from their haunts, and the Germans were in a
quandary as to how to proceed. Word from Berlin was adamant—get the job done—so
the
Oberleutnants
and other senior officers
gathered to discuss their options.
It was soon determined that, to
fight their way in, they could expect to sustain hundreds of casualties, if not
thousands. That was a loss that was unacceptable, especially considering that
these were elite forces. It would be foolish to expend them in a bitter battle
for the caves and tunnels. Could they simply wait the British out, starve them
into submission?
“That would be fruitless,” said
Kübler in the final staff meeting to decide the issue. “They most likely have
enough water and supplies for hold out for months, if not longer. We discussed
this with
Halder
before the attack. A long siege is
out of the question. Each week we allow to pass without a swift victory here
will bolster the British morale at home. Their Mister Churchill will seize upon
it as a rallying point. They have already stopped Goering and his Luftwaffe, or
at least that is what I now hear. The squadrons are being re-deployed to the
Mediterranean, and the Führer now considers this to be a primary war zone. If
we stumble here, or delay, we will not be easily forgiven.”
“You heard what I have proposed,”
said Colonel
Lahousen
. He was Chief of the Sabotage
Branch of the Abwehr, a man tasked with handling special missions that required
unusual tactics. It was he who had put forward the need for the Brandenburgers
in this attack, an element that ended up proving very useful in the initial
stages of the operation. Now he had another idea that might do the job, not
more troops—gasoline. It could be hauled up in Jerry cans and simply poured
into the upper galleries where the German mountain troops had already gained
entry. Like any liquid, it would find its way through any crevice or crack, and
migrate down into the lower galleries. Then all it would take is a match to
finish the job.
It was a macabre and horrific
plan, and would make for a terrible death to any man trapped inside those
passageways. The British had food and water to hold out for months, but a
gasoline fire would consume the oxygen itself. Those that weren’t asphyxiated
would suffocate if they tried to resist further. Yet in spite of the sinister
promise of success, many of the senior German officers were appalled by the
plan.
The war would end in merciless
nuclear fire. Millions would die before it was over and, on some nights, as
many as 100,000 would be consumed in a single horrific holocaust of chaos and
flame, entire cities burned away by deliberate fire bombing at places like
Tokyo, Dresden and others. Yet now, in late 1940, there was still some
semblance of civility and humanity alive in the way the war was being fought.
The unconditional, unrestricted mindset of war had not yet set in, and so the
German officers decided to give the British one last chance to make an honorable
surrender.