Kirov Saga: Altered States (Kirov Series) (12 page)

― Victor Hugo

Chapter 10

21 June 1919 ~ Scapa Flow

21 Years earlier,
another ship named
Hindenburg
rode at anchor in Scapa Flow, one of seven capital ships tethered off between Cava and Risa Islands. The whole of the German High Seas Fleet was there, safely imprisoned under the watchful eyes of the Royal Navy. The ships had been taken as ransom in exchange for the lifting of the allied naval blockade of Germany after the Great War. Britain wanted to be sure that they would never again pose a threat to the North Sea or any other waters sailed by the Royal Navy. It was a demeaning and humiliating interment for what had once been a proud battle fleet.

Elsewhere in the Flow, all the lighter cruisers and destroyers were also ignominiously moored in long grim lines. Germany had been defanged insofar as her ambitions as a naval power were concerned. Her ships were still manned by skeleton crews, but otherwise they were no more than hostages, bereft of ammunition and fuel, and each day that passed further emasculated the Kaiser’s once proud navy.

Hindenburg
was a latecomer to that fleet, ordered in 1912, laid down a year later and finally commissioned in May of 1917. She had seen little action in the Great War. A battlecruiser by design, she was part of Scouting Group I in a few indecisive sorties, but all the major fighting at sea had already been concluded by the time she began her brief service career. Her last hope of glory at sea, and perhaps a fitting death, had been the plan by Admiral Scheer to sally out and confront the British Fleet one last time, inflicting as much damage as possible so as to push the scales of the post war negotiations more in Germany’s favor.
Hindenburg
was to have boldly sailed upon the Thames estuary to challenge anything she found there, but when a mutiny began at Wilhelmshaven, and mass desertions began, the planned “death ride” of the High seas fleet was aborted.

Now, on that quiet day in June of 1919, a light mist hung over the nearby islands, and the long days light had painted the calm sea a pale shade of green. Gulls wafted aimlessly over the tall masts and superstructures of the big grey ships, but there came a sudden stirring, and a flight of startled birds launched themselves from
Hindenburg’s
main mast and fluttered away. Off in the distance, the battleship
Emden
was the first ship to settle low at the stern as water began flooding her interior compartments. Unbeknownst to the British, the Germans had conspired to scuttle the whole fleet, right under their noses. One by one the ships settled deeper in the water, some keeling over, creaking and rattling as the cold ocean rushed in to their bellies, others seeming to dive like U-boats, slowly submerging into the green waters of the Flow.

Hindenburg
was the last to suffer this shameful fate, a ship come of age too late to fight for her nation, and now lost to the hungry sea, as the whole of the High Seas Fleet died that day. All the fire and smoke and ire of Dogger Bank and Jutland died with them. Never again would their iron bows plow the heavy seas, or their turrets turn and range on distant enemy dreadnoughts.

Years later, a curious man named Cox would invest the whole of his personal fortune to purchase the ships from the British Admiralty and raise them for salvage. To the Germans it seemed an unseemly and distasteful enterprise, and a desecration.

The old battlecruiser
Hindenburg
was dragged from her grave by using a 40,000 ton floating dock, also surrendered by Germany after the war. Her tall mast and stacks soon reappeared, and the sallow grey of her a barnacle infested superstructure rose up out of the Flow. Yet it was not a resurrection, just the final throes of her death that now awaited. Eventually the whole of the ship, and many others, were raised and dragged off for scrapping at Rosythe, with some of the steel even resold to the Royal Navy again for use in their own building programs. It was a last bitter and ironic twist of fate for the once proud German High Seas Fleet.

* * *

Long years
passed before the name
Hindenburg
was again on the lips of men eager for the sea. Admiral Raeder had been diligent and resourceful in his charge. He had fought stubbornly to secure the necessary materials and particularly the steel required to rebuild the new
Reichsmarine
. In doing so he had often jousted with Goering, commander of the Luftwaffe, who had equal designs on building the air force for the war that was soon to come.

Raeder’s greatest fears had been realized when Germany invaded Poland just a few years after his fateful meeting with Hitler. He had asked for six years, but the work on many of the ships he had promised was far more advanced than he let on in that January session of 1936. The first two ships worthy of the name battleship had already been completed by late 1940.
Bismarck
and
Tirpitz
were fitted out and had finished sea trials that very year. He had worked tirelessly to make sure they would both be commissioned together, sailed together at trials, and be ready for joint action as a formidable heavy unit, the first real menace ready for action at sea in the war that was slowly heating up to the low boil.

Poland had fallen in 30 days in September of 1939. Then came the long “phony war,” a blessed interval of five to seven months until May of 1940 when the German Army again surged across their borders in an operation much like that of the old Von Schlieffen Plan from the Great War. This time there were no trenches, and barbed wire, nor the nightmare pounding of artillery and gas. This time it was lightning quick advances by Guderian’s armor, a real
Blitzkrieg
that had shocked and defeated the Anglo French and allied forces with equal ease.

France was overrun as easily as Poland, and soon the German army was securing vital ports on the coast of the Atlantic. Raeder was eager to put them to good use! Up until that time, the war at sea had been nothing more than intermittent raiding sorties by the impudent Deutschland Class “Pocket Battleships,” three in all, the
Deutschland, Graff Spee,
and
Admiral Scheer
. Joining the fleet in 1936, they were not really worthy of the name battleship, being nothing more than well armed heavy cruisers. They displaced only 16,000 tons and carried only six 11-inch guns, heavier in caliber than most other heavy cruisers, but far less firepower and armor than any real battleship in the Royal Navy.

That said, they had nonetheless managed to raise hell in the Atlantic, though
Graff Spee
had been finally holed up in an Argentinean port and scuttled when cornered by a squadron of British cruisers. She had given a good account of herself, using both guns and guile to confound the enemy while she steamed over 30,000 miles, sinking one merchant ship after another. At one point she had even erected a false turret and second wooden smoke stack to alter her profile and fool pursuing vessels. She clawed the enemy in battle, damaging several British cruisers, herding the captured sea masters and captains of the merchantmen she sunk into her storerooms, but could not escape unscathed, finally putting in to Montevideo for repairs. Unable to complete them in a timely manner, she sailed out to scuttle herself instead when faced with a superior battle fleet.

The sortie had thrilled the German people, and the professional officers of the newly named
Kreigsmarine
, but the ship’s fate being scuttled in the face of the enemy had a sour, hollow ring. The purgatory of Scapa Flow, and the demise of the High Seas Fleet there, were still bitter memories. The incident was a reflection of that event, as well as a harbinger of what might come. The picture painted of German fighting ships being scuttled under the eyes of their British masters rankled, and Raeder gave orders that no ship of the German Navy would ever again be scuttled until she had fought to the last gun. Then he continued forging those guns with great fervor, intent on filling out as many of the ships he had promised the Fuehrer as possible, and building a fleet that could be of some real use in the war.

For now however he did not put his real battleships in the shop window, unwilling to commit his heavier vessels to any significant action at sea. Instead he contented himself with jabbing raids by these lighter pocket battleships in early 1940, keeping the Royal Navy off balance as much as possible, testing their reactions and tactics at sea.

Admiral Sheer
, had an equally brilliant sortie, lancing deep into the Atlantic and even into the Indian Ocean, and sinking well over 115,000 tons of enemy shipping, the best record of any ship to date. Then he had put his newer battlecruisers to the test with mixed results. The made a credible showing in the Norwegian Sea, but had no real laurels to claim. On one occasion they had brushed up against HMS
Renown
, and broke off without much of a fight. That said,
Scharnhorst
and
Gneisenau
had effectively supported Germany’s occupation of Norway, which provided valuable ports on the Norwegian Sea and better access to the Atlantic.

As a young staff officer to the famous Admiral Hipper, Raeder had been exposed to Hipper’s novel plans for dramatic commerce warfare in the Atlantic involving major elements of the German fleet. We cannot stand toe to toe with the Royal Navy, thought Raeder. No, we will have to dance and jab, yet we can still punch hard now that
Bismarck
and
Tirpitz
are ready. It might be better to wait for
Hindenburg
as well, but we have the power to act now if we choose…If I choose.

He was planning a new operation, much bigger than anything that came before. Admiral Lütjens was eager to get sea. He could send him out with
Scharnhorst
and
Gneisenau
, or he could send Hoffmann and give Lütjens something even bigger. If Hoffmann could punch through the British screen near Iceland, and get into the Atlantic to threaten the convoys, it would certainly draw off Royal Navy assets. He would give him orders to sink what he could, and then take his raiders to the French Port of Brest if the army was wise enough to quickly seize the dockyards there. Would the port be ready and waiting to harbor the tired German raiders when they came running home from the hotly contested campaigns in the Atlantic?

I can set those two two panthers on the prowl, he thought, and then surprise the British with another pair of tigers.
Bismarck
and
Tirpitz
were fueling and taking on ammunition for their first joint sortie into the fray. The British will not expect much for the rest of this year, which is why we will surprise them. Soon they will be obsessed with trying to neutralize the French Fleet! They will be greedy to get their hands on those ships, and keep them from our grasp. Well, I do not need the French fleet. I could not provision the ships, nor could I fuel them, and I certainly would not give them to the Italians! Perhaps we might pick the carcass and find a few ships we can put to use. For the moment, however, the French provide a nice additional distraction for the British.

Scharnhorst
and
Gneisenau
are out harassing the British evacuation from Norway. I will send those panthers out again, only this time for a run to the Atlantic. With any luck the tigers will find them at sea when they break out, and then let the British try to deal with four raiders of considerable power in the Atlantic at one time.

Yet the best was still ahead, he thought. The real dreadnaughts of the fleet were almost ready to take their place on the board. The battlecruisers were merely knights, posted now to key squares in the opening of the chess game he was playing.
Bismarck
and
Tirpitz
were strong rooks finally ready to strike along an open file into the Atlantic, but soon the queen would make her appearance. The first ship in the long promised H class had already been fitted out and was running in secret night action trials in the Baltic.

Rumors of this fearsome vessel had undoubtedly reached the British Admiralty. They had tried, unsuccessfully, to get good aerial photographs of her. Raeder smiled to think that they would soon have more than enough time to study her powerful lines and awesome guns. The
Hindenburg
had been raised up yet again, not the old battlecruiser whose bones were picked over by a profit seeking British entrepreneur. No, this was an entirely new ship, over two hundred feet longer and twice as heavy as her old WWI namesake.

He still remembered the smile in Hitler’s eyes when he attended he launching ceremony. She was an awesome ship when finally completed, measuring over 900 feet in length, with a beam of 128 feet making her the widest ship in that category and providing her with exceptional stability at sea. Raeder’s fighting falcon, Admiral Fuchs had finally won Hitler’s grudging approval for the installation of 16 inch gun turrets, four in all, and then only by demonstrating that anything bigger would delay the construction of the ship for at least two more years.
Hindenburg’s
guns could be the equal of anything in the Royal Navy, today, he argued, or they could wait another few years to field something stronger.

Raeder was pleased with the outcome, believing anything larger than the massive 16 inch batteries was nothing more than a wasteful addition of excess weight. In his last meeting with Hitler on the matter, the Admiral had seconded Fuchs’ argument, and reminded Hitler that he should be mindful of the fact that these were
German
16 inch guns, not the pop guns the British were putting on their newest ships, the 14 inch guns of the KGV class battleships.

And better yet, the ship was actually completed! She was ready to put to sea in a matter of days to begin her trials in the Baltic, and she would not be alone. A second massive ship in the H class was already well advanced on the shipyard building program, the
Oldenburg
. She would not be ready for some months yet, as the foundries were still spinning out her massive 16 inch gun barrels, but she would have more than enough company when she finally did join the fleet, and
Hindenburg
would not be alone when she sailed. I will soon have two more lions in waiting, he thought.