Kirov Saga: Darkest Hour: Altered States - Volume II (Kirov Series) (11 page)

Overmatched in the deadly proving
ground of the war, airship technology was once on the verge of dying out when
the airplane was seen to be a much less costly and effective means of
controlling the skies. The duels of bi-winged canvas fighters fluttering around
the big airships like flies stinging the back of a rhino were legendary in the
first great war. The Germans had found out the hard way over England when their
hydrogen inflated zeppelins were ravaged by agile fighters with incendiary
rounds. Too many had plummeted from the sky as flaming wrecks, prompting
Germany to all but abandon its zeppelin fleet.

The Russian states had stubbornly
held on to their fleets, finding them too useful on the vast open heartland as
their lifting power saw them capable of transporting a full battalion of armed
troops as an air carrier.

The planes were still a threat,
but the greatest danger to an airship in the new war would come from the long
range anti-aircraft guns that were getting bigger and more effective every
year.

Non flammable helium was adopted
as the key alternative lifting gas. After the
Hindenburg
disaster of
1937, not a single airship now dared to use the more efficient hydrogen.
Instead, rigid airship frames were made lighter and stronger with “Duralumin,”
an alloy of aluminum with exceptional durability, and its composition and heat
treatment were a wartime secret. But the real advance that had extended the
life of the airship was the discovery of “Vulcan,” a self-sealing gelatinized
latex rubber lining that was used in the shell and all gas bags. If penetrated
by machinegun fire from enemy aircraft, it could reseal within seconds, and the
bullets would simply end up going right through the gas bags or clattering
against the Duralumin frames and ending up at the bottom of the big interior
air cells, which had special openings where the air engineers would remove the
rounds and count them as trophies.

Abakan
had already
reclaimed over a thousand rounds on its many combat missions over the years, a
veteran of the continuing infighting during the long Russian civil war, and
more recently against the ever more aggressive Japanese. Machinegun fire was
still a threat to the gondolas, which could not be too heavily armored, and had
too many view ports to provide a safe environment. But here the AA defense of
the zeppelin often saw eight or ten machine guns, and even heavier 20mm to 30mm
caliber weapons that made any approach by a fighter plane a very hazardous
attack.

The only problem was the scarcity
of helium, until vast discoveries were made near Irkutsk in Siberia that
provided an ample supply. Helium production increased dramatically after hydrogen
was proved too dangerous during the war. In Russia, the breakaway Orenburg
Federation had production centered on the fields around Kashagan in the Caspian
Basin, and that state still maintained the largest fleet of airships in the
world. In Siberia, gas and condensate fields unique for their massive reserves were
located in the Irkutsk Region at Kovykta and Chayanda, and provided enough
helium to keep a smaller fleet active.

With eight big ships, the
Siberian fleet was only a third the size of the Orenburg air fleet, which was
the largest in the world with 24 active ships. Yet the Siberian zeppelins served
well in the vast, tractless steppes, where it was simply impossible to travel
by any other means. The Trans Siberian rail was still operating, but it had
fallen into disrepair east of Omsk, torn up by ceaseless war and the pillaging
of Cossacks, Tartars and others. The trains were often seen as good prizes for
roving war parties, who would ride in on fast moving cavalry units and board
the train cars at the gallop. Ambushes were common, rail blocks always a problem,
so traveling by airship avoided all that, and it was faster than the train as
well.

Other powers still maintained a
few airships in service. The British Farman Aerodrome and the firm of Armstrong-Whitworth,
had produced Beardmore models that became known as “Pulham’s Pigs” when they
operated out of Royal Navy Air Field Pulham. The British “Pigs on the wing”
became the backbone of the Imperial Airship Fleet for a time, but by 1940 only
three were still used by the Royal Navy.

There were five German Junkers
LuftSchiffs
and two built by Parseval Engineering in Friedrichschafen. Italy deployed two
Forianini airships and France had one Freres airship still assigned to the Lafayette
Escadrille Aerodrome. Even the Americans got in on the game with the deployment
of several airship carriers that could launch and recover up to five bi-winged aircraft
in flight by means of a specially designed trapeze docking system. With
substantial helium resources of its own, the U.S. still kept a modest airship
fleet active with designs from Wellman and Goodyear, and the Japanese still
used floating reconnaissance balloons and a few airships designed by Yamada and
Fujikura.

The
Abakan
was taking off
on a very special mission that morning, up from its mooring facility on the Ob
river near Novosibirsk and heading west with a most important passenger. Troops
of the 18th Siberian Rifles were aboard to provide security, and the airship would
link up with two brother ships within the hour to form an air flotilla of three
as it made the long 750 kilometer journey west to Omsk.

“Inflation?” Air Commandant
Bogrov was carefully monitoring his status from the main gondola bridge as the
ship rose into the mackerel sky.

“95 percent, sir, and all engines
nominal.”

A helium airship would never take
off with its gas bags fully inflated. For longer journeys they would want to
fly at high elevation and therefore take off at only 90% inflation. Helium expanded
as the airship rose to seek out the fast moving jet streams above. If they
began with 100% inflation their climb would be much easier, but they would
later have to slowly vent helium to prevent the gas bags from overfilling with
expansion, and helium was too valuable to waste.

So instead they took off at 90%
inflation, or 95% on a short run like this where they would not be gaining much
altitude. They would simply drop ballast to facilitate the climb, and then
special air condensers on top of the ship could distill water from the
atmosphere to take on additional ballast. They could even harvest rain in
stormy weather, braving the certain threat of lightning to get open the rain
catches to collect all the fresh water needed.

Up in a jet stream the airships
could make remarkable speed, some achieving 160KPH with favorable prevailing
winds along their intended heading. On their own power using four powerful ram
air turbines, they could make over 70 knots, or 135KPH at lower altitudes, much
slower than any plane, but twice the speed of even the fastest ocean going
ships, which made the airship a very useful scouting vessel in a naval
reconnaissance role. It’s endurance could outlast most any other aircraft of
its day, but one drawback was that it was highly visible in the sky, and also
easily detected with the early development of radar.

Air Commandant Bogrov was soon
satisfied that all was well, and he turned to the Admiral seated at the
plotting table behind him on the bridge.

“
Abakan
is aloft, sir, and
I make it a little under an hour before we rendezvous with
Angara
and
Talmenka
.”

“Very well, Mister Bogrov. In
spite of the circumstances I will want all aeroguns manned and ready at all
times.”

“We will remain at full action
stations throughout the journey, sir. All systems manned.”

More than a means of conveyance,
Abakan
was also a fighting ship, with one turret mounting a single 105mm recoilless
rifle on the forward gun gondola, three more 76mm beneath the long main gondola
and another two on the aft gondola. Normal artillery using heavy hydraulic gun
recoil carriages were simply too cumbersome, and the recoil of such weapons
would have thrown the ship off its axis, causing violent swings in the gondolas
and jarring vibrations that made it completely impractical to use them.

The solution was the Kurchevski ‘Dynamic
Reaction Cannon,’ (DRP), mounted in pods beneath the gondolas. The guns could
have their back flash vented safely into the open air by means of a simple
manifold that diverted the stream downward beneath the gun pod, and the pod
itself could rotate a full 360 degrees. The weapons also offered stability and
light weight, yet sacrificed range to do so. Being largely designed for ground
bombardment, they could still engage other zeppelins, but with maximum ranges
between 4000 and 6000 meters. Another drawback was that the guns could not
elevate well with the gondolas above them and the massive bulk of the airship.
So an airship duel was always a struggle to gain superior elevation on the enemy
ship where you could blast the big target below while remaining safe from all
but small caliber return fire. To correct this firing arc defect, one or more
76mm recoilless rifles were positioned right atop the airship, on a reinforced
platform anchored to the central Duralumin frame.

 Above the gondola structures,
the interior of the rigid Duralumin airframe could also be accessed from the
long “keelway” that allowed the crew to move from the nose of the ship to its
tail. Ladders up allowed crews to man the 20mm cannons on the top of the ship,
one fore and one aft, and a battery of four machine guns. There were eight more
12.7mm machine guns positioned along the sides of the main the airframe in
small dimples, and accessible by ladders positioned outside the main gas bag
sectors.

The ship could also deploy bombs
for ground attack, fledgling Katyusha style rockets arrayed in light weight
aluminum racks, and a new longer range rocket assisted ‘glide bomb’ for
standoff ground attacks. Much of this rocket technology had come from the
Orenburg Federation, which seemed to be one of the leaders in that field,
spurred on by Volkov. Some alarming leaps had been made in rocket technology
there, and ‘the Prophet’ insisted it would one day become the preeminent military
weaponry.

Even with all these arms mounted,
the airship was capable of lifting another 40,000 pounds of arms, men or
equipment. The rear cargo gondola could even carry two small armored cars that
could be lowered by an engine driven crane and pulley system.

“I trust the men are ready with
the appropriate honor guard?” The Admiral was justifiably touchy, for this day
would see a meeting that may decide the fate of all Russia east of the Volga
for decades to come. It was a high level diplomatic mission, arranged during a
tensely negotiated truce between the Free Siberian State and Orenburg
Federation. The two nation-states had been warring along a ragged border that
seemed to change daily with one side or another making claims and incursions.

Swift raids by the Siberian
Tartar cavalry would seize hamlets and villages, plunder them for supplies and
food, and then withdraw. This would lead to the deployment of regular army
units of the Grey Legion of Orenburg, and the simmering conflict eventually
erupted to a major action at Omsk the previous winter. The legion pushed
towards the city, once the westernmost major settlement in Free Siberia, and
they crossed the Irtysh river there, occupying the entire city and driving
another forty miles along the rail line through Kornilovka to Kalachinsk.

More motorized than the Siberian
forces, the spring thaw of 1940 had seen the legion bog down in the marshy
steppe country beyond Kalachinsk, but there were plans for a renewed offensive.
Old Man Kolchak and his Lieutenants were well aware that Orenburg seemed intent
on pushing east.

“What are the prospects for
peace, Admiral?” said the Air Commandant.

“That remains to be seen, Bogrov.
The Grey Legion has its hands full on the Volga, yes? Their campaign against
Omsk last winter has emboldened them, and perhaps they think they will have
continued success against us—but not if I can help it.”

“They will outnumber us, sir,
both on the ground and up here as well. Were flying west with more than a third
of our entire air fleet. Don’t be surprised if they have five or six airships
over Omsk at this moment, and planes on the ground at the ready, sir.”

“We have cards to play, Bogrov.
The battalion we carry here is but one of the entire 18th Siberian Rifle
Division. Kolchak has moved the whole division west as a measure of our
resolve. The Volga Tartars have been restless, and many will come to our side
if this conflict continues. Volkov knows this, which is perhaps the only reason
he agreed to this meeting. Together with our Siberian Tartars, we could put
half a million horsemen in the field and drive a wedge through Orenburg all the
way to the Urals. He will do anything he can to prevent that, so it does not
matter how many airships he has at the moment. We have resources Orenburg needs,
and a strong position for negotiations.”

“Will we get Omsk back sir?”

“I will insist on it. It is
either that, or I will tell Volkov that he will have to garrison the river as
far south as Oskemen.”

“What about the Japanese, sir?
They already have troops in Mongolia. If they push further west Volkov will
have them on his eastern border too.”

“The Japanese are of no concern
for the moment. They have already taken what they want from us, and will see
little value in getting embroiled in a war in the heartland of Asia.”

The Admiral was studying his map
even as he spoke, gesturing with a pencil. “No. Mark my words. Japan will soon
direct its main war effort to the Pacific. They will want the Philippines,
Indochina, Malaysia, the Dutch East Indies for their oil and rubber. They may
even look to war on Australia.”

“But that will mean war with the
British and Americans at once, sir. Surely they could never hope to win in such
a conflict.”