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The War was going well for the Allies. In the Pacific, the Imperial Japanese Navy was being rolled back by the ceaseless war of attrition they had been forced to fight with the newly resurgent US Pacific Fleet. In Europe, The plans for the invasion of Italy were in full swing, and The Eighth Airforce was blasting the German industrial base by day, and the RAF bomber command, their cities by night.
At sea the war was still in the balance however, The Kreigsmarine, backed up by Doenitz`s U-boats was wreaking havoc?No, thought Admiral Ernst King, they were fighting for their lives. And fighting hard. In the Last month, U-boat sinkings were up 15 percent on the previous month. And not only the submarines were out. Two weeks earlier, The Pocket Battleships Lutzow and Scheer had caught a Murmansk bound convoy and slaughtered them, and their escort. Fifteen ships and 3560 sailors?King shook his head. Disaster.
The Admiral turned the corner and walked into the Oval Office. As usual, the President was sitting by the fireplace.
"Ernie" The President greeted the Admiral cordially. "Mr. President," King replied. The President gestured the admiral to the seat next to him, signaling the valet to pour the Admiral a drink. King took the seat, and accepted the whiskey.
"How's the Navy?" Roosevelt asked. "Things are going well" King admitted, "construction is up, especially in carriers." The president nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette. "The Iowas?"
"Iowa is at Norfolk. We originally wanted to send her to Guadalcanal, but now we want her to escort Montana on her first trip to Scapa." King replied. At the mention Of the Montana, the Presidents Eyes lit up. " She's ready then?" he asked eagerly. King nodded the affirmative. "Montana is on her way to New York to link up with Logies task force. Iowa will join them on Friday, and they leave on April fools day." Roosevelt smiled and lifted his glass. " To the largest Battleship ever built, Ernst. May she live forever!" King lifted his glass in acknowledgement of the toast. " Now Ernst," Roosevelt continued. "Tell me about this Logie fellow, is he worth the heat I've been taking over a Negro Admiral?"
"Respect is not gained by presidential order. It is earned, and Vice Admiral Freedel Logie has earned the respect of his Task Force. Who wouldn't respect him after seeing the damage done to Colorado after her duel with Nagato. Especially the 16-inch shell hole in the bridge, inches from where he'd stood. He is one of a few admirals to have stood on the bridge of a battleship and guided her to victory over one of her own kind, not once, not twice, but three times.
Kongo, Haruna and Mutsu. All three gunned down in the confined waters of Iron Bottomed sound at 10,344 yards range. That, more than any thing else," reflected Capt. Lewis Gilmore "is why I, no we, all of us in Task force 65 will follow our black lion into the very mouth of hell."
The target of Gilmore`s speech fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. A senator from Alabama, he?d come aboard the Colorado for a tour, and had taken the opportunity to express his displeasure at the 'good Christian boys' on the Colorado being subjected to the presidents mad idea of a nigger in command! Why, everybody knew the niggers were only good for farm work!
Gilmore stopped him cold with a look. Then, In clear, precise terms, he began to tell the Senator what he thought of him. That took Five minutes.
"Are we clear, Senator?" Gilmore asked. The senator rose, and without a word left the stateroom.
Gilmore sighed and sagged back in his seat. Just as well the Admiral was not aboard. He might have thrown the sonofabitch over board.
It was 5:00 when the last worker left the Ship. Lindermann watched them go, the Aryans to a waiting transport that would take them back to Kiel; the Jews to a fate he tried not to think of. That was not his responsibility. This ship was.
All 1000 feet of her was ready. From up on the bridge he could feel the power of the massive MAN diesels throbbing through the hull. The thing that worried him was that his command was a collection of untested parts, thrown together and expected to work. Her Radar Set was Experimental, so were her optics, her electrical system, her engines, her guns?
Her Guns.
Bismarck had been fitted with eight 15-inch guns. They'd proven lethal to the Hood on that proud day back in forty-one. This ship was armed with eight guns also. But only six of them were conventional 16.54 Krupp rifles. The others were?
"Ready to sail, Herr admiral?" a voice interrupted Lindermann`s thoughts. It was one of the many former destroyermen, and sailors from U-boats, Merchant Raiders, and all other branches of the German naval forces, drafted to crew the Hindenburg on her maiden voyage.
"Bring the Captain to command, and set to put to Sea" Lindermann ordered, gratified at how swiftly the man? no boy responded to his order. Willi had them trained well.
Lindermann let his mind drift to his family, still in Denmark. At least there they were safe; relatively, from the RAF bombing raids. He smiled slightly. Enrich was five now, and Lindermann remembered with pride and longing his sons strong-arms around his neck. Enrich would be a fine man some day. If he had a country to grow up in.
"Herr Admiral" the greeting was called in a oily smooth voice that Lindermann knew and detested. It belonged to Colonel Kurt Schroner; the SS 'Advisor' Himmler had forced on him. Schroner had no real job; he was just a watcher. A watcher with the right to shoot anyone he suspected of treasonable sentiment. Lindermann seethed as he turned.
"Herr Colonel" He answered; his voices as cold as the arctic breeze outside the bridge. "I thought that we agreed that you were not to be on the bridge during combat operations?" Schroner shrugged. "Come now Admiral" He waved a hand dismissively, "we are not even underway" Lindermann fought back his temper with a effort. "Colonel", he said softly. "Once the keel of my ship..." "The Furher`s ship" Schroner interrupted "GERMANYS SHIP!" Lindermann bellowed, finally losing his temper, "Germanys Ship!!" Schroner, taken aback by the Admirals rage swallowed convulsively. Lindermann brought himself under control with a visible effort and continued more calmly. " Herr Colonel, Get off my bridge. Go to Control and meddle there." He turned his back on the SS Colonel. He could not afford to ignore the SS, but he could ignore those below the rank of General.
Captain Hornsech joined him on the bridge five minutes later. He was limping slightly, and looked feverish, but Lindermann decided to ignore that for the moment. "Report Willi" he said, gesturing with his good arm for the Captain to take a seat. Hornsech complied, shivering slightly even in the heated bridge. "Engineering is up to speed; Radar is OK, Gunnery is ready, Turrets Anton, Caesar and Dora are ready, but there still are problems with Bruno." Lindermann shook his head in despair. Bruno Turret held two Krupp 31.5-inch supercannons. Firing a shell with the phenomenal weight of 15,653 lb`s over a maximum of 41,560 yards, Its emplacement aboard the Hindenburg had been a direct order from Hitler himself. Lindermann hated them. They unbalanced the ship, they had a limited ammunition supply, and worse yet, they were out ranged by the six 16.54`s in the other three turrets. Waste. What a waste. "Will they be operational soon?"
"Col. Schmidt assures me that they will be ready inside 5 hours" Hornsech replied.
"Very well," Lindermann said. "Take us to sea, Captain."
It was quite a sight. The first warship out was the Destroyer Edmonds. The Destroyer Patrick followed her. The two Fletcher Class Ships took up station a mile out of the port, and waited.
Next out was the Heavy cruiser Salt Lake City, and then the brand new 45,000-ton battleship Iowa, Flagship of TF-14, under Capt. John. L. McCrea. Five minutes later, the Destroyers Mercer and Sterett joined them formatting to port. Cruisers San Francisco and Portland, battlescared veterans of the Guadalcanal campaign, and then to the tumultuous applause of the onlookers on the quay, the 'Black Stallion' USS Colorado moved out of the harbor. A good observer could make out the three red silhouettes on both sides of here bridge, denoting three ship kills. The only American Battleship to sink three enemies, in open combat.
But now all eyes were on the next four ships to come out. Leading was the Cruiser Wichita, flanked by her twin destroyers Hilden and Semmes; trailing was the largest Battleship in the US Navy. The USS Montana. 73,500 tons deadweight, 925ft in length. 12 16 inch guns. Commanded by Vice Admiral Curtis Halloran.
Admiral Logie kept his eyes fixed on the Montana as she cruised majestically out of the harbor. She was so big, yet she moved with a grace that was palpable. Power in motion.
"She's a Big one." The crusty voice of Chief Petty officer Bellar, the Colorado`s helmsman, stated quietly. Logie nodded. Both he and Bellar had served on the Transport George Elliot, and the old petty officer was one of the few people who could see past the arrogant facade that the Admiral used to distance himself from the rest of the crew.
"Quite Big," Capt. Gilmore replied. "Makes the black Stallion look like a pony" Logie smiled at that.
"Well then, Lewis" he said loudly. "Let's show them how we can run"
Task Force 65 led off, running at 20kts. The only way they could maintain this speed was because of the complete re-engineering of the Colorado with the same GE Turbines used on the Iowa class. Now capable of 29 kts, Colorado ran like a young girl, not the mature woman she was. Task force 14, despite having the faster ships stayed back with Montana?s Task Force 01.
Their course would take them to Iceland in 18 hours.
