Kirov Saga: Armageddon (Kirov Series) (37 page)

Part XI

The
Devil’s Horn

“We are
each our own Devil, and we make this world our hell.”

―
Oscar Wilde

Chapter 31

On
the bridge of HMS
King Alfred
Captain Baker was studying
the silhouette of the distant ship through his glass, astounded by what he saw.
It was a monster, easily twice the size of his own ship, even bigger than the fleet’s
newest battleships. How could the Russians have built a ship like this?

“My God,” he whispered. “What would old Jackie Fisher say if he
could get a look at this.” He was referring to 1st Baron John “Jackie” Fisher,
the First Sea Lord and Admiral of the Fleet, the man who single-mindedly
spearheaded the effort to design and create the first new battleship with all
big guns as its primary battery, HMS
Dreadnaught
. That ship had spawned
a new arms race at sea when it launched in December of 1906 with 11 inch belt
armor and ten 12 inch Mark X naval guns in five turrets. It had more than twice
the firepower of most any other ship then afloat, rendering entire navies, even
proud battle lines like the American Great White Fleet, obsolete overnight.

Yet as he studied the Russian ship his amazement gave way to a
confused expression. “Have a look at that, Mister Tovey,” he said to his First
Lieutenant of the watch. “Do you see any main armament forward?”

Young John Tovey raised the Captain’s glass to his eye and
squinted at the dark ship ahead for some time. “Can’t see a thing, sir. Nothing
more than those secondary batteries winking at the Japanese, but they can’t be
anything more than six inchers, sir.”

“Indeed… Well then what is all the brouhaha concerning this ship?
It looks to be no more than three twin turrets from the fire I’ve observed. We
have sixteen Mark VIIs at hand and a pair of 9.2 inchers to throw in with them.
Size is one thing, but firepower quite another. I don’t see that this ship has
much to fight with, unless it’s hiding a row of casemate guns beneath its gunwales.”

“Look, sir. That old battleship in the lead is already burning
very badly.” He was pointing at Vice Admiral Kataoka’s
Chinyen
, now
wallowing as a burning wreck in the sea while the armored cruisers behind her
maneuvered to her port side, charging bravely on toward the Russian ship. They
had not seen the missile that struck her down, and attributed the damage to the
Russian naval gunnery.

“They may be few in number, sir, but those Russian guns appear to
be deadly accurate. Now that lead cruiser has just taken two hits amidships!”

They watched as the armored cruiser
Matsushima
was hit and set
afire, soon to be masked by thick black smoke licked by tongues of orange and
yellow flame.
Kirov’s
deck guns were firing on automatic, selecting
targets at will within the engagement range Karpov had ordered as he tussled
with Rodenko on the bridge. Before the
Starpom
intervened, Samsonov has
carried out that order, and the result was a methodical, computer controlled
gun duel that saw
Kirov
selecting targets and riddling them with 152mm
rounds in precise radar guided salvos. The Japanese cruisers were still too far
off to reply, and the lead ship,
Hashidate
pressed forward into the van,
still waiting for a chance to fire their main gun on the foredeck.

“Those small islands will force them to slow down, sir,” said
Tovey, handing the glass back to the Captain.

“That will give us a little time to get our ships up.” Baker
studied the situation. “Yes…If we keep on this heading we’ll cross their bow
when they get past that island. At maximum elevation we might announce
ourselves shortly.” The two Mark X 9.2 inch guns on the cruiser could elevate
15 degrees and achieve a range of just over 15,000 yards with a full charge.

“We would do little more than that, sir,” said Tovey, hoping he
was not out of line with the remark. Captain Baker gave him a brief glance, his
attention riveted on the enemy ship. “What in blazes is that whirling about on
her main mast?” He had spotted
Kirov’s
spinning Fregat radar panels,
seeing them catch the light of the fading sun as they turned.

Then they saw a wink of light from the shadow of the Russian ship
and Baker was experienced enough to know that his ships had been fired upon.
The first rounds fell just ahead of the cruiser, their white geysers splashing
up from the sea and soon awash in the ship’s bow wave as the water was plowed
up ahead of
King Alfred.

“That was close. Damn good shooting for an opening salvo. Go to
the helmsman, Mister Tovey, and have him come five points to port. I want to
have a look at this ship for another moment and I’ll be there shortly.”

“Aye, sir. Port five.” Tovey ran off into the armored conning
tower leaving the Captain and his XO there on the weather bridge, the  two men
pointing at the Russian ship and discussing it further.

Then
King Alfred
shuddered and they heard an explosion well
behind them. Captain Baker turned to have a look aft, seeing that his number
two funnel had been all but decapitated by a direct hit, jutting like a broken
tooth in the row of four stacks, and bleeding heavy black smoke. His executive
officer was pointing a stiff arm at the scene. The next round changed the whole
character of the engagement and plunged Lieutenant Tovey into the crucible of
war in a way he never imagined.

There was a bright flash and a deafening explosion.
King Alfred
had been struck again and the entire bridge trembled with the vibration of the
shock. Tovey was knocked from his feet, but unhurt. Yet, as he reached for a
guide rail and pulled himself up, he saw that most of the outer weather bridge
had been blown clean away, and with it both the Captain and his Executive Officer!

In an instant Tovey realized he was now First Officer of the watch
and in de-facto command of the ship! He saw men crawling on the deck, the
signalman struggling to his feet, a flagman hanging on a rail to the starboard
side. Then he ran to the nearest voice pipe and did what should have been done
long ago.

“Action stations!” he shouted. “Helm, port twenty!”

“Port twenty, sir.” The ensign’s hands were white on the wheel as
the ship turned.

“Signal all ships to follow!” Tovey had turned to point his bow at
the enemy ship, waiting until he saw the bow of
King Alfred
line up on
the shadow ahead. “Midships,” he shouted, “Steady as she goes and ahead full!”

“Steady on and ahead full!”

The bridge crew had recovered and leapt to their jobs with
remarkable pluck and efficiency. Some were not even aware that Captain Baker
was gone, but Tovey’s strident voice was enough to lash them into action. They
heard an order and they carried it out.

“Forward turret make ready to fire!” Tovey shouted that order down
the voice pipe now, even as he saw two more shells hiss into the sea and bring
the forward deck awash with their spray as the cruiser was straddled yet again.
Now he knew why Kataoka’s ships were burning off his port side. It wasn’t the
volume of fire that was doing the damage, but the infernal accuracy of the
guns. He knew his rangefinders were desperately peering through their eye
pieces, and could hear their voices calling out the numbers.

“Sixty cables!” called the Warrant Officer. That was just under
12,500 yards, a long shot for the single Mark X gun up front, but within its
range.

“Elevation twelve degrees!” came a voice. “Ready sir!”

“Fire!” Tovey wasted no time.
King Alfred
would announce
herself, as Captain Baker had put it. He looked for a pair of field glasses,
finding one scudding across the swaying deck and scooping it up to sight on the
enemy ship. There he saw the tall white spray of an explosion in the sea right
on the Russian ship’s bow as it emerged from the lee of a small island and near
the sheltered bay just south of the main island. It looked as though the ship
had drastically reduced speed, and it now seemed a massive, ponderous target in
the restricted waters.

We’ll rush in at high speed and get inside 10,000 yards, he
thought. Then I’ll remember what Captain Baker told me and we’ll turn hard to
port, presenting the concentrated firepower of the whole formation. But first
this mad dash, and hell in the teeth of those enemy guns. He could see that the
Russians had rippled their fire down his line, putting rounds on three more
ships behind him.
Kent
and
Bedford
seemed bothered but were
faring well, but
Monmouth
had a severe fire on her forward deck,
obviously taking direct hits there that put her main gun out of action.

Just a little longer, thought Tovey. Soon we turn and hit them
with everything we have. Then, to his amazement, he saw the sea erupt with
explosions near the Russian ship, the booming report of the detonations rolling
like thunder, and huge white gouts of sea spray in the waters on every side. It
was as if an entire division had put fire down on the ship, but he could not
see where the fire had come from. Yet every round missed! They were all arrayed
in a neat arc about the ship! Amazed, he steadied himself and counted off the
seconds, ready to give the order. It was now or never.

* * *

By
the time Tasarov heard it there was nothing they could do. They
had slowed to ten knots to navigate the narrow channel between the main Iki
Island and a group of three small islets. The hidden bay Karpov was seeking as
a sanctuary from
Kazan’s
wrath had once been the hiding place and
operations base of the famous Wokou pirates. It was said that a great demon had
set foot on the island once, using it as a stepping stone at a place now called
the Devil’s Footprint. Yet now the demon that cast its darkness over the island
was in the shape and form of a man on the bridge of
Kirov
, and the great
ship that loomed as his shadow.

 There was something in the waters ahead, as
Kirov
rounded
a small iselet and entered the sheltered bay beyond. It was adrift on the
rising seas, a hulking, unseen devil of another kind, an oval of metal packed
with an explosive charge. Five “Hertz Horns” jutted from the upper portion of
the sphere. Each contained a canister of acid, and when crushed by the hull of
an oncoming ship the container of acid would shatter and cause a battery to
energize and detonate the mine.

Inside the metal sphere of the mine was a densely packed charge of
nitrocellulose, called “guncotton” at the time. Mixing nitric acid with cotton
was discovered by chance by a Swiss chemist, who spilled the acid and then
hastily swabbed it up with a cotton apron, only to find the apron spontaneously
exploded after it had dried! Its explosive power would later serve as a solid
fuel for the famous Russian Katyusha rocket. This time it was in a Japanese
mine, and the bulbous end of
Kirov’s
Polinom “Horse Jaw” sonar beneath the
bow of the ship struck it just as Tasarov detected the mine field and realized
what was happening.

 The devil’s horn was broken, the acid burned, and the guncotton
exploded, all 56 kilograms, or a little over 120 pounds. It was a small mine compared
to modern standards where some might pack 3000 pounds of explosives, but it was
enough to wreck the sonar there, and cause a minor hull breach that soon saw
Kirov
shipping water at the bow. The mightiest ship in the world had just been struck
on the jaw by a lowly sea mine.

Yet a far more significant result was the shock to Tasarov’s
sensitive ears when the mine detonated. The noise cancelling suppressor on his
headphones kicked in to stop serious damage, but he had been given a severe
jolt, and his ears were ringing when he threw his headset on the console table.
The explosion was felt on the bridge, where Karpov and Rodenko were still locked
in their intense standoff, and it forced the Captain to take immediate action.

“Mine!” Tasarov had the presence of mind to call out the warning,
putting a name to the noise and vibration they experienced. His voice seemed
weak and lost between the sharp crack of
Kirov’s
deck guns, still engaging
targets with computer controlled fire. Now he stood with his hands cupped over
his ears, as if to hear no evil in the sharp interaction that was transpiring
just a few feet from his station.

“All stop!” Karpov barked out an order. “Watchmen to the weather
decks with anti-mine details!” He was shouting the orders on instinct, but no
one repeated them or sent them down to the decks below. The helmsman responded
by stopping engines, but otherwise, the bridge crew seemed paralyzed with the
conflict unresolved between the Captain and his
Starpom
.

“Hold on those torpedoes, Samsonov. We need the RBU systems now,
full array on minimum range, forward and to both port and starboard quarters,
fire
now!”

It was
Kirov’s
modern version of the old ‘Hedgehog’ system
developed by the British, a kind of seaborne mortar that could fire a pattern
of twenty-four explosives out in front of an advancing ship. Russia’s modern
day equivalent could range out to three kilometers with salvos of rockets
bearing 300mm warheads. In this the big CIC officer quickly complied, and soon
the sea ahead erupted with explosions and geysers of white frothing seawater as
the first salvos landed, the detonation of the cure sometimes more jolting than
the explosive power of the mines it was seeking to destroy.