Kirov Saga: Darkest Hour: Altered States - Volume II (Kirov Series) (14 page)

Part V

Homecoming

“How puzzling all these changes are! I'm
never sure what I'm going to be, from one minute to another… I wonder if I've
been changed in the night. Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this
morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm
not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the
great puzzle!”

―
Lewis Carroll

Chapter 13

June 21, 1940

Kirov
winked
out a lamp signal in farewell as the ship turned north, easing away from HMS
Invincible
.
In the heat of the battle they had made a very timely intervention. Just as the
second air strike was vectoring in on the stricken
Hood
, five lethal
S-400 SAMs had swatted the leading elements from the sky. Then a single P-900
had been sent directly against the presumed fleet flagship, the
Bismarck
,
and its dramatic approach and impact had the same effect on Lindemann that it
had on Hoffmann.

When Rodenko got the radar report
that the Germans appeared to be breaking off to the north there was only one
more consideration—
Scharnhorst
and
Gneisenau
had been hastening
to the scene, and might arrive right on Tovey’s rear left flank. Approaching on
that same flank, Volsky decided to put on speed, and show his silhouette to the
Germans. The sudden appearance of the same mysterious ship he had seen earlier,
along with Lindemann’s orders to alter course and withdraw, had been enough to
cool the ardor of Hoffmann, eager as he was to lock horns with their
adversaries.

“Don’t count the Germans out just
yet,” said Fedorov. “They were not beaten here. Absent our intervention I would
have given odds that the Kriegsmarine would have written a decisive victory
into the history books in this engagement. My God, look at
Hood!”

Once the pride of the fleet
before HMS
Invincible
took those laurels,
Hood
looked like a
beaten and broken fighter who had barely managed to hang on to the late rounds
and was saved by the bell. Her B-turret was out of action, a boiler room
severely damaged, her aft funnel all but shredded, leaving a constant pall of
acrid smoke over the ship as it steamed pathetically along in Tovey’s wake.
Admiral Holland was wounded, but would recover, as would many other senior
officers, though Captain Glennie had been killed in action and the ship was
currently being mastered by a relatively inexperienced Lieutenant Commander Warrand.
Tovey made arrangements to immediately have a ranking officer flown out from
Rosyth to Reykjavik to take over command of the ship, Captain Ralph Kerr.

Admiral Volsky had decided not to
arrange a second meeting with Tovey just yet. He felt that it was necessary to
first meet with those in power in the Russian homeland, realizing that he alone
could not in any way guarantee or deliver on any offer of support or alliance.

“I am master of this ship,
Fedorov,” he had explained, “and I think we have won a measure of good will
here that will come in handy in the months ahead. Yet we cannot commit Russia
to a wartime alliance with Britain on our own, nor should our actions here be
interpreted as such a grace by Admiral Tovey. What we must do now is meet with
the man this ship was named for—Sergie Kirov. So I want to press on north as
soon as possible. We can herd the Germans along as we go.”

“I understand, Admiral.”

“Where do you think the German
fleet will head now?”

“I doubt that the fleet commander
here had full authority in this engagement, sir. It is very likely that his
commitment of capital ships to open battle with the Royal Navy was conditional.
I think the attack we made on
Graf Zeppelin
was very shocking to the
Germans, even if we apparently did not hit the carrier itself.”

“Yes, I suppose they will be
wondering just where the ship was that attacked them.”

“Indeed, sir. Radar returns
showed they flew wide area search patterns all around the ship’s position. It
seemed clear to me that they were trying to answer that very question. That
uncertainty, the damage we put on
Gneisenau
, the loss of their destroyer
and that tanker we sunk, and the hit we put on
Bismarck
all seemed to be
enough rocks in the wheelbarrow to give them pause. It is my belief that
Admiral Raeder gave orders that the fleet was not to be put at risk of
sustaining serious losses.”

“You believe they will return to
Germany?”

“That depends on the extent of
the damage they have actually sustained. These were very tough ships, well
armored, very durable. I don't think we really hurt
Bismarck
that badly,
though the damage we put on
Gneisenau
appeared to be more extensive.
That ship may need to return to a German shipyard for repairs.
Scharnhorst
will most likely return to Trondheim or another Norwegian port. If the history
I know holds true, that ship will need work on its engines and turbines soon,
but for now it should still be considered an operational threat. As for the
battleships, I cannot see that Raeder would want them in any Norwegian port at
this time. They are too important to leave exposed to potential attacks by the
R.A.F. My guess is that they will return to Bremen.”

“Then if we sail north in their
wake we may not have to face this entire battle group again anytime soon I
hope.”

“Once we get out of the Denmark
Strait there is a lot of sea room in the Norwegian Sea, Admiral. I think we
could sail North and safely avoid engagement, but you are correct, the Germans
may no longer have battle on their mind until they can learn more about what
has actually happened here. They will be very curious as to what these weapons
we used are, and what ship fired them.”

“Then I think we will pay our
respects to Admiral Tovey, and be on our way.”

“You're going to meet with him
again, sir?”

“No, I think I will have Nikolin
send over a message, and perhaps we might send a boat over with a box of good cigars.”

That is what Volsky decided he
would do, and in the box he enclosed a personal note to Admiral John Tovey,
which he hoped would keep the door open for better days ahead. In this way they
avoided the inevitable questions regarding the weapons they had put on full
display here. The less said the better, thought Volsky, but he had at least
avoided the scenario they had already lived through once in these waters—a
hostile engagement with the powerful Royal Navy. As to their future
cooperation, Volsky wrote that he would do everything possible to further such
an arrangement and hoped to meet again soon.

Admiral Tovey,
he wrote
.
So today you have seen that there is a little more on the deck of my ship than
three 5.7-inch gun turrets. We were pleased to be able to render assistance in
this engagement, and look to better days ahead. I will speak with my government
soon, and you should expect to hear from me again in the future. It may be that
Kirov will sail south again and I would be most willing to shake hands with you
if a welcome remains there for us. My respects to you, and regrets for any loss
of life your fleet may have sustained in this engagement. I find it fortunate
that the German Navy wisely elected to return home, and I will see to it that
you are informed if any of their ships take a wayward course to the south. For
now, I bid you farewell as I point the bow of my ship north, and think of home.

Highest regards,

Admiral Leonid Volsky

The lantern winked out ‘fair
weather, farewell.’ Then
Kirov
eased away from the big British
battlecruiser, put on speed, and slowly slipped ahead into the night that would
never be born that day. His intention was to sail north for the island and Jan
Mayen, the frigid Arctic outpost that had been so instrumental when they first
appeared here, a lifetime ago it seemed now. It was there that Fedorov had his
first flash of genius, saying that all they needed to do was to overfly that
island with a helicopter to look for the weather installation facilities to
determine whether they were still in their own time or not. So it had been a
key piece of the incredible puzzle they had put together to make it clear that
something impossible had happened to them, and they were no longer in their own
time.

As the ship sailed north there
was a strange feeling of both completion as well as a growing uneasiness. These
familiar waters are deceptively calm, thought Volsky. He realized their course
was fraught with uncertainty, but he decided to take Fedorov's advice to heart.
He knew it would be dangerous to allow the men to go ashore, and for that
matter he was not even certain they would receive a warm welcome when they
first appeared in the long inlet leading to Murmansk and Severomorsk.

There is really nothing there at
Severomorsk, he thought, and we will not see tall Alyusha and the eternal flame
if we sail up the channel of the Kola Fiord to Murmansk again. Alyusha was the
tall grey statue of a Soviet soldier, 116 feet high and weighing 5000 tons atop
a stone pedestal to commemorate the defenders of the Soviet Arctic during this
war. They have yet to earn their laurels, he knew, thinking that the outcome of
the war itself still remained unknown. The Germans have not yet come for the
city that was so doggedly defended by the Soviet Moormen, the Polarmen as they
were sometimes called—the icemen of the Soviet Arctic.

He was one of them, as were all
the men on the ship. They had steamed from those waters and now they return.
What will be the effect on the men when they do not see the familiar skyline of
Severomorsk. It was just a small settlement in 1940, called Vayenga. There will
be no shipyards there, no docks or quays, except at Murmansk.

 “What can we expect in the
Russian Navy at this time, Mister Fedorov?”

“Not much to speak of, sir. They
will have five or six destroyers, a handful of submarines, two torpedo boats,
and a few patrol boats and minesweepers. There is nothing there that could pose
any threat whatsoever to
Kirov
, though I do not think they would see us
as hostile with that Russian naval ensign on our mast. At this time they would
be busy building up the White Sea military base as an anchor defending that region.
They are also a bit preoccupied with the Finns, assuming that conflict occurred
as it did in our history. That may not be the case, however. I have not had
time to dig up any new information with Nikolin.”

“Very well, then we can head home
without undue worry.”

The channel leading to
Severomorsk and Murmansk is very long and narrow, sir. Were you thinking of
going that far in?”

“No, I think we will be cautious
at first and stay near the mouth of the inlet.”

“Perhaps we could have a look at
the area near Malaya Lopatka.”

“Nothing was built there until
1950, Fedorov. That was the base we built for the old K-3, our first nuclear
powered submarine. Don’t worry. We’ll have a look around with the KA-40,
discretely, and then I must consider how to persuade Sergie Kirov to meet with
us. The meeting will most likely have to be at Murmansk. Severomorsk wasn’t
even an operational base in 1940.”

“I can bait your hook for you,
Admiral.”

“You have a suggestion, Mister
Fedorov?”

“Yes sir. Why not send a message
saying the man Kirov met at the inn at Ilanskiy in 1908 wishes to speak with
you. Perhaps even mentioning my name would help trigger the recollection. If he
remembers the incident, he may be curious enough to want to know more.”

“That is a very good idea,
Fedorov. Yes, I think we will do this.”

* * *

The
word Kremlin meant “fortress,” and it had long been the heart
of the Russian government in the center of Moscow, dating back as far as the
second century BC. It sat on one of the seven hills of Moscow, 145 meters tall,
and its golden spires and domes were known the world over as a symbol of
Russian power. The first official buildings had been constructed there in the
year 1156, and now the place was simply called “Kremlin Hill.”

Its
walls and towers had been improved and designed by famous architects during the
renaissance. The 27 acre complex now comprised Red Square, Revolution Square,
the Grand Kremlin Palace, the iconic gold domed cathedral, and many other
squares and official government buildings.

On this
morning the message received at the office of the Commandant was most puzzling.
It had come in over radio channels, transmitted from the far northern outpost
of Murmansk where there was apparently quite a stir. News of a large warship
that had been moving north sounded the initial alarms, as it was thought that
this must surely be a German ship, possibly intending to scout the Arctic
waters. Yet when planes were sent out from the naval base to look for the
intruder, they were astounded to see a large ship, prominently flying the
Russian naval ensign, and crewmen waving eagerly in welcome as the old MTB-1 seaplane
overflew the ship.

“What
is this ship?” The Commandant noted that the naval authorities had stated that
they were unfamiliar with the vessel, and had no record of it. Yet they were
speaking with the ship’s personnel over the shortwave, and they were clearly
Russian. A request had been made, very odd, and one that might had been
dismissed were it not for the mystery accompanying the arrival of the ship.