THE FORESIGHT WAR (23 page)

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Authors: Anthony G Williams

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‘Incidentally,’ added Creamed Curls,’ Canada is already producing Merlin engines and Spitfires, Reapers and Mosquitos.’

‘How many aircraft will be based at Singapore?’

‘We estimate a need for around thirty squadrons in Singapore and Malaya; about one third devoted to each of fighter defence, fighter-bombers and medium bombers.’

‘I’ll see that they’re there by the
Autumn
.
 
We don’t want to repeat the catastrophe of Dr Erlang’s time.’
 
He turned to Ruddy-face.
 
‘What do you think the Navy should be providing?’

‘We can manage to send quite a lot.
 
We lost some good ships in the North Sea last year but all of the new battleships and fleet aircraft carriers are now in
service,
and with the Italian and French navies removed as a threat and Germany possessing only a handful of ships bigger than destroyers, we face no real opposition in Europe.
 
We should be able to send a large modern fleet whenever it’s required, leaving the older ships in Europe to support amphibious landings and so forth.
 
In addition, production of the new cruisers, light aircraft carriers, frigates, destroyers and corvettes is keeping up with demands, although of course it will be a different matter if Japan attacks us.’

‘What about India?’
 

‘There is some concern about the activities of Nehru and the Congress Party,’ admitted Diplomat.
 
‘I appreciate that independence is on the way, but we can’t afford to lose them while we know that we will have Japan to deal with.
 
Without India, we could never hold Malaya, Burma and Singapore against the Japanese and our communications with Australia and New Zealand would be jeopardised.
 
India is also producing large numbers of troops.’

‘Are you proposing to warn the Americans?’
 
Don enquired.

Churchill regarded him thoughtfully.
 
‘We have given them our considered opinion that Japan will attack both our forces and theirs by the end of the year.
 
We have not yet told them about you.
 
We have to be careful or they will just think we are trying to drag them into our war.
 
I don’t have to tell you that while Roosevelt is sympathetic, there is a strong isolationist sentiment in Congress.
 
It is clear that they will not declare war on anyone unless they are attacked first. If they knew about you, they might become so alarmed that they would take diplomatic action to avoid the war with Japan.
 
That would not be in our interests at all; it would be a disaster if Japan just attacked us.
 

So far, our efforts are concerned with persuading them to build military equipment for us.
 
We could manage without it, but our orders are helping the Americans to build up their military production ready for when they will need it.
 
Now,’ he said with evident anticipation, ‘let’s turn to the Mediterranean.
 
What’s your view of the options?’

‘We could invade
Sicily
and then go on to Italy, but it would take all of our offensive strength and the outcome would be uncertain as the Germans would inevitably become sucked in.
 
You will recall that we couldn’t hold Greece even after becoming established there.
 
In my time, even with substantial American forces it was a long, hard battle.
 
It would be better to choose a theatre where the Germans can’t send land forces to, at least until the Wehrmacht is fully locked in to the Russian invasion.’

Churchill grunted irritably.
 
‘That would exclude the Balkans as well.
 
That only leaves us the Middle East.
 
Syria is now ours, along with the rest of the French and Italian Empires, which gives us borders with Persia and Turkey, both of which also have borders with the USSR.
 
If we’re going to be helping the Russians, we need as many routes to them as possible.’

‘Turkey would be difficult,’ said Diplomat hastily.
 
‘Now the Germans control Greece and Bulgaria on their western border, they will not be willing to join us in case of attack.
 
Persia would be much safer.
 
It would also provide a direct land link between India and the Middle East’

Churchill nodded, and turned to Ruddy-face.
 
‘Now, what about the convoys?’

The old naval officer sighed and Don suddenly saw how worried he was.
 
‘The new electroboats are proving a real handful,’ he said slowly.
 
‘The older boats have such limited underwater speed and range that they have to approach convoys on the surface, which makes them vulnerable.
 
The new U-boats are so fast underwater and have such a long range, that they can catch a convoy without ever being spotted except when they come up to periscope depth.
 
That’s their only point of weakness.’

‘Do we have the measure of them?’

‘No.’

The Prime Minister nodded grimly.
 
‘I feared as much.
 
Then all the rest of this theorising could be pointless.
 
If we can’t defeat the U-boat scourge, we won’t defeat Germany.’
 

 

CHAPTER 5 -
ATLANTIC

 

Spring 1941

 

Herrman had been thankful to return to
Berlin
from the claustrophobic atmosphere of the Führersonderzug in its Austrian mountain hideaway.
 
The weather was still cold but there was the tang of spring in the air for the first time, and
Berlin
was surprisingly normal after ten months of war.
 
No bombers had yet disturbed its sense of security and Herrman wondered briefly why the British were so carefully avoiding civilian targets; they had not been so scrupulous in his time.
 
The war seemed to be proceeding in measured steps, more like a formal fencing match instead of the usual chaotic street brawl.

Even the the Kriegsherr, Hitler himself, and the OKW were playing a careful tactical game, always trying to outguess the British, even turning to Herrman from time to time to ask, what would he do, if he were Churchill’s mysterious adviser?
 
Herrman could never be sure.
 
He had often tried to think himself into his opponent’s shoes, sometimes with success, but the Britisher’s experience, concerns and priorities would be so very different from his own.

This morning’s meeting was mainly turning into another round of the perennial struggle between Göring and Raeder, ostensibly about the most sensible organisational arrangements for maritime aviation but actually, in the Reichsmarschall’s case at least, about personal status and prestige.
 
Hitler observed noncommitally while Brauchitsch was thankful to stay quietly in the background.

‘Right from the start the Kriegsmarine opposed the formation of the Luftwaffe,’ argued
Göring
scornfully, ‘all you are doing is trying to win the same old battle.
 
To divide control of the Luftwaffe will inevitably weaken it and cause a loss in operational flexibility.
 
I have already appointed a Fliegerfürher Atlantik to oversee our maritime squadrons; what more can you ask?’

Raeder was coolly logical, as always in the face of Göring’s bluster.
 
‘There are not enough long-range planes made available to do the job of locating convoys for the U-boats.
 
They are hunting blind and often spend an entire patrol with never a sight of a ship.’

‘What, even your precious Elektroboote?’

‘Even
them
,’ the Grossadmiral responded firmly, ‘they are wolves among sheep when they find a convoy, but first they have to find it.’

‘My bombers are much better employed hitting British trade where it can’t escape: in the ports, dockyards and warehouses.
 
It doesn’t matter how many ships reach England if they are sunk at their moorings and their goods destroyed before they can be distributed.’

‘One squadron of bombers more or less will make little difference to the degree of destruction you can inflict.
 
It would make all the difference to our chances of locating ships at sea.’

‘Everything that flies is mine!
 
That is an unalienable principle!’
 
As always, Göring fell back on bluster.
 
Herrman suddenly became uncomfortably aware that Hitler was eyeing him sardonically.
 
He knew what that meant.
 
He cleared his throat, bringing a glare from
Göring
 
and
an icy stare from Raeder.

‘The important task is to sink ships as quickly as possible, however that can be achieved,’ he temporised.
 
‘If ships are sunk at a faster rate than replacements can be built for long enough, we will win.
 
And if the total volume of goods reaching England can be kept below a certain level, England will starve.
 
Even if that level is not quite achieved, getting close to it will mean that Britain will have no spare shipping capacity for armaments; it will all be needed for food.’

‘And what are those critical figures?’
 
enquired
Göring .

‘I don’t know,’ muttered Herrman.
 
‘My specialities were in land and air warfare, I don’t remember the details of the naval war.’

‘Britain was importing 60 million tons of goods per year before the war, including half of her food needs,’ remarked Raeder.
 
‘We are certainly keeping the figure well below that now.
 
And we estimate that America and Britain have a combined merchant shipbuilding capacity of about 700,000 tons per month; so we have to sink more than that.’

The Reichsmarshall suddenly changed tack.
 
‘Very well,’ he said expansively, ‘I will assign another squadron of Dorniers to the Fliegerfürher Atlantik.
 
I look forward to seeing the British brought to their knees very soon.’

Raeder glowered and Herrman realised that Göring had won again; while appearing to be magnanimous, he had kept his Luftwaffe firmly under his control.
 
A squadron granted could be withdrawn again just as quickly.

The Fürher decided to take a hand.
 
‘I am concerned about resources for our attack on Russia.
 
We now know,’ with a nod to Herrman, ‘that while initial victories will be easy, finishing off the Russian bear will take longer than we otherwise might expect.
 
On no account must our troops run short of vehicles and equipment; the factories must be going full blast from now until we have finally won.’

Raeder realised that he was being attacked from a different quarter.
 
‘We must increase the production of Type Ten Elektroboote,’ he almost pleaded.
 
‘We achieved our target of three hundred U-boats at the start of the war but these were nearly all Type Sevens or coastal boats.
 
They suffered so badly at the hands of the strong British escorts that we had to withdraw them to the North Sea.
 
The Type Tens have the upper hand but the assembly yards are being pounded virtually every night and their training grounds in the Baltic are mined just as frequently.
 
If we are to win this battle we must have more Elektroboote reaching the Atlantic; that means more production efforts and more guns and night-fighters defending the yards.
 
At the moment we are only building fifteen each month; this must be doubled.’

Göring decided to rub salt in the wound.
 
‘Fortunately, our bombers have also been engaged in mining the approaches to the British ports.
 
Our latest mines are triggered by a combination of magnetic and acoustic fuses which are almost impossible to fool, and we are working on something even better; one which reacts to the rise in water pressure as a ship goes overhead!’
 
He beamed triumphantly.
 
‘I am reliably informed that more ships are being sunk by my mines than are falling to your submarines!’

‘And what,’ interposed Hitler, ‘about the risks if the anti-shipping campaign is too successful?
 
It is our one strategy which really infuriates the Americans.
 
I hear that they are now helping to escort the convoys.
 
If we start sinking American warships we could find ourselves at war with them, and that must not happen; we must deal with Russia first!’

‘To avoid that, we need a quick victory, before Roosevelt can steer public opinion against us.
 
Should we not also defeat the British before taking on the Russians?’ Raeder, Herrman reflected, obviously felt that he had nothing more to lose.

Hitler waved dismissively.
 
‘Ideally yes, but the forces required to fight them are substantially different.
 
The only conflict is over the disposition of bomber aircraft and they are now flowing from the production lines.’
 
He turned to Herrman.
 
‘Remind me, did the U-boats of your time still rely on batteries?’

Herrman felt the tension growing and answered carefully.
 
‘Yes, my Fürher.
 
Refined of course, but with no wars, development slowed right down.
 
The Walter turbine was a dead end – the oxidant was too unstable.’
 
Hitler nodded and Herrman breathed an inward sigh of relief.
 
Strictly speaking he hadn’t even been lying; the German navy of his time had not aspired to nuclear submarines.
 
Somehow, he didn’t think the Nazis would appreciate the distinction.
 
For the thousandth time, he wrestled with the spectre of nuclear war; was he right to withold information from the Nazis if the British, and through them the Russians, were working to make nuclear bombs?
 
Might this war be even more catastrophic to Europe than the devastation he remembered?
 
If only he knew what the British were doing!

 

The U240 ploughed through the North Sea in the pre-dawn gloom, the watch crew mentally preparing themselves for the order to submerge as the light grew.
 
The Oberleutnant braced himself against the side of the low conning tower as yet another blast of spray hit them.
 
Beneath his feet the big diesels rumbled steadily, sucking fresh air down the hatch and through the boat.
 
He was well aware that darkness was no guarantee of safety, with the British patrol aircraft all fitted with radar, but he had some confidence that the Metox radar warning receiver would give him time to crash dive before being spotted.

He waited for as long as possible before diving.
 
While his boat was an old-fashioned Type VIIC, it was fitted with a schnorkel so that the diesels could keep running underwater, preserving battery power until it was needed.
 
Even so, once submerged the boat’s speed would be cut and, worse still, his visibility limited to the constricted view through a periscope.
 
An added irritation in such a rough sea was that the schnorkel head would keep dipping beneath the waves, causing the air supply to be shut off.
 
The diesels would then promptly suck air from the crew compartment, sharply dropping the air pressure until the schnorkel surfaced, whereupon the air pressure would shoot up again.
 
This did not, he reflected wryly, lead to a happy crew.

Less than two miles away, nemesis raced towards him.
 
The Coastal Command Hampden bored in at low level, the radar operator tracking the clear blip of the submarine in his screen and shouting commands to the pilot.
 
The new centimetric radar gave a precise bearing and worked on a wavelength too short to be detected by Metox.
 
At a final shout, the Leigh light switched on, the brilliant beam outlining the U-boat dead ahead.

The Oberleutnant screamed commands at his crew as his mind spun with calculations; thirty seconds to dive, too late on this pass; fight the plane now, dive the instant it was past.
 
How the hell had it found them?
 
Why had the Metox given no warning?
 
The 2 cm and 3
,7
cm cannon opened up, sending a stream of tracer toward the racing plane.
 
At the same instant, flame rippled from under the wings and small dark shapes sped towards the submarine.
 
The rockets peppered the area like a shotgun blast, splashing into the sea and flashing overhead.
 
One of the gunners suddenly shouted in triumph and the Oberleutnant could hardly believe his luck as he saw the plane turn away, flame streaming from an engine.
 
He turned to yell congratulations to the gunners but was interrupted by an urgent shout from below.
 
He scrambled down the ladder then stopped as he realised the problem.
 
One rocket had neatly pierced the base of the conning tower, wrecking the lower hatch.
 
The boat could not submerge.

 

The destroyer raced towards the coordinates radioed by the stricken Hampden.
 
An S Class of First War vintage, she had been deemed too small for Atlantic duty and assigned to the East Coast.
 
But not, reflected her commander happily, before being equipped for her task.
 
Torpedo tubes had been landed and replaced with Squid anti-submarine mortars; the old 4 inch guns likewise gave way to automatic 57 mm Bofors, far more effective against aircraft and E-boats, and even against submarines when firing the armour-piercing anti-tank rounds.
 
A battery of Oerlikons and last but not least a suite of Asdic and radar made her a devastating coastal combatant.

‘Target dead ahead; range ten thousand.’
 
He acknowledged the radar report and waited.
 
The crew was already at action stations, excitement rising at this climax to an uneventful patrol.
 
Dawn broke, sihouetting the unmistakable shape of a U-boat hurrying south-east back to base.

‘Range six thousand.’

‘Open fire!’
 
Almost simultaneously he saw a flash from the submarine’s deck as the main armament fired.
 
In theory the U-boat’s 8
,8
cm gun was much more powerful than the Bofors; in practice, accurate shooting was difficult from a submarine and the stream of Bofors shells swept the German crew off the deck before the destroyer could be hit.

‘He’s not submerging!’

The lieutenant-commander grinned wolfishly.
 
The U-boat must have a problem.
 
Too bad, it couldn’t outrun his ship!
 
As the range closed rapidly his instinct was to ram, but that would mean weeks in a dockyard being repaired… ‘Set Squid fuses to minimum depth!’
 
He barely heard the acknowledgement, concentrating hard on the fleeing submarine.
 
Squid was normally fired automatically by the associated Asdic set; as the sub was surfaced he would have to do it by eye.

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