The Atlantic Express
by: justjames17
(Copyright 2004 -2007 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
 

Chapter 22

Charles was awoken by Bradley's soft throat clearance as the man stood beside the Captain's bunk, Charles opened his eyes and grimaced then stretched his body as Bradley handed him a steaming hot cup of tea. Charles settled back in a sitting position and took the proffered cup from his faithful all knowing steward, he grinned at him saying, "Thanks Bradders, you really are a gem, what hour is it?"

Bradley smiled back saying, "Its 4am sir and you asked me to wake you at this hour."

Charles sipped the scalding hot beverage and sighed then said, "Yes thank you Bradley we set sail in less than an hour and a half and I'm not looking forward to this mission."

Bradley frowned and looked at his Commander and friend saying, "That is unusual sir you don't usually have doubts about our missions."

Charles looked at the grizzled older seaman over the rim of his cup as he sipped the tea; he rested the cup on his thigh as he took a deep breath and said, "No I normally don't fret about the tasks we are given but this one, although sounding like a doddle, will be fraught with danger from all sides I think. I just pray that my doubts are not correct."

Bradley said, "I'll bring your breakfast now sir while you get dressed, I'll return in a few moments."

Charles drank the remainder of his tea and handed the cup back to Bradley who turned and quietly left the cabin, Charles climbed from his bunk and stretched again as he yawned widely. He began to dress in his no 3 uniform and by the time he was ready his steaming meal was laid out on the desk waiting for him, he walked across and Bradley pushed the chair in as Charles sat down. He ate his bacon and eggs then slathered the toast with some marmalade devouring it hungrily before attacking a second cup of tea, Bradley stood by waiting for him to finish then cleared away the dishes and returned to his small compartment alongside his Captains to wash the dirty utensils.

Charles stood up straightening his uniform and slapping his cap on his head left the cabin hurrying to the bridge to oversee the preparations for sailing. He entered the bridge clattering up the ladder and the bridge crew snapped to attention as his cap appeared in the hatch, Charles returned the first Lieutenant's salute and listened to his report of the ship's readiness. He reported the ship ready for sea with all boilers flashed up and on line awaiting his orders. Charles ordered the mooring wires singled up and walked to the row of bridge phones mounted on the rear bulkhead, he picked up the engine room phone and awaited the Chief `s answering it, the gruff Scottish voice said, "Enginroom."

Charles smiled to himself and said, "Good Morning Chief are your engines up to scratch this morning and ready to go?"

A chuckle sounded in Charles' ear as the disembodied voice lightened and the wily old engineer laughed then said, "Aye Captain all fired up and ready to go Sir."

Charles laughed back and said, "I know it was a superfluous question but I couldn't resist asking you. We'll be getting underway in about fifteen minutes Chief I hope things go well."

The gruff Scot laughed again then said, "They will Sir, this ship is a real thoroughbred if ever there was one and she makes the old Spring Thorpe look like a decrepit old donkey."

Charles nodded to himself hanging up the phone in its cradle as he turned walking to his stool and standing next to it peered through the windscreen down to the deck below. The deck crew were standing awaiting orders to caste off the lines and as the hands of his watch showed 530am he barked let go forward line, the order was echoed by the First Officer on the bridge wing and the wire was let go on the dock as the crew ran forward pulling it aboard. Charles ordered the starboard engine slow astern and the port slow ahead then ordered the stern line let go as the ship slowly shuddered and swung her bow away from the dock as the disturbed water swirled and drifted along her camouflaged hull.

The starboard engine was stopped and then ordered slow ahead as the sleek vessel straightened up and moved gently ahead, through the maze of anchored warships Charles peering through his binoculars distinguished the moving mast of their fellow traveler the Cruiser Nottingham, a very modern fast and powerful ship only completed the year the war broke out. She was armed with 8inch guns and had a top speed of 32 knots only slightly slower than his vessel; their voyage was to be a very fast run to the North up through the North and Barents Seas to Murmansk. The speed of their secret mission should protect them from attack and certainly negated the possibility of submarine attack; their only danger was the Luftwaffe and the chance of the Tirpitz leaving her moorings where she was skulking in the fjord in Norway.

The two ships cleared land and sped through the predawn grey foggy light, moving like wraiths through the steaming flat calm sea, the large white bow waves gleaming against their somber painted hulls as they worked up to 30 knots. Their decks vibrated to the thunder of their powerful engines as they drove the steel hulls faster and faster through the resisting calm water. The crews were closed up for Dawn action stations as the light brightened in the East as the sun worked its way towards the horizon, the damp foggy air seemed to soften the light giving the two speeding ships an ethereal appearance then the bright tip of blinding light poked above the watery horizon. The ships took on a golden overtone as the sunlight illuminated their damp hulls and superstructures, the crews squinted into the blinding glare, binoculars swept the smooth surface searching for the lurking periscopes of submerged submarines.

In the glaring path of light on the water where the sun's light reflected, a periscope was almost impossible to locate and Charles hoped that no enemy eyes were locked on their ships. Unfortunately for them a periscope was raised watching their course and carefully noting the direction and description of the British ships to report back to the headquarters in Germany, the mission was already known and the German High command was desperate to ensure the bullion never reached the Russians. The two war ships sliced through the calm seas like huge wraiths as they raced for the cold seas far ahead of their current position, their crews on edge as the respective Captains informed them of their destination although they kept secret the actual reason for this operation.

The days passed uneventfully until they neared the frigid waters between Iceland and the Faeroe Islands, here they began to encounter ice bergs in their path and the temperatures dropped accordingly as the crews donned the heavy clothing needed to protect them from the temperature. The first encounter with the enemy was a brace of torpedoes fired across their path fanned out in an attempt to hit one or both fast moving ships. They succeeded in combing a path between these fast moving missiles but they now knew that their position would be reported to the enemy headquarters. The mission was now much more dangerous as they were within range of the German bombers stationed on the captured airfields in Norway. It also meant that the danger of the hiding German battleship could appear at any time; this would mean disaster as the two British vessels were no match for the mighty sister of the sunken Bismarck.

The crews were now on watch closed up most of the day constantly on alert for an attack; the lookouts were scanning the skies and the horizon in search of either the specks of approaching planes or the faint smudge of the upper masts of the battleship rearing above the distant line where the misty air met the grey sea. The first sign was the tiny black dots against the pale skies a squadron of German bombers searching for the British, a fog bank ahead may save the ships from destruction and both altered course and increased engine revolutions increased their speed as the engine room telegraphs rang for full speed ahead.

The Captains' announcements stirred the crews and the engineers coaxed every knot they could from the straining engines, the ships altered course slightly opening the distance between them to make the bombers divide their aim. The bows of the two racing ships met and parted the wispy cloud bank as they raced into the fog; the vessels lost sight of one another and hoped they wouldn't collide in the grey blindness. The planes reached the area and were able to make out the tips of the ships main masts as they zig zagged in the mist, the fog was thick but low lying on the water and wasn't sufficiently high to cover the mast tops. The bombers released their bombs which vanished into the grey pall to hit the water and penetrate sinking into the depths. No red flares were visible showing any hits as the actual position of the hulls was not readily evident to the air crews above, a reversal of course brought them back over the area but the fog seemed to have thickened even more and was now hiding every vestige of the hunted ships.

Frustrated the planes circled until fuel ran low and they turned for home cursing their luck at missing this chance to sink the British ships. They flew back and soon saw the white snow covered mountains of Norway rising above the distant horizon. They landed and were debriefed by their intelligence officers, their Commander was quite angry they had missed their chance but once he learned of the circumstances he calmed down and told the men to get a quick meal while the aircraft were refueled and rearmed. He ordered them to again take off and locate the ships and demanded that this time they destroy them completely.

The young aviators walked to the mess talking quietly their spirits suppressed by their unlucky attack, they ate the prepared meal watching the hurried activities around their planes as the ground crews worked flat out to get them ready for a second attack before the light failed. The meal quickly eaten they strolled out onto the wet icy runway, rubbing and blowing on their hands to warm them before pulling on their leather flying gloves, their fleecy flying boots clacking on the concrete as they approached their twin engined aircraft.

They clambered aboard the heavy planes and settled into their seats as the battery starters were connected to the engines, switches on the pilots pressed the starters and the props slowly began to turn as the starter motors whined. Heavy coughs erupted and puffs of smoke belched from the exhausts as the engines burst into life, the propellers spinning into blurs as the revolutions were increased. The cacophony of screaming engines announced to the world they were about to take to the air, they taxied one behind the other as they made their way out onto the runway, here they lined up waiting for the green flare to be fired from the control tower.

The fuselages vibrating and everything rattling inside around the young crews as they waited to take to the air, the green flare soared into the sky and the lead plane revved its engines against locked brakes before releasing the brakes and howling down the runway, spray flying into the air from the blasting wind of the plane's passage. It lifted off climbing into the sky as its undercarriage slowly rose up into the fuselage, one after the other the bombers raced into the air and turned west to head out to sea. They climbed higher and higher to reach cruising altitude and flew towards the last known position of their prey.

They reached the area and began searching to the North, the estimated course of the fleeing ships, the cursed fog bank seemed to have enlarged and spread out over a huge area of sea. They cruised back and forth in ever widening circles with no sign of the British ships and as light failed the frustrated pilots turned for base again cursing the weather and praying for better conditions the next day. The tired air crews, their senses numbed by the roaring engines and constant vibration were glad to finally touch down on the icy chilled runways and climb stiffly from their aircraft. A very short debriefing was held then they took off their awkward flying suits and headed for the mess to drink their frustrations away. The party went on till nearly midnight when the Squadron Commander put in an appearance ordering them to their bunks as they were flying at first light in the morning. The intoxicated young men sang and staggered off to their rooms and they fell onto their bunks closing their tired eyes and falling into deep sleep.

The HMS Nottingham and her escort HMS Berber tore on through the long night trying to put as many miles as possible between their original attack position and where they would be at daylight tomorrow. The speed of the ships no match for their enemy's twin engined bombers, their efforts would be negated next morning unless the weather closed in and protected them from the keen eyes above. Dawn broke and the two ships were wreathed in mist scarcely visible to each other in the vapour even though they were sailing close to each other, it looked as though they were being treated to a good cover and prayed the fog remained on the surface for the day. The still air boded good tidings as there was no wind to blow the cloud bank away and the mushy sea ice on the surface would hopefully hold the fog around them.

They sped on the steel hulls crackling through the thin ice mush as they raced on towards the North, the crews stood down from action stations and went below to the mess to eat a hot breakfast. Charles sat on the stool peering through the windscreen at the thick grey fog, his eyes tired and feeling scratchy as if sand was under his eyelids, Bradley appeared with his meal and he thanked him and fell to eating with gusto as he was feeling ravenous after the long dark night of tension. Charles finished his meal and stood up stretching to get the kinks out of his body; he turned around and saw young Martin wearily rubbing his tired eyes out on the port side bridge wing as he straightened up from peering through the massive binoculars mounted on the rail.

Charles smiled at the lad as he turned to look at his Captain, the boy returned Charles' smile then bent back to the binoculars peering into the thick blinding fog once again. Charles walked to the compass and checked their course then strolled slowly, stamping his numb feet on the deck as he made his way out to stand beside the young seaman. He quietly chatted to the boy telling him he could have a rest as the binoculars were useless in the current conditions, the lad straightened and put his hands on his hips rotating them to ease his aching back as he arched back stretching his tired muscles. Charles imagination conjured up the vision of what was hidden beneath the heavy duffle coat, the youthful lithe body stretching and moving, exposing his lithe smooth musculature.

The day stretched on as the two warships sped on towards their destination, their speeding hulls hidden from the searching prying eyes in the skies above, with luck they may evade their enemies and gain enough distance to be beyond the range of their twin engined bombers. The fog stayed with them all day and the gloom was replaced with a wet cold dampness as night fell leaving the ships wrapped in the thick cocoon of fog. Through the night they raced, sharp bows knifing through the semi frozen icy sea as they gained more distance on their attackers, the crews were lulled into torpor by the cold and boredom. The ships sped on impartial to the icy clammy cold eating through the crew's heavy clothing and penetrating flesh and bones as they stamped frigid feet and rubbed themselves continuously trying to stimulate their circulation.

Dawn broke grey and dismal the fog seemed lighter and the two ships were easily visible to each other in the mist, overhead the sky was invisible in the grey pall but the conditions were definitely clearing after the two days of heavy fog. Charles looked about him a worried expression on his handsome face; he prayed the fog wasn't going to lift completely exposing their position to the searching aircraft. The crew stood down from dawn action stations and shuffled below to eat while Charles left the bridge to go below and wash himself, shave and eat a hurried but civilized breakfast in his cabin. He left instructions that he be immediately informed if there was any change in conditions as he hurried below.

Charles stripped off and jumped under the shower quickly washing himself before shaving and then donning clean underclothing redressed and ate quickly, he sat back relaxing after finishing his meal when the phone over his bunk shrilled. He jumped to his feet and hurried to answer it, the First Lieutenant's voice spoke into his ear saying that the mist was lifting and they may soon be visible from above. Charles thanked him and told him he would come to the bridge immediately. He replaced the phone in its cradle and pulled on his bridge coat, gloves and scarf as he hurried from the cabin clattering up the steps to the bridge.

He stepped onto the deck and saw the fog had almost lifted although still hanging above the sea in the sky like a dull grey canopy, the drab colours of the sky and sea blended with the camouflaged ships giving a surreal impression as they sped on towards the North. High above the hiding fog the bomber scout planes cruised searching for the fleeing vessels still unable to locate them below the cloud, their frustrated crews fuming at nature's trick hiding their quarries. They noticed the cloud thinning and radioed through to their base informing their Commanding Officers of the development as they continued searching.

The watery sun slowly burnt the fog away and the sea became visible in patches as the cloud dissipated, still no sign of the ships but more and more water became visible below their Perspex noses. The wide spread planes searched avidly and finally the waited for report crackled through the air the ships were located far to the North and their position reported. Charles saw the small harbinger of doom in the sky as his binoculars picked out the plane against the dull sky; he pressed the alarm bell sounding action stations and heard the multiple clattering of his crews' boots as they ran to their positions pulling on their anti flash gear. He ordered a signal made to the Nottingham informing her of the danger; her flag hoist acknowledged the two ships increased speed and raced on guns at the ready and crews on edge with anticipation.

To be continued...
 

Feedback always welcome:     

Posted: 08/10/07