Impasse (The Red Gambit Series) (58 page)

As is the habit of these things, not all went to plan
, and one Lancaster was fatally struck, crashing on a sliver of Soviet-held Denmark.

The destroyed aircraft and dead crew would later add weight to the information that started to flood into the intelligence and command headquarters of the USSR
, evidencing Sweden’s assertion that they had not been complicit and stood firm against the incursions.

The second reason the mission went
‘noisy’ was to ensure that a small group of Russians was wide-awake as Force V passed them.

In the opening moves of the new conflict, a small group of Soviet Naval specialists had been landed on the southern end of Saltholm Island.

They had been tasked with monitoring naval activity in the Øresund, and they had been very successful.

Bletchley Park had been the first to detect them and their
signals were monitored closely. Their reports mirrored Swedish naval activity, or the few small scale naval excursions undertaken by the Royal Navy and her allies. It was decided to leave them alone, for now.

The Danes were compliant allies and did not disturb the Soviet observers, although they mounted patrols from their fort,
on the northern edge of Saltholm Island, studiously failing to note anything untoward.

The RAF
’s contribution to Spectrum Red swung into action.

Two flights of aircraft from 617 Squadron RAF, selected for their ability to metaphorically
‘drop a pebble down a chimney’, flew into Swedish air space, their purpose to attack Göteborg, or at least, to look like they had.

The first group planted their bombs on and around Gota airbase
. Everything of worth had been moved into the rock shelters, created in the cliff face during 1942. Old J8 fighters were exposed to the falling bombs, and a dozen were destroyed. The obsolete aircraft, known as Gladiators when in RAF service, served no great purpose, and besides, modern replacements had already been purchased from Britain two months beforehand, or at least the paperwork would reflect that, before the delivery of the twenty Spitfires took place.

617
’s second group made an excellent job of destroying a few acres of woodland in the suburb of Delsjo, particularly chosen because it would ensure that the nearby Soviet Consulate was wide awake, and talking urgently to Moscow.

Two Mosquitoes from 105 Squadron RAF were tasked with bringing the war even closer to the consulate and the first pass destroyed the second largest building in the compound, a building identified
by Tørget as staffed purely by NKVD personnel.

Goteborg
’s power was cut by a senior power company official, who had been briefed on his personal responsibilities to his country beforehand, but the Consulate had its own generator.

Just prior to the loss of power across the city, the second Mosquito had reduced the generator building and the nearby garage to a smoking ruin, thus ensuring that the Consulate
’s desperate calls to the Motherland were cut short.

The Light Night Striking Force of 105, 139
, and 692 Squadrons RAF, flying Mosquito bombers, carefully ‘attacked’ Swedish coastal emplacements, as would have been done, had a Naval force been forcing a passage into the Baltic.

Using skill to drop their HE far from the Swedish guns, or putting the occasional deliberate dud on target, and generally bathing the positions with light, the LNSF contributed greatly to the illusion that SHAEF was trying to create.

The planning took account of the position of the Saltholm observers ,and was timed to the second to ensure that Force V was, at no time, directly illuminated by the RAF strikes.

Part of the Swedish contribution was to ensure that the coastal illuminations disappeared, as would clearly be prudent for a country suddenly finding itself under attack, also ensuring that the naval forces could move past Saltholm without a revealing backdrop of light.

On Saltholm, the Red Navy observer group had become accustomed to quiet and boring nights.

This one transformed for them as aircraft clearly attacked the Swedish shore installations
, some ten kilometres away.

Whilst their mission was to report on seaborne activity, the Captain in charge felt that he needed to call this one in, and so the radio lit up with his report.

The activity was noted by a dedicated team in Bletchley Park.

Twenty-one minutes later, they noted further activity
, and the cipher team was passed a message that they, disappointingly, took nearly sixteen minutes to decode.

Sir Roger Marais
Dalziel picked up the receiver, waiting as a secure connection was made.

“
Sam, good morning. Report from the boathouse. The canoes have been spotted heading to the canal, and are safe and sound.”

Dalziel smiled at the reply.

“Soon enough, Sam. Good night.”

Eisenhower took a sip of his coffee as Rossiter, grinning from ear to ear, replaced the receiver with a flourish.

“Sir. They’ve been spotted and reported as a large, but unidentified, enemy naval force, possibly over one hundred vessels, sailing south-east into the Baltic.”

Ike checked his watch.

“Thank you, Sam. I think we’d better get Arthur up and ready, so that his boys can do their thing.”

Eisenhower had ordered Arthur Tedder to rest, prior to the implementation of Spectrum Red and, it was noted, he hadn
’t argued much.

Turning to Somerville and the recently arrived
Dönitz, Ike could see that they had both understood the latest development.

“
So, Sir James. When’s ‘lights out’?”

He quickly consulted with the small German Admiral, nodding as Donitz pointed at a figure from a column of figures that detailed the timings of Spectrum Red.

“0405 hrs, Sir.”

The sound had attracted her at first.

Delicately caressing her sonar gear
at first, the sound of turning screws of all shapes and sizes had grown and enticed her forward.

The
‘Lembit’ and her companion, L3 ‘Frunzenets’, were on a mission to re-mine the waterway south of Øresund, and were running straight in towards Force V.

Lembit
’s apparatus had detected the approaching sounds, and her crew had gone to battle stations, followed a minute later by L3.

Lembit
was an ex-Estonian Navy submarine that had begun life in a British shipyard, being launched in 1936. She was labelled a mine-laying submarine, with eight torpedoes and twenty-four mines to strike out with.

L3 was an older submarine that first tasted the cold water of the Baltic in 1931. She also carried mines, twenty of them, as well as twelve torpedoes.

The two Soviet captains made very different decisions, once they had spotted the wave of barely distinguishable lights about to ride over them.

The Lembit
’s commander, an old and wise sea dog with a penchant for survival, dropped his submarine to its full safe depth and turned southwards, intent on finding somewhere that he could safely surface and contact his superiors, once his radio had been repaired of course.

L3
’s Captain, Peep Korjus, a young and ambitious Estonian Senior Lieutenant, saw only glory, and a chance to save the Motherland from further hurt.

L3 commenced
its attack, increasing revolutions to bring the vessel around for a flank attack on the approaching fleet.

“
Fuck me sideways, Bert. There’s a fucking sub underneath us! Number One! Number One!”

HMS Charity had pulled clear of Force V, or as the Admiral put it,
‘The blasted Blackpool Illuminations’, and killed her engines, floating peacefully on the soft Baltic waters, the two minesweepers doing the same on two different stations, further south.

The First Lieutenant
had only just left the Sonar room when Miller, the untried operator, heard the sounds of electric engines coming up to speed.

Petty Officer Albert Coots cuffed the young operator.

“Proper reports, you idjit boy.”

The First Lieutenant plunged back into the sonar cabinet in response to the shouted calls.

“What gives, Coots?”

“
Sub, right underneath us, Number One. Heading three-two-five degrees, speed coming up to eight knots.”

“
Right underneath us?”

“
Aye sir.”

“
Sound action stations!”

The bells rang throughout the ship and ratings either closed up or rolled out of their pits.

“What the blazes, Number one!”

Ffoulkes trusted his man
, but the effect of the bells and a sudden conversion from total quiet to noisy confusion caught him off guard.

“
Sub, Sir, Right underneath us.”

He repeated the
updated details of the sonar contact, all on the bridge accepting that it was an enemy, as there were no ‘friendlies’ within a hundred miles.

HMS Charity was swinging in the light breeze.

“She is moving ahead of our bow.”

The Admiral burst onto the bridge, his call of nature caught short in the excitement.

Experienced enough to let the captain do whatever needed to be done, he held his peace, and waited to discover what was happening.

“
Range ahead now, Number One?”

A moment
’s pause as the officer ducked his head into the cabinet.

“
Two-five-zero yards, Captain.”

Ffoulkes
eyes burned bright with instant decision.

“
Hedgehog. Fire!”

The Midshipman keyed the switch, alerting the forward crew manning the multi-warhead Hedgehog and, within three seconds,
two dozen sixty-five pounds charges started to leap from their rails.

The sounds of the surface vessel coming to life above them had given everyone on L3 a real fright, so unexpected was it.

L3’s commander shouted his orders, bringing  his men back to focus on their duties, and ordered the engines to the fullest possible speed as he tried to manoeuvre.

The multiple splashes were heard by the Soviet crew, as was the first explosion.

The spigot charges dropped through the cool water, relying on a direct hit to explode.

A charge detonated against the engine room main hatch, destroying its integrity in the blink of an eye. A second charge struck four foot further towards the bow, accelerating the flooding in the huge space.

The engine room crew died without reporting their impending deaths.

None the less,
Korjus knew his ship was finished, the sudden up angle informing him, and the more experienced members of the crew, that their end was nigh.

Three more charges struck home
, and the control room was breached.

L3 sank to the bottom of the Baltic, the forward torpedo crew condemned to some more tortured hours of
absolute terror, before they resorted to detonating one of their charges to end their suffering.

Four of her mines floated free
, and headed towards the cloudy winter night sky.

“Now, Ffoulkes.”

“
Yes, Sir. Sparks, send it.”

HMS Charity
’s radio officer clapped his hand on the signaller’s shoulder and nodded.

The key tapped out the simple words that initiated the
last but one phase of Spectrum Red.

By the time the radio officer was happy that the message was out, the signs of its recognition and implementation were converting darkness into light as
, across Force V, the towed vessel’s second electrical circuit was energized.

The
small ships contained mixtures of high-explosive and ingenious contraptions designed by naval minds trying to outdo each other.

The minesweepers and MTB
’s fired off depth charges and main weapons, adding deep rumbles and tracers to the growing confusion.

For those aboard the Lembit
, it seemed like the hounds of hell had been unleashed, all baying for their blood, and totally determined to hunt them down. The venerable submarine went deeper, but could not avoid the storm of noise that was being generated on the surface.

Above, back
in the fresh air, the towed vessels were becoming less and less numerous, as explosions and fire claimed them one by one, which was the idea.