Reich Marshal of the Belkan Reich

Chapter 22.5: Battle stations! (part 2)

The utter decimation of Bearn's aerial squadrons catches the Ustian by complete astonishment. Such a swift and crushing defeat right off the bat is not a good way to start a major battle.

"Can someone tell me what the fuck just happened?!"  Unable to retain his calm, the Ustian Admiral inquired his XO with unbridled rage.

Gulping a shallow breath, the XO reiterates what he just reported. "Right before we lost contact with our seaplanes, they relayed the complete destruction of the fighters and bombers we sent out. The enemy now has air superiority and their seaplane can have a bird's eyes view on us without obstruction, sir. All of this was due to the sudden arrival of the enemy land-based air force, and since we have no intel that they will coordinate with each other... We failed to set up aerial patrols in the direction of the mainland, causing the disastrous loss of our air fleet."

"I already know that you, imbecile!" Raged the Ustian Admiral. It seems like he's just looking for something to vent on, and the poor XO was just the one to do that. Yet, the XO bits his lips to remain calm.

After a minute of pacing around, heaving out puffs of hot air, the Admiral sits down heavily on his chair, saying. "Fuck it then, should have known better than putting faith in the flyboys." That's right, he's displacing the fault to the dead pilots. It's not his mistake to bear, after all, he's the Admiral of the Navy for god's sake. "Only the might of our cannons has any worth using. Have the Bearn and her escorts fall back, we alone are more than enough to deal with the enemy ships. All remaining vessels follow the Dunkerque to meet the enemy! Helmsman, engine to full! Battle stations!"

The XO breathes a sigh of relief before saluting. "Yes, Admiral!"

From this point onward, gloves are off for both sides.

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Unknowing to the Ustian at the time, their very movement is locked on by a periscope, peeking slightly above the waves. The periscope scans the entire Ustian flotillas, communicating their movements to the rest of its pack. This periscope belongs to the U-569, leader of the Markgraf wolfpack.

Lieutenant Hinsch, who's using the periscope of the U-569, says. "The enemy carrier group is retreating. Meaning we only have to face the battleships flotilla if things go well."

"Will we be hunting the carrier later, boss?" A sergeant asked.

"Depend, if the Air Force pulls their weight, we won't be wasting much time on this group. Thus leaving us ample time to catch up to the aircraft carrier. Sergeant Johansen, sends the word out for the pack, after the torpedo bombers make their strike, we will move in. When the enemy destroyers are entangled with ours, we will commence the attack. Our priority will be the sinking or crippling of the enemy battleships, then the cruisers. Once our navy gains the upper hand, we will see whether we can disengage to chase the retreating enemy."

"Yes, boss!" Sergeant Johansen moves to the comm station, the red lighting of the submarine's interior helps him maneuver in the cramped quarter. Leaving him to do his jobs, Hinsch scans the horizon to see the Ustian flotilla preparing themselves for an air raid. It seems like the He-111s are here. 

From his view, Hinsch sees the enemy flotilla discharging whatever AA gun they have in the sky. Yet, the AA-armament of the Ustian navy proves to be lackluster, with the Dunkerque pulling her weight by the eight 130mm DP guns on her side. Nonetheless, their slow rate of fire severely limited their lethality, and without CAP fighters to provide cover, the He-111s approached unhindered at low altitudes. Their rugged construction allows them to shrug off stray flak fragments. Very soon, the first He-111 squadron drops off their torpedo, seven in total, aiming toward the battleship Bretagne. The torpedoes, approaching from 1 o'clock of the Bretagne, are evenly distributed in a line to counter the evasive maneuver the Bretagne may do. Though it proves to be not necessary when the Bretagne itself is a slow and lumbering ship. The ship tries her best to turn away from the wave of deadly fishes, yet that proves to be her undoing when what she should have done is to turn into the wave instead. By turning away, she completely expose her broadside to four torpedoes, all of them struck across different portions of the ships. Two of them struck at the fore-end and aft-end of the Bretagne, the parts where her torpedo bulge is the thinnest. The explosions cause heavy flooding across the entire starboard side of the ship, and with her engine rooms flooding, it's safe to say the Bretagne is crippled for a long time.

Hinsch notes that the Bretagne is listing heavily on her side, such that if the ship dares to move any further, more water will pour in and hasten the sinking of the ship. It seems like that battleship is out of the picture for now so the Markgraf pack can focus on something else. He then calmly watches on as he noticed it's only seven bombers that made the run, there's still another group trailing waiting to commence their attack. After five minutes of the torpedo run, the second Heinkel squad is on an attack vector. He surmises that they will try to attack the Dunkerque and that they did.

The second squadron approaches the Dunkerque from her 3 o'clock position, yet, having smartened up from the mistake made by the Bretagne, the Dunkerque bits a fast turn to the port side. Bearing her full complement of dual-purpose 130mm turrets to the low-flying He-111s. Though the 111s are rugged, they're also slow and easy to hit if you take the time to aim. The three quads 130mm turrets finally prove themselves when they score a devastating hit on a He-111 flying at the edge of the formation. The aircraft loses her left wing, plunging heavily into the sea, the state of her crew is unknown. Another aircraft flying near her has her left engine caught fire. The pilots shut down the engine in hope of putting out the fire before slowing down and flying behind the formation. If they disengage now, they risk being singled out and shot down. They can only pray for the fire not getting to the fuel tanks.

Hinsch watches with utter fascination as the iron-willed pilots keep on flying toward their target, regardless of the danger of being hit by a flak shell. Soon, he sees the squadron drops their torpedoes, though sadly they all miss the Dunkerque for she has maneuvered out just in time. Nevertheless, a torpedo manages to hit the rear of a cruiser, presumably knocking out her rudders as she is now moving in circles. Another one, and boy its spectacular sight, detonates and causes an ammo detonation in the fore magazine of a destroyer. Due to her flimsy nature as a destroyer, the vessel's ripped in half with the fore-end sinking first before the rest of the body follows.

"Well, that's one less annoyance to deal with. They lose one destroyer to our flyboys, the Bretagne is crippled alongside the La Motte-Picquet losing her rudders. All in all, they made a successful run." Hinsch said as he saw the burning Heinkel 111 make for a touch down on the sea, a bit far away from the enemy fleet. "Also, we have a crash-landed bomber, about 1km away behind us. Note their location so that we can swing back and rescue the survivors after the engagement."

Sergeant Johansen answers. "Will do, sir. Should we begin the hunt?"

"Why not? The Dunkerque is now ripe for the taking as she is now somewhat heading towards us. Her screening force is completely oblivious to our presence as they are all guarding her starboard side. We have ample opportunity to tear them a new one." Hinsch folds the periscope. "Now's our time. Sound the klaxon, U-569 raises the contact at 10:20 am, we will lead the pack for a hunt, travel at medium depth."

"You got it, boss!" Johansen punches a button on the bridge, and the familiar siren is heard across the entire submarine. The hunt is on for the Dunkerque.

U-569 moves stealthily beneath the waves at full speed. She leads the other three submarines, the U-94, U-124, and U-406, into the launch range. It takes a bit of time as their submarines can only move at 7.6 knots maximum when submerged. So by the time they arrive at the comfortable range of 5km away from the enemy formation, the clash between two surface navies is about to begin. That is if the wolfpack doesn't kick start it first.

Hinsch orders the helmsman. "Take us to periscope level."

"Aye aye, sir!" Soon, the 569 floats to about 15 meters away from the surface.

Hinsch says. "Up periscope!" he grabs the instrument as it drops down to eye level. With a quick scan, he spots the prize of the day, sailing with its turrets turned toward the Belkan battlecruisers.

Since the light cruiser and the Bretagne from before is crippled, they have made some changes to the current formation. They opt to make the flotilla formation to be more defensive in nature with the remaining cruisers covering the Dunkerque from Belkan destroyers' attack. The same can also be said for their destroyers though they operate further away, doubling as a harassing force. Meaning, that they won't be able to respond in time against an underwater assault.

"Order to the pack, 569 and 94 will engage with the Dunkerque first. Each picks their firing solution, fire at will on my mark. 124 and 406 stay on reserve in case of a failure, if fail to cripple or sink, engage the battleship at their own discretion. If success, change target to a cruiser of their own choosing."

"On it, sir." The radio operator disseminates the order to the rest of the pack. After that, only the 569 and 94 stay ahead of the formation with the other two shadowing the Ustian fleet from behind. They're waiting for a chance to shine.

Hinsch analyzes the enemy movement pattern alongside the rest of his crew. They work up a good firing solution in mere minutes.

"Bearing 300...Mark." The buzzer and mark light turns on with the correct input.

"Range 4500...Mark." Like before, the buzzer and mark light is switched on as the range is set.

"TDC matched."

"Angle on the bow port 35 degrees."

"Tube order forward is 1 to 2." The torpedo room preps the first two tubes for the firing order.

"Flood the forward tube 1 and 2." They then hit a button, flooding the firing tube with seawater, ready to fire on command.

"The U-94 is ready, sir." Johansen reported, that Hinsch only nodded.

"Open the outer doors." Outside the submarine, the previously flooded tubes are now opened in full, rearing to spit death and destruction.

"On my command... Launch one," The first torpedo from the U-569 is launched silently, followed by the one from the U-94. "launch two."

A second torpedo shoots out of the forward tube. The tubes close the doors before the torpedo room begins the reload procedure. Unlike the 569, the U-94 launches all her forward tubes in a narrow spread. By the time the torpedoes reach the target, accounting for the possible maneuver from the Dunkerque, at least two torps can hit the enemy.

The two submarine commanders wait with bated breath. For this mission alone, they have triple-checked the reliability of their equipment. The process was tedious so they all want a big bang in return. 

Before the torps reach their target though, the Dunkerque fires the first salvo from her eight 330mm guns. Hinsch watches as the white tracers fly out of the barrels, leaving shockwaves and smoke battering the ocean surface. He is unsure of the accuracy of those things but it's not a thing he wants to test any time soon. He's now hoping the battleship sticks to her course till the last second.

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The Ustian Admiral watches from the conning tower as the guns from the Dunkerque slowly point upward. Each gun is now loaded with an armor-piercing shell, ready to unleash hell on the hopelessly outranged Belkan battlecruisers. Their puny 283mm guns are no match for the might of his 330mm. In a way, naval warfare is no different than a dick-measuring contest, and he has a feeling he's winning one.

Yet, he's shaken out of his mirth when the hydrophone operator anxiously warns. "Torpedoes to port! Multiple, sir!"

"What?!" Everybody on the bridge is shocked, many runs to the port side only to see six torpedoes leaving behind minimal wakes on the surface. "Hard to port, engines to flank, now!"

The Dunkerque helmsman swings the steering wheel to the left while the engine room brings out as much power as possible, all are hoping they can steer away from the approaching danger. Yet, as the electric torpedoes are very stealthy, the hydrophone spotted them way too late, leaving the Dunkerque not much time to react. Finally, the Ustian Admiral can only watch, helplessly as three torpedoes hit the port side of his flagship. The lack of comprehensive anti-torpedo bulge on the ship proves to be her undoing as two torpedoes struck the engine room while the last one hit the bow.

Dunkerque shakes violently with three violent underwater explosions. Her engine room is flooded heavily, knocking out three of her turbines while the A turret's magazine is flooding with no sign of stopping. To avoid worsening the flooding situation, the Admiral gives the order to seal off the A turret, cutting half of their firepower as the result. He directs the damage control party to stop the flooding on the ship as the electricity on the Dunkerque keeps flickering on and off. Hopefully, they can bring the engines back to half-speed at the very least.

By now, the Admiral has received a rude awakening. Since half of the Task Force firepower got effectively disabled in mere hours, he stands no chance of winning. Not when he's now boxed in between two battlecruisers and God knows how many submarines behind him. Knowing that the situation is grim, he regretted underestimating the enemy Admiral. The opposite side has employed combined-arms warfare, dominating the three-dimensional battlefield from the very beginning. He's hopelessly outmatched. His only chance of survival now is to break past the submarine blockade behind him, reconvene with the Bearn group, and maybe he can get past safe water.

"Have the Primauguet and Emile Bertin smokes us up while our destroyers head out to hunt the enemy submarines! Call back the Bearn's escort too! We need all the help we can get. The Dunkerque will be steering away from the enemy and will rendezvous with the Bearn's escorts."

Quickly passing on the order, the Ustian Admiral prays to dear God that he can survive the upcoming onslaught. "And I want our remaining guns to keep them at bay!"

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"Here comes trouble!" Hinsch spotted the three approaching destroyers. "If the enemy is smart, the other three that have been following the carrier are also doubling back as we speak."

"Boss, the U-94 is retreating as she has already expended her forward tubes. Though she is hanging on a holding pattern with her aft tube at the ready."

Hinsch nods. "The 124 and 406 are on a flanking pattern against the enemy destroyers, correct?"

Johansen gives the affirmative. "Yes, boss. They report that they are well outside the detection range of their movement path. They are getting a firing solution on the destroyers as we speak."

Hinsch double-checks the submarine-hunting pattern of the enemy destroyers. Making sure that they aren't looking for anyone else but him and the U-94. "Down periscope, crash dive."

"Aye aye, boss!" Johansen runs to the ship intercom. "Crash dive! Crash dive!" The emergency klaxon is sounded across the submarine. Her crew bracing for the upcoming depth charge salvos. "Take us on a slow ahead, we will be moving directly toward the enemy."

"Got it, boss!" The helmsman answered.

Johansen runs up to Hinsch. "Boss, the U-94 reports that she's out of danger and will join the attack on the destroyers that are approaching us."

"Good, all hands brace for impact. Once we're given the clear, we will raise up and launch our remaining forward tubes at the Dunkerque, sinking her once and for all! Let's bag us a nice bounty for this hunt!" 

"YES, BOSS!"

The crew cheers before turning mum, letting the sonar operator work in peace. Soon, the operator reports. "Sir, they're almost on top of us."

Hinsch nods. "Cut the engine, we now follow where the tide leads us."

And with that, the U-569 is now completely silenced. Up above, the rhythmic spinning of the destroyers' propellers echoes down to the sea bed.

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Aboard the U-94, Captain Kuppisch watches on with anxiety as the Ustian destroyers are now launching wave after wave of depth charges. "Is the launcher not ready yet?!" He questioned his XO sternly.

"Sir, the torpedo room report that they have managed to open the door, we can fire at any time!"

"Then what are we waiting for, launch it alongside the 124 and 406!"

"Yes, sir!"

Goddamn it, before they commit themselves to this operation, the aft tube was checked to be in good condition. Yet, the door was jammed at the most crucial moment, causing a delay in their attack. Thankfully, they manage to fix it in the permitted time window. Otherwise, they would have lost the firing solution they scrunched up.

With a low hum, the U-96 launches her aft tube together with the tubes from the U-124 and U-406. They are evenly distributed on the remaining destroyers and with any bit of luck, the explosions from the depth charges will mask their sound. Three destroyers are too dangerous to be left alive.

Fortunately, the Mother Goddess has blessed them with good fortune today. As the enemy is too focused on scouring the U-569's location, they completely missed the approaching torpedoes. It's only until they can be spotted visually that the destroyers break off from their submarine hunting pattern. By this time, it's too late.

With glee, Kuppisch witnesses his torpedo striking a destroyer, right in the middle. If not sinking then the thing won't be going anywhere soon. The other two also maneuver at will, just not enough as one got hit on the aft while the other ate two torpedoes before exploding into a ball of flame. That has got to be a magazine explosion. By dealing such a swift but deadly blow, the enemy ASW capability has effectively been reduced to nothing at the moment. 

Kuppisch orders the radio to communicate the all-clear for the rest of the pack. Yet, after five minutes, he still hasn't seen the U-569 reports back to take command. He is fearing the worse when the sonar operator interrupts.

"Sir, you've to hear this." Kuppisch turns to look at the lad. "There's an engine sound at 200 meters depth, heading directly for the Dunkerque!"

"So that lucky bastard is still alive." Kuppisch sighs in relief. "And I guess he is heading to gut the big fish, once and for all. That's fine with me then. We will move to the side for now, and reload all our tubes to intercept possible enemy reinforcement. Since the 124 and 406 still have torpedoes, they are free to engage the cruisers or help us deal with the stragglers."

The XO responds. "Yes, sir. I will relay your command."

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Back to the U-569, Hinsch is wiping a trickle of blood from his face. Though there's no death from the destroyers' attack. There are a few injured including him, he got knocked off his feet due to the shockwave, hitting his head on a piece of instrument. 

While being cared for by the medic, Hinsch directs the sub to get closer to the enemy flagship. Right now, he's a bit pissed that his ship got scratches on her paint job. Ramming two fishes up the enemy's ass will be a good payback.

"Boss, we are 1km out!"

Emergency surface, all ahead flank, flood tubes 3 and 4!"

"Aye aye, boss!"

"All hands brace for close combat!" Hinsch ordered.

Scanning the faces of his crew, Hinsch's a bit apprehensive that they will get cold feet. Yet, the worry was for naught when he see that they have devious grins on their face. Seems like everyone wants an in on this knight's charge of his.

Steadily, the submarine breaks the surface, and with adrenaline pumping, Hinsch orders. "Open doors 3 and 4!"

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On the bridge of the listing Dunkerque, the Ustian Admiral watches with spite as one of his cruisers is struck with a debilitating blow, presumably from the 283mm guns that he has been underestimating. And with the losses of the destroyers he sent out, his entire force is facing utter annihilation. What about the escorts from the Bearn, you ask? Bastards haven't responded to any of his hailings, meaning they run away like cowards. The Admiral can imagine that they will cite the battle damages incurred by the Dunkerque and her flotilla had destroyed their comm equipment. So, they are unable to send out any cries for help nor can the Bearn receives any from theirs. That's partially true as the long-range equipment they used to stay in touch with the mainland was taken out previously by the enemy shelling.

Still, never has he faced this humiliation, not when he's in the academy, not when he received a rejection from a fair lady. By now, he's contemplating the surrender of his vessels, if only to save his skin. They will not treat him badly for he has top secret information about both the Ustian and Erusean Navies. His thought is cemented when he sees a submarine surfacing, mere hundreds of meters away from his flagship.

"Well, fuck my life..." He watches on as the Dunkerque trains whatever guns she has left to engage the submarine. Yet, the listing has prevented many of her guns to engage the fast-approaching submarine.

Under the light return fire from the Dunkerque, the U-569 just calmly sent out her two remaining torpedoes. They speed through the waves to once again, struck the bow and aft section of the Dunkerque. This time, however, the magazine of the A turret gives in. A detonation shreds open 1/3 of the Dunkerque as the A turret flies away into the sky, bluish flame spewing out of its barbette. The flame, in no time at all, is reaching for the B turret's magazine.

The Ustian Admiral is knocked off his feet, yet, he looks with morbid fascination at the raging flame on the Dunkerque bow. He only returns to reality when his XO shakes him with a cry. "Admiral, we've received heavy damage across all sectors! Please, give us an order!"

"Order...? Order for what...?" The Admiral shakes his head. "The only order I can give you is to abandon ship now. Dunkerque is now a lost cause."

He shrugs off the arms of his XO, walking out of the conning tower, hanging by the railing. Outside, he sees the U-569 making a past across his ship, its conning tower painted with the head of a wolf with red eyes. "Well played, Belkans. Well played." He commented before turning around to reiterate the surrender order on all remaining vessels.

In his head, he has no doubt history will vilify him as the most useless Head of the Navy in history. For his first battle resulted in the sinking of his flagship, the capture of one battleship and many auxiliary vessels with the Aircraft Carrier Bearn is now effectively a paper tiger. Though that will be the mess of somebody else to clean up, not his. The Ustian Admiral thought as he is now sitting on a life raft, being rescued by his cruiser. A bit of distance away, a mere stone throws in naval warfare, are the approaching Belkan destroyers.

"Maybe the exotic maidens of Belka are of much better pursuit, now that I think about it." Yet, it's a thought he tucked inside his heart, waiting for the day to bloom.

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