For King and Country

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE - Part One​

Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer,
To add something more to this wonderful year;
To honour we call you, not press you like slaves,
For who are as free as the sons of the waves?

Hearts of oak are our ships, jolly tars are our men,
we always are ready; Steady, boys, steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again​

Heart of Oak​

Helgoland Bight
Force H
HMS Hood - Flagship
January 3, 1940
Dawn

The weather was atrocious. The seamen on the bridge as well as the unfortunate souls that had to be on deck had a hard time determining what was sea spray kicked up from the waves breaking upon the bow and what was snow falling from the leaden clouds hanging low overhead. Any sane seaman, if there is truly such a thing, would not be sailing in such weather. However, as they had for generations, the men of the British Royal Navy were cruising through the harsh seas in their service to the Crown.

Despite the foul weather, there was none of the accompanying grumbling among the ratings and petty officers of the ships sailing this morning. To a man the crews of the British warships were hungry for revenge over the near decimation of the Channel Fleet two months ago. None more so than the Chief-of-Staff for Force H’s Admiral Holland, Captain Joseph Storeyville, who survived not only the sinking of his beloved cruiser, HMS Suffolk, but also the Board of Enquiry that was held following the mauling of the Channel Fleet. Despite receiving a promotion, Storeyville felt damned by the Enquiry for instead of receiving another ship to command he was relegated to a staff position. When he was not berating himself over his failure to save his ship and crew, which was becoming less frequent of late, or over his new job responsibilities, which again was becoming less frequent, and when he was truly honest with himself, Storeyville knew that things could have turned out much worse and he could have followed in the footsteps of the Channel Fleet’s former admiral, James Adams, and be facing execution for gross negligence and serious dereliction of duty. If he could not completely agree with the sentence passed upon Admiral Adams, and it was hard not to agree given the scope of the naval disaster and the amount of vehement displeasure directed toward the Flag Officer from the general public and the Crown itself, Storeyville could agree with the findings of the Board for Adams had been far more negligent than even was able to be believed.

No, Storeyville thought to himself as he crossed the casing into the Hood’s armoured bridge, better to at least be at sea than on the beach awaiting the firing squad. Nodding to the Officer of the Watch and waving away the attention of the ratings and petty officers manning the bridge, Storeyville crossed over to the port flying bridge hatch, fighting hard to overcome a ship’s captain’s instinct to check the vessel’s course and position, and cast his gaze out through the ice glazed armoured windows and into the cold grey-green seas reaching to embrace the falling snow. The watch was just about to begin, and with it the beginning of another day for the crew of Hood and the rest of Force H. Storeyville’s superior, Rear-Admiral Lancelot Ernest Holland.

Taking a sip of the steaming coffee that he held onto tightly, Storeyville considered the mission that Force H was conducting. Receiving news from unknown sources, meaning spies from the IIO, he thought recalling the tradition of Royal Navy officers being used by the Foreign Office for “information gathering” purposes, that Vizeadmiral Lütjens’ Schlachtgruppe Nordjäger had sortied out of Kiel before New Years Eve, once more on the prowl for Allied shipping. Home Fleet sortied out on New Years Day, despite quite a few ratings, not to mention officers, dreading the North Sea’s attack on their delicate conditions, fully intending to scour the North Sea until the German squadron was no longer sailing through the waves rather sliding beneath those waves.

Once out of Scapa Flow, Admiral John C. Tovey, the Home Fleet’s Admiral, faced the daunting task of covering not only the entire North Sea, but also the English Channel, the Norwegian Sea, and if the Germans were able to slip past the Fleet, the entire North Atlantic, all with one aircraft carrier, six battleships, three battlecruisers, five light cruisers, and three destroyers. Not an enjoyable proposition at all, Storeyville thought to himself sipping his coffee. Making his intentions known to the fleet by wireless, Admiral Tovey split the Home Fleet into hunting squadrons, clearly deciding that it was far better to possibly loose ships of the Fleet than to allow the Lütjens’ Schlachtgruppe Nordjäger out into the North Atlantic. Admiral Holland was given command of Force H which was comprised of Hood, the battleship Ramillies, the light cruisers Cairo and Dunedin, and the destroyer Hotspur. From the message that was still rattling around in his mind, Storeyville knew that Force H, as well as the other forces that the Home Fleet had been split into, was charged with seeking out and making contact with the Germans, holding them in sight until sufficient numbers of the Fleet could be brought to bear to destroy them. It was an audacious plan, and part of his mind approved of and enjoyed the plan with the thrill of the hunt aspect. However, Storeyville also was apprehensive of the plan, as only as one who had survived an encounter with the Schlachtgruppe Nordjäger could possibly understand. Not that he was frightened at the thought of sailing into combat with the Germans again, far from it, he was simply concerned from a technical point of view. After all it was a well established fact that even considering the relatively new Hotspur, almost every ship under Lütjens command was newer than the ships of Force H and more powerful on a ship to ship basis. The one thing that the seamen of Force H and the rest of the Home Fleet going for them was that they had more at sea time with their vessels that their German counterparts had with theirs, and in combat, that was a very telling thing.

“Attention on Deck,” barked the chief petty officer of the watch as Admiral Holland strode onto the deck.

“Stand easy, lads,” the Admiral replied as he spied his Chief-of-Staff in the corner of the bridge. Patting the young Officer of the Watch on the shoulder and checking the log as he made his way over to Storeyville’s position gave the younger man a chance to take in his superior once again and attempt to gage the Admiral’s mood. A short, trim man, who at only fifty-three years old had nearly a full head of white hair, Rear-Admiral Lancelot Ernest Holland had a reputation with in the Royal Navy for being intelligent, well read, very capable and quite ambitious, despite being rather shy. Serving on a different number of ships during the Great War, Holland had only returned to the Fleet at the outset of hostilities after serving as Naval ADC to both King Edward and King George. What matter the most to Storeyville, however, was that during his time in the Fleet during the Great War and since his return, Holland was established as one of the best gunnery specialists within the entire Royal Navy. A skill that would be sorely needed when and if Force H encountered the Germans with no more support than what they themselves consisted of this cold snowy morning.

“Good morning, Joe,” Holland greeted as he finally reached Storeyville’s location. “Glad to see you up. How’s the coffee?”

“Good morning, Admiral,” Storeyville replied as he straightened from the slouch he had found himself in while in thought over Holland. “I took the liberty of bribing you steward for some coffee from your private stores, so it is quite good. Shall I send for Lowe to bring you a mug?”

“I should have forseen that Stephen would be easily swayed by the captain of his old ship,” Holland replied with a faint smile. “I’ve already sent for him, but thank you.”

Turning to look out over Hood’s bow and into the grey waves, Holland grimaced. “One hell of a blow to be hunting in, eh, Joe? But, no matter, I have the feeling that both the seas will calm here soon and our prey will be within our grasp. What say you?”

“According to the meteorologist’s, sir, this should begin clearing later this morning,” Storeyville replied wondering if Holland’s years at sea had tuned him into their harsh mistress’ ways or if he had simply read the report before coming up to the bridge. Mentally shaking the brief spike of fear at the subject of second half the Admiral’s comment, he continued. “And the Germans, I’ll follow your lead, sir.”

Casting a look capped with an arched eyebrow at Storeyville’s neutral reply, Holland’s own reply was preempted with the arrival of Hood’s captain, Thomas D. Cartwright, who held a dispatch sheet in his hand and a slightly flushed look upon his face. “Admiral, we’ve just received word from Force N. HMS Nelson has exchanged long range fire with a collection of German vessels. Three were identified as Admiral Hipper, Bismarck and Tirpitz.”

“Where away, Thomas,” Holland asked while the rest of the bridge crew listened in to gather details that the rest of the ship’s crew no doubt were readily aware, there being little to no secrets aboard any naval vessel.

“Due north of us, sir, course away from Nelson bearing 240 degrees,” Cartwright replied while consulting the sheet of paper in his hand. “Roughly two hundred twenty miles due north of us.”

“Did Admiral Dyer report any hits upon the Jerries, Thomas,” Storeyville inquired while watching Holland glance at the plotting table in the middle of the bridge.

“No visible strikes, and Nelson lost contact in a sudden snow squall, Joe,” Cartwright answered, wondering how the captain of battleship HMS Nelson was feeling about having his prey slip away.

Looking up from the plotting table with a hungry look in his eyes, Holland ordered briskly, “Captain Cartwright, signal to the rest of the squadron to come to course 010 degrees, increase speed to twenty-seven knots, and come to second degree of readiness.”

“Aye-aye, Admiral,” Cartwright replied with a firm nod of the head before turning to the Officer of the Watch. “You heard the Admiral, Mr. McWilliams, make it so, if you please.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

“Joe, prepare a signal to Admiral Tovey,” Holland said while Cartwright was relaying his orders to Hood’s bridge crew, “as well as the Admiralty. Alert them that we are changing course to intercept Lütjens and anticipate contact sometime near noon ship time.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“And then, Joe, come and talk to me about your last encounter with Vizeadmiral Lütjens’ Schlachtgruppe Nordjäger. I am of a mind to rid the seas of this scourge.”


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Up next: The hunt is on! Stay tuned!