So we still have all our guns, thought Iachino, making a fateful decision. He considered waiting. He could report this attack to the other Axis fleets and see what they advised, but Italy had been bailed out of one action after another in the war, and hounded by the British in damn near every engagement. They’ve chased us out of the Horn of Africa, and destroyed the Tenth Army in Egypt and Libya, but not here. There’s nothing wrong with our guns, if these rockets can find us, then the enemy must be very close. Perhaps they are using a submarine to spot for these new weapons. We shall see.
He gave the order to increase to battle speed, in spite of a protest from Bergamini, who claimed it would make it much more difficult to control his fires. But Iachino persisted, determined to get the enemy out there under his guns. As soon as we darken their horizon, I’ll show them what my 15-inch guns can do.
Or so he thought…
Admiral Volsky had to decide what to do. He still had 28 SSMs, but this was only his first major engagement here. How long might this war go on? He knew the answer to that even as he posed the question. Italy would fight until Sicily was invaded and occupied in mid-1943, more than two long years away. Those 28 missiles represented overwhelming power at this moment. If he had followed common Russian Naval doctrine, he would have sent in a barrage of at least twenty SSMs, putting serious damage on an equal number of ships.
That would break them, he thought, and then all I have to do is live with all those dead souls out there, and hope my last eight missiles will get me safely through this war. Kirov would still be a threat, but a fast burning one after a salvo of that magnitude. Then what would we be once those last teeth were pulled-a toothless shark on the high seas, with little more than a bad reputation to throw at the enemy.
Now he realized what must have gone through Karpov’s mind when he was faced with the convergence of both British and American fleets in that very first run he made through the Denmark Strait. Karpov knew he had one weapon to clear the seas of his enemies, and one that would still leave his primary missile inventory intact. It made ruthless sense now as Volsky looked at the hard numbers before him.
“Mister Rodenko? Have we obtained any battle damage assessment?”
“We don’t have the KA-40 for long range visuals, but from radar returns the lead ship we targeted has fallen off and reduced speed. I think we can assume a good amount of damage there. We hit two ships, the British hit three. One of those was a smaller class ship, probably a cruiser.”
“And we have 28 missiles remaining…” Volsky thought, and Rodenko was watching him very closely. He had seen what Karpov’s choice would have been-argued against it, and suggested they disengage from Admiral Togo’s fleet, but Karpov had been determined. It took the mutiny of the entire bridge crew, and Doctor Zolkin’s timely intervention, to stay the Captain’s hand. One thing in Rodenko’s mind was still unanswered.
“Sir,” he said. “We haven’t heard from Kazan of late. Do you have any idea where Gromyko is?”
Volsky looked at his watch. “He is most likely on the other side of Sicily. I told him to see about closing the Sicilian narrows, but he is running silent until 16:00. Then we will see what his situation is, so that leaves this battle to us.”
“We could step aside now sir. The British have four battleships out there.”
“Yes? Well the Italians still have six. We do not yet have good battle damage assessments. So I am inclined to proceed here, but I would prefer to conserve my missiles.”
“We could try one more salvo of four, sir.”
“Would four more P-900s do the job? I wonder. Let us try another approach, Mister Rodenko. Activate our Vodopad system. When will we have range with that?”
“The Vodopads?” Volsky was asking about their torpedoes. The name meant “Waterfall,” probably meant to describe the way the torpedoes would fall from the side of the ship, dipping into the sea before they ignited their rocket engines. For a time they would become a missile, streaking out to their assigned targets before entering the sea again to finish their approach as a wake homing torpedo.
“Yes,” said Volsky. “I’ve never been really happy with the performance of those torpedoes, but this is a target rich environment now. If we fire we are almost certain to find targets. Is that system cleared for action?”
“Yes sir, and we still have nine Vodopad torpedoes ready. I saw to the inventory myself after the maintenance evolution.”
“Good. Let’s use a few. We have the range now, if I am not mistaken. Samsonov?”
“That system is on Tasarov’s board, sir.”
Tasarov had been lost in the sea again, listening to the Italian fleet, memorizing the sounds as he filed them away in his mind. Then he dimly heard his name and sat up at attention.
“No undersea contacts, sir.”
