It was mid-day, and Tovey had just been informed by Admiral Volsky that another strike wave was inbound. He went into the plot room and leaned heavily over the table, noting the last known position of the Franco-German fleet. That was soon updated, and he could see that he would shortly have another major fleet action on his hands. They were just emerging from the maw of the Strait of Messina
The enemy’s second strike wave was now just thirty minutes away, but the weather was clouding over much faster than anyone expected. The collision of warm and cold air masses was causing thunderheads to mushroom up well ahead of the planes now, and Tovey saw in them a brief possibility of shaking the fleet loose from the hounding enemy aircraft. Admiral Volsky
communicated one last message. ANTI-AIR MUNITIONS LOW, BUT WE ARE PREPARED TO CONTINUE DEFENSE. ADVISE YOUR CURRENT INTENT.
Munitions low… He knew there were limits to the power of the sea gods that had come to raise their swords and shields for the Royal Navy. This would not be the last time they might face the enemy like this, but now Tovey realized it could not be here, so close to Sicily and the airfields thick with German and Italian planes. He already had achieved the victory he had come here to fight-giving the Italian Navy a severe shock. Instinct now compelled him to end this engagement. If he persisted, and now attempted to engage the Franco-German fleet, he might throw away everything he had just won.
So he decided, collaring an aid and sending him off to the W/T Room. “Signal all fleet units. Come about and steer one hundred degrees southeast at best speed. The fleet will reform at point B as planned at 18:00.”
He was going to live to fight another day. Point B was also Plan B, which stood for Benghazi. It was a fallback operation they had chosen should it seem impractical to proceed to Malta for the fire support mission there. Instead they had chosen a coordinate off Benghazi to give the Italian garrison there a taste of some good naval gunfire. By moving south now, Tovey hoped to get out from under the immediate threat of enemy air strike, and possibly compel the Franco-German fleet to pursue him into waters where they would not enjoy the advantage they now possessed.
As it happened, the Italian planes followed a vector that took them much too far to the north, thinking the British had continued that way in pursuit of their own fleet. The second German strike of 77 planes reached the scene 35 minutes later, but by then the fleet had already dispersed as per prior orders, so as not to present a single target. Both Kirov and Argos Fire decided to commit another 12 medium range missiles each if necessary, but the worsening weather was enough to keep the enemy from doing any serious harm. The German pilots realized the British were on the run, and seeing the thunderheads rising all around them now, they turned back for their bases. So the missiles stayed in their silos this time around.
What Tovey did not realize, however, was that the enemy also had a plan. It had been partly foiled by the impatience and hubris of Admiral Iachino, who had decided he had the strength to engage the Royal Navy on its own. Lutjens had strongly argued that all three fleets should combine before facing their enemy, but that was foiled. Now the German Admiral was also looking at his map aboard Hindenburg, with Captain Karl Adler at his side.
“What do you make of this, Adler? All reports from Tenth Fliegerkorps indicate the enemy has dispersed and is now withdrawing.”
“They had more than enough from the Luftwaffe,” Adler said calmly.
“I’m not so sure. The British are very cagey, and they seldom do anything without good reason. They have been very aggressive here, and in past operations, always so eager to get into the hunt.”
“But now we are the hunters, Admiral. They may have taken significant damage in either the naval battle, or from this air strike. The pilots are claiming their hits in the squadron rooms by now, and we may soon know more.”
“Their last reported course was southeast. Do you believe they are retiring to Alexandria?” Lutjens tapped the map with his pencil, pointing the route they would be likely to take.
“Where else?” said Adler. “We showed them that we now control the Central Mediterranean. There’s only one place where they can sail with any confidence now, and they will head for the safe shores off Egypt.”
“And we will follow.”
Adler raised an eyebrow at that. “Into the Eastern Med?”
“Of course not, but I am not so sure that is where the British are heading just yet. Signal the fleet to steer for Crete as planned. That way we’ll be shadowing the British if they are heading for Alexandria, and Operation Donner may proceed as planned.”
“And shall I inform Fiebig?”
