This had implications for the planned German attack against the harbors and airfields of Crete. They would have to move north of Crete into the Aegean to strike the main harbors, which would allow the British to steam north and try to seal off the roughly 100 kilometer passage between Kithira and the main island. This would either force a battle there, or compel the Axis fleet to take the longer route around the eastern tip of Crete before moving west again. So a quick conference with Lutjens resulted in a most unexpected decision-they would turn south now and face the enemy full on.
IF AIR COVER POSSIBLE, WE ARE READY TO PROCEED, Laborde signaled to seal the deal. The plan had been to always operate under the protection of land based aircraft from Sicily, Italy and Greece, but Lutjens was not concerned. German intelligence had also counted the planes on Crete, and they were not deemed a major threat. So they would go hunting, and the fleet turned, riding high seas from the passing storm front, and surged south through the grey squall lines in search of their prey. What they would find, if they stayed on that heading unimpeded, was the flotilla of wounded warriors, Queen Elizabeth, Malaya and the damaged cruisers.
Aboard Argos Fire, MacRae watched the signal returns on the radar change their track and head south.
“They’ve come round to 170,” said Healey as he watched the radar screen. “Speed has increased to 28 knots.”
Morgan gave the Captain a look. “Well it seems we’ve invited more trouble than we needed,” he said.
“Aye, that we have. In for a penny, in for a pound. How many ships in that battlegroup?”
“I’m reading 22 separate contacts, with at least five or six large capital ships based on signal strength and density. They all just executed a well coordinated turn, and they move like silk. I don’t think we’ve seen all the speed they’re capable of yet sir.”
“The ship will come to full battle stations. Signal the British and advise them of the new heading and speed. Let me see the situation on a map, Mister Healey.”
“Aye sir, this is the position of the enemy fleet…” Haley pointed to the digital map screen to the left of his main station. “And this is the British fleet bound for Alexandria.”
“A pair of old battleships, three cruisers and five destroyers, and all of them at 16 knots. Be sure those ships are notified of the new threat.”
“It won’t do them much good,” said Morgan. “I do have good ears still, and I’ve been in on all the signals traffic between the British fleet units. Queen Elizabeth has a problem with her turbines, and she’s lost a boiler due to that bomb hit. Warning or not, that ship isn’t going to make any more speed than those sixteen knots, and I doubt any of the other ships will leave her behind.”
“I don’t like the looks of that,” said MacRae. “The enemy has more than enough speed to intercept the British if they get wind of them.”
And they did.
There was trouble on the wind that day, swift before the spinning storm as the Franco-German fleet turned south. The long, grey bow of the Normandie was breaking the swells easily, the massive bulk of the ship taming the heavy seas as the squalls slowly dissipated. Admiral Jean Laborde was on the bridge with the ship’s Captain, Charles Martel, a man with a very famous name. He was a tough, disciplined officer, and ready for battle at any time, so it was no surprise that Captain Martel was also quickly given the nickname Le Marteau from his namesake, Charles “the Hammer’ Martel, the man who had stopped the invasion of the Moors into Europe at the Battle of Tours.
Now the hammer was eager to fall on his perceived enemies, the British fleet that had so boldly and ignominiously attacked the French off Mers el Kebir. They had moved south to find the two destroyers that had been detached, seeing that the Vautor was a total loss, with heavy casualties among her crew of 125 men. It was just one more slap in the face insofar as Martel was concerned.
“The British certainly gave the Italians a lesson they will not soon forget,” he said to the Admiral.
“And they will likely sit in La Spezia now for the rest of the war!” Laborde shook his head, his eyes following the rise and fall of the distant silhouette of the Dunkerque. “But I seem to recall that we gave the British a little lesson ourselves off Dakar. Yes?”
“We did indeed, sir.”
“Tell me, Captain. What do you make of all this talk of these new British rockets?”
“Hard to make any sense of it, Admiral. Agile reports it was a rocket, low on the water and very fast, and there is no mistaking its effectiveness. One hit and Vautor was a flaming wreck, or so I was told.”
“How many men were rescued?”
“Sixty-three, most all transferred to the Strausbourg now. She’ll be coming up to take her station on out port side in due course.”
“Naval rockets… Agile saw nothing else?”
“No sir. No sign of an enemy ship on any horizon.”
