Now Argos Fire was in the same crucible of war that Kirov had faced, but they had not had time to learn any of these lessons. They had great strengths relative to the enemy they were facing. They could see them on radar over vast distances, and had the speed to use that advantage to keep their distance and strike with long range missiles. Yet they had not faced ships of heavy armor yet, and their missile inventory was nowhere near the size of the one Kirov had brought to this world. Argos Fire had only 24 Gealbhan Sparrow missiles under her forward deck, and of these many had been used in the Black Sea. They had only seventeen left now, and the first to strike the oncoming Franco-German fleet had found a worthy target in the battlecruiser Strausbourg, sending fire and wrath against her forward conning tower, but it was not a fatal blow like the missile that had easily gutted the lightly armored destroyer Vautor.
The thickness of the armor on the ships they were now facing would make all the difference, as long as the officers commanding them had steel wills and backbones for the fight that was now unfolding.
Admiral Laborde saw the second missile flashing on the horizon, and it looked to be heading directly for his ship. “Hard to starboard!” he roared, as if he were attempting to outmaneuver an enemy torpedo. The helmsman spun the wheel, turning the ship slowly as the missile flashed in, low on the sea. Seconds later it was the Normandie that felt the shuddering impact and fire, which might have hit the long bow if it had not been for that instinct to turn. Instead the missile struck low on the side armor of the battleship, just beneath the massive B turret, and there it made a glancing blow that looked far worse than the damage it actually inflicted.
Bright orange fire blazed against the side of the ship, but the armor held, and the fires caused by the residual fuel were the worst of the damage, scorching the hull black from just above the water level to the gunwales. Both hits had been shocking to all the men of the fleet. The leading destroyers were amazed to see how the missiles had even changed course to deftly avoid the screening ships and vector in on the heart of the formation. But that shock was the worst of it, and it did not break the steel in the men that day. They would fight.
Admiral Lutjens was steaming three kilometers off the port side of Normandie, his flotilla of four ships slightly separated from the French Fleet. It had been an uneasy alliance, as the French were reluctant allies here, and he knew there may be many men on those ships who still tasted the bitter bile of their defeat at the hands of the Germans. He lowered his field glasses and looked at Kapitan Adler, a wry smile on his face.
“So the British have rockets here as well,” he said, stating the obvious. “How are they spotting us?”
“Perhaps just as we surmised in the Atlantic,” said Adler. “They must have a submarine close by to send the general coordinates of our fleet.”
“But the accuracy of these attacks is uncanny,” said Lutjens. “Did you see how that second rocket avoided the destroyer screen? It was as if the damn thing had eyes!”
“Yes,” said Adler. “We would have taken a hit like that on the Graf Zeppelin if our destroyer had not been right alongside at that moment.”
“How do we beat a weapon like this?” Lutjens shook his head, clearly impressed, but Adler stood taller, his hands clasped behind his back.
“They must be firing from just over the horizon, Admiral. We have speed-let’s use it! Look, the French heavy ships are still in formation. They will control those fires and I am willing to bet they are not seriously harmed. What we do now is charge with the heavy cavalry, sir. How many of these rockets can the enemy have? We may take hits, but they cannot sink us all before we get them under our guns. Then we settle the matter the old fashioned way.”
Even as Adler finished they saw another thin contrail in the sky, this time a SAM fired to take down the seaplane spotter that had just launched from the Normandie minutes before. It exploded with the unerring hit, sending murmurs through the bridge crew that prompted Lutjens to turn and give a stiff rebuke to his men.
“We are not here to ooh and ahh at the British fireworks! We are here to find and crush them, and that is exactly what we will do!” Then to Adler he said: “Signal Admiral Laborde. If their ship can still make way, I advise we increase to full battle speed and sail right down that heading.” He pointed a gloved finger at the smoke trail low on the sea from that second rocket strike.
“Shall I signal the Goeben to launch Stukas?” Adler waited on the Admiral’s order.
“Not just yet, he said. The French are launching more seaplanes. Let’s see how they do before we give the British more targets for these rockets. Now… helmsman, all ahead full!”
