Keynes' Cruisers Volume 2

[fester]

Murmansk, January 15, 1943

Another convoy arrived. Empty ships were being pushed down the inlet to clear space for the heavily laden Liberty Ships, Ocean class steamers and Empire merchant ships. Over the next two weeks, enough equipment to rebuild a tank corps would be unloaded. New Shermans, Canadian Patterned Trucks, heavy artillery from Pittsburgh were the headlining cargo. Thousands of tons of high octane aviation gasoline was already being unloaded while radios, field wire and machine tools were scheduled to be sent to the trains by the end of the week.

 

[fester]

Rzhez Front, January 15, 1943


The snow blinded infantrymen creeping forward. They hung onto their weapons, fingers sliding along the wool and fur mittens. Thick, white scarves covered their faces. Small sun goggles sat on faces to keep the glare off their eyes and to offer at least minuscule protection against the blowing snow.


The submachine gun assault company along with an engineering platoon had managed to infiltrate forward. The closest scouts were only one hundred yards away from the German listening post. They were all on the ground and ready. Thousands of more infantrymen were behind the submachine gunners and sappers.


Several miles south of the infantry company, a tank brigade started their engines. The Lend Lease Shermans mostly came to life. Their crews had babied the engines to adjust to the cold. White wash hid them in the tree line. Infantry battle riders soon mounted the tanks. Smarter men and the sergeants found ways to sit above the engine. The warmth was comfort and dexterity. Even as German listening posts reported back the presence of Soviet tanks, the artillery bombardment started. Every gun assigned to four rifle divisions as well as an independent artillery division fired.


Behind the submachine gun company, the infantry battalions with full strength rifle companies waited. Mortars were firing on the forward most German positions. German guns and mortars were already in the counter-battery mode. Overhead a dozen IL-2s came back from their first strike of the day. Two were trailing smoke and one had a wing that was more air than metal. AeroCobras orbited overhead looking for German interference.

Suddenly the battery of guns in direct support of the regiment ceased fire. The mortars continued laying down a crumpling barrage. A minute later, the guns started again. Smoke shells masking the final advance. The engineers started to blow lanes in the German minefields as the submachine gunners stood and began to advance. They fired from the hip at any flick of light or barrel spitting back at them until the strongest men were in grenade range. Some then stopped and tossed grenades while others continued to dash forward.


Up and down the front, four divisions were on the offensive. German reserves would soon start to shift. If a breakthrough could be achieved here, that would be fine, but the reserves needed to be moved and committed as another army would start their attack thirty miles away tomorrow morning.

 

[fester]

Montreal January 16, 1943

The line in the locomotive works was cleared for the first time in almost two years. A parallel line still had dozens of six pounder armed Valentines in various stages of completion and more under order. Every day a platoon's worth of tanks were taken to be tested and tweaked just outside the city. At the end of each day, those tanks that were ready for deployment were taken to the docks. Most would eventually end up in Russia although a third were still be allocated to Canadian units including an armoured regiment attached to C-force on Java.

The now quiet line was being cleaned. Engineers and mechanics were changing tooling. A new variant of the Ram tank would soon start production.

 

[fester]

Cambridge, Massachusetts January 16, 1943


Elaine’s head was spinning. Professor Hopper had just concluded a three hour long guest lecture. And the mill girl from Lowell was pretty sure she understood most of it. The calculus was beyond her education but the intuition rang solid. Half a dozen of the other girls were heading down the auditorium steps to speak with the lecturer who had invited any interested woman to another room for coffee, cookies and conversation. Usually any one of those three would be worthwhile, but today, all three were fascinating.

 

[fester]

Tunis, Tunisia January 17, 1943


General Eisenhower looked over the incredible array of headgear. His divisional and brigade commanders were still milling around looking for donuts, coffee and tea. They had a few more minutes until the conference was scheduled to begin. As he talked to General Wavell, commander of the successful and victorious 8th Army, he heard Southern drawls, Boston non-rhotics, Scottish brogues, Alberta twangs, Parisian French precision, Greeks speaking with Oxbridge precision, South African clippers and Australians blending and butchering hard vowels. Admirals and aviators were clustered around a set of coffee tables in the far corner. An RAF Maryland had detected a trio of Italian destroyers attempting to raid the coast, and between the Royal Navy and US Army Air Corps, those destroyers were sunk before they could cause too much mischief. This was not his entire command, the Indian Army officers had been quite intent on introducing some of their favorite food to a collection of Free Poles and Americans from Texas and New York. That experiment of cross-cultural exchange was happening down in the kitchen.


He looked at the stage. Two covered mobile chalkboards had been placed behind the speaker’s podium. A large pitcher of water and a pack of cigarettes with a new zippo light were next to the wooden pulpit. The clock ticked and tocked towards nine o’clock. He clasped the hand of his senior army commander and went forward. He mounted the stage, sipped the cold water and looked out at the rapidly sitting audience.


“Good morning gentlemen. Today’s briefing will be long. We will be going over the Mediterranean Theatre’s campaign plan for the upcoming year. We were victorious in 1942, and we will be building on our success to bring the enemy to their knees in 1943. I want to welcome all of you to the team, as there is not American success nor British success or Greek success or French success, but only Allied success. We all have different strengths and we will build on each other to most effectively present unified strength against the Germans and their Italian lackeys….


Our objectives this year are two fold. First to open up the southern North African littoral to routine shipping and convoys. This will rapidly improve our supply situation as well as alleviate the cost, time and hassle of supplying the Allied armies and fleets in the Far East. Secondly, we will seek to eliminate Italy from the war. Some of our operations are clearly designed to achieve one or the other objective. Other operations including Operation Husky which will be discussed shortly will allow us to accomplish both objectives.


Reinforcements are schedule to come to the region. General Alexander is my ground forces commander. By late May, we will have three complete armies; the 8th Army which will be overwhelmingly British Empire troops, the 1st Army which will be primarily British, Free Greek and Free Polish troops, and the 7th Army, which is primarily an American and Free French army. At the same time the 5th Army will be standing up for in North Africa for future operations with American units that will be directly deploying from the Continental United States. Admiral Cunningham will be controlling all naval forces from Gibraltar to the Bosphorus. Air Vice Marshall Tedder is the theatre air commander for anything that flies and is not directly attached to a ship or an artillery battalion.


We will outline our plans today gentlemen. We seek to inform and improve, so as you see weaknesses, raise those points.


And now Colonel Williams from the Joint Planning Staff will begin his briefing. “

 

[fester]

Moscow, January 18, 1943

The most recent train from Vladivostok slowed. Workers tucked their caps and their scarves tight while pulling wool and fur gloves over their fingers. The cold wind blew. It penetrated their clothes like the stare of a desperate woman could penetrate their souls. Eighty cars needed to be unloaded. Twenty were packed full of rubber and aluminum. The aircraft plant at MAPO would eat the entire material load in a few days producing flying tanks. Other cars had powdered milk and canned pork and beans. Infantrymen would get the meat while children were allocated the milk. More cars had radios and jeeps and highly refined aviation gasoline. Somehow the supply to America was staying open as Japan would not interfere with the Soviet flagged, American built freighters carrying the bounty of the American west coast to the Eastern Front.

 

[fester]

Near Ithaca, Greece January 18, 1943


The Greek submarine Triton broke through the waves. Within seconds, look-outs were scrambling for a perch. A minute later, two rubber dinghies were being inflated. Within fifteen minutes, six commandos were in each boat. Each man was heavily laden with weapons and gear. Crates were placed in between the three pairs of paddlers. Soon they were heading ashore to rendezvous with other scouts and saboteurs. A seaplane patrol base would soon be visited and mischief would be wreaked. Until then Triton would descend under the sea until rescues were needed.

 

[fester]

Rhodes, January 19, 1943


The bulldozer sputtered. The driver cursed. Half an hour later, it had been towed to the maintenance area. Mechanics who had grown up near Detroit and Gary had already started to strip down the head gasket. Within an hour, the problem had been isolated. A pair of privates had been sent to dig through the supply rooms for the spare part. Even as the mechanics were triaging that heavy machine, another machine, this time a roller, was dragged in. They picked up their tools and went to work again.

Yesterday had been the same as today. Tomorrow would be the same again. The heavy construction regiment had completed two six thousand foot long strips. Another two were under construction. Soon the bomb groups would be able to operate off of modern, large and well built air strips instead of the dangerous, impromptu and dirt and gravel strips that they had relied on for the past year.

 

[fester]

The Home Counties, January 20, 1943


The bulldozer sputtered. The driver cursed. Half an hour later, it had been towed to the maintenance area. Mechanics who had grown up in Chicago and Cleveland had already started to strip down the head gasket. Within an hour, the problem had been isolated. A pair of privates had been sent to dig through the supply rooms for the spare part. Even as the mechanics were triaging that heavy machine, another machine, this time a roller, was dragged in. They picked up their tools and went to work again.


Yesterday had been the same as today. Tomorrow would be the same again. The heavy construction team had completed two six thousand foot long strips. Another concrete runway was under construction. Steel plating was due to arrive next week. The resident heavy bombardment group was scheduled to arrive by Valentine’s Day. The planes were starting their flight from the training base in Colorado tomorrow. The crews and supplies for operations were already at sea in a pair of convoys. Most of the ground echelon was bunking next alongside an infantry regiment aboard Queen Mary. The group would be ready for operations with 8th Air Force by St. Patrick’s Day.

 

[fester]

Casablanca, French Morocco January 21, 1943

USS Augusta tentatively picked her way through the crowded but cleared channel. The heavy cruiser had made a twenty five knot high speed run from Bermuda. Escorting destroyers had joined her eight hundred miles from the coast. Her speed was her primary protection from U-boats. She had only slowed when the coast was in sight. A quartet of minesweepers resanitized the path in front of her. Dozens of merchant ships were in the harbor but there was a clear space on the naval pier for her. Her only compatriot was the British battleship Rodney which had arrived the previous evening.

An hour later, the cruiser was secured, and her cargo, a frail old man, was sent ashore. Scores of senior staff followed him. The conference was not officially supposed to start for another thirty six hours. However a reception was informally scheduled for the evening to allow everyone to get acquainted with each other while they recovered their land legs.

 

[fester]

Singapore, January 21, 1943


Doric Star was being loaded. Two batteries of artillery along with three dozen Valentine tanks were already in her holds. The tanks and the guns had been reconditioned in the great port city’s workshops. Liners were still being assembled and sent to the port city. The safe passage was still through the Sunda Straits. The equipment convoy for the 7th Armoured Division would be leaving for Egypt in two weeks. The troop convoy was tentatively scheduled to leave in a month. Replacements had already departed Liverpool while orders to split up one of the brigades into cadre for a new brigade as well rounding out the current divisional structure had been received the night before. The high command wanted to allow the division at least six months in Egypt to rebuild and rest before it was to be committed, but tenatively, it would be available for emergencies in the last part of spring.


Until then, the twenty five cargo ships hauling the division’s gear were still slowly being loaded. Any extra space would be filled with rubber ingots, tin and lumber. Industry needed the materials.

 

[fester]

Warsaw, Poland January 22, 1943


“Mama, mama, mama.” She pulled the toddler to her chest. The young woman turned and offered her body to the wind. The train kept on moving, slowly going through the capital of the occupied nation. Thick, brown coal smoke penetrated the leaky slats that held up the box car’s walls. The walls offered little protection from the wind. They held in no heat, not even the heat from eighty people huddled together. She was one of the few young women in the car. Guards had removed most of her friends and her sisters the day before. Their children were left to the elderly and their prepubescent sisters to care for. Somehow the guards had missed her. Since then, she had become the hugger of any child.

Rebeccah tried to wipe away a tear as she thought of her sister. Her brave sister, Miriam, had been one of the women marched off the train. Her chin was high and her mind was clear. She knew, just from looking at the middle aged soldiers and guards, that her entire worth was only between her legs to these animals. She knew she was disposable in their eyes. She knew that survival to the end of the war was an absurd question. She did not beg. She did not offer herself. She walked out as strongly as she could and helped another young girl down the ramp so that she would not be bayoneted.

Rebeccah held the toddler closer to her. She kissed his skinny cheeks and ran her hand through the thinning hair. He was alive, which was more than could be said about many toddlers, but not well. She could offer him no promises beyond a few moments of comfort as he wanted his mama who no longer was on the train still heading south.

 

[fester]

The East China Sea, January 22, 1943

USS Runner accelerated. She had arrived on station two days earlier. Her first war patrol had started at Pearl Harbor with a stop-over and top-off in Wake's lagoon. One sailor was landed with appendicitis and additional fresh ice cream was brought aboard. Her tanks had been filled with California diesel. She had laid a sixteen mine field off of Shimo-Koshiki the night before. All tubes were loaded with an extra salvo available in her forward racks.

Overhead a trio of seaplanes circled. They were hunting for hunters. A sharp eyed observer spouted the shallow water waking. He called out the observation. The pilot curled around even as patrol boats hurried from their patrol box. Soon depth charges were roiling the water. The submarine went to the bottom and slowly slinked away.

Three hours later, the battered battleship Yamato passed 8,000 yards from the barely watertight submarine. The eighteen inch gunned monster was still down seven feet at the bow and holes in her belt had been filled by a mixture of wood, canvas and cement during a three day patch job in Palau. She was due to return to her birth yard for repairs next to the still under construction Shinano.

 

[fester]

Leningrad, January 24, 1943


Tatianna wiggled forward. Her hips were down. Her shoulders were flat, her elbows splayed. Her toes pushed in the packed snow. The white smock covered her almost completely. A wool hat was pulled against her hair. A pair of birch snow glasses kept the glare off of her eyes. Another forty yards and she would be in her hide.


An hour later, she rested. Her spotter joined her a few minutes later. They laid in the snow hip to hip sharing warmth and contact. Soon her rifle was ready and she started to scan the German outpost line. Most of the Germans were in winter quarters. The forward defenses of the siege lines were mainly short term outposts while the main resistance line of trenches and bunkers had some heat and plenty of blankets to protect the invaders from the cold. Reserves further to the south often were sleeping in houses or rammed earth structures where a coal heater occupied the pride of place.


She looked down the long rifle. Her scope was off today. The cold would damage the fine optics. Instead she focused over the iron sights. There would be no two kilometer shot. Instead, she was hunting far closer than normal. A steel helmet with a splotch of rust poked over a sand bag. She had a clear shot, but she would not take it. An eighteen year replacement was not worth giving away her position. Instead, her spotter merely noted the position. Mortars could pound that now known observation post later in the day.


The cold entered her bones. She switched positions with her spotter. Now she noted what her partner saw and looked for targets that had exposed themselves. Good food was gone. She had burned through the hot broth and meat dumplings. Now her body was relying on her own reserves. Tonight the wool blankets would call to her. Off in the distance, to the right by a small roll in the earth her eye spotted movement again.


Tatianna muttered under her breath the location and the value. Off to the right, 350 yards, high value. Her partner moved his rifle slightly and slowly. He confirmed the sighting and then relaxed. His eyes narrowed so that the world was merely an inch tall and an inch wide. And then the rifle barked. A second later, a company commander who had been in one of the first patrols into Warsaw and Brussels was dying.


The two snipers did not notice their success, they were already moving to new cover.

 

[fester]

Mare Island, California January 25, 1943

USS Boise left the shipyard. A pair of new destroyer escorts joined her. The three ships were scheduled to undergo gunnery training on the other side of the Golden Gate. The two little escorts were mainly focused on how to keep a submarine down and a pilot worried. The big, veteran, light cruiser had seen her weapons fit significantly altered. The Chicago Pianos were gone. Quad Bofors replaced the four mounts. The single purpose five inch guns had been replaced with their longer dual purposed descendents. New radars were mounted and an operations room carved out of space near the bridge.

Far more importantly, the crew had been replaced. Over two thirds of the veterans had been sent to other ships and shore training establishments. New recriuts and trainees fresh from technical schools were filling up the bunks. Officers who became gentlemen after ninety days were now in charge and feeling out their responsibilities. A few experienced chiefs were running herd on all of the fresh blood while the small cadre of lieutenant commanders and above were the only core of pre-war trained knowledge around.

 

[fester]

Makassar City, January 25, 1943


The Dauntlesses tipped over. Marine aviators released their five hundred pound bombs at fifteen hundred feet. The targets were only a few hundred yards in front of the 2nd Marine Division’s forward scouts. As soon as the bombers had cleared the area, the 11th Marines started firing again. They were coordinating their own fire as well as two attached Army heavy field artillery battalions.


The ten minute bombardment ended. Another half a dozen Marine Avengers appeared. They descended in thirty degree dives to release two dozen heavy bombs. Even as the reverbations stopped, eight Marine tanks and three companies of riflemen started to advance. Japanese machine gunners started to fire. Knee mortars belched. American mortar teams were responding, men rapidly slammed steel eggs into the tube and the stockpiles quickly shrank. Even as a medium tank flared up after a pair of anti-tank guns scored their first and only kill, the seventy five millimeter cannons spat out high explosive shells. Engineers with flame throwers and satchel charges began to clear the bunker. Men rushed in with bayonets ready to slaughter defenders not stunned by exploding grenades.


The push continued as the fighter field just outside of the city was halfway taken.

 

[fester]

Corpus Christi, Texas January 26, 1943


Josh sighed. Today had been a good day. His hands moved slightly. His fingers stroked his wife’s hair. From somewhere deep in her, she responded to his gentle touch with welcome and need. He lost himself stroking her long hair and feeling her move against his hip. His lover and his wife was hip to his hip, knee to his knee, shoulder to his shoulder. Her gravid belly was firm in his other hand and her round hips were rolling against him.

He smiled. They had been loud and enthusiastic and wet and messy a few minutes ago. Their toddler daughter was at a sleep-over with one of Margaret’s co-workers. Their little girl was best friends with Edna.

He had been flying almost the entire day. The squadron was starting to come together. The mighty new Corsairs were a different beast than the rugged Wildcats that had been his warhorse in which he had scored ten kills. It had more power and more punch. The Navy boys were still terrified of landing on a carrier with the big fighter; they were more than happy to stay in the new Grummans just being delivered but the Marines were loving their first rate machine. Today he had won seven dogfights and drew three more. His wingman, a new pilot with a deep Georgian drawl, had saved his ass at least once. Blackburn had done his job well, stayed tight and kept his eyes open while the element lead led the fight. That 4v2 had ended in a draw as Jaroschek and Blackburn were able to escape without damage.

And once Josh had opened the door to the kitchen, he was overwhelmed. His wife had one of his shirts on and little else beyond a saucy smile. She had finally started to eat well again and her hormones were kicking in to the most enjoyable part of the pregnancy. They rejoiced in their intimacy even as she told him how to please her in a way that would have shocked most sergeants.

Now he rested with his wife in his arms and his daughter sleeping peacefully a few doors down. Life was good for Josh Jaroschek.

 

[fester]

Auschwitz, Poland January 26, 1943


The train stopped. Guards shouted for everyone to disembark. The huddle of humanity that had shared their warmth with each other split. Half a dozen bodies were no longer moving. Three pale blue children were clenched in the frozen arms of their grandmother. Another pair of older adults had passed overnight from the cold. They had no more reason to fight. Their bodies had absorbed some of the wind.

Rebeccah had been adopted by and adopted almost all of the orphans on the car. A dozen children held each others’ hands. A pair of five year olds held hers. Before they left, she straightened a few hats and buttoned the too thin coats. They walked off the train in a straight line towards a large brick building with several smoking stacks.

Guards yelled at them. These guards were seldom German. She could hear Yiddish accents and Polish tongues tripping over the harder vowels of both Yiddish and German phrases. Lines were to be seperated. Working age adults without children were to head to the left. Children and their caretakers would go in the center lane. Older adults incapable of work would go to the left and have a check into the infirmary. The guards promised hot showers and hot food once the initial processing was done.

She looked at the children who were following her. She had been the source of comfort, the source of hugs, the source of stories and the source of love on the long, cold journey. She could go to the left. Or she could stay with them. The imploring eyes of the young children answered the question. She strode straight through the door as a dozen children followed her.

 

[fester]

Bay of Biscay January 27, 1943

A trio of Wellingtons turned to the north. Half a dozen mines were in the water. Radar tracks and intercepts had indicated that this was a common safe lane for the U-boats heading into the Biscayan ports. The refreshed garden would at least force the Germans to expend energy on clearing both these mines and dozens of other locations where Coastal Command bombers had flown low and slow. If the dice of war landed the right way, one of the mines might just claim a U-boat.

 

[fester]

Bletchley Park, January 28, 1943

The truck slowly backed up to the loading dock. Half a dozen men soon started to move the heavy yet delicate crates. Three men bent at the knees and lifted from their hips. Within an hour, the truck was emptied and the delivery men were soon on their way for another run of most secret crates.

Inside the huts, a small team of extraordinary mechanics went to work on assembling yet another bombe.