WesWorld

Nice story Bruce. I'm enjyoing this one.


Aboard the torpedo destroyer Thorne;

"Two large warships sighted off the starboard bow, range six miles Sir"
"Very good. Helmsman make your course zero-oh-nine."
"Aye Aye Sir, course zero-oh-nine"
"Call the Captain!"
"Aye Sir"
The Captain climbed the ladder from the wheelhouse below and went over to where his First Officer was standing.
"Our two visitors have arrived Sir. I've altered course to bring us closer."
"Hhmm, good."
"I hear the Brazilian's are out in the Atlantic, Sir. Their new carrier Brasil."
"Where did you hear that Number One?" The Captain was scanning every inch of the two bemoths with his binoculars.
"Inteliigence despatch this morning, Sir. Wait until our German-built battlecrusiers arrive. They'll be the finest in these waters. We'll be the ones swanning about then in fine ships like those over there."
"Indeed."
"I'd love to command one of those new battlecrusiers."
"Your eager Number One." The Captain was still looking through his glasses scanning the horizon. "Only Vice Admirals get command of ships like that and you need to serve at least ten years in a big ship. Lieutenants in destroyers are lucky to get their own command in a destroyer, most likely to be a 611 patrol craft. No, son the big ships are an elite family of sailors. And your're still young. Take the down this message to Naval HQ Bahia Blanca repeated Northern Group..."

I am glad that you are enjoying it. And I thank you all for your positive contributions so far.

Sunday, 21 July 1940

“Herr Admiral,” spoke Kapitän Langsdorff, “Seydlitz and Altmark signal that they are ready to depart on schedule.”

“Excellent,” replied Lütjens. “Excellent”.

Their short stay in the Argentine port had been punctuated with a round of courtesy visits with the dignitaries of the Argentine Navy and the civic authorities; a small price to be paid for the expeditious refueling of the squadron and the topping-off of the Altmark’s fuel stores. The consul, von Konigsmarck, had done his work well, as had the local officer of the Etappendienst, Kremscher – fuel, fresh water, provisions – had all flowed aboard the ships while they lay quayside. There were also amended orders from Fleet Command in Berlin; Lütjens was quite pleased that his suggestion, made some weeks before, had been adopted.

Anchor chains rattled, and the German squadron prepared to resume its progress. Signals were exchanged, turbines whined and black clouds of smoke arose in the cold air of an Argentine winter. Slowly Derfflinger led the squadron seaward, shepherded by Argentine patrol boats who valiantly kept at bay numerous boatloads of well-wishers seeking a closer look at the German vessels. The sun was edging close to the western horizon as the three ships passed the buoys that marked the exit of the harbor channel.

“Set your course east south east Kapitän Langsdorff,” said Lütjens with a smile.

They are headed towards the Indian Ocean... Australia won't like this...

More than welcome in India. If that is the case.

Monday, 22 July 1940

The German battlecruiser Derfflinger, her consort Seydlitz and the tanker Altmark lay motionless in the swells of the South Atlantic some fifty miles north-northwest of the Falklands. Their engines were silent, and the decks of the three ships were filled with every sailor not required at his station elsewhere. The rails, the bridge-wings, the turrets of the battlecruisers themselves were awash in a sea of sailors in their blue winter uniforms. To the west the sun was setting.

Hans Langsdorff, commander of the Derfflinger, appreciated Admiral Lütjens’ gesture in diverting the squadron to this place, where more than twenty-five years before two German warships had fought and died against the overwhelming might of the British Navy. Comrades of his youth had died aboard the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau , and they and hundreds others lay in their watery grave beneath the waves.

“Attention!” Langsdorff ordered. A saluting gun boomed and the flag of the old Imperial Navy was raised aloft on Derfflinger’s mainmast; a gesture repeated on Seydlitz and Altmark. The sailors came to attention and stood silent as the saluting gun boomed again – tolling at thirty second intervals. Two minutes of silence to remember the honored dead and the legend of the Graf von Spee.

At the final gun every man saluted and began to sing. There was no need for an order.

“Ich hatt' einen Kameraden, einen bessern findst du nit. Die Trommel schlug zum Streite, er ging an meiner Seite, in gleichem Schritt und Tritt.

“Eine Kugel kam geflogen: gilt sie mir oder gilt sie dir? Sie hat ihn weggerissen, er liegt zu meinen Füßen, als wär's ein Stück von mir

“Will mir die Hand noch reichen, derweil ich eben lad'. Kann dir die Hand nicht geben, bleib du im ew'gen Leben, mein guter Kamerad!"

Despite his hardened exterior, Langsdorff could feel the touch of a tear on his cheek.

“Dismissed!” he ordered. Slowly the ships’ crews filed from the decks, returning to their stations or to their watches. Langsdorff returned to the bridge of the Derfflinger; when the throb of the engines returned the Fourth Cruiser Squadron slowly made its way into the gathering gloom, bearing southeast for the moment.

So far it seems I was correct in my assumptions. Let's see if that continues.

Wednesday/Thursday, 24/25 July 1940

A cold wind straight from Antarctica filled the sails of the windjammer Moshulu as she shaped her course homeward through the Drake Passage. Third Officer Sven Erikson paced the quarterdeck trying to keep his circulation going. How he longed for the end of his watch some two hours hence and the chance to return to the relative warmth of his cabin.

“Lights ahead!” came the hail from the masthead. “Lights off the port bow!” Erikson took up his binoculars and saw in the distance the faint pinpoints of ships running lights rise over the horizon. At this point they were at least five or six miles off – at night it was difficult to tell. Erikson wondered whether it was a good idea to summon his captain. Lars Larson was an irascible man, hard on his officers and harder on his crew. He also disliked being called from his cabin in the middle of the night. Erikson looked again and the lights had grown much closer and distinct, resolving into three groups – each a ship moving at speed on a westward course in line ahead.

Steamers were a rare sight in the Drake Passage – most freighters took Magellan’s Strait. The speed of the ships, their number and formation suggested to Erikson that they were warships.

“Probably the Chilean Navy patrolling the passage,” he thought. “I wonder if they even notice us.” He considered it wiser to leave his captain to his rest and merely log the sighting.

Unaware of the bark to the south of them Defflinger, Seydlitz and Altmark steamed westward at fifteen knots, entering the Pacific Ocean as they did so.

So far correct in my assumptions. Also good read so far also. Keep it going.

I love the mention of Moshulu and her historic crew.

Saturday, July 27, 1940
CNS O'Higgins angled southward under a stormy winter sky. The cruisers Astraea, Tierra del Fuego, Concepción, Chillán and Constitucion trailed her in neat order, steaming at an economical fifteen knots. They'd sailed six days before from Talcahuano to conduct gunnery exercises, hovering off Chiloe waiting for the German battlecruisers. The German ambassador had politely informed the naval staff of the 4th Cruiser Squadron's voyage, and the naval staff decided to send O'Higgins and her smaller consorts to welcome the Germans back to this corner of the Pacific after many years of absence.

A game for us - try to find the Germans; and a statement for the politicians, Contre-almirante Fresno thought to himself. Although what kind of statement this is, I'm sure will be open to debate.

"Sir, message from Concepción. Three contacts bearing between one-six-eight and one-seven-one degrees, range twenty-five. Target bearing is not changing."

The Admiral stepped out on the bridge wings and raised his binoculars. "Bah. Visibility. Damn this new-fangled dradis!"

Capitan de Navio Enrique Maturana, commander of the O'Higgins, followed the Admiral out on the bridge wing. "Visibility is only seven thousand yards, sir. Plot is perfect for an intercept."

"If Concepción's track is correct," Almirante Fresno corrected. "I'm still a skeptic of dradis. But let's operate under the assumption it is correct."

"Yes, sir," Maturana replied, not sharing his commander's viewpoint: he'd commanded the Tierra del Fuego during the war, after all.

"Signal to the squadron: 'Make all speed.' Follow that with 'Prepare for Maneuver 49.' General Quarters Maneuvering, Captain. Prepare to pay our respects."

O'Higgins buried her bows in a particularly deep roller as her speed came up to thirty knots; Admiral Fresno wanted more, but the light cruisers couldn't make thirty-three in these seas.

The foggy horizon grew sharper as the Chilean ships plowed out of the cloudbank they'd been skulking in; the dark grey shape of a German battlecruiser solidified on the horizon, and the second ship behind it; then a tanker.

"German battlecruiser, Derfflinger-class, bearing one-six-nine," the lookout sang. "Course is zero-zero-zero, speed estimated fifteen knots."

"Right on the money, it seems, Capitan," Almirante Fresno said. His squadron was closing the German ships at a cumulative forty-five knots, aiming to pass about two kilometers to port of the leading battlecruiser. O'Higgins swept past Derfflinger and dipped her ensign in salute; the German ship replied promptly, showing that they at least weren't napping.

Good thing, too. I intend to give them a show, Almirante Fresno mused to himself. "Captain, we shall carry out Maneuver 49 when we pass abeam of the Seydlitz," he announced.

"Signal to all ships," the admiral continued. "Conduct maneuver on my mark... mark."

"Full right rudder," Captain Maturana ordered. "Starboard shaft reverse."

O'Higgins turned hard to starboard, leaning precipitously onto her port side from the inertia of her speed and mass. Behind her, the four light cruisers and Constitucion turned in unison, a tidy re-enactment of the Gefechtskehrtwendung maneuver the Hochseeflotte made famous under fire at the great battle off Jutland. Ninety seconds later, the Chilean ships steadied down on the same course zero-zero-zero as the Germans; this time, however, Constitucion led the line and O'Higgins held the tail.

"Signal to the German squadron, transmit in German:" Almirante Fresno said. "Welcome to the Pacific."

Admiral Lütjens and Captain Langsdorff had been in conference in the admiral’s day cabin when an excited watch officer called them to announce a sighting of several warships approaching at high speed. Both officers were somewhat surprised – while they expected to encounter a Chilean squadron at some point that they would do so in such dirty weather was something they had not altogether foreseen.

The two officers arrived at the bridge to see the Chilean squadron – its colours flying – bearing down on them at high speed.

“One armoured cruiser, Oyama class, in the van; four light cruisers and what looks to be another heavy cruiser at the rear. Speed thirty knots” reported the watch officer.

“Are they mad?” Langsdorff asked half-seriously. “Maneuvering at such speed in this weather?”

Lütjens allowed himself a half-smile. “These are their waters Langsdorff; I suspect that is what they are suggesting. However it does suggest that the reports that the Chilean Navy has effective DT units are correct. Please prepare to render honors Captain.”

Professionally Lütjens admired the Chilean commander’s execution of the Gefechtskehrtwendung as the oncoming squadron suddenly turned to starboard. “Very well done,” he said to himself. “Excellent discipline.”

“Signal from the Chilean flagship Herr Admiral,” reported the signals officer. “WELCOME TO THE PACIFIC”.

“Offer them our thanks Langsdorff, and convey my compliments to their commanders for their excellent seamanship.”

A moment later a signal flashed in response. “IT IS AN HONOUR TO RETURN TO THESE WATERS AND WE ARE HONOURED BY YOUR WELCOME. THE SHADE OF ADMIRAL COCHRANE WOULD BE PLEASED BY YOUR SKILL IN SEAMANSHIP.”

Tuesday, 30 July 1940

The Fourth Cruiser Squadron lay at anchor in the harbour of Talcahuano, chief base of the Chilean Navy. It had arrived early on Sunday, the twenty-eighth. After nearly a month of continuous cruising Lütjens felt that his crews needed some opportunity for liberty ashore, and he had successfully petitioned Fleet Command in Berlin to allow the squadron a few day’s grace to do so. Nevertheless, work parties had been busy, stowing aboard fresh provisions, taking on fresh water and taking on fuel for the next long stage of their voyage. The officers too had been busy – not only were the official calls on the admiral of the port but visits to the ships of the Chilean Navy that were anchored nearby. Lütjens had taken particular care to seek out the commander of the squadron that had greeted them – Rear Admiral Fresno – to reiterate his compliments for his excellent handling of his ships in a difficult maneuver at speed.

Captains Langsdorff of the Derfflinger and Lindemann of the Seydlitz had also been very busy discussing the forthcoming joint exercise that would be held with the Chilean forces. Lütjens awaited them in his cabin aboard Derfflinger for a meeting to review what was planned.

The knock of the sentry announced their arrival. Accompanying them was a Chilean officer identifiable as a captain by the broad bands at his cuff; a younger Chilean officer, presumably a translator, followed at the rear.

“Herr Admiral,” Langsdorff began, “Allow me to introduce Capitan de Navio Benmayor, commander of the Seno Almirantazgo , the senior Chilean officer for our planned exercise. Captain Benmayor, Admiral Lütjens, commander of the Fourth Cruiser Squadron.” Following necessary translations – while Lütjens and his officers had a working knowledge of Spanish it would never suffice – and handshakes all around Captain Benmayor began to outline the procedures for the first joint exercise between the respective navies.

It was less important for Lütjens to follow the details of the exercise – to that he could trust his captains – but to assure that it was successful. As disdainful as some might look upon any of the navies of South America Lütjens refused to do so. The Chileans had acquitted themselves well in the late war with Peru; in that sense they had far more current combat experience than the Kriegsmarine. The exercise being planned in his cabin would be one from which he and his officers could learn much; and it was his intention that this would be so. He was also aware that now his ships were facing their greatest challenge – and he was determined that they would fulfill the responsibilities cast upon them. Failure, he considered, is not an option.

Thursday, 1 August 1940

Sunshine glistened off the waters of Talcahuano harbour as the vessels of the Fourth Cruiser Squadron made ready for their departure. The ships’ companies would no doubt remember the precious days they had spent enjoying the sights and amenities of the Chilean city; the officers of the Fourth Cruiser Squadron would remember the courtesy and professionalism of their Chilean hosts, and the technical advances that the Chilean service had mastered.

Rear Admiral Günther Lütjens considered the situation carefully as Derfflinger made ready for sea. Liaison officers had been exchanged with the Chilean vessels that would take part in the joint exercise that lay ahead; the Chilean vessels had departed the previous afternoon. While all participants knew the general area of the exercise Lütjens was looking forward to the opportunity of actively searching for their location. He was also aware that two of his officers had been detached to the Chilean Second Cruiser Squadron, that would sail in a few days time to conduct its own exercise. Their report he looked forward to reading upon the conclusion of the current operation.

Derfflinger’s captain, Hans Langsdorff, entered the bridge. “Herr Admiral,” he reported, “we are ready to depart.”

“Good Langsdorff!” replied Lütjens. “Signal the squadron to sortie.”

Slowly the grey ships of the German squadron got underway and headed into the main channel. Dipping their ensigns in salute to the harbor forts they slowly passed into the deep waters of the Pacific Ocean on a westerly course, expecting to make rendezvous with the Chileans sometime the following day.

Saturday, 3 August 1940

The ships of the Fourth Cruiser Squadron sailed through the waters south of Easter Island in the pre-dawn hours, approaching their rendezvous point with the Chilean ships participating in their joint exercise.

“Seetakt contact to the North Herr Admiral,” Langsdorff announced. “Distance ten kilometers, bearing 030 relative”.

“Alter course to intercept, slow to one third,” Lütjens ordered.

“Jawohl Herr Admiral!”

Hooded signal lamps flashed the course change from Derfflinger to Seydlitz and Altmark. The horizon began to brighten in a deep red hue, heralding the dawn.

“Red sky at morning, sailor take warning,” Lütjens recalled. The latest weather reports from Fleet Headquarters in Berlin suggested that the tropics might suffer from heavy weather this season, the more so as his ships approached the equator. Nevertheless, the ship’s weather officer had predicted adequate weather for their exercise today. And tomorrow they would be far to the west.

“Visual sighting Admiral,” came the report. “Two tankers.”

Signals flashed between the German and Chilean units, and they shaped a common course to the west, waiting for sufficient light to begin a day of careful shiphandling.

An hour later their dance began – the Chilean tanker Fiordo de Aisén paired off with the Derfflinger while the tanker Seno Almirantazgo paired off with Seydlitz as the ships steadied their course at fourteen knots. While the tankers maintained their course and speed the battlecruisers maneuvered to bring their vast bulk close alongside their designated partner. Refueling at such speed was unfamiliar to the German crews but their Chilean hosts had provided good liaison officers and had briefed the deck crews on what to expect.

Derfflinger approached the side of Fiordo de Aisén and matched speed with the tanker at a mere forty meters distance. They maintained their respective positions for some fifteen minutes, and then the Derfflinger broke sharply away to port.

The Chilean liaison offer on Derfflinger’s bridge nodded approvingly. “Excellent approach Captain Langsdorff” he said. On the battlecruiser’s deck the crews prepared for their next approach, adjusting the fenders that hung over the ship’s side. Again Derfflinger and her partner danced, until tanker and battlecruiser approached and matched speed. For another fifteen minutes they sailed in such close company and then broke away.

“I believe we are ready to proceed with the next stage of the exercise” Lütjens said to Langsdorff and the Chilean officer. Both nodded in response.

As the Derfflinger made her approach the third time the deck crews stood ready as they came alongside Fiordo de Aisén – as both ships settled on their course signals flashed from Derfflinger and lines shot over from the tanker; soon followed by heavy hoses for fuel that poured eagerly into the battlecruiser’s tanks. At a further signal the lines were detached and quickly hauled back onto the Chilean tanker; when they were clear, Derfflinger broke away again.

“Your crews have studied well Captain Langsdorff,” said the liaison officer. “I think we are ready for the final approach of the exercise.”

Again the battlecruiser and tanker approached. Lines were passed and hoses connected to the fuel tanks. Derfflinger thirstily took on as much fuel as she could against the long voyage ahead of them.

And so the exercise continued; Derfflinger made two additional dry approaches to the tanker, with her own officers serving as operations officers. Lütjens wanted his crews to gain the maximum experience in the difficult task of refueling at sea at speed. By his own observations the Altmark, though equipped for the purpose, would require modification to her deck handling gear to match the layout of the Chileans, who had far more experience with the maneuver. It would be a task for the dockyards when the squadron returned home.

In the late afternoon the exercise was concluded, and the officers exchanged for liaison purposes returned to their respective ships by breaches-buoy. The Chilean tankers slowed to a more measured pace and fell behind the ships of the Fourth Cruiser Squadron that continued westward at a steady fifteen knots.

OOC: in case anyone's curious about the above, the Chilean Navy is willing to conduct UNREP exercises with the warships of any friendly naval power which is sailing through the region, provided the visitor buy any fuel they take aboard during the exercise. (This is done for both goodwill reasons as well as the Chilean training program.)

Chilean tankers maintained multiple elements of the Armada at sea during the Peruvian Civil War, and they have been working to perfect their skills ever since.

Here's my notes on the standard refueling exercises:

Quoted

Multinational Refueling Exercise Steps:
1. Exchange of technical materials. The Chilean Navy has a procedural manual which is provided to the visiting warship ahead of time. An Exercise Commander is named, charged with overseeing the orderly conduct of movements in the exercise.
2. Transfer of liaison officers. The Chilean tanker transfers a liaison officer to the warship (and a translator if necessary), while the visiting warship transfers an observer to the tanker. The Chilean liaison officer is a qualified officer-of-the-deck who has held the conn on recipient ships (presumably Chilean) for previous exercises. He is transferred to the recipient ship at least two hours before the beginning of the refueling exercise begins. The Chilean liaison officer also has a short-ranged handheld radio for voice communications. Where necessary, a translator will be made available as well, and it is suggested that the recipient warship has their own translator. [1]
3. Briefing. The Chilean liaison officer briefs the warship's officers-of-the-deck in the standard procedures, including relevant signals. The exercise only begins once the liaison officer is satisfied the chosen officers-of-the-deck are clear on the safety rules.
4. Dry approach (no link): Deck Officer #1 in command.
5. Dry approach (no link): Deck Officer #2 in command.
6. Wet approach: cables cross, hose transferred, 50% of fuel transferred, then breakaway. Deck Officer #1 in command.
7. Wet approach: cables cross, hose transferred, 50% of fuel transferred, then breakaway. Deck Officer #2 in command.
8. Further dry approaches as desired (time permitting). [2]
9. Final approach: cables cross, and the liaison officers are transferred back to their ship by breaches-buoy. It is also traditional for the tanker to send over a chilled bottle of wine or two.

Note 1: Whenever possible, the Chilean Navy prefers to have at least two translators on hand as a safety precaution, so that the translators can confirm each other's translation. While not necessary, it is desired.
Note 2: If operating with more ships than tankers, a number of options are available. The warships can take turns making approaches, with each ship practicing the above in order of precedence. Alternately, ships can take turns, with a "queue" forming astern of the tanker, and each ship returning to the end of the queue at the end of each step; alternately, two ships can refuel on each beam of the tanker. The Exercise Commander is charged with selecting the method to be practiced.
Note 3: If circumstances require a degree of haste (for instance if multiple ships require refueling, or in the case of inclement weather), steps 4 and 5 and steps 6 and 7 may be merged according to the orders of the Exercise Commander.


It is presumed that the first deck officer to command the warship during stage 4 and 6 is the warship's captain or first officer, followed by a lower-ranking OOD. This is intended to provide experience to more than one individual on the receiving ship, although it is not a specific requirement of the exercise. If time, conditions, and inclinations permit, further "dry runs" can be practiced following the first four steps, in the event more of the warship's officers wish to gain further experience.

The visiting warship's liaison officer on board the tanker is ideally stationed near the tanker's operations officer, who is in charge of the tanker's safety, is responsible for waving off bad approaches, and oversees the line and hose-handling parties. If the recipient warship wishes to make further approaches beyond the four specified in the exercise, then the visiting liaison officer will be offered the option of serving as operations officer (under appropriate supervision).

Saturday, 17 August 1940

For more than two weeks Derfflinger and her consorts had sailed beneath the Southern Cross, tracking westward. Kontreadmiral Lütjens deliberately had kept his ships off the normal shipping lanes, and had taken the opportunity to exercise the ships’ scouting aircraft. The only incident of note was a Seetakt contact one evening as the squadron cross the normal shipping track for ships operating between Vancouver and Wellington. Blind transmissions from Fleet Command in Berlin had kept Fourth Cruiser Squadron apprised on the weather patterns in the South Pacific, which were growing more worrying day by day.

Lütjens sat in his day cabin reviewing the reports written by his officers on their recent refueling exercise with the Chilean Navy. Periodically he jotted his own notes on a folded sheet of foolscap, for he too would need to prepare a report for submission to Fleet Command upon their return to Germany. A knock at the door announced the entry of the Derfflinger’s captain, Hans Langsdorff.

“Our lookouts report sighting Suva Herr Admiral,” he announced.

“Good Langsdorff. Signal the squadron to slow to five knots and prepare to heave to while awaiting a pilot. Our charts are inadequate to attempt entry to the harbour without one. I will join you on the bridge shortly.”

A few moments later the German vessels hove to and signaled for a pilot. A small schooner and two skiffs soon put out from the harbour. The schooner daintily came under Derfflinger’s lee and approached the ladder hanging from the battlecruiser’s side. A middle-aged man in a faded seaman’s jumper nimbly vaulted from the schooner to the ladder and came aboard the Derfflinger. Greeted by a midshipman the pilot was swiftly conducted to the bridge.

“Messieurs bonjour! Bienvenue vers le Fiji. Mon nom est Maurice de Goddefroy et je suis votre pilote. Permettez-moi de vous guider dans ma maison, Suva,” he began.

“Merci Monsieur de Goddefroy; le bateau est dans des vos mains,” Langsdorff replied.

A few moments later the propellers of Derfflinger and her consorts churned and the ships slowly made their way up the channel into the harbour of Suva.

[SIZE=1]
(My apologies in advance for any possible shortcomings in machine-translated French) [/SIZE]

Monday, 19 August 1940

The Fourth Cruiser Squadron enjoyed but a brief stay in Suva, punctuated with work and preparation. The battlecruisers refueled from Altmark while the supply ship replenished her near-empty tanks from the chartered tanker Rheingold, which had arrived in Fiji some days earlier. The ships took on fresh water and filled their cold storage rooms with as much fresh fruit and provisions as could be had. The cause for their haste was weather; long range weather forecasts from Berlin suggested that the weather pattern over the South Pacific would grow quite disturbed in the next few weeks. The French authorities in Fiji kindly supplemented this information with reports from their steamers operating nearer to New Caledonia; conditions were ripe for the formation of a typhoon or two. Lütjens was confident in the ability of his ships to ride out the storm at sea, but was concerned about getting caught in harbour should a storm strike; he had no intention of allowing a repetition of the tragedy that befell German, British and American ships in Samoa some fifty years previously.

The crew snapped to attention at Lütjens’ appearance on the Derfflinger’s bridge. “Are we ready to sail Langsdorff?” he asked.
“Yes Herr Admiral. The harbourmaster has granted us clearance and we are merely waiting arrival of the pilot to begin our sortie.”

No doubt prompted by the resident German consul, the chief pilot, de Goddefroy, made his appearance not much more than a half-hour later. Slowly the grey warships began to gather way and make their way down the channel toward the open sea. At the marker buoy each ship in turn dropped its pilot and entered the open ocean.

“With the weather forecast as it is Herr Admiral,” Langsdorff began, “we will need to take a more northerly course.”

“Yes, Langsdorff – so it will. That cannot be helped. Signal the squadron to steer east northeast for the time being.”

Langsdorff gave the appropriate orders and the Derfflinger, followed by the Seydlitz and Altmark majestically bent their course easterly, while the sun set at their back.


Friday, 23 August 1940

The normally calm seas of the South Pacific had stirred themselves into long, regular swells, suggesting that indeed storms were brewing to the west. The occasional intercepted transmission of wireless traffic from merchantmen confirmed matters. Cruising well east of the Solomon Islands the Fourth Cruiser Squadron seemed to be avoiding the worst of the weather. Since leaving the hospitable waters of Fiji in their wake the German warships had cruised northeast but then northwest once reaching open ocean near Wallis and Futuna.

“Any contact reports Langsdorff?” asked the admiral, pacing the bridge as he had become wont to do.

“None Herr Admiral.”

“Good, very good,” Lütjens acknowledged. “I think it is time to alter our course westward,” he added.

“Yes Herr Admiral,” replied Langsdorff. “Signal course change to Seydlitz and Altmark. Steer course 270.”

The line of German warships altered their course to port and steadied on a course now parallel to the Equator, some hundred miles to their south. In their bunks and mess-rooms German sailors sweltered in the heat of the tropical night, their only relief provided by the fans of the ship’s ventilation system.


Tuesday, 27 August 1940

The rising sun that warmed these tropical waters had quickly dispersed the morning haze that shrouded the horizon. Hans Langsdorff, captain of the Derfflinger, peered through the parting mists and saw to the south the first land they had sighted for days. He made a mental note to congratulate the navigational officer for his excellent calculations. He re-entered the bridge to find Rear Admiral Lütjens scanning the plotting table that tracked the squadron’s progress.

“Good morning Herr Admiral!” Langsdorff began with some jubilation in his voice. “Morotai is perhaps twelve or thirteen miles off the port bow.”

“Excellent. My compliments Langsdorff. We have made good progress. Are there any sighting reports?”

“Our Seetakt equipment reports some air traffic to the south; likely to be Dutch coastal patrols. It is likely that some of the small native craft had seen us and reported to the Dutch authorities.”

“Fleet Command in Berlin advises that the Netherlands authorities have been apprised of our mission and have lodged no objections; nevertheless, we will refrain from entering their territorial waters unless we encounter something unexpected.”

Thursday, 29 August 1940

Konteradmiral Günther Lütjens stood on the bridge of the battlecruiser Derfflinger as she churned purposefully through the last miles of the Celebes Sea. He gazed once again through his binoculars before turning to Kapitän Langsdorff.

“Our position and course are correct?” he asked.

“Yes Herr Admiral,” Langsdorff replied. Tawi Tawi is off our starboard bow, Sibutu off the port. Our course will take us through the center of the channel.”

“Are there any contact reports?” continued Lütjens. “If the Filipinos were going to object to our movements, this would be their opportunity.”

“There have been sightings of aircraft Herr Admiral, but they have not closed on us. Presumably the ones to the east are Filipino, the ones to the west Dutch. Seetakt reports no surface contacts.”

“Very well Langsdorff. Signal the squadron to proceed on course. Let us fulfill the orders Fleet Command gave us.”

Signal lamps flashed as the ships formed a line ahead and increased speed to fifteen knots. Ahead of them lay the Sibutu Passage – only eighteen miles wide – flanked by two Filipino islands.

OOC I should have an Australian sub posing as a Filipino torpedo those ships due to intrusion into Filipino territorial waters... Especially after the Germans leapfrogged my planned story...