Free Kleber's Convoy by Antony Trew Page A

with voice messages between Fidelix , her attendant destroyers, the senior officers of the escort groups, and the commodore of the convoy.
    â€˜ Fidelix reports two Wildcat fighters and four Avengers airborne, sir,’ said the yeoman.
    Redman said, ‘Good,’ and looked astern into the black sky knowing he would see nothing, but imagining them there.
    The Wildcats would be climbing to intercept the shadower while the Avengers carried out anti-submarine patrols over thousands of square miles around the convoy. Since the convoy had been sighted, it was vital to put down surfaced U-boats anywhere in the vicinity. The Avengers would search in the dark with airborne radar, ready to attack with depth-charges and rockets. Surfaced U-boats would be listening for radar transmissions with search-receivers, so it would be a cat-and-dog hunt in the icy darkness of an Arctic winter.
    On Vengeful ’s bridge they could hear the fighter-direction officer in Fidelix vectoring the Wildcats on to the German shadower. The cloud ceiling was fifteen hundred feet and the shadower had disappeared into it, moving from west to east across the convoy’s port quarter, putting himself between the Norwegian coast and the convoy, keeping to the darkest quarter of the sky, one eye firmly on his escape route. His chances of getting away now would depend on how long it took the Wildcats to find him.
    Bowrie’s voice broke into Redman’s thoughts. ‘Radar 291 reports f-fighters closing bandit f-fast. Distance apart t-twelve miles.’
    â€˜Good.’ Redman cheered up. ‘Hope they get him quick.’ Soon afterwards the yeoman said, ‘ Fidelix has intercepted bandits’ sighting report to base.’
    Redman was silent. There was nothing to say. They all knew it would happen and what it meant. The position, course and speed of convoy JW 137 was now known to the German High Command. Action would follow. Quickly, while the break in the weather lasted. Torpedo-bombers would soon be rolling down runways on German airbases along the Norwegian coast, some of them less than three hundred miles away. U-boat patrol lines between Bear Island and the North Cape-one hundred and ninety miles ahead -and off the Kola Inlet would be alerted.
    Redman said, ‘It won’t be long now, Number One.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’ The first-lieutenant sounded pleased. ‘Nice to have a go at them again.’
    â€˜Time, Pownall?’ Redman asked.
    â€˜0613, sir.’
    Redman stood at the bridge-screen steadying himself against the movement of the ship, looking into the darkness astern, wondering what the next twenty-four hours would bring. Not sleep, that was certain.
    The sound of the fighter-direction officer’s voice was becoming familiar. He had a North-American accent. Canadian , thought Redman. The FDO was guiding the Wildcats on to their targets. His directions were clear and explicit, no trace of excitement, no sense of urgency, a man absorbed in the technicalities of what he was doing, the instruments he was watching. It was evident that the Germans were now aware of the fighters. It had become a stern chase but thereconnaissance plane was no match for the Wildcats. They were overhauling rapidly.
    Redman wondered what was going on in the minds of the German aircrew. Were they still thinking ‘it can’t happen to us’, or had they realised that it was about to and resigned themselves to entering their particular Valhalla?
    Not long afterwards they heard the Wildcat pilots reporting contact. Seconds dragged by on Vengeful ’s bridge, the men there straining their attention for the next report. Broken disembodied chatter came from the fighter pilots. ‘He’s on bloody fire … starboard engine,’ said one voice. There was a pause. ‘I’m following him down …’ said another. ‘Jesus! We’ve really got the bastards …’
    Then the fighter-direction