Free Kirov II: Cauldron Of Fire (Kirov Series) by John Schettler Page A

will
definitely be up to no good insofar as this convoy is concerned.”
    “Right
enough, sir.” Jackson was game for any sortie they would put his name to, and the
four men spent the next several minutes going over the briefing for the Comiso
air strike mission for 235 Squadron before the technicians brought in his gun
camera footage and began to mount it on the projector.
    “These other
two gentlemen have had a look or two at Italian cruisers,” said Park. “And I
daresay I’ve a fair amount of experience in the matter as well.” They looked at
the film with interest and, as the footage ran, Park found himself edging
forward, hands clasped behind his back, leaning in slightly to get a better
look. The opening frames were clearer, though the range was farther away and
the contact seemed shrouded in shadow. When Jackson began firing in earnest the
shells sent a wild forest of thin geysers spraying up all around the ship,
which was struck amidships near the main superstructure where a fire soon
started and began to obscure the images with smoke.
    “Can you run
that back to the start and hold a few stills?” said Park over his shoulder.
“Yes… There now… Have a look at that gentlemen. What do you make of if, Mr.
Cartridge?”
    The wing
commander was quick to reply. “Not an Italian cruiser sir, where are the
stacks?” He pointed at the screen. “That tall mainmast area there where most of
the fire was concentrated—I don't see a stack. It should be about here on most
Italian cruisers, and angled slightly back, with one more smaller stack located
aft. That could be this feature here,” he pointed again, “but this main
superstructure area is all wrong for an Italian ship in my view—at least for
their cruiser designs. And it looks too big, sir.”
    “Yes, quite
a monster this one,” said Park. “Look at that shadow on her aft deck. Is that a
float plane? Could it be a battleship?”
    “Can't see
much in the way of big guns from this angle. The forward deck seems rather empty,
but these images aren't very clear, sir. Odd shadows and light, and too much
smoke when you get in close.”
    “All the
same, I'm glad you took your shot Jackson.” Park folded his arms, a glint in
his eye as it lingered on the images.
    “If that's
the case, sir, they’ll need a whole squadron to deal with a battleship—a flight
of six planes at a bare minimum. But I thought fuel shortages are keeping most
of their big ships in port.”
    “Yes,
they've been using them to refuel their destroyers and lighter escort ships,
but if they've gotten wind of this operation they may be pulling out all the
stops and sending out heavy units.”
    “Doesn’t
sound much like the Italian Navy I know, sir,” said Cartridge. “They’ll fight
when they have to, but more often than not they think twice about that,
particularly if they can’t provide adequate air cover, or if we’ve got heavy
units in the vicinity. For that matter, I can't imagine a battleship would be
there all by itself, sir. It might be a big freighter, but that would surprise
me as well with no escort.”
    Park raised
his eyebrows in agreement. “Let’s send this along to Intelligence and see if we
can find this fellow again later today for confirmation. For the moment,
however, I don't think there's much else we can do about it. Good job, Jackson.
You may have put us on to something here. Get some rest and be ready for
another sortie in short order. In the meantime we’ll get a Maryland from 69
Recce Squadron over at Luqa Field to fly reconnaissance and make sure this ship
isn’t heading our way. Carry on, gentlemen.”
     
    Aboard Kirov Fedorov was convening his own
briefing in the sick bay with Rodenko, Tasarov and a very woozy Admiral Volsky who
had awakened with a raging headache, just as Zolkin had predicted. He was
stabilized, and the shrapnel wounds had been thankfully minor. Still, he was
not clear headed, and the pain killers Zolkin gave him made him