sharlin
Banned
Somewhere in the Atlantic - 1943
Cutting through the swells of the North Atlantic the warship rumbled as her engines pushed her through the grey/green waves at 26 knots, not her full speed but after her recent refit it was not advisable to push the engines too much, and in the sea conditions it was a safe speed. The ship had a troubled birth, nearly falling victim to economic troubles and treaties, almost remaining a twinkle in her designers eye but politicians and national pride won through.
Of course there were overseas ‘rivals’ to the ship and her sister, but none quite in the same league. The two ships had become the pride of the Royal Navy, the most desired posting a young Tar could get. Both ships had been taken in hand for a refit before the war, the younger sister sailing from the outfitters yards on the day the war was declared, whilst she was off in the Mediterranean her older sister had finished her refit only six months before.
Gone were the dual six inch turrets, in their place was a bevy of 4.5 inch guns like those on the newest carriers, the new 20mm Okirlon cannons dotted the ships superstructure and the ‘black box’ of radar now rested on her masts, extending her eyes further. Two hundred yards astern the newest battleship laid down by the United Kingdom kept pace astern of the flagship, armed with older guns but they still had a fearsome punch.
Smaller, lighter but more modern the flagships consort was fresh out from the fitters yards, some civilians were on board fixing issues deep in her hull and her two forward turrets could be seen training left and right slowly, the tripple 15 inch guns elevating and depressing as they were tested.
Both ships were at action stations, with their targets in the area it was only a matter of time before they were detected on Radar and the battle could begin.
The Saint George’s three turrets were already elevated and trained, the 16 inch rifles loaded and ready. The turrets had given issues when they were built as had their projectiles but the DNC had pressed for a heavier shell and this had solved the barrel wear problems whilst time and effort was needed to fix the faults in the safety interlocks in the then revolutionary triple turrets, the first built for a British battleship. But these teething troubles had been overcome and now were swinging onto the baring of the approaching enemy ships.
Up on the bridge it was rather quiet. Long gone were the heavily armoured conning tower of the Dreadnought era, the bridge was still armoured against cruiser fire but it was so much more spacious.
"Sir, message from the Bismark." The signals Officer said, a smile creasing his usually stern features.
"Message Reads; "Save some for us, happy hunting!"
There were a few chuckles and smiles as the tension on the bridge eased slightly.
"Signal the Bismark this please flags, 'It is not our fault you could not keep up. We will try to leave some pickings for you though.'"
The Rear Admiral turned to the armoured windows, raising his binoculars. "That should get old Fritz's tache in a twirl..any news on Radar?"
"Picking up echos at extreme range Sir! Working in range and speed now Sir."
"Very good, Guns you have permission to open fire once the enemy is in range, signal the Nelson to do. We will engage the lead ship."
Minutes ticked by, the silence on the bridge broken by reports from the gunnery and radar controls.
"Sir we have a fix, reading four, that is four contacts not three as the air boys said, baring and course is correct, range 32500 yards!"
"Looks like the Germans will have some work to do. Guns?"
"They are in range sir, but we'd have to do it with radar."
"Understood. Captain alter course to open up our A Arcs and commence fire as soon possible."
The bridge was filled with a hubub as orders were passed to the relevant stations, several decks down the ships helmsman put the wheel over a few degrees and the big battlecruiser began her turn.
"Target in range!"
"Shoot!"
A proper update for the main story is coming, i'm working at it when I go home, but I wanted to write this.
Cutting through the swells of the North Atlantic the warship rumbled as her engines pushed her through the grey/green waves at 26 knots, not her full speed but after her recent refit it was not advisable to push the engines too much, and in the sea conditions it was a safe speed. The ship had a troubled birth, nearly falling victim to economic troubles and treaties, almost remaining a twinkle in her designers eye but politicians and national pride won through.
Of course there were overseas ‘rivals’ to the ship and her sister, but none quite in the same league. The two ships had become the pride of the Royal Navy, the most desired posting a young Tar could get. Both ships had been taken in hand for a refit before the war, the younger sister sailing from the outfitters yards on the day the war was declared, whilst she was off in the Mediterranean her older sister had finished her refit only six months before.
Gone were the dual six inch turrets, in their place was a bevy of 4.5 inch guns like those on the newest carriers, the new 20mm Okirlon cannons dotted the ships superstructure and the ‘black box’ of radar now rested on her masts, extending her eyes further. Two hundred yards astern the newest battleship laid down by the United Kingdom kept pace astern of the flagship, armed with older guns but they still had a fearsome punch.
Smaller, lighter but more modern the flagships consort was fresh out from the fitters yards, some civilians were on board fixing issues deep in her hull and her two forward turrets could be seen training left and right slowly, the tripple 15 inch guns elevating and depressing as they were tested.
Both ships were at action stations, with their targets in the area it was only a matter of time before they were detected on Radar and the battle could begin.
The Saint George’s three turrets were already elevated and trained, the 16 inch rifles loaded and ready. The turrets had given issues when they were built as had their projectiles but the DNC had pressed for a heavier shell and this had solved the barrel wear problems whilst time and effort was needed to fix the faults in the safety interlocks in the then revolutionary triple turrets, the first built for a British battleship. But these teething troubles had been overcome and now were swinging onto the baring of the approaching enemy ships.
Up on the bridge it was rather quiet. Long gone were the heavily armoured conning tower of the Dreadnought era, the bridge was still armoured against cruiser fire but it was so much more spacious.
"Sir, message from the Bismark." The signals Officer said, a smile creasing his usually stern features.
"Message Reads; "Save some for us, happy hunting!"
There were a few chuckles and smiles as the tension on the bridge eased slightly.
"Signal the Bismark this please flags, 'It is not our fault you could not keep up. We will try to leave some pickings for you though.'"
The Rear Admiral turned to the armoured windows, raising his binoculars. "That should get old Fritz's tache in a twirl..any news on Radar?"
"Picking up echos at extreme range Sir! Working in range and speed now Sir."
"Very good, Guns you have permission to open fire once the enemy is in range, signal the Nelson to do. We will engage the lead ship."
Minutes ticked by, the silence on the bridge broken by reports from the gunnery and radar controls.
"Sir we have a fix, reading four, that is four contacts not three as the air boys said, baring and course is correct, range 32500 yards!"
"Looks like the Germans will have some work to do. Guns?"
"They are in range sir, but we'd have to do it with radar."
"Understood. Captain alter course to open up our A Arcs and commence fire as soon possible."
The bridge was filled with a hubub as orders were passed to the relevant stations, several decks down the ships helmsman put the wheel over a few degrees and the big battlecruiser began her turn.
"Target in range!"
"Shoot!"
A proper update for the main story is coming, i'm working at it when I go home, but I wanted to write this.
