The Dardanelles Conspiracy by Alan Bardos (best ereader for pc TXT) 📗

The first line was coming on four abreast, with covering ships on each wing, churning up large white wakes that contrasted with the thick black clouds gushing from their funnels. A second line was approximately a mile behind with a third group of ships waiting at the mouth of the Straits. Breitner counted eighteen battleships, with assorted cruisers and destroyers.

‘A beautiful day to admire the view, my dear Laszlo, but the enemy may expect you to fight,’ a voice boomed behind him.

Breitner turned and saw the familiar figure of Captain Adolphus Brauer, the battery commander addressing him from behind a pair of binoculars. The observation post had come to life. Men were starting to call out distances from a range finder, while others were consulting maps and tables, trying to gauge the enemy’s bearing.

Captain Brauer put down his binoculars and glanced up at the cloudless sky. He was wearing a kugelhelm, with a ball in the centre that marked him out as an artilleryman. It looked like a child’s costume on his massive head. Breitner wondered if Brauer had got even bigger since he’d spoken to him at the Hotel Tokatliyan.

‘Sorry, Captain, it is a remarkable sight.’

‘Dolly please, my friends call me Dolly.’ Brauer had treated Breitner like a long-lost brother since he’d turned up at the fort with two cases of champagne, courtesy of Enver Pasha.

He licked his finger and held it out over the parapet. ‘Yes, just what I suspected, there is a light wind from the south west.’

‘Is that significant?’ Breitner only had a rudimentary knowledge of gunnery. He had been trained primarily as a cavalry officer, before moving onto intelligence, and was then placed in the infantry at the start of the war. It was inevitable that he now found himself in the specialism he knew least about.

‘Yes, my dear fellow it is significant because the enemy fire control up in the foretops, will have their own gun smoke blown back on them, obscuring their view of us - their target!’ Dolly patted Breitner on the shoulder and pointed at the lead formation of enemy ships. ‘Can you identify which one is pointing its guns at us?’

Breitner lifted his binoculars and scrutinised the superstructure of the ship. Its forward turrets were zeroing in on the fort. Each turret had twin mounted 15-inch guns that could fire a shell that weighed just under a ton. ‘Yes, that’s the Queen Elizabeth.’

‘And a fearsome sight she is too. Excellent, you have been doing your homework, Laszlo. Our shell stocks are not unlimited so we must select our targets well and make every one count!’

‘We are actually low on shells?’ Breitner asked, ‘I thought we were getting resupplied?’

‘Don’t be concerned my friend, we have a nice surprise planned for the enemy!’ Dolly laughed, ‘It’s just a shame there won’t be time for you to learn anything else, you have the makings of a fine gunner!’

Breitner wasn’t sure if Dolly was referring to the impending attack interfering with his training or if they would not see out the day. Breitner jumped as distant gunfire rumbled along either side of the Straits.

‘That’s our mobile batteries, keeping the battleships on their toes.’ Dolly took a swig of Schnapps and offered the flask to Breitner.

Breitner took the flask gratefully as large black fountains erupted around the lead ships. The noise rapidly got worse as the Allied ships returned fire. Dolly’s jovial look faded.

‘My friend Kurt is over there with a howitzer battery.’ He pointed across the Straits to the European side that was sundering under great flumes of red and yellow explosions.

‘It is my understanding that the batteries are safely hidden away,’ Breitner said, trying to sound reassuring, although he wasn’t sure how anything could survive the bombardment the Allies had unleashed.

‘Oh, I’m sure he will be fine. Kurt has plenty of tricks up his sleeve,’ Dolly said. To prove the point the firing from the hidden batteries intensified, forcing a destroyer screen to turn tail.

The gun crews began to report that they were ready for action and Dolly turned his attention back to directing the fire of his battery. It was Breitner’s job to relay his orders to the gunners. They were predominantly German in this fort, so he was able to make himself understood.

Dolly swore, frustrated, Breitner guessed that the enemy was sitting some 14,000 yards away and hopelessly out of range. There was little to do now but wait. A wave of thunder announced the British dreadnoughts had opened fire with their 15 and 12 inch guns.

Breitner braced himself to stay at his post, as a salvo from the Queen Elizabeth ripped through the air towards him.

Chapter 35

Sir George Smyth was having a perfectly vile time, crammed into the conning tower of HMS Queen Elizabeth. It was positioned behind the forward turrets. Their 15-inch guns made the whole ship shudder every time they fired with a terrific boom and gushed great clouds of noxious yellow fumes in a blinding scarlet flash.

The Queen Elizabeth was on the left-hand, European, side of line A. Agamemnon was next to her, adjacent to Lord Nelson and Inflexible, on the Asian side of the Straits. While the other ships fired at the forts on the European side, the Queen Elizabeth engaged the forts on the Asian side of the narrows. Her shell strikes were pounding the enemy positions under huge explosions that blew up immense clouds of brown-black smoke.

A salvo of howitzer shells screamed down and Sir George ducked, unable to control the spasm of fear that surged through him. He knew the howitzers couldn’t penetrate the thick armour of the Lizzie, but de Robeck had said that they could detonate the ready use ammunition. It made Sir George feel rather as if he was standing in a steel drum, on a pile of explosives, that someone was throwing fireworks