Starfall (Kirov Series Book 39)
Kirov Saga:
Starfall
By
John Schettler
A publication of: The Writing Shop Press
Starfall, Copyright©2018, John A. Schettler
The Kirov Saga: Season One
Kirov - Volume 1
Cauldron of Fire - Volume 2
Pacific Storm - Volume 3
Men of War - Volume 4
Nine Days Falling - Volume 5
Fallen Angels - Volume 6
Devil’s Garden - Volume 7
Armageddon –Volume 8
The Kirov Saga: Season Two ~ 1940-1941
Altered States –Volume 9
Darkest Hour –Volume 10
Hinge of Fate –Volume 11
Three Kings –Volume 12
Grand Alliance –Volume 13
Hammer of God –Volume 14
Crescendo of Doom –Volume 15
Paradox Hour –Volume 16
The Kirov Saga: Season Three ~1942
Doppelganger –Volume 17
Nemesis –Volume 18
Winter Storm –Volume 19
Tide of Fortune –Volume 20
Knight’s Move –Volume 21
Turning Point –Volume 22
Steel Reign –Volume 23
Second Front –Volume 24
The Kirov Saga: Season Four ~1943
Tigers East – Volume 25
Thor’s Anvil – Volume 26
1943 – Volume 27
Lions at Dawn – Volume 28
Stormtide Rising – Volume 29
Ironfall – Volume 30
Nexus Deep – Volume 31
Field of Glory – Volume 32
The Kirov Saga: Season Five ~1944
Prime Meridian – Volume 33
Event Horizon – Volume 34
Dragonfall – Volume 35
1944 – Volume 36
The Tempest – Volume 37
Breakout – Volume 38
Starfall – Volume 39
Rhinelander – Volume 40
Kirov Saga:
Starfall
By
John Schettler
Kirov Saga: 39
Starfall
By
John Schettler
Part I – The Sons of Muspell
Part II – A Falling Star
Part III – Antwerp
Part IV – Stalemate
Part V – The Great Gale
Part VI – Steamroller
Part VII – A Nightmare of Choice
Part VIII– The Race to the Reich
Part IX – Hinge of Fate
Part X – Jump the Rhine
Part XI – The Sea Hound
Part XII – Dream Within a Dream
Author’s Note:
Dear Readers,
Two things dominated the minds of strategic planners in the late summer and early autumn of 1944. While this alternate history is seeing these events play out a few months early, these same two considerations also dominate here. The first was the issue of supply, for as the Allies advanced across France, they stretched the lines of supply farther and farther with each passing day. Therefore, obtaining ports that could deliver the massive tonnage required to sustain an army over a million strong was a key consideration, and of all ports within the reach of Allied planners, none was deemed more strategic and vital than Antwerp.
So as Eisenhower was struggling to keep his armies supplied, having to deny fuel and munitions to one force in order to sustain another, Antwerp seemed to hold the key to solving that great logistical problem. Eisenhower went so far as to tell Montgomery that he should consider the opening of Antwerp his number one priority. The port, including the locks on the Scheldt, entry channels, and massive docks and other facilities, had been seized completely intact by General Pip Roberts and his 11th Armored Division, but none of that could be used as long as the Germans controlled the long Scheldt Estuary that merchant ships would have to use to reach that port.
To open Antwerp, operations would first have to be mounted to defeat the hold-out divisions of 15th Army that had been trapped in the “Breskins Pocket,” and then to clear and occupy the islands of South Beveland and Walcheren that dominated that estuary. Yet for reasons he would later come to regret, Montgomery did not make those operations the central focus of his own strategy. Instead, he was mesmerized with his own belief that the war could be won with one bold and “full-blooded” thrust at Germany’s teetering Third Reich.
Indeed, all the Allied field Generals had the same thing in mind after their halcyon pursuit of a broken enemy across France. They had their eyes on the Rhine. Patton thought he could pierce the Reich, blow through the Siegfried Line, and cross the Rhine in a matter of weeks, and in embracing the plan that finally became Operation Market-Garden , Montgomery clearly had the same idea in mind. It was a race to the German frontier on all fronts, and Patton bitterly complained that if he had not been denied the gasoline he needed to keep moving, he would have been the first to breach the West Wall and cross the Rhine.
In this volume, we will see Eisenhower, and all his lieutenants, face these same choices, and reach to secure both these two strategic aims with bold airborne operations—Antwerp and a bridge over the Rhine. The plans they devise will be based on those actually proposed by airborne army planners, as they sought ways to get their excellent parachute and glider regiments and brigades back into the war. Even though General Montgomery now finds himself in the place Patton fought at this stage of the war, his ideas concerning the use of the airborne divisions are still keenly expressed.
So here the Allies take the war to the skies over Holland, Belgium, and Germany as they race to secure those two great strategic aims. To simulate the likely military outcome, the operations presented here were simulated in great detail, down to company and even platoon level, and on war game maps built to a scale of 500 meters per hex. Here then is Starfall , a name born of the actual code name given to one of these Allied plans, Operation Comet.
Before those operations begin, we will return the cold skies over Greenland, where Fedorov and Karpov have just ambushed the Zeppelin flotilla Himmler has sent to strike the city of New York. As we will see, in all these operations, things do not always go according to plan.
I hope you enjoy this volume, which continues the intense focus on the War in the West as this 5th Season of the series moves towards the finale in the next book, Rhinelander .
- John Schettler
Part I
The Sons of Muspell
“Amid the turmoil the sky will open and from it will ride the sons of Muspell. Surtr will ride in front, and both before and behind him there will be burning fire. Light will shine from his sword, brighter than the sun.”
—The Prose Edda: Gylfagynning
Chapter 1
The Führergondel of Zeppelin raider Fafnir shuddered with a dreadful vibration, as another explosion shook the ship. Hajo Herrmann exposed the detonation switch, his finger trembling. His long and relatively sedate flight across the Atlantic had come to a sudden chaotic end. Out there in the cold airs above Greenland, another airship had crept up on his formation of three Zeppelins, most likely coming at them from behind and above. By the time he heard the rumble of what he first thought was thunder, it was already too late. He had immediately given the order to climb, with all engines ahead full, for speed and altitude were his only defenses now. His other gunship had been in the vanguard of his three ship formation, well out ahead, to a range of 10,000 meters.
As they approached North America, the technical crews had crept into the central bomb bays to arm the device that they had planned to deliver to New York City. It would
never get there. Someone, somehow, had found and stalked his formation, and they had most likely blasted away his trailing gunship with that opening rumble of thunder. With visibility at no more than 1000 meters, the watchmen aboard Fafnir could not see the action behind them, some 5000 meters off. Then something came streaking out of the rosy clouds, moving as fast as a falling star. It pierced the outer shell of Fafnir’s tail section and exploded with terrible force. The shock was enough to wrench the duralumin frame apart and compromise the entire structure of the tail section. All rudder and elevator control were immediately lost, and a massive fire started aft, the flames igniting reserve oxygen and engine fuel canisters to create a series of secondary explosions as bad as the first.
Fafnir was dying, having perhaps no more than a few minutes before those flames moved forward, devouring all before them. He shouted an order to abandon ship, and the bridge crew had a frantic few minutes to get into their emergency parachutes when Hajo gave that order. Then the Captain stood by the special command box where a battery operated button would send signals to that thing in the central bomb bay. One would release the bomb, the other would detonate it.
The fires drew ever closer, burning amidships. His ship was lost; doomed to die, and Captain Hans Joachim Herrmann, one of Germany’s brightest stars in the ranks of the Luftwaffe, knew that he had but minutes to live. Soon his star would fall. In that moment, he thought that death by immolation, burning alive as his ship was incinerated, would be a horrible way to go. There were only seconds left, and he knew he would never get into a parachute harness and reach the escape hatch to save himself. The fires were already starting to reach the central core of the ship where the bomb waited, a cold sphere of death and destruction, about to be called to arms.
He could think of only one last thing to do….
* * *
When it happened, it was as if a star had fallen into the skies above Greenland, the piercing bright light of its fire creating a blinding flash. In that instant, Fafnir , and everyone aboard, were vaporized, now no more than sub-atomic particles, the star stuff they had originally been made from. ‘Remember, man, that thou art dust, and unto dust thou shalt return….’
If anyone alive down below on the icy glaciers of King Christian Land had seen it happen, that was what they would tell—that a star fell that day, brightening the dawn with the fire of a second sun. The jagged heights of Hvitserk, the “White Shirt,” highest mountain in all of Greenland, bore silent witness to the event, but few human eyes saw what had happened.
Vladimir Karpov was one man that saw it, for the briefest fraction of a second, the searing bright light. He reflexively shielded his eyes, shocked by the light, but inwardly knowing what had happened. Thankfully, there was no direct line of sight to Fafnir , and the intervening clouds had saved him from almost certain blindness, for he had been peering through the magnifying lenses of his field glasses when it happened. Seconds later the shock wave came, much weaker than it might have been if Tunguska had been any closer. As it was, they had been engaging the enemy’s rear gunship, which was 5000 meters behind Fafnir , and they trailed that ship by some 4000 meters at the time of the detonation. That put them at least nine kilometers from the blast, and even at a little over three kilometers, the shock wave had dissipated to 1psi.
They were safe.
They were also outside the range of lethal radiation, but the air moved by the blast was still significant, a fierce wind that suddenly struck Tunguska , shaking the ship. Air Commandant Bogrov braced himself at his Captain’s chair, and shouted orders. They had taken the worst of that blast of cold air head on, the nose pointed toward that blossoming star in the sky, so the ship weathered it well. Fedorov’s assumption had been correct. It had been carrying a lethal atomic bomb, which obviously ignited as a result of that attack, though Karpov would never know that Hajo Herman had thought to take his unseen enemy with him by deliberately detonating that bomb.
Karpov could see it now, the massive broiling sphere up ahead. The light from its fire danced in his eyes, and he smiled.
“Steady as she goes,” he said. “It seems our missile did more than we expected.”
Bogrov had managed to stabilize the ship, and when the wind abated, Karpov thought it best to get to a safer distance. “Bogrov, come about. Get us away from that damn thing. Radar, do you have contact with the third Zeppelin?”
“No sir, the interference from that detonation—”
“Very well. They will have to be wondering what the hell happened, and they must be close to 20 kilometers off at the moment. So we come about, and increase that range. Comrade Bogrov, please order a full inspection of the ship.” Karpov was all business. Now he looked to Fedorov.
“You were right,” he said. “But I think that ends the threat to New York City. Now we can go look for your Channel Storm. There’s no need to worry about that third Zeppelin.”
“Captain,” said Fedorov, reflexively using Karpov’s old title. “We came off well against the blast and radiation effects at this range, but don’t forget what these detonations can do to the time continuum.”
Karpov eyed him, saying nothing, considering. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose we should have the radio room monitor traffic. Yet we haven’t moved. There’s that falling star, so it must still be 1944.”
A Crew Chief came clomping down the ladder to the command gondola, breathless, and saluted. “Beggin’ your pardon sir, but there’s something I think you should see—in the frame and rigging, sir.”
Karpov looked over his shoulder. “Something I should see? You mean we took damage? Well, what is it?”
“Can’t say as I know sir. Best if you have a look yourself.”
“Very well. Fedorov, Grilikov, with me please. Steady on, Bogrov. Have the radio room monitor all bands and they are to report to me as soon as they hear anything suspicious or unusual. Hold this altitude for another thirty minutes. Then I think it should be safe to descend.”
“Aye sir.”
The Crew Chief led the way, up the ladder, with Grilikov following. Karpov and Fedorov ascended behind them, and as they emerged onto the central corridor, they gaped in awe.
“It’s gotten worse,” said the Chief. “Barely a glimmer a moment ago, but look at it now, sir. What’s happening? Shall I call the Engineers?”
Karpov looked at Fedorov, as if he would surely have the answer to that question, for every beam and cross bar of Tunguska’s duralumin frame was now glowing with a soft phosphorescent green. They had seen that glow many times before, aboard Kirov , a foreboding sign that always meant trouble when it happened.
“Are you thinking what I am thinking?” said Karpov quietly.
“I think we found our storm,” said Fedorov. “Out there.” He thumbed over his shoulder, clearly indicating the broiling detonation they had witnessed.”
“Fairy dust,” said Karpov. “Particles from the original Tunguska event permeate every beam and bar of this ship’s frame. We always assumed that, but I was always in my cabin when the ship shifted in the past. Now I think we may be going somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else,” said Fedorov.
The crew Chief looked at them strangely, and Karpov dismissed him. “See to your inspection crews,” he said. “Don’t worry about that. The ship’s frame acts like a lightning rod, that’s all. That was a heavy blast when we put down that airship. They must have been packing a massive load of bombs.”
“Aye sir.” The Chief saluted. Karpov had given him just enough to still his fears, and he was on his way to sort out his men and put them to work. Only Karpov and Fedorov would know the worst.
“Come,” said the Admiral. “To my stateroom. We need to discuss this, and I’m famished. Comrade Grilikov, collar a crewman and order in some food. Then join us. You are always to be at the heart of all our plans. Oh… Check on Troyak and the Marines. Tell him I’ll want a report on the status of his team.”
Grilikov offered a thick armed salute, and sto
mped off down the corridor, a dark giant on the prowl. Karpov and Fedorov followed him, reaching the stateroom, glad to be inside the heated quarters, where they would also not need to sip oxygen from their side flasks any longer.
“Freezing up here,” said Karpov, flapping his arms to take in the warmth of the room. The transition from the cold metal grating of the outer corridor to the plush carpets was welcome. Karpov walked across the dimly lit room, removing his black sheep fleece Ushanka, and slowly pulling off his gloves. Fedorov watched him, and could not stave off an admiring grin. Airship duel, nuclear detonation, job done well—to Karpov it was all in a day’s work, all behind him now. His mind was already considering the implication of that strange green glow emanating from the ship’s airframe.
“Fairy dust,” he said again. “What do you make of this, Fedorov?”
“I think we’ll move,” said Fedorov. “But god only knows where. My bet is that if we get to a side port, we won’t see that sky bomb out there any longer.”
“More than likely,” said Karpov. “We’ll verify that hunch soon. In the meantime, what do you think will happen?”
“How should I know?”
“Well, what about all this talk of absolute certainty? We’re Prime movers, correct? We agreed that we would look for a storm and take Tunguska forward, back home, to our own native time.”
“Yes, we certainly agreed on that, but who knows whether Mother Time was listening. You’ve ordered the radio room to monitor channels. The equipment is right off Kirov , military grade and very well shielded against EMP effects. So I don’t think we’ll have a problem there.”
“Suppose we get where we planned to go,” said Karpov. “The aim of this shift was to get us to a point before the ship initially shifted back.”