The whole time that battle had raged, an exceptionally fierce smaller engagement had played out between them in ‘no man’s land’ as escorting destroyers of both fleets met at closer range and tried to fight their way past each other to press home torpedo attacks on the enemy capital ships. In this smaller skirmish, the British outnumbered the German destroyers by fully two to one, and had won a resounding victory which had allowed the destroyers Lance and Punjabi to break through and finish off Scharnhorst with torpedoes. Their success was short-lived however, as single Trident missiles smashed each vessel to pieces moments later, and still more of the guided weapons slammed into the already stricken Warspite and Queen Elizabeth, both of them also sinking almost immediately. Many kilometres to the north, only Ark Royal and the torpedo-damaged Malaya were able to avoid destruction as the pair of ships formed up with their remaining destroyer escorts and retreated to the north at best possible speed, seeking the relative safety of Scapa Flow.
At the Battle of The Dogger Bank in 1915, neither the Royal Navy nor the German High Seas Fleet had been able to capitalise on their opportunities, and the engagement had ended in little more than a costly ‘draw’ as a result. The Second Battle of The Dogger Bank of 11th September, 1940 would soon be overshadowed by the rest of the momentous events unfolding that day, but within naval circles the world over it would be discussed for decades to come, and as was the case with the First World War engagement, that debate would be as much over missed opportunities as for what did come to pass. One thing that was certain was that the name of HMS Nelson and the story of her final, unforgettable last stand against the overpowering might of those Kriegsmarine superbattleships would become symbolic in its representation of what had been lost to the entirety of The British Empire in that moment she heeled over and capsized. With her passing, as with that of the ironclad Thunder Child in Wells’ novel of a different, Martian invasion, Britain’s last hope of halting the onslaught also vanished into history.
Hindsight emergency airstrip ‘Alternate’
Eday, Orkney Islands
The flight deck of the Galaxy was well-insulated and was also relatively soundproof as a result, and Davies managed to keep Eileen distracted long enough for her not to notice the sound of the Lightning’s engine spooling up until it was far too late to do anything about it. The F-35E was already starting to taxi along the concrete runway as she dived past him and down the access ladder to the main cargo deck, and Trumbull had executed a perfect short take-off by the time she’d bolted down the forward loading ramp.
“Where in the name of God is that silly bugger going?” She howled at Davies as the man joined her a moment later on the runway, and the Lightning disappeared through the low cloud cover above.
“Training exercise…?” Davies offered hopefully.
“‘Training exercise’ my bloody arse, Jack…!” Eileen snarled, drawing in close to him and standing face to face, blasting him with her words in a fashion he’d never before experienced. “I know where the bastard’s going, and I know you were in on the whole thing!” He’d never seen the woman lose her temper in a position of command, and it was a side of her that unnerved him… he found he didn’t care for it one little bit.
“I don’t know what upsets me more,” she continued, walking away from him again now, hands on her hips in exasperation and clutching at the waist of her combat jacket. “The fact that you’re disobeying orders in the stupidest possible way… or that you didn’t think to come to me first if you were working on a plan to try and find Max.”
“It was a kinda ‘spur of the moment’ thing,” Davies offered with an apologetic shrug. “The boy knows his stuff, Eileen… give him some credit.”
“Knows just enough tae get himself intae trouble…!” She growled, her accent becoming more pronounced under stress. “How the hell does he think he’ll find the man with all this shite going on?”
“He knows Southern England from the air, and he knows as much as we do: that Max is in Kent, somewhere near Ashford. He also knows Max has his radio with him, and the frequency he needs to contact him. You think Max won’t respond when he hears Alec calling for him…?”
“This is not over…!” Eileen snapped back, not in the slightest bit pleased by the situation, or how it had come about. “This is far from over!” Taking into account the dark expression on her face, Davies was inclined to believe her.
20. Prodigal Sons
Prepared defensive lines at Smeeth
South-East of Ashford, Kent
As the Home Fleet and Kriegsmarine were trading their first shots off the Dogger Bank, reports were beginning to filter back to the defences near Smeeth that enemy units were advancing in their vicinity. The consistent cloud-cover of morning had transformed after midday into a dark and brooding pall that flickered with the occasional burst of hidden lightning and threatened of rain, none of that helped by literally tonnes of smoke that had been pouring into the atmosphere all day across South-East England due to the intensity of combat. Visibility was cut severely, as was the ambient temperature to the point of almost being chilly, and there was an excellent chance of a fog or mist rising as evening drew closer; something that would certainly aid the defenders immensely.
The drop in available light due to the thickening cloud cover was enough to cut vision markedly, and that in itself would provide the tanks and guns dug in across the A20 with badly-needed assistance. There’d been reports that Dover and Folkestone had fallen already, and if that were indeed the case, masses of troops and extra materiel would soon be joining this first wave of invaders. There’d been no indication of how thing were faring in the other invasion areas to the south-west as yet, although landings in Sussex and Hampshire had also been confirmed.
Jimmy Davids and his crew were tense and as ready for their first taste of combat as they’d ever be. There was a certain amount of fear and nervousness of course, but the fact that they’d be defending their own country went a long way to balancing the scales. All had heard the sounds of battle off to the east that’d been going on since dawn, and could easily see the haze of smoke and dust that had hung across the entire eastern horizon, thick enough to taint and discolour the overcast skies across the eastern tree-lines that morning. They’d all also heard and felt the distant, booming detonations of 800mm shells as Gustav and Dora had first bombarded the beach neat St Mary’s Bay, then Dover into oblivion, and it hadn’t been difficult to guess at the origin of those far-off explosions, although there’d been no official reports. Captain Carroll was normally forthright in passing on information to his men about what was going on, and the silence they were now receiving from both their commander and 2IC, accompanied by their unsettling expressions, was as damning as any spoken words might’ve been.