Kleber's Convoy Read Free Page A

carrier, the cruiser and the Home Fleet destroyers would join and the Fifty-Seventh Group would then move to the outer screen, eight miles ahead of the convoy. Distance apart of ships on that screen would be three thousand yards and it would cover a front of twelve miles. Vengeful would be the port wing ship.
    There were a few quiet good-o’s. Norway lay to starboard.
    Redirian turned from the blackboard. ‘Don’t forget where we’ll be on the return journey.’ The dark shadowed eyes smiled. ‘Norway’ll lie to port then.’
    That produced some coo-ers.
    On the last convoy, on the journey north, Vengeful had been starboard wing ship, one of two destroyers detached to sweep the Norwegian coast between the Ofoten and Alten Fiords during a long Arctic night. Their task had been to find and sink ships hugging the coast with supplies for German air and naval bases in Norway. Navigating the Norwegian coast with its straggle of offshore rocks and islets, without shore lights and in frequent blizzards, was not an experience anyone was keen to repeat And they hadn’t found any enemy shipping.
    With firm strokes Redman rubbed the chalk from the blackboard.
    â€˜JW 137 is a big convoy. Thirty-six ships. But we’ve a large escort force – twenty-six of us including the carrier and a cruiser. Worst problem will be the weather. There’ll be U-boats and enemy aircraft, of course. We’ll have to be on the top line. But we’re a good ship in a good group – and we know how to fight her. We can’t ask for more. So,’ he hesitated, ‘the best of good luck to you all.’ He turned to the first-lieutenant. ‘Right, Number One. Carry on.’
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    Down in the wardroom not long afterwards they were discussing the captain’s talk. O’Brien, a burly Irishman with tousled red hair and beard, said, ‘I suppose the Old Man’s fireside chats do some good?’ O’Brien was next in seniority to the first-lieutenant.
    â€˜They add a touch of drama to the mundane,’ said Pownall.
    The first-lieutenant swallowed the last of his sherry, ‘I think they’re good. The Old Man takes the ship’s company into his confidence. They understand the object of the exercise. Know what’s expected of them. Much better than the remote sort of skipper. Tight lips, sealed orders, a grim look, and tell the ship’s company nothing.’
    â€˜Hear, hear,’ said Rogers, one of Vengeful ’s two midshipmen . A thin youth with mousy hair.
    â€˜The young should be seen and not heard,’ said Pownall. ‘And say sir. ’
    â€˜Yes, sir. ’
    A dark man in overalls, wearing a greasy cap and gauntlets , came into the wardroom. It was Emlyn Lloyd, theengineer-lieutenant. He had crowsfeet at the corner of his eyes and seemed always about to smile.
    The first-lieutenant suggested a drink.
    Lloyd nodded to the steward. ‘Sherry, please, Guilio.’
    â€˜You’re not sitting down to lunch with us in that rig, are you, Chiefy?’ Pownall raised a disapproving eyebrow.
    Lofty Groves, the sub-lieutenant, went to the dartboard, took the darts and handed three to the engineer-lieutenant. ‘Give you a start of ten,’ he said.
    â€˜No respect,’ said Emlyn Lloyd, shaking his head. ‘No respect. That’s the trouble nowadays.’ He flicked a dart into the board. Wilson, junior of Vengeful ’s three lieutenants, picked up his cap. ‘Better show myself on the upper deck.’
    â€˜About time,’ said the first-lieutenant. The officer-of-the-day should be available on deck at all times,’ he quoted.
    â€˜Article one-one-five-two,’ said Pownall. ‘King’s Regulations and Admiralty Instructions.’
    â€˜Holy Saint Patrick,’ growled O’Brien.
    â€˜What’s the trouble?’
    â€˜Nothing, Number One. Just the punishment returns. Forgotten to send them