The Last War? : Chapter 394

[Bernard Woolley]

With thanks to Mark B for making the first scene better and to Jotun for his contribution.

*

D+33

*

2251 hours GMT. HMNZS Niagara, Wellington, New Zealand.
Lieutenant-Commander Christine Stefanovic, RNZN, would rather have been getting on with her job and not hanging around waiting for a ship to arrive. Especially with all the fallout after the sinking of the MV Pacific Wanderer. There was quite the clean up to be done and the 25th RNZN Minesweeping Flotilla was supposed to help out with that, plus carry on with its existing tasks. More worryingly a couple of days before the newly arrived AMS, HMNZS Turakina had brought up a Soviet KPM anti-sweeper mine in her Oropesa sweep. By sheer luck it had not gone off. But, it suggested that there were others out there, waiting to kill her minesweepers. Stefanovic had been attached to the RAN AMS at Newcastle and had seem some of the toughest times there, losing her eye in an engagement with a Soviet submarine. She had no intention of allowing anything like that brutal battle to repeat itself in the waters off her home country. Not if she had anything to say about it!

The Australian experience was that as good as the AMS were, they were very vulnerable to anti-minesweeper mines like the KPM. Minehunters were needed to deal with such weapons, yet they were in short supply. The RAN had six seagoing minehunters and two roadstead minehunters and could do with double the number. The RNZN had none. At least for the moment. Two Bay class roadstead hunters and a pair of Countess of Hopetoun class AMS as modified to minehunter standards as was possible with a steel design were on order. However, something, anything, was needed now. The RNZN had reached out to the RAN for assistance on getting at least an interim minehunter capability. With its own capability stretched to breaking point, the RAN had reached out to the RN, JMSDF, RCN and USN for help. The RN had responded first, it had suggested a design that could be built in yacht building yards in New Zealand in a few weeks-to-months depending on the yard – D. K. Brown's existing Utility Minehunter (UMH) design. Fortunately, these same yards were already building sidescan sonar towboats with heavy GRP scantlings. Without that existing experience this project would have been much-delayed. The RN had even offered to fly out some available equipment for two vessels. It was mostly not new, of course, including low-magnetic signature engines, generators, shafts, pumps and whatnot stored from long-retired Ton class sweepers, along with a small team to help crew them. At least until the RNZN got its own personnel trained.

These ships had nowhere near the vanishingly small magnetic signature of a modern minehunter. They just had a magnetic signature vastly lower than anything else in New Zealand waters.

“There she is Ma'am.” Lieutenant Dennis Wilde, the flotilla's X.O said, pointing.

Stefanovic followed her second-in-command's outstretched hand. There, making her way up past the Point Halswell lighthouse was HMNZS Santon (M1178). The UHM was a squat, fat and remarkably ugly-looking vessel, a legacy of the fact that her three diesel generators, Operations Room and annex were all on the upper deck, in standard ISO containers made of heavy aluminium. The sonar gear was contained in a non-standard box, but one that could be handled by ordinary container handling gear. The containers had been fitted out ashore in a factory, including some equipment, such as the minehunting combat system, that had been flown out from the UK.

Stefanovic had mixed feelings about the project. Oh, sure it’s needed, she thought, and here comes the great big ‘but’…BUT the fitout was what they had to hand and none of it could be fully modern. The sonar was a case in point, it was the old Type 193, refurbished of course, but still very old tech. Yet it was still an effective short-range minehunting sonar, able to detect and classify surface and moored mines and able to provide navigation information to the SeaFox mine-disposal vehicle as well as the PAP-104 system. It had high-definition sector scanning with 15 beams covering the target area. Low frequency (100 kHz) is used for long-range search, with 1-degree-wide beams providing 15 degrees of horizontal coverage. Adequate, it’s adequate, she thought, and infinitely better than nothing.

The only real change that the RNZN had made to the design was to add a single Bofors L60 40mm gun to the forecastle, the original design having been unarmed.

HMNZS Santon (M1178) and her sister, HMNZS Hickleton (M1131), both named after two Ton class, had been built in an incredibly short time. Everyone was sceptical of the hull build quality, how could it possibly be otherwise? Yacht-builders built to the lightest possible scantlings for closely calculated stress levels, absolutely not to naval shock standards. They had no choice but to just copy the heavy GRP construction of HMS Wilton, the first and simplest GRP MCMV. They had done the best they knew how, but it was… how had Horner VC put it? Ah, that was it, “the most ambitious Kiwi kludge up I’ve ever heard of, and I know you are all barking mad”. She smiled slightly at the memory. Santon would become part of the 95th Auxiliary Minesweeping Group at Wellington, while Hickleton would join the 94th Auxiliary Minesweeping Group at Auckland once she was ready to sail.

Stefanovic was sure that her men and women would have no problem in operating the ships, though the systems were a different bucket of bolts. Thank goodness for the small RN team aboard to employ the SeaFox anti-mine ROV. The RNZN had no experience of using such ROVs and in the medium to longer term would not take them into service, the modified Countess of Hopetoun class using a Australian designed anti-mine spigot mortar. The SeaFox was an expendable system and the RN team had only brought a limited number with them, so, hopefully the new ships would be ready before the ROV ran out. New Zealand sea conditions were not ideal for the use of minehunting ROVs, so Stefanovic hoped that they would at least be able to bridge the gap, even if they struggled. At least the two new UHM had space to fit the spigot-mortar when it was ready.

*

Santon was only alongside long enough to refuel and for Lt. Commander Stefanovic to introduce herself to her C.O and the Chief Petty Officer from the RN, who was in charge of the team operating the SeaFox. She already had an important task for the ship. HMNZS Hinau had picked up some suspicious objects with her side-scan sonar, which could be more KPM mines.

“I don't have any big speeches for you.” Stefanovic said to the ship's company. “Other than to say that you are much needed. Good luck to you all, if you do your job, you'll save a lot of lives.”

2301 hours GMT. Mukran, Rügen, DDR.
The Mark 8 Swimmer Delivery Vehicle had silently delivered Sergeant Falconer and three other Swimmer-Commandos into the heart of the port. The SDV came into a hover, allowing the four SBS Swimmer-Commandos to disembark and head to their targets.

*

The port had been hit hard by an air attack on the thirteenth day of the war, but enough time had passed to get it operational again. Although, with not with anything like the capacity like it had had before. For example, several berth were still blocked by sunken freighters, which had not been salvaged yet. The port's railway system was also a shadow of what it had been previously. However, a combination of the port's air defences having been strengthened and a shortage of stand-off PGM made a second air attack meant a second air attack was just not possible at the moment.

On arrival in Sweden, the various maritime Special Forces and marines had discovered that in fact they were not going to be sent on a suicidal raid on Kaliningrad. Instead, they were going to carry out 'Operation Frankton' style attacks on Mukran, Gdynia, Gdańsk and Baltiysk. Mines would also be laid in the passage between the Vistula Lagoon and Gdańsk Bay, the Baltiysk Strait. That would block shipping from using Kaliningrad. It was an ambitious plan, but one that was less suicidal than the cover story. To provide a distraction, the non SOF marines and would mount a noisy diversionary raid on the Lithuanian port of Klaipeda.

*

Sergeant Falconer and his fellow Swimmer-Commandos were each carrying a single 'smart' limpet mine. These were computer controlled, had low hydrodynamic resistance, making them easy to carry and used shaped charged warheads. It was not easy finding the ideal place on the hull of the freighter that was Falconer and his partner's target in the murk. They did most of it by hand, feeling their way along the hull. Finally, they were both able to affix their mines to the hull and set the timers before swimming back to the SDV. With two freighters dealt with, the SDV withdrew. The other teams assigned to Mukran also withdrew safely, as did those at Gdynia and Gdańsk. However, things went wrong at Baltiysk. There the port defences were more alert. Three SDV teams were detected on their approach, with ten men being killed or captured, while the survivors were forced to withdraw. Only one SDV would make it to its assigned targets and escape successfully. However, the mines were laid successfully in the strait.

The timers on the limpet mines had been set so that they would explode almost simultaneously at each port. One, or two mines failed, but even if not every ship targeted was sunk, all of them suffered enough damage to disable them. At Baltiysk, the surviving team had targeted a pair of minesweepers, a Lida and Sonya class, rather than freighters. Without these ships clearing the Baltiysk Strait would take longer.

2325 hours GMT. Hillerød, Zealand.
Premierløjtnant Bechfeldt's Centurion rumbled through the streets of the Danish town. Hillerød was an important objective for the 3rd Zealand Brigade. Partly because it was part of II MEF's wide sweep around Copenhagen and part because the Danes wished to secure the town as soon as possible, before cultural treasures like the Frederiksborg Castle, were destroyed, or damaged.
Even at this late hour people had come out onto the streets to see the Centurions and CV9035DK pass by. Bechfeldt could hear some cheers from them, which had started as soon as the residents had noticed the armoured vehicles were Danish. But, she could not help but notice how gaunt and thin they looked. Not the prosperous, fell-fed people she remembered from her last visit to Hillerød. The other thing she noticed were Hærhjemmeværnet (the Army Home Guard) and Politihjemmeværnet (Police Home Guard) were visible at intersections, helping to direct the regulars and control the crowd. Those men and women had been Home Guards who had stayed behind, taking off their uniforms so that they could remain hidden. Providing information to NATO and wait for liberation.

As the armoured column approached a bridge over the railway line, it was briefly stopped by members of the Virksomhedshjemmeværnet (the Infrastructure Home Guard), who had secured the nearby Hillerød Station. Along with some regular army engineers, they had been checking that it was safe for tanks and IFV to cross. [1]

“How goes it?” Bechfeldt asked one of the Home Guards as he passed her tank.
“All the better for seeing you, Løjtnant.” He replied. “We should get you moving again in a few minutes.”
“How's the castle?”
“Pretty much okay. The Soviets had taken it over, but they hopped it as soon as they heard you were on your way!” The Home Guardsman said. “However, we've got it all secured now.” He added with a wide grin. “Never thought I would appreciate army rations so much.”
“You been short?”

The Home Guardsman nodded.

“Shops are pretty much bare. None of us have had a good meal in a while and the b*stard Soviets have taken the good stuff. Most of us have become something of vegetable growers.”
“That should be over now.” Bechfeldt said with a smile. “Even if you do have to eat army rations for a while. I hear the American Army and Marine rations have pizza in them!”

The Home Guardsman laughed again.

“I'd be happy to make do with Swedish meatballs, Løjtnant!”

Bechfeldt's headset crackled in her ears, signalling that it was time to move on. She held her right hand up and gave a casual salute to the Home Guardsman she had been talking to.

“Thanks for your help!”
“Good luck, Løjtnant!” He replied, waving.

*

Major Robert Williams, RM, dropped down into the ditch as he heard the tank gun fire. X-Ray Company, 45 Commando had been advancing to contact when it had come under fire. Williams had decided to see the problem for himself. The shell exploded somewhere to the rear, showering him with clods of earth.

“I don't know why they're not counter-attacking, Sir.” Lieutenant Cameron Bruce, the Troop Commander who was next to Williams said. “They must see we don't have any supporting armour at the moment.”
“It's weird all right.” Williams agreed. “Camy, I want you to send some of your men around to the right. I counted at least two tanks and it looks like they have at least a company of infantry dug in. I'm going to request mortar fire to keep their heads down and give you a bit of cover. Get your men ready to move as soon as the barrage starts.”
“On it, Sir.”

The X-Ray Company's 51mm mortars started to lay smoke on the Soviet position, followed a few moments later by High Explosives from three of Support Company's 81mm mortars. Under cover of the mortar fire some of Bruce's marines crept forward. To his surprise, one of the 'Booties' discovered that one of the T-90s facing them was missing its left track and had damage to its road-wheels. It had also been dug in so that the forward part of the hull was almost buried. The broken track road-wheels only just being visible at the rear. The Marine crawled back to report what he had found and request an ILAW. He and another Marine crawled back, each man pulling an ILAW behind them.

“It was what?” Major Williams exclaimed on receiving the report about the T-90.
“That's what they said, Sir.” Lieutenant Bruce replied. “At least one of the tanks is not mobile and seems to have been dug-in as a sort...”

'KABOOM!'

A distant explosion interrupted him. Both officers caught a brief glimpse of a turret doing an impression of a rocket.

“Was dug-in as a sort of bunker.” Bruce continued, quickly correcting himself.

2335 Port of Harwich, Essex, England.
Lieutenant Jennifer McNair, RNR, smiled with satisfaction as HMS Eyemouth smoothly came alongside. The Sandown class minehunter had been one of four such vessels detached from 11th MCM Squadron to relieve a similar number of Dutch MCMV at the Port of Rotterdam. They had remained at the Dutch port while several RNLN vessels had been put through maintenance. However, a week ago the British vessels had been returned to 11th MCM Squadron with the thanks of the Dutch. Eyemouth had rejoined the combined MCMV/patrol ship flotilla out-based at Tilbury, but had now been summoned to Harwich, where the command ship of the squadron, the survey vessel, HMS Roebuck was based.

The other UK based Mine Counter Measures Squadrons were commanded from shore bases. However, no suitable facility had been located for the 11th. Instead it was commanded from the survey vessel, with some overflow into Portakabins ashore. [2]

*

McNair found that Roebuck was looking a little tired. She had been due to undergo a Ship Life Extension Period towards the end of the year. However, that had been postponed, but despite her company keeping her clean and good working order, the survey ship definitely showed signs of needing the refit. At least acting as an alongside command vessel should be well within her capabilities.

“Good to see you, Jenny.” Captain David Lovell, RN, the commander of the 11th MCM Squadron, said in greeting, once McNair had entered his cabin.
“It's good to be back, Sir.” McNair replied. “I hope I've not committed some particular faux pas that you have summoned me.”
“Not at all, not at all.” Lovell said with a smile. “Quite the opposite really.
“Do you think your X.O can handle Eyemouth for a few days?”
“Yes, Sir, I do. He's overdue his own command.”
“Good.” Lovell said. “Because I am sending you to VT's yard in Woolston. Ardrossan has just finished fitting out and she needs an experienced skipper to work her up. Don't know if you'll be coming back here, or whether you'll go to the 10th, or 12th yet.
“If your X.O can take over Eyemouth it will make things straightforward. Easier to find a new X.O than a captain. It's too late for you to head to Woolston now, so get your head down and be back here by 0500 hours tomorrow. There'll be a travel warrant waiting for you, plus anything else you need. Will see you then, Commander.”

McNair had been so surprised by Lovell's news that she almost missed his last word.

“Sorry, Sir, Commander?”
“Yes, Jenny, your promotion to Lieutenant Commander has come through. Congratulations, Commander McNair.”

*

“Congratulations, Ma'am.” Eyemouth's senior sailor, Chief Brian Goodenough said in greeting, having met McNair at the top of the companionway.
“How did you know, Chief?”

Goodenough tapped his nose with his right index figure.

“Chief's Grapevine, Ma'am.” He replied. “Old Jimmy Brassey is standing by Ardrossan. He's the best Chief Petty Officer in the fleet, after me of course.” He continued, with a grin. “He'll look after you.”
“Is nothing secret from the Chiefs?” McNair replied, a smile on her face. “I do hope the enemy never infiltrate your network!”

Goodenough looked scandalised.

“Perish the thought, Ma'am!”
“I'm sure you'd spot any infiltrators, Chief.” McNair declared. “Is Mr Allenby around?” She asked, switching gear to ask about the ship's Executive Officer.
“He's ashore at the moment, Ma'am, chasing up some requisitions.”
“Soon as he's back, ask him to come see me in my cabin.”
“Very good, Ma'am.”

*

Lieutenant David Allenby, RNR, was tired and ready for his bunk by the time he returned to Eyemouth. Being based in a civilian port made it more challenging to obtain some spare parts and supplies, so he had personally gone ashore to sort out the issues. He knew that the captain had been over to Roebuck so he presumed that she was going to brief him on some new orders. Allenby was, therefore, surprised to find McNair in the middle of packing up her gear when he arrived in her cabin. He was also observant enough to note that she her rank tab now had two-and-a-half rings on it.

“Sit down, David, if you can find some space.” She said. “Sorry about the mess, but I'm heading off in the morning. The ship's yours and Captain Lovell should send you a new Exec shortly. Soon as I'm off at 0430 tomorrow, move your gear in here. I have every faith in you, you are long overdue the big seat.”
“Thanks, Jenny, I mean Ma'am.” He replied, correcting himself in deference of McNair's new rank. “Congratulations, by the way. It's very deserved.”

McNair waved away his congratulations, a little embarrassed.

“It's okay, thanks.” She said. “And, how long have we known each other? Ten years, maybe more? We came into the reserve at the same time. I don't want you calling me Ma'am when it's just the two of us. Makes me feel old, plus, rank aside, we're both ship's captains now.
“Now, be off with you, I need to finish this up and get what sleep I can.”

2341 hours GMT. Gulf of Finland, somewhere north of Tallinn.
SAS Manthatisi was bottomed on the seafloor, at a depth of 36 meters. She had been here for several days, after the boat had infiltrated a multinational SOF team.

Lieutenant Commander Mompati checked his watch against the time given in the mission plan as he lay on his cot. It was time. He sat up and grabbed the MC1 circuit microphone and quietly spoke into it.

“All stations, this is the CO speaking. Prepare for de-bottoming. Ops briefing in five minutes in the mess.”

Nearly inaudibly, pumps began to press water out of Mantahtisi’s ballast tanks and the barely perceptible list of the boat began to diminish. She now had just enough contact to the seafloor to remain stationary.

The command huddle in the mess had commenced.

“Right. Everybody present, I see. We have two hours to make for the rendezvous slant extraction position as promulgated in the mission orders. Nav, see to it that we reach it with time to spare. Ballpark number fifteen minutes.”

The boat’s head navigator nodded.

“We’ll creep along the bottom of the fairway, then go hard to starboard and lurk at periscope depth, only extending the periscope at the appointed time. Visual challenge code is Alpha Victor, reply code is Foxtrot Echo. Voice challenge via VHF is 'Ad Victoriam', reply is 'The Emprah Protects'.” He chuckled. “Schefer must be a secret nerd. With a hardon for power armour.”

Mompati looked at him blankly.

“Uh…Chief? Relevance?”
“Forget it, boss. Nerd calling to nerd. I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” Mompati shrugged and grinned. “Load tubes 2 and 3 with the IDAS modules. Seahake for the other tubes. Uhm…Stefan and Number One, you and the senior weapons petty officer stand ready to man the sail, in case of emergency. Prepare the Stinger launcher Schefer insisted on bringing, and rig the machine gun. Better to have it than to need it, right?”

Ciliax and the First OOW nodded.

“Egress is once more along the fairway northwards, and then north-westwards to a spot off the Turku approaches where the Finns are going to pick up the team either by helicopter or by boat transfer. Let’s do this, gentlemen. Schefer and the other three are counting on us.”

Ninety-five minutes later, the submarine performed a slow full circle to make sure no untoward attention was to be directed their way. That done, Manthatisi lurked at periscope depth, the sonar operators straining to hear sound indicating trouble. Suddenly, a petty officer sat upright, his hands clapped over his earphones.

“Captain, sonar. I have at least two, more likely three small, fast and loud surface contacts bearing 220. Distance four-ish miles.”
“Aye.” Mompati extended the periscope and trained the optics on the bearing the sonarman had given him. Almost immediately, he saw a small harbour patrol vessel going hell for leather, zigzagging and being pursued by another two harbour patrol boats. Tracers flying back and forth indicated a fierce firefight.
“Shit. Battle stations. Two small patrol boats are on the heels of what I presume is the team hauling ass in another boat. They are firing as if ammunition is going out of fashion. Weaps, spool up IDAS, and engage the pursuing boats, one missile per, expedite! Sail group, stand ready. OOW, surface the boat, leave a foot or so of water on top of the deck. Let’s hope Schefer sees what I’m offering him. Oh, and: Engineering, start the electric generator. We might need every volt of battery later on.”

*

Korvettenkapitän Schefer was at the helm of the patrol boat, the speed levers almost pushed through the console, and despite or maybe even because of the hairy situation, he was having an absolute blast dodging bursts of machine gun fire and coaxing every bit of performance out of this sorry heap of Soviet engineering.

In the rear of the boat, Urdnot and Vakarian were returning fire while Sergeant Zorah was rendering medical assistance to their passenger, a slim, almost elfin, blonde Estonian woman who was dehydrated, malnourished and generally in a bad way thanks to the tender mercies of Soviet Internal Security.

Suddenly, the VHF set, dialled to a predetermined channel, sprang to life.

“Eden Prime, this is Warrior Queen. Authenticate: Ad Victoriam! I say again. Ad Victoriam! Over.”

Schefer grabbed the crumbling microphone and triggered the carrier wave. “This is Eden Prime, I authenticate: The Emprah protects! The Emprah protects! Over.”
“This is Warrior Queen. Roger. Stand by, fire support imminent! Out!”

A few seconds later, two slim shapes broke the surface of the Gulf of Finland. Two bright flames erupted from their rears as the rocket motors ignited. Schefer grinned savagely.

“Hell YES!”

In the submarine’s operation centre, two petty officers sat at their consoles, looking intently at the screens as they guided the IDAS missiles by fibre optic wire. Both identified their targets as valid and initiated the terminal attack phase of their respective missiles. Both patrol boats were blasted apart.

Schefer grinned and balled a fist. He reduced the speed of the patrol boat and spoke into the VHF handset.

“Warrior Queen, Eden Prime, I’ll park on deck, out.”

He approached the submarine at an oblique angle, switched the engine to idle, and gently coaxed the patrol boat onto the deck where it tilted to one side as it ground to a halt on the no-skid surface. He looked towards the sail and saw three men, two of them brandishing heavy weaponry.

“Permission to come aboard, party of five?”
“Permission granted. Welcome back!”

Manthatisi surfaced the rest of the way, and the five passengers were escorted in. Schefer was the last one. He looked at the officers on the sail, at the face of his diver’s watch, and pointed south westwards.

“About forty seconds, guys. Make sure the guy on the periscope records this for posterity.”

He turned in that direction himself and waited.

Suddenly, a series of humongous red and yellow fireballs rose into the night sky from the island of Naissaar as hundreds of naval mines detonated in sequence. Eighteen seconds later, a series of booms could be heard.

“Ha. I love it when a seat-of-the-pants excuse for a change of plan comes together!” Schefer finally made his way below-decks. The crew closed and secured the hatches and SAS Manthatisi slowly vanished from the surface of the Finnish Bight.

2356 Hours GMT. Lyttelton, South Island, New Zealand.
One again Captain Eric Slater RNZN had decided to walk to his office. Fuel rationing was beginning to bite, even for naval officers. Besides, he felt that he needed the exercise. He did notice as he passed the gate that most of the sailors on guard now had SLRs and Sterlings, rather than F88s. The army was evidently grabbing every modern rifle it could get hold of.

Today Captain Slater had a meeting with the Senior Naval Officer in command of ex-HMNZS Southland aboard the training ship. The captain always felt a pang of nostalgia when he boarded her, having served on her as a lieutenant in the late 1980s. He was always impressed at how clean she was kept and that her small ship's company kept dummy Sea Cat missiles and an Ikara on their respective launchers. He could see a few wisps of smoke coming from her funnels, meaning at least one of her diesel generators was active.

“Welcome aboard, Sir.” Lieutenant Commander Ian Malinowski, SNO, said after saluting Slater at the top of the companionway.
“Always a pleasure to be aboard the Old Girl, Commander.” Slater replied. “How are things going?”
“Pretty well, Sir. We're getting a stream of reservists coming across from Pegasus, plus pre-war volunteers coming out of basic training. Not sure if I'm looking forward to receiving the first National Servicemen, though. So far everyone we've been training has wanted to be here. Makes things far easier. Conscripts, though, we'll be asking them to do things they don't really want to do. However, that's not why I asked you to meet me aboard, Sir. Can you follow me to the Ops Room, please?”
“Don't worry, I know the way.” Slater replied. “Spent enough time in there as Assistant AWO.”

On their way to the Ops Room, the two officers passed a number of sailors carrying out a variety of maintenance tasks, or simply keeping the passages clean. Slater found that the Ops Room was pretty much as he remembered it, although a few modern computer screens had been added. It reminded him that a number of requisition forms to purchase computer monitors from local shops had crossed his desk.

“We've got the Ops Room rigged up so that we can run simulated engagements. We generally pretend to be Canterbury, because that's where most of our trainees will go next. But, this is the fun part! This is Chief Anaru, he'll demonstrate what I have to show you, Sir.”
“We've met.” Slater remarked. “Was on the rugby field last time, wasn't it, Chief?”

The Chief Petty Officer smiled.

“Hope you're feeling better after that tackle, Sir.”
“I am, but my wife did think I had been mugged by a gang!” The captain replied, chuckling. “Now what do you have for me, Chief?”
“We've reactivated the GWS-22 Seacat system. Thankfully, when the ship was stripped for spare parts, the MRS-3 fire control director and Type 904 radar was left in place. I guess because the active ships didn't use them any more. Anyway, we can do the full range of engagements, automatic radar-guided, manual radar-guided, manual CCTV-guided, etc.
“Let me show you the later in action.”

The Chief took his seat at the appropriate console. Standing behind him, Slater watched the black and white CCTV image, which showed the harbour entrance. He spotted an MSA, which he recognised as James Cosgrove carrying out a sweep. CPO Anaru lined up the director on the MSA and began to track it. He simulated a launch, continuing to track James Cosgrove for the time it would take for a Sea Cat to reach the target.

“We just need some working missiles and Southland can become a floating SAM battery.” Anaru commented. “True, the Sea Cat is not exactly the best; the Poms failed to hit anything other than the ground and sea with it back in '82, but...”
“Any SAM is better than no SAM.” Slater completed the sentence. “You'd struggle to bring down even an old SSN-3 Shaddock, but you'd have a better chance than nothing. Well done to you both. I'll get on to my counterpart at Philomel to see if we can locate some working Sea Cats. I'm sure he'll also be interested in hearing about how you got it all up and running again, as they might be able to do the same with Waikato.
“Is there anything else I can do?”

Malinowski smiled.

“Can we get some live rounds for our 40/60s and Brownings? We only have drill ammunition, never mind practise. Right now all I have to shoot at anything hostile is some small arms ammunition.”
“I'll see what I can do, Commander.” Slater replied. “Just make sure you only use it in an emergency. I doubt the good people of Lyttelton would appreciate shells and bullets landing on their roofs. Carry on with the good work, both of you.”

***

[1] Information on the Danish Home Guard and its branches can be found here.

[2] 10th MCM Squadron: HMS Cochrane, (MHQ Pitreavie), Rosyth
11th MCM Squadron: HMS Roebuck (H130) at Harwich
12th MCM Squadron: HMS Eaglet, RNR Shore Base, Liverpool

[Bernard Woolley]

Accompanying Pictures

[Lordroel]

Another good update, going to stop saying you can stop spoiling us with this record amount of updates you are posting in this short of time.

[Jotun]

Another good update, going to stop saying you can stop spoiling us with this record amount of updates you are posting in this short of time.

It's almost like a dying maestro churning out piece after piece of art because he knows the end is nigh.
You okay, Jan?

[Bernard Woolley]

You’re very welcome.

And, yes, I am okay, AFAIK!

[jemhouston]

Everyone is digging in for a long war and the first set of improvisations are hitting the battle field.


Much better blowing up sea mines at their base all at once rather piecemeal at sea.

[Matt Wiser]

Man, that's got to be a record. BZ as usual, and so to business:

Kiwis need MCM capability, and if they can get the yards that build pleasure yachts involved, well and good. Even if it's building hulls that will likely get slapped with a coat of Navy grey and just mount a pair of Ma Deuces or other machine guns, they're involved in the war effort.

Necessity is the mother of invention with those SAM installations..

Hopefully, those captured at Baltiysk won't meet the same fate as those in the Bordeaux raid.

Danes welcoming their troops back. While Ivan's using every trick he can to slow things down.

One thing about wartime force expansion: people get promoted sooner than they think.

Good work, and get with 395!

[Lordroel]

You’re very welcome.

And, yes, I am okay, AFAIK!

How do we know it is you having a good time with the chapters and not a Chinese Ghost Writer ore even you using a AI.

[Dagooz]

A bit of nitpicking. Fredensborg Castle is in Fredensborg. Frederiksborg Castle is in Hillerød. The two are close however. Fredensborg is a current royal castle while Frederiksborg isn’t.

[Bernard Woolley]

Everyone is digging in for a long war and the first set of improvisations are hitting the battle field.

War is the mother of invention. And improvisation too it seems!

Much better blowing up sea mines at their base all at once rather piecemeal at sea.

I quite agree. Though, that doesn't help with it comes to those who are already there!

Man, that's got to be a record. BZ as usual, and so to business:

Thanks very much.

Kiwis need MCM capability, and if they can get the yards that build pleasure yachts involved, well and good. Even if it's building hulls that will likely get slapped with a coat of Navy grey and just mount a pair of Ma Deuces or other machine guns, they're involved in the war effort.

The RNZN has a good minesweeping capability at the moment, thanks to co-operation with the RAN. What they have lacked, and will still have in short supply is minehunters. Mark's side-stories have shown what can happen to sweepers when there are no hunters available. The UMH has a fascinating history, btw. It started off as a 'cheap' hunter, meant to supplement the Hunt class, but evolved over time into the Sandown class SRMH. Which was not in any way cheap!

Necessity is the mother of invention with those SAM installations..

Interestingly, Online and print sources disagree as to the effectiveness of the Sea Cat missile in 1982. Online says zero kills, however print sources say probably one and contributions to at least one other. Hardly a stellar record either way. However, it does remind me that air defence does not have to actually shoot down an aircraft to be sucessful. To go off on a tangent for a second, Argentinean pilots flying into San Carlos faced missiles, LAA and SAA fire from multiple directions, as our ships and troops ashore through through everything, bar the kitchen sink, at them. Post-war studies showed that tracer fire frim LAA and SAA fire had a significant impact. Sadly, that effect is not going to be repeated with SSN-3 Shaddocks

Hopefully, those captured at Baltiysk won't meet the same fate as those in the Bordeaux raid.

Fingers crossed.

Danes welcoming their troops back. While Ivan's using every trick he can to slow things down.

There's nothing quite like being liberated, so I am told.

One thing about wartime force expansion: people get promoted sooner than they think.

Being a Great War nerd I know that well enough! There were officers who were captains in 1914 who were Brigadier Generals by 1918. At least Lt. Commander McNair's promotion was substantive. Some officers who were generals suddenly found they were Colonels, or, in at least one case, a Major post-war (substantive Major, acting Lt.Col, temporary Colonel, local Brigadier-General).

Good work, and get with 395!

Thanks again and I may take a rest this time!

How do we know it is you having a good time with the chapters and not a Chinese Ghost Writer ore even you using a AI.

I absolutley deny this foul canard! 我嘅唔係中國鬼作家，亦唔係 AI...um...oops!

A bit of nitpicking. Fredensborg Castle is in Fredensborg. Frederiksborg Castle is in Hillerød. The two are close however. Fredensborg is a current royal castle while Frederiksborg isn’t.

It's not nitpicking. I have no idea how that happened. It's embarrasing.
Thanks for spotting it. I have now corrected it.

[Dagooz]

And also, great chapter as usual! I really enjoy reading this

[Eaglenine2]

Nice update. Every bit helps

[Bernard Woolley]

And also, great chapter as usual! I really enjoy reading this

Nice update. Every bit helps

Thanks very much to both of you. Appreciated.