Post by simon darkshade on Jul 13, 2019 15:05:24 GMT
Exercise Warhammer: The Beginning
It had seemed like a straightforward assignment - visit the headquarters of British and Commonwealth forces in Germany and provide an inside view of Exercise Warhammer, the largest peacetime British military exercise conducted on the Continent since the war. As Tom Fowler skimmed through the night sky over the woodland of Western Germany in a camouflaged and darkened Bristol Bulldog going altogether rather more quickly and quite a bit lower than would have been his preference, he began to think of how he might have got on his editor's bad side.
Before he could reflect much further, the crew chief tapped him on the shoulder and held up one finger straight in front of his face. That meant they were one minute out from the field headquarters of the British Army of the Rhine at Timeloberg, where his interview with General Sharpe awaited him. If he was lucky.
In the last 24 hours, he'd be blown from pillar to post by the bally autumn wind, soaked to the skin on the North Sea, buzzed by overly-enthusiastic Harriers and come closer than he'd ever wanted to a hungry dragon.
The helicopter began to turn and dip sharply as they approached the landing zone, jolting Tom in his seat and almost bringing up the supper he'd scoffed back at the aerodrome.
Well, here's to hoping his luck was turning
.....................................................................................................................
The SR.N5 hovercraft crested up over the stony beach, came to a juddering halt and slowly settled down as its skirt deflated. Tom jammed his fedora down on his head, picked up his briefcase and made his way towards the exit ramp. The pre-dawn North Sea Air could be charitably described as bracing and its combination with the tang of salt and sting of sand made for something of an unpleasant introduction to this, one of the beauty spots of the Empire, according to the brochure. As if on cue, it began to rain.
He clumped down the ramp alongside the other score or so of press men. Most were fellow Britons or Commonwealth types, but there were a smattering of Jerries, a trio of Yanks, two Dutchies and one rather green-looking Frenchman; the bumpy ride over the last four hours had put the poor fellow clean off his snails.
Waiting for them on the beach was an alarmingly cheerful Royal Navy lieutenant in a great coat carrying a clipboard like he knew how to use it.
"Good morning, good morning! Welcome to Heligoland! I'm Lieutenant Healey-Mattheson, Royal Navy European Squadron Command HQ. If you'll be so good as to follow me, we'll get out of this dratted weather and ready for the briefing. Don’t worry about your baggage; that’ll be sent along where it needs to go."
He spun about and lead the dampening journalists up the beach towards a squat concrete building that abutted the soaring cliff. The rain began to intensify, causing Tom to turn up the collar of his mackintosh and wonder briefly whether the correct collective noun for a group of journalists was a leak as he hurried through the steel blast door. Once out of the weather, his mood began to improve and permitted him to wonder just how deep under the earth and sea they were heading as they bustled down sloping corridors into an elevator room; he'd heard that 'HMS Heligoland' rivalled the Rock itself in this department, but never quite gave it proper credence.
At last they emerged into a cozily appointed meeting room arrayed with dozens of chairs, a plain wooden lectern, a covered briefing screen and no other decoration save for the obligatory portrait of the Queen. This was a room for business, it would seem.
Two ferocious looking tealadies pushed their trolleys in through a door in the opposite wall and began laying out the weapons of their craft - teacups, pots, milk jugs and plates of biscuits. Tom noted that they had merited rich tea and Nice biscuits, which put them slightly above the level of plain digestives (unwanted guests, burglars and Frenchmen) or hobnobs (condemned men and Radical MPs) but below the Jaffa cakes or custard creams one might offer an estranged cousin or postman. In this, the Andrew had probably got things right, he had to admit.
"Very good. Captain Rover will be along directly for the briefing, followed by flights out to your various ships, where you’ll be spending the morning prior to moving onto Hamburg, where Royal Marine Forces Germany will be receiving you for lunch. Do help yourselves to tea, chaps, and smoke them if you've got them, what!" Healey-Mattheson chirped up impossibly cheerily for this ungodly hour, causing a general shuffling towards the beverage facilities.
"You got a light, mac?" One of the Americans had fished out a Camel and turned to a tall, mustachioed fellow.
"No, but I've got a dark brown overcoat." Polite transatlantic incomprehension greeted the bon mot, so he sighed and fished out a lighter and produced a flame for the Yank, who grunted gruffly in thanks before drifting off into the crowd. He looked over at Tom and, seeing that he had witnessed the exchange, smiled in a comradely fashion.
"Americans. Divided by a common language and oceans apart in culture and language, in some ways. Why, once when I was in Korea, an enormous stink got kicked up because one of their officers didn't quite get the implication of a situation being described as 'a bit sticky'.
"Heaven forfend. Still, it could be worse. He could have wanted something other than a light."
"Such as?"
"He could have asked for coffee."
The man shuddered noticeably in distaste. "Then, we would have to ask him politely but firmly to leave."
"The briefing or the Atlantic Pact?"
"Definitely the former. With regard to the latter, I'll have to have a word with Eden and get back to you on that." He held his straight, aghast face for an instant before lapsing into a wry grin. "That's the spirit. Bit of a laugh and a natter and suddenly even a Heligoland morning can seem alright. I'm with The Times. You?"
"Daily Chronicle. Tom Fowler." He extended his hand, which was grasped and shook firmly.
"Simon Bailey. A pleasure to meet you."
Before the pleasantries could proceed further, an imposing figure Tom surmised to be Captain Rover entered the briefing room and strode towards the lectern, followed by a brace of lieutenants carrying an array of maps and charts that they positioned on the screen. Rover stood sternly before them until they quietened and took their seats in an expedited fashion. He extended out a natty pointing rataan pointing cane and rapped it on a large map of the North Sea and its immediate surrounds.
"Thank you, gentlemen. Exercise Warhammer officially began at midnight, with the formal orders for mobilisation and embarkation going out to over 250,000 Army and RAF personnel across the British Isles. A large proportion of manpower and light equipment is being flown across to the Low Countries and Germany by air courtesy of the Air Force and Imperial Reserve Air Fleet, but the majority of heavy vehicles and stores are being transported as they always have - by sea.
Approximately 96,000 personnel and 42,000 vehicles, trailers, tanks, carriers and lorries are to be carried across the Channel and the North Sea to disembark at Antwerp, Rotterdam, Amsterdam, Ostend, Zeebrugge, Calais and Dunkirk by 520 sailings, both of civilian ferries and military transports. Their close escort is being provided by the Channel Squadron operating out of Dover and Chatham and distant support comes from the Grand Fleet at Scapa and Rosyth, but the role of immediate covering force in the North Sea falls to us, the European Squadron.
To that end, operating between the Dogger Bank and here on Heligoland, we have over 50 Royal Navy and Commonwealth warships, including six carriers, two battleships, two guided missile battlecruisers, six cruisers and more than three dozen escorts. For the first time, vessels from Kenya and the West Indies are taking part; you may have seen the destroyer Cuba as you came into harbour. These major ships are augmented by substantial elements of RN Coastal Forces and patrol vessels and of course the minesweeper squadrons based out of Harwich.
Our role in this exercise is provide a protective shell for the movement of men and munitions to Europe and the squadron will subsequently be engaging in a variety of anti-air, anti-submarine and anti-surface drills and exercises against an opposition force provided by the Royal Netherlands Navy and Imperial German Navy. These naval forces provide a substantial proportion of Allied strength in the North Sea in peacetime and it will be very interesting to see how they perform.
Once the major elements of the crossing have been completed, the Squadron will then shift its emphasis to providing gunfire, missile and air support to the Army and Royal Marine forces taking part in the exercise in Germany; for the purposes of Warhammer, our contingency role in support of Allied forces in Denmark and Sweden is set aside.
The Royal Naval Air Service is deploying almost 450 aircraft of Home Command for Warhammer, ranging from the Spectre fighters on continuous CAP over the convoy transit area to the ASW patrol squadrons operating over the North Sea and Channel and the transport units engaged in communications and coordination flights.
As you make it to the Continent, our friendly colleagues in the Army and RAF may well put forward their cases that theirs are the most important roles in the entire exercise, but remember that, as always, it started with the Navy.”
Bailey, seated next to Tom, leaned over almost imperceptibly and whispered to him sotto voce.
“Methinks the Andrew pulled a few strings to make this the first press stop for a reason.”
Rover nodded to himself. “Very good. Now, there will be time for a few questions before you are allotted your ships and flown out to them. Yes, that man.” He indicated one of the Americans.
“Captain, why doesn’t Warhammer involve any other major elements of the Royal Navy?”
“Very simple, sir. If the Grand Fleet mobilised and put to sea at the same time as reinforcing our forces in Germany, it might have a deleterious effect on the broader world situation; likewise if we staged a major Atlantic anti-submarine exercise. Her Majesty’s Government, after consultation with our allies and General Gavin, have decided that we do not want to alarm certain nations.”
“So England is taking care not to offend Moscow?”
Rover gazed at the American coolly.
“No. Next question?”
This time it was one of the Dutch who piped up. “You mentioned the role of the Koninklijke Marine earlier. Can you expand upon it?”
“I can. The Dutch Carrier Strike Group 7 is one of the key elements of Allied naval strength in the North Sea in any potential conflict, both in terms of supporting your Benelux Rapid Deployment Force in Denmark and general sea control. Their part in this exercise will give us an opportunity to see how they perform up against a numerically superior opponent and I have no doubt they will acquit themselves with distinction. Yes, in the back row.”
“Captain, Franz Klugmann, Der Speigel. My question has two parts. Firstly, our navy is taking part in its first major military operation since the War. How does the British Navy regard the prospect of operating alongside its one time enemy? Secondly, can you make any comment on the German fielding of capital ships and carriers?”
“On the first, we welcome all opportunities to work with our allies. On the second, it is not my place to comment on the procurement decisions of other nations.” He coughed pointedly after delivering his pointedly noncommittal answer and looked at his watch. “Very well, that is all we have time for. If you proceed through the doors to your right, you’ll be distributed to your respective vessels for the morning’s operations.”
Without further ado, Rover strode off from whence he came, leaving the press pool to follow in his wake.
“Rather abrupt type, but one tends to find quite a few of them in the fleet at sea. Still, some interesting tidbits there, I should think.” Bailey remarked as they headed through the door.
“Indeed. It explains why Bomber Command isn’t involved in the aerial component.”
“At this time, all but the normal airborne alert bomber force and QRF are taking great pains to show they’re at a normal, peacetime posture and I’d wager the missiles squadrons are doing the same.”
“You’re remarkably well informed, Bailey.”
“You may very well think that; I couldn’t possibly comment.” He smiled as he walked off.
What a curious man, thought Tom.
It had seemed like a straightforward assignment - visit the headquarters of British and Commonwealth forces in Germany and provide an inside view of Exercise Warhammer, the largest peacetime British military exercise conducted on the Continent since the war. As Tom Fowler skimmed through the night sky over the woodland of Western Germany in a camouflaged and darkened Bristol Bulldog going altogether rather more quickly and quite a bit lower than would have been his preference, he began to think of how he might have got on his editor's bad side.
Before he could reflect much further, the crew chief tapped him on the shoulder and held up one finger straight in front of his face. That meant they were one minute out from the field headquarters of the British Army of the Rhine at Timeloberg, where his interview with General Sharpe awaited him. If he was lucky.
In the last 24 hours, he'd be blown from pillar to post by the bally autumn wind, soaked to the skin on the North Sea, buzzed by overly-enthusiastic Harriers and come closer than he'd ever wanted to a hungry dragon.
The helicopter began to turn and dip sharply as they approached the landing zone, jolting Tom in his seat and almost bringing up the supper he'd scoffed back at the aerodrome.
Well, here's to hoping his luck was turning
.....................................................................................................................
The SR.N5 hovercraft crested up over the stony beach, came to a juddering halt and slowly settled down as its skirt deflated. Tom jammed his fedora down on his head, picked up his briefcase and made his way towards the exit ramp. The pre-dawn North Sea Air could be charitably described as bracing and its combination with the tang of salt and sting of sand made for something of an unpleasant introduction to this, one of the beauty spots of the Empire, according to the brochure. As if on cue, it began to rain.
He clumped down the ramp alongside the other score or so of press men. Most were fellow Britons or Commonwealth types, but there were a smattering of Jerries, a trio of Yanks, two Dutchies and one rather green-looking Frenchman; the bumpy ride over the last four hours had put the poor fellow clean off his snails.
Waiting for them on the beach was an alarmingly cheerful Royal Navy lieutenant in a great coat carrying a clipboard like he knew how to use it.
"Good morning, good morning! Welcome to Heligoland! I'm Lieutenant Healey-Mattheson, Royal Navy European Squadron Command HQ. If you'll be so good as to follow me, we'll get out of this dratted weather and ready for the briefing. Don’t worry about your baggage; that’ll be sent along where it needs to go."
He spun about and lead the dampening journalists up the beach towards a squat concrete building that abutted the soaring cliff. The rain began to intensify, causing Tom to turn up the collar of his mackintosh and wonder briefly whether the correct collective noun for a group of journalists was a leak as he hurried through the steel blast door. Once out of the weather, his mood began to improve and permitted him to wonder just how deep under the earth and sea they were heading as they bustled down sloping corridors into an elevator room; he'd heard that 'HMS Heligoland' rivalled the Rock itself in this department, but never quite gave it proper credence.
At last they emerged into a cozily appointed meeting room arrayed with dozens of chairs, a plain wooden lectern, a covered briefing screen and no other decoration save for the obligatory portrait of the Queen. This was a room for business, it would seem.
Two ferocious looking tealadies pushed their trolleys in through a door in the opposite wall and began laying out the weapons of their craft - teacups, pots, milk jugs and plates of biscuits. Tom noted that they had merited rich tea and Nice biscuits, which put them slightly above the level of plain digestives (unwanted guests, burglars and Frenchmen) or hobnobs (condemned men and Radical MPs) but below the Jaffa cakes or custard creams one might offer an estranged cousin or postman. In this, the Andrew had probably got things right, he had to admit.
"Very good. Captain Rover will be along directly for the briefing, followed by flights out to your various ships, where you’ll be spending the morning prior to moving onto Hamburg, where Royal Marine Forces Germany will be receiving you for lunch. Do help yourselves to tea, chaps, and smoke them if you've got them, what!" Healey-Mattheson chirped up impossibly cheerily for this ungodly hour, causing a general shuffling towards the beverage facilities.
"You got a light, mac?" One of the Americans had fished out a Camel and turned to a tall, mustachioed fellow.
"No, but I've got a dark brown overcoat." Polite transatlantic incomprehension greeted the bon mot, so he sighed and fished out a lighter and produced a flame for the Yank, who grunted gruffly in thanks before drifting off into the crowd. He looked over at Tom and, seeing that he had witnessed the exchange, smiled in a comradely fashion.
"Americans. Divided by a common language and oceans apart in culture and language, in some ways. Why, once when I was in Korea, an enormous stink got kicked up because one of their officers didn't quite get the implication of a situation being described as 'a bit sticky'.
"Heaven forfend. Still, it could be worse. He could have wanted something other than a light."
"Such as?"
"He could have asked for coffee."
The man shuddered noticeably in distaste. "Then, we would have to ask him politely but firmly to leave."
"The briefing or the Atlantic Pact?"
"Definitely the former. With regard to the latter, I'll have to have a word with Eden and get back to you on that." He held his straight, aghast face for an instant before lapsing into a wry grin. "That's the spirit. Bit of a laugh and a natter and suddenly even a Heligoland morning can seem alright. I'm with The Times. You?"
"Daily Chronicle. Tom Fowler." He extended his hand, which was grasped and shook firmly.
"Simon Bailey. A pleasure to meet you."
Before the pleasantries could proceed further, an imposing figure Tom surmised to be Captain Rover entered the briefing room and strode towards the lectern, followed by a brace of lieutenants carrying an array of maps and charts that they positioned on the screen. Rover stood sternly before them until they quietened and took their seats in an expedited fashion. He extended out a natty pointing rataan pointing cane and rapped it on a large map of the North Sea and its immediate surrounds.
"Thank you, gentlemen. Exercise Warhammer officially began at midnight, with the formal orders for mobilisation and embarkation going out to over 250,000 Army and RAF personnel across the British Isles. A large proportion of manpower and light equipment is being flown across to the Low Countries and Germany by air courtesy of the Air Force and Imperial Reserve Air Fleet, but the majority of heavy vehicles and stores are being transported as they always have - by sea.
Approximately 96,000 personnel and 42,000 vehicles, trailers, tanks, carriers and lorries are to be carried across the Channel and the North Sea to disembark at Antwerp, Rotterdam, Amsterdam, Ostend, Zeebrugge, Calais and Dunkirk by 520 sailings, both of civilian ferries and military transports. Their close escort is being provided by the Channel Squadron operating out of Dover and Chatham and distant support comes from the Grand Fleet at Scapa and Rosyth, but the role of immediate covering force in the North Sea falls to us, the European Squadron.
To that end, operating between the Dogger Bank and here on Heligoland, we have over 50 Royal Navy and Commonwealth warships, including six carriers, two battleships, two guided missile battlecruisers, six cruisers and more than three dozen escorts. For the first time, vessels from Kenya and the West Indies are taking part; you may have seen the destroyer Cuba as you came into harbour. These major ships are augmented by substantial elements of RN Coastal Forces and patrol vessels and of course the minesweeper squadrons based out of Harwich.
Our role in this exercise is provide a protective shell for the movement of men and munitions to Europe and the squadron will subsequently be engaging in a variety of anti-air, anti-submarine and anti-surface drills and exercises against an opposition force provided by the Royal Netherlands Navy and Imperial German Navy. These naval forces provide a substantial proportion of Allied strength in the North Sea in peacetime and it will be very interesting to see how they perform.
Once the major elements of the crossing have been completed, the Squadron will then shift its emphasis to providing gunfire, missile and air support to the Army and Royal Marine forces taking part in the exercise in Germany; for the purposes of Warhammer, our contingency role in support of Allied forces in Denmark and Sweden is set aside.
The Royal Naval Air Service is deploying almost 450 aircraft of Home Command for Warhammer, ranging from the Spectre fighters on continuous CAP over the convoy transit area to the ASW patrol squadrons operating over the North Sea and Channel and the transport units engaged in communications and coordination flights.
As you make it to the Continent, our friendly colleagues in the Army and RAF may well put forward their cases that theirs are the most important roles in the entire exercise, but remember that, as always, it started with the Navy.”
Bailey, seated next to Tom, leaned over almost imperceptibly and whispered to him sotto voce.
“Methinks the Andrew pulled a few strings to make this the first press stop for a reason.”
Rover nodded to himself. “Very good. Now, there will be time for a few questions before you are allotted your ships and flown out to them. Yes, that man.” He indicated one of the Americans.
“Captain, why doesn’t Warhammer involve any other major elements of the Royal Navy?”
“Very simple, sir. If the Grand Fleet mobilised and put to sea at the same time as reinforcing our forces in Germany, it might have a deleterious effect on the broader world situation; likewise if we staged a major Atlantic anti-submarine exercise. Her Majesty’s Government, after consultation with our allies and General Gavin, have decided that we do not want to alarm certain nations.”
“So England is taking care not to offend Moscow?”
Rover gazed at the American coolly.
“No. Next question?”
This time it was one of the Dutch who piped up. “You mentioned the role of the Koninklijke Marine earlier. Can you expand upon it?”
“I can. The Dutch Carrier Strike Group 7 is one of the key elements of Allied naval strength in the North Sea in any potential conflict, both in terms of supporting your Benelux Rapid Deployment Force in Denmark and general sea control. Their part in this exercise will give us an opportunity to see how they perform up against a numerically superior opponent and I have no doubt they will acquit themselves with distinction. Yes, in the back row.”
“Captain, Franz Klugmann, Der Speigel. My question has two parts. Firstly, our navy is taking part in its first major military operation since the War. How does the British Navy regard the prospect of operating alongside its one time enemy? Secondly, can you make any comment on the German fielding of capital ships and carriers?”
“On the first, we welcome all opportunities to work with our allies. On the second, it is not my place to comment on the procurement decisions of other nations.” He coughed pointedly after delivering his pointedly noncommittal answer and looked at his watch. “Very well, that is all we have time for. If you proceed through the doors to your right, you’ll be distributed to your respective vessels for the morning’s operations.”
Without further ado, Rover strode off from whence he came, leaving the press pool to follow in his wake.
“Rather abrupt type, but one tends to find quite a few of them in the fleet at sea. Still, some interesting tidbits there, I should think.” Bailey remarked as they headed through the door.
“Indeed. It explains why Bomber Command isn’t involved in the aerial component.”
“At this time, all but the normal airborne alert bomber force and QRF are taking great pains to show they’re at a normal, peacetime posture and I’d wager the missiles squadrons are doing the same.”
“You’re remarkably well informed, Bailey.”
“You may very well think that; I couldn’t possibly comment.” He smiled as he walked off.
What a curious man, thought Tom.
