London Dawn (55 page)

“I shall do. God bless you, Eva.”

“He was in the very best of health. God go with you too.”

At noon the next day, Eva turned over in bed, opened her eyes momentarily, closed them again, settled under her blankets, then suddenly lifted her head and sat up.

“Grandfather.”

Lord Preston sat in a chair beside her. He smiled. “Hullo, my dear.”

She leaned over and hugged him. “What are you doing here?”

“I wasn’t sure when you might wake up. I know you had a very late night just as you always do when there’s a raid.”

She looked at his eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I came to bring you news. It will be in the papers tonight or tomorrow. But I wished for you to hear it before that.”

She waited, hands still on his arms.

“
Bismarck
and
Prinz Eugen
have left port. They’ve been out for days. The Swedes have spotted them, and the RAF has photographed them.”

“Where are they now?”

“I expect they’re preparing to make a dash through the Denmark Strait and into the open Atlantic.”

Her face lost its color. “There will be a fight, won’t there? And my Owen will be in it.”

“Certainly there must be a fight. The
Bismarck
is a monster on the loose and would blast our convoys and their escorts out of existence. Without the convoys bringing supplies from Canada and Newfoundland we are finished. And certainly our Owen will be in it. HMS
Prince of Wales
and six destroyers have been dispatched from Scapa Flow to deal with
Bismarck.
Your Uncle Terry will be in it as well. The
Hood
has been dispatched to the Denmark Strait in addition to the
Prince of Wales
.”

“Are they enough?”

“I don’t know.
Bismarck
hasn’t been out of the shipbuilders’ yard a year. She’s brand-new.
Hood
is a strong ship but she’s an old ship, my dear. Your Uncle Terry often said it needed an overhaul from stem to stern—its armor plating, its guns, its engines.”

“What about
Rodney?
She’s quite new, isn’t she? Owen says she has sixteen-inch guns.”

“
Rodney
is more than ten years old, but I agree with you. She should be in the Denmark Strait.”

“Why isn’t she?”

“She’s on convoy duty. On her way to Halifax.” Lord Preston patted Eva on the hand. “Let us remember your Owen’s ship is quite the newest of them all. Not even been at sea two months. She has fourteen-inch guns like
King George the Fifth.
Ten of them. Not the fifteen-inch guns of
Bismarck
or
Hood
, but well capable of inflicting serious damage on anything afloat. And well out-powering the eight-inch guns of the
Prinz Eugen.
You have nothing to fret about on that score.”

He saw the fear working its way around her eyes like a drop of water.

“My dear, the fight has been a clash of wills in the air for so many months, hasn’t it? Yes, it has been on the land too when it comes to Egypt, Crete, and Greece. But here on our island home it has been a ‘tumult in the clouds,’ as the poet puts it. Now it shall be a battle of wills on the high seas. And that’s only fitting. At sea our navy has saved Britain again and again. It must do so once more by the grace of God.”

The fear continued to roam her face and eyes, looking for a way out. He clasped both her hands in his.

“Forgive me for prattling on like the old man that I am. Our family has stood on prayer for generations, through storm and shadow as well as marvelous seasons of abundant light. It must do so again. And you are part of that family now.”

Eva hung her head. “I wish I had never marched. Never taken the oath of allegiance to Adolf Hitler. I wish the Nazis had never been allowed to come to power in my country and that the
Bismarck
had never been built.”

“I know, my dear. Believe me, the same thing might have happened here if Mosley had had his way. But I don’t for a minute believe Germany will remain under Herr Hitler’s rule, not for a minute. Brave men like your father will never yield to despotism.”

“I don’t even know if he’s dead or alive.”

“My sources assure me he is alive and has not been discovered by Himmler and the SS.”

“I felt he treated me harshly. Therefore I have treated him harshly. I wish I could sit down and have a long talk with him. I’m not the woman I was in Nazi Germany.”

“He reaches out to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Letters have come by means of diplomatic pouch from the American embassy in Berlin to their embassy here in London.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Harrison actually informed you twice. He thought you were going to scratch his eyes out.”

She put both hands over her face. “
Mein Gott es tut mir leid
.” Her voice was muffled by her hands. “I’m so sorry.” She looked up at Lord Preston. “I should like to read the letters now. Is that possible?”

He nodded. “It is indeed possible. As God would have it I placed those letters in my rooms at Ashton Park. They were not destroyed when Kensington Gate and the entire neighborhood was blown up by the mine.”

“Thank God.”

“Yes, thank Him. And now we must pray to Him. We must go in our hearts and minds to the Denmark Strait where your young Horatio faces a more formidable foe than the French and Spanish fleet off Trafalgar.”

She clutched his hands and twisted her fingers around his. “I can’t lose Owen, Grandfather. I can’t bear to lose him.”

“Nor can I.”

“Remember how young he was at Dunkerque? Remember how handsome and brave? Remember his poems? God must save him.”

“Him and Terry and Edward and England.” He bowed his head, their hands remaining wound together. “Let me begin.”

She bowed her head as well. “Yes, Grandfather. His will be done on earth as it is in heaven—
Sein Wille geschehe auf Erden wie im Himmel ist.
”

“His will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” repeated Lord Preston. “Not evil’s will. Not the will of wicked men. His will.”

There was silence in the room. Lord Preston began to hum softly. Soon words came with the humming.

Eternal Father, strong to save,

Whose arm doth bind the restless wave,

Who bidst the mighty ocean deep

Its own appointed limits keep:

O hear us when we cry to Thee

For those in peril on the sea.

Silence again.

“The Navy Hymn,” whispered Lord Preston. “God, You are on those waters with them right now. You hear prayers from German and Englishman alike. But Christ, our Christ, be with Owen, be with Terry, and if it should come to that, be with my son Edward as well. God, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. A price will be paid. A price is always paid. Only let the right prevail. Only let Your good will prevail.”

Saturday, May 24, 1941

Denmark Strait Between Greenland and Iceland

Spray burst over the bow of HMS
Prince of Wales.

Leading Seaman Owen Danforth stood ready on the bridge to run messages to any part of the ship should communications be disabled. Captain John Leach glanced back at him.

“I trust you know the lay of the ship?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Owen responded.

Leach turned back to his officers. “Gun turrets will have to rely on the range finders in the control tower. The spray over the bow will not permit use of the turret range finders. Make sure that’s understood.”

“Yes, captain,” said an officer at his side.

“Do we still have
Bismarck
in sight, Kenley?”

“Aye, aye, sir. Just over eleven miles. Twenty thousand yards.”

“All turrets come to bear. Prepare to open fire.”

“Prepare to open fire, aye, aye, sir.”

“Can we get a broadside on the
Bismarck
?” asked Captain Leach.

“No, sir,” Kenley replied. “Our angle of approach doesn’t permit it. The aft turrets won’t be able to engage.”

“Very well.”

Owen could see the
Hood
four cables ahead of them—half a mile—seas breaking over her bow and deck. The long fifteen-inch guns began to elevate. He imagined his uncle, Commander Terry Fordyce, standing on the bridge by Vice Admiral Lancelot Holland, taking and giving orders in his easy way as their guns sighted in on
Bismarck
and
Prinz Eugen.

There was a sudden roar, and dark smoke boiled over the forward turrets of the
Hood.

“Mark the time,” said Captain Leach in a calm voice.

“Oh five fifty-two, sir,” Kenley said crisply.

“Fire.”

Kenley adjusted his headphones. “Aye, aye, sir. All turrets sighted on the enemy, open fire.”

The
Prince of Wales
shuddered, flame belched from the fourteen-inch guns, and smoke poured over the ship and was pushed away by the wind. Ten seconds later there was another three-gun salvo.

“Mark the time,” ordered Leach.

“Oh five fifty-three, sir,” Kenley responded.

“We appear to have overshot Bismarck by a thousand yards, sir,” another officer with bright blond hair piped up.

“Ensure the control tower makes the necessary adjustments. Resume firing.”

“Resume firing, aye, aye, captain,” replied the blond officer. “We have a jam at A turret.”

“Carry on with the guns that are sighted in and working.”

The battleship shook again as the
Prince of Wales
fired.

“We’ve straddled
Bismarck
, sir,” said Kenley. “And we appear to have some hits.”

“Continue firing. Begin port turn.”

“Begin port turn, aye, aye, captain.”

“We are taking fire from
Prinz Eugen,
sir,” warned the blond officer.

“Keep our guns on
Bismarck.
”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Owen watched as their guns and the
Hood
’s spat fire. Suddenly tall geysers of white water sprang up around the
Hood.

“
Bismarck
has straddled
Hood,
sir,” said Kenley.

Half a minute later tall columns of white and gray water surrounded the
Hood
again.

“They have her range,” muttered Leach. “Continue rapid fire at
Bismarck.
Let’s hit her a second time.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Flames and smoke shot up as high as the
Hood
’s masts. Owen thought a gun turret had malfunctioned on the great battleship and exploded. A huge rush of orange fire and smoke tore the ship from his sight. A moment later he glimpsed the bow and the stern both rising out of the water and
Hood
rapidly disappearing into the sea.

What’s happened? She’s blown apart!

“She’s sunk!” one officer exclaimed. “
Hood
’s sunk!”

“Hard starboard!” snapped Leach. “We don’t want to hit the debris!”

The turn brought
Prince of Wales
closer to
Bismarck
and
Prinz Eugen.
Massive towers of water burst around her.

“We are taking fire from both enemy ships now, sir. All their guns are ranging in on us.”

Owen watched in a daze as they sliced over the spot where the
Hood
had been steaming half a minute before. He looked for heads, hundreds of heads of swimming men, but he saw only large chunks of jagged steel swirling in a kind of whirlpool as
Hood
continued to sink swiftly to the sea floor.

Uncle Terry! Swim up! Get out and swim up!

A blow threw Owen sideways, and he braced his hands against the bulkhead to keep from falling down.

“We’re hit!” shouted one of the officers.

“I need a damage report,” commanded Leach. “An accurate one. As soon as possible.” He fixed his eyes on Owen. “See what you can find out and report back to me.”

Owen stood up straight and saluted. “Aye, aye, captain.”

He turned. The bridge exploded behind him and hurled him into the air. The force of the blast slammed his head into a wall of steel.

May 24, 1941

HMS
Rodney,
the North Atlantic

“Commander Danforth.” A sailor saluted Edward at the door to his quarters. Edward returned the salute.

“Commodore Dalrymple-Hamilton requests your presence on the bridge.”

Edward made his way over the deck, through waves of sea spray, and climbed up to the bridge, gripping the handrails tightly. Dalrymple-Hamilton swiveled in his chair to look at him. All the officers did. Edward saluted.

“We’ve received a signal concerning a naval action in the Denmark Strait early this morning.
Hood
and the
Prince of Wales
engaged
Bismarck
and
Prinz Eugen.
” The commodore paused. “
Hood
was sunk.
Prince of Wales
took a number of hits including one on the bridge that killed most of the officers. She was forced to withdraw under a smokescreen.”