Wings of Fire: Dragons, Steel, and Pom-Poms

I - Pilot

>Aboard USS Sampson, US Navy Destroyer, somewhere in the North Atlantic_

Captain Robert Drake frowned as he surveyed the endless Atlantic swells. The gloomy gray sky hung above. He raised his binoculars and zeroed in on a particularly auspicious bit of spray off in the distance.

Doesn't look like anything... he thought after a few moments.

He glanced over the other various escort ships shepherding the transatlantic supply convoy through the treacherous seas, a collection of US Navy Destroyers and Destroyer Escorts, and some Royal Navy Destroyers and Corvettes. None of them were signaling danger.

He picked up an intercom phone and keyed navigation.

"ASDICS, are you seeing any potential contacts?"

"Negative, sir. Nothing on hydrophones." Came the succinct reply.

Captain Drake frowned. He knew there were U-boats shadowing the convoy, stalking them like a wolf, waiting for one of the herd to fall behind or for night to fall.

The blasted things always attacked at night, using the cover of darkness to slip past the escort screen and sink their teeth into the vulnerable cargo vessels that he and his were charged with protecting.

Captain Drake had heard the rumors. Listened to the stories. The horrific tales recounted by survivors. The sudden, warning-less explosions; broken keels, mangled steel, crippled ships, fires, ammunition explosions. The few that made it off the doomed ships in time were met with freezing water, burning oil slicks, and follow-up attacks.

The lucky ones, that is.

Drake averted his gaze up towards the featureless Grey sky. Dusk was coming.

He was nervous.

He wouldn't let it show, as much for the sake of his crew and convoy he was protecting as for his own.

"Sir?" An ensign approached him and stood at attention.

"At ease, what is it?"

"Meteorology just picked up a storm forming directly ahead of us, sir. At our current heading, it will hit us in about 5 hours, sir."

Sure enough, a wind picked up and swept over the bow of the small Destroyer, and the white-capped swells grew slightly.

"You are only telling me about this now?"

"Uh, yes sir. We only just picked it up on RADAR, sir." The ensign slightly shifted uncomfortably.

Captain Drake turned and looked out over the Destroyer's bow and narrowed his eyes at the opaque horizon, which stubbornly failed to clear under the force of his glare.

"Will it be bad?" He asked the ensign.

"They don't think so sir," he responded. "The techs said they can't see very far into the storm, but from what we can see they're pretty sure that the convoy can take it, sir."

Drake considered the situation. On one hand, steaming headlong into an hitherto unseen and unusual storm seemed a fool's game, but on the other...

"Such a squall would throw off any U-boats following us, wouldn't it?" He mused.

The ensign perked up, "Why, yes sir, it should!"

Captain Drake wasn't particularly known for taking risks. When opportunities presented themselves, he had always found himself partial to the less risky option. That was how he got placed as the acting CO of an escort group. The options were straightforward, at least. Either face the relatively unknown potential danger of the opaque storm or face another night of potential U-boat attacks.