Side Story: Memories of the Great War
"No sign of the Italians. Cowards."
To HMS
Queen Elizabeth, the Mediterranean was as familiar as breathing. The warm waters and calm Sea was more familiar than the North Sea that her family operated in. Fighting in this Sea was, if anything, even more familiar. Her very first battles had been fought here. Against the Turks, in the Great War. Then, the Italians had been allies. She may well have sailed with them against the Austrians, if the cowards had ever bothered to properly sortie.
Now, the Italians were her enemy and she was sailing against them. Against ships that may, once, have been friends. Ships as old and heavily rebuilt as she was. The Italians didn't have any of their modern battleships in the fight, from what she knew. With
Bismarck and the other Germans up in Norway, none of
her modern cousins were around either. If they found the Italians, this would be a fight between old ships. Her,
Barham and
Valiant against three or so smaller Italian dreadnoughts.
It's like Jutland all over again. At least that idiot Beatty isn't in charge this time.
It went without saying that she also didn't have the entire Grand Fleet ranged behind her, either.
"
Any idea where they are, sis?" Barham's smooth voice, silk upon her ears, echoed in Elizabeth's head. Whomever had come up with this system of talking to each other was a madman. A genius, but a madman.
"I can't see a thing out here."
Ah, of course. She didn't get the same refits as herself and Valiant.
"I can't see anything, Barham. Not a damn thing." Elizabeth was always more foul-mouthed than her sister. Back when the Grand Fleet was around, the battlecruisers liked to say it was because she was a redhead and took after her namesake. 'Queen Liz' never quite understood that. "Bloody Italians are a bunch of cowards."
"Come now, sister, isn't that a bit harsh?" Valiant's coarse tone was nothing like Barham, and much more like Elizabeth herself.
"We may be enemies now...but they were allies once. Just as the French were."
That got a wince from Barham, audible even over this distance. And a scoff from Elizabeth. The
French were a bunch of cowards too. Even the bloody
Dutch were more willing to fight on than the French, and their entire country was occupied. So did the Belgians and the Polish and the Norwegians. The French? Oh no, let's surrender and let our fleet sit where the Germans can get it! Brilliant!
I wish I'd been in Barham's place. I would have shown that Frenchie what for!
"I'm not as eager to get into a fight as you are, sis." Speaking of which, Barham's silky voice rang out again. The least-modernized battleship in their little squadron, she sat at the rear of the formation. Her old bridge distinctive in the thin morning sunlight.
"Remember what happened at Jutland? Or what happened to Revenge? Do you really want to risk that happening again?"
Elizabeth had the grace to at least look away. A hand rose up to brush at her long red hair, idly flipping a lock away from her ice-blue eyes. Her long dress shifted with the movement, blowing in the wind. If anyone could
see her, they'd see someone who wore the air of a proper Queen, even if lacking a crown. The dark fabric of her dress contrasted sharply with her pale skin and red hair, her high- aristocratic -cheeks narrowed in a frown.
"I remember Jutland."
She didn't need to say anything else.
She had missed that battle. Her sisters? They'd come home in varying degrees of pain. Elizabeth had been utterly
frantic with worry, looking over Warspite. Her little sister still didn't quite walk right, all these years later. She never wanted to see her sisters come home like that again. She certainly didn't want it to happen when she wasn't in a place to help them, like Jutland.
Even so.
Even so.
"I also remember Gallipoli. You know what happened there, yeah?" Elizabeth turned her ice-cold eyes over on Barham and Valiant. Her sisters were silent. "If we just let the Italians go, it's just as bad as that was. Do either of
you want Guderian in Egypt?"
"...you aren't wrong, sister." Valiant sighed heavily. In the distance, a light flashed atop her mast. A signal.
"Still, I find no joy in fighting former allies."
"I don't want you getting hurt, that's all." Barham was, if nothing else, always completely honest. She couldn't lie if she tried.
"Do we even know that the new ships aren't there?"
It was impossible to know that, for sure. Every indication was that the
Littorios weren't around. It was only the old battleships. A right battle of the geriatrics, really. Elizabeth couldn't help but snort at the thought. She wasn't worried like Barham was. This was going to be an old-fashioned brawl right out of the Great War, wasn't it? Something she had missed because of a refit.
She wouldn't miss it again.
"Should only be those old dreadnoughts. And they're not a threat. You know what Warspite did to Cesare, right?" Elizabeth felt a rush of pride for her sister, when she thought about it. Warspite had landed a hit at a range no other battleship could even come
close to. Her little sister was a crack shot, she was! "'sides, those old guns aren't even close to our own."
"
...the Germans had smaller guns too, you know." Barham's voice was quiet and filled with old pain.
Elizabeth fought the sudden urge to hug her sister, and settled instead for scoffing. No need to show any worry. "Bah! The Germans knew what to do with their ships. The Italians can't find their way out to sea without help. I'm not worried! They can't hit the broadside of a barn, and even if they
could, their guns are weak."
"I hope that you're correct, sister, because I have little desire to repeat Jutland." Valiant gave off the impression of a shrug over their little communication link. And the impression of stiffening in place.
"Radar is picking something
up. We don't have any other ships out here, correct?"
"Not that I know of. Do you think...?" Barham was instantly all business. Whatever doubts she may have held buried deep under a veneer of experience and professionalism. She was a veteran.
"Most likely. Sister?" Directing that question at Elizabeth, Valiant's signals officers were sending similar messages to the flagship's own crew.
For her part? Elizabeth wore a wide grin on her pale face. This was her chance to shine. She had missed Jutland. She hadn't been used properly at Gallipoli. She was the flagship. The lead ship of her class. She'd never properly seen combat.
It was time to change that, yeah?
"Come on sisters, let's go show the Italians what the Royal Navy can do." Her voice dropped an octave, smoke pouring from her stack. Elizabeth brushed lingering red hair from her face, baring her teeth in a smirk. "They won't know what hit them. You two fought at Jutland, and I'm the big sister. I don't think they have any chance, do you?"
"I certainly know they aren't as experienced." Valiant was serious as ever.
Barham was silent, before sighing. Her smooth voice much less sure, though still filled with the steel of a
battleship.
"We're right behind you, sis. Don't do anything reckless."
"Bah! I'm not a young idiot like Wales. I won't do anything stupid, you know that!"
Even so, Elizabeth couldn't hold back her excitement at
finally getting to put her guns to their proper job. Who cared about shooting up some unfortunate shoreline. This was what she was built for!
And she wasn't going to fail.
Initially, I wanted to put this as part of the proper chapter. Then I looked at the pacing, and the fact I struggle enough with big combat sequences as is. So I decided, instead, to make this a side story. To introduce the Royal Navy side of the battle.
Liz is...yeah. 
Barham clearly wasn't sunk, since her sinking was around when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in this timeline (November 1941, OTL). Clearly, well past the point of butterflies. She's probably the most cautious of her sisters, in light of her experiences.
Valiant is the serious sister.
Next, we'll actually have the battle. I don't need to do something similar for Doria, clearly, since she got that with Taranto. Hopefully it won't take as long to get that up >.>
