Camp 30 (18 page)

“Nobody will be looking for it on its return, either,” Otto said. “Nobody will know to look.”

Jack looked over at me, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. Two people would know—my brother and me.

“I was not wishing to inform you earlier than necessary,” Otto said, “but it will not be possible to release you when we board the submarine.”

“What are you going to do with us?” I asked, afraid of what he was going to say.

“There is no choice,” he said. “You boys will be coming onto the submarine with us.”

“Onto the submarine?” I asked, astonished. “You're not serious … are you?”

“If the Canadian authorities knew we were travelling by submarine, we would have no chance to make a run down the river,” Otto said. “We cannot leave you on the shore to inform them.”

“There has to be another way,” I said.

“There is only one other way, and that I will not consider,” Otto said.

“Maybe you
should
consider it!” I pleaded.

He shook his head. “Your death is not an option I will contemplate.”

“Death?”

He motioned to the front seat. “That was considered. The plan now calls for you boys to stay with us until we reach the Atlantic Ocean. Then, if a safe time and spot can be found, you will be put off in a dinghy close to shore.”

“So we'd only be with you a few days?” I asked hopefully.

 “If all factors go well.”

“What could go wrong?” I asked.

“We might come under attack. The submarine could be destroyed,” he said calmly.

I could imagine what it would be like to be in a submarine with depth charges exploding and pipes starting to leak, and then the whole submarine lurching forward, throwing me against the bulkhead with water pouring
in—I'd seen enough war movies to picture it far too clearly in my mind.

“But there are other factors. We can only surface to allow you to leave if we are certain that we are clear of enemy ships and the sea is calm enough.”

“You can't surface in rough seas?” I asked.

“We can surface, but I cannot allow you boys to be placed overboard unless I am certain that conditions will allow you to reach shore safely.”

“We're willing to take that chance,” Jack said.

“But I am not. You are in my charge and I must ensure your safety.”

I almost didn't want to ask the next question because I was afraid of the answer. “If … if you can't put us off … what happens?”

“You will be returning with us to Germany.”

“Germany!” I cried.

“There is no choice. You will be my guests.”

“You can call us guests if you want,” Jack said, “but we're still prisoners. We'll try to get away, to escape.”

“I expected that reply. It would be both foolish and dangerous to try. For now, let us just hope none of that will be necessary.”

The car began to slow down, and then it practically squealed to a stop before making a turn down a darkened dirt road. I looked through the front windshield. I
couldn't see anything except the gravel road and ditches captured by the beams of the headlights. The driver barked out a few words.

“We have arrived,” Otto said. “And with time.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I WAS SHAKING
. It was cool, and the breeze off the water was strong, but that had nothing to do with it. Waves were gently lapping against the shore, and the sound was almost reassuring. Above, the sky was littered with thousands of twinkling stars. The new moon was a darker circle in the dark heavens, adding no light. That was probably all part of the plan—the escape timed for the darkest night to help avoid detection.

Otto, the field marshal and one of the agents stood at the edge of the water. The agent held a signalling device, and at intervals he was flashing a light out over the empty water—a river so wide that the other side was lost from view in the darkness. There had been no return signal yet. Behind us, at the place where the beach met the trees, stood the second agent. He was staring, stony-faced, a pistol in his hand.

“This might be our last chance,” Jack said softly.

“Maybe there isn't a submarine out there. Or maybe we're not at the right spot,” I said, thinking about the false map.

“We can't count on that. We have to make a break for it.”

“A break where?”

“Only two ways to go,” Jack said. “Left and right.”

I looked up the beach in one direction and then the other. Smooth, open sand, broken by a few scattered pieces of driftwood, disappearing into the darkness. There was nothing to hide us and no place to run to.

“I figure if you go one way and I go the other he can't catch both of us,” Jack whispered.

“He has a gun. He doesn't have to catch either of us.”

“He's not going to want to use the gun. The sound of gunfire might attract the authorities.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

Jack didn't answer. Obviously he wasn't that sure.

“Even if he doesn't fire at us, there are two of them. One could chase you and the other could come after me.”

“They'll never catch us. Once you make the trees you'll vanish into the bush. Whoever gets away has to get help. We have to contact the police or—”

Jack stopped mid-sentence. He'd seen what I had just seen—a flashing green light from across the water. Was it the submarine … was it out there?

“It's now or never,” Jack said.

“I suggest it be
never,
” said a voice from directly behind my shoulder. I turned around. The second agent was standing almost on top of us. He held a pistol at waist level, aimed right at where we stood. “You would get no more than three paces,” he said. “I am a crack shot. The captain has asked that we not kill either of you boys, and I will follow orders … unless I am given no choice. Run and there will be no choice.”

“We're not going to run,” I finally said, although I was talking to Jack as much as I was to the agent.

“To the water's edge now,” he said, motioning with his gun.

We started walking down the beach and he trailed right behind, his gun at the ready.

Out on the water the light came again. This time it was blue—three flashes of blue. The agent holding the device signalled back with two bursts of green. It had to be some sort of code. Almost immediately three green flashes appeared from the water. He changed the coloured filter and replied with two blue bursts.

“Signal that there will be two additional passengers coming aboard,” Otto said. He turned to us. “I know this is not as you would wish. It is not as any of us would wish. But it is as it must be. You will be treated well and returned if possible.”

“Word of honour?” I asked, looking for reassurance.

He nodded. “My word of honour as an officer and a gentleman.”

I knew what that meant, and I felt a little bit calmer. Otto was a German captain, a soldier of the country we were at war with, but he would keep his word.

The calm night air was suddenly shattered by a loud hissing sound coming from across the water.

“The submarine is surfacing,” Otto said. “It is blowing the water out of its holding tanks.”

I strained my eyes, trying to make out the submarine's form in the darkness. I couldn't see anything on the water, or … wait … I saw something … or thought I saw something. Way out in the river, well away from shore, a dark shape started to rise above the water. Because I knew it was a submarine I could tell it was the conning tower. The sub rose higher and higher until the deck of the ship surfaced as well. Off in the distance it didn't look that big. Either the submarine was smaller than I'd imagined, or the distance was disguised in the darkness and it was farther away than I thought.

Another series of lights came—red, then green, then blue.

The agent fiddled with the signalling device. He flashed two reds, then two greens and finally two blues.

“Only a few minutes now,” Otto said. “Take off your shoes and your socks.”

“We're not going to swim out there, are we?” I asked.

“Not to fear, George. A rubber raft is coming out to shore. It is better not to have on shoes in case of a tumble over the side.”

I felt relieved … and scared. The submarine surfacing in the distance had seemed almost like an odd curiosity, like it wasn't real or wasn't something that had anything to do with us. Now, with the rubber raft coming, it was all too real.

I started shaking more, and I knew that tears weren't far behind.

“Jack, when we get in the raft I want you and George to work the paddles and the rudder,” Otto said.

“We're not going to help you escape,” Jack said. “We've already done enough stuff we shouldn't have.”

“It is not to help me. I want you to have a practice run. Hopefully the next time you are in that raft you will be rowing for shore in the Atlantic Ocean.”

“Oh … sorry,” Jack said. “Thanks, I guess.”

The agent flashed the signal again. A simple white light. There was no answering light. He signalled again. I realized he was probably only showing the raft our position on shore. He continued, every fifteen seconds or so, with another burst of light.

“There it is!” Otto exclaimed.

Small and low to the water, I saw a darker shade of black coming straight for us, slowly getting larger as it
approached. There were two—no, three men. Two were rowing and the third sat at the back steering.

When Otto yelled out something in German the two men stopped rowing and turned around. The momentum of the boat carried it toward us and the man at the rear of the raft threw out a bright yellow line. It flew through the air, landing short of us in the water. One of the agents waded into the water up to his waist, grabbed the rope and towed the raft toward shore.

As they closed in, the two sailors jumped into the water as well and the three of them pulled the rubber dinghy up onto the sand.

The two sailors saluted, and Otto and the field marshal returned their salute. They started speaking quickly in German. I couldn't understand anything. They were talking too fast, and I was too overwhelmed to even try to pick out the occasional word. Besides, what was the point? Nothing that I would hear could help me.

I glanced over my shoulder. The second agent continued to stand behind us, pistol at the ready in case we might use these last few seconds to make our break. I had no intention of even trying. We were caught. There was no escape. No hope.

Suddenly the whole sky exploded in a blaze of light and I put my hand up to shield my eyes! There were flares in the sky, dozens of them, and lights were racing across the water from all directions.

“Drop your weapons!” screamed a voice behind us. I heard branches crashing and feet running and there was movement all along the beach. Then I heard the sharp crack of gunfire!

“Get down!” Otto yelled.

Before I could even think to react he smashed into me and Jack, knocking us off our feet, causing us all to crash into the sand. I tried to fight but I was pinned under his weight.

“Do not move!” he shouted. “Keep your head buried in the sand! Do not move!”

I started to struggle when another great weight dropped on top of me. It felt as if my rib cage was going to collapse. I turned around … it was the agent … his mouth and eyes wide open, blood pouring out of a gaping hole in his side! I looked away.

“Nobody move! Nobody move!” yelled a voice—a voice with a thick English accent.

Within seconds we were surrounded by men, dozens and dozens of men, all dressed in black, with woollen hats over their heads, faces blackened, carrying rifles— rifles that were aimed at us.

The agent's body was pulled off and two sets of hands pulled me to my feet and then threw me, face first, to the ground. A boot slammed into my back. I watched, sprawled out on my gut, as the field marshal, the other agent and the three sailors, all standing with their hands
in the air, were swarmed and knocked to the ground as well.

Behind them the water was churning with activity as boats, with bright lights blazing, criss-crossed the water. The submarine was gone. No, not gone, it had dived below the surface. There was a mighty explosion and a plume of water shot high into the air. Depth charges. They were dropping depth charges! Then there was another explosion and another and another. They were trying to destroy the submarine or drive it to the surface.

“Let them up,” a voice said. I knew the voice. It was Bill!

The boot in my back lifted and somebody reached down and took me by the arm, helping me to my feet. The others were helped up too, and then the eight of us—me and Jack, the field marshal, Otto, the agent and the three sailors—stood in the centre of a large circle of men, all with weapons aimed at us.

“We're so happy to see—”

“Not a word from you, kid!” Bill yelled angrily. “I don't know who you and this other boy are, but if you've helped the enemy you'll be shot!”

“But … but …”

“They were not aiding us,” Otto said. “They were taken as our hostages from the camp. This was all against their will.”

“And why should we believe you?” Bill demanded.

“Because I speak as an officer and I give my word.” “We'll make our own decisions,” Bill said.

“You knew all along, didn't you?” Otto asked him. “This was all a trick to get the submarine, yes?”

“I'm not here to answer your questions. You just stand there and—” His words were cut off by a thunderous explosion, much louder than the others.

“We got her!” somebody yelled. “That has to be a direct hit on the submarine!”

I looked at Otto. He'd know better than anybody if that was true. His face was a mask of grief and distress.

The surface of the water was shattered as the submarine jumped out. The whole side of the vessel seemed to be ripped open, and there was smoke and fire. The boats closed in from all sides.