iron pirate (15 page)

Gudegast nodded, his beard on his chest. He knew what Hechler meant. In ten minutes
Liibeck
and the others would be too far astern to matter.

He watched Hechler's grave features and did not know whether to pity him or to thank God he was in command.

He had seen one of the merchantmen die. A big freighter, high out of the water, in ballast. That feeling.
Going home.

Gudegast decided to make a sketch of the unknown victim.

For the first time in his life he was suddenly afraid.

That evening as
Prinz Luitpold
steamed south-west into the Norwegian Sea she was greeted by a thick mist which cut down the visibility to two miles.

All signs of the brief attack on the con voy were cleared away, and ammunition racks and magazines were refilled and ready for instant action.

Every turn of the great triple screws carried them further and further from land, paring away the safety margin should they have to turn and run for home again.

Hechler had to admit there was some value in Leitner's confidence. Every radio message and intercepted signal was checked and plotted by Gudegast and his team, while high above all of them their new
⁷
, triumphant radar kept up a constant search for unwelcome visitors. A pack of U-boats had forced home an attack on the big eastbound Russian convoy, and every available British warship was apparently engaged. The flimsy plan might just work, he thought, and
Liibeck
would reach Norwegian waters where she could carry out her repairs. Hechler could not accept that part. It stuck in his throat like a bitter taste. To leave
Liibeck
to her fate had been part of the plan, but at no time had Leitner allowed for such a spirited defence of the convoy by the lone British cruiser.

When he had voiced his opinion to Leitner the admiral had given him a dry smile.

'You,
Dieter, of all people? I thought you had the stomach for this mission!'

There was no point in pressing the argument. It was said that an open row between the captain of the
Bismarck
and his admiral had sealed her fate as much as enemy gunnery.

Hechler considered it. They had destroyed the convoy, just as the enemy had tried to finish them in return. It was war. He thought of the radar and was glad of it. Apart from its vast superiority over anything else they had used, its range meant that t hey had some warning of possible attack by sea or air forces. It meant that the company need not stand at action stations all day and night. They could sleep for four hours at a time off-watch. It was little enough, but they were used to it. To lie down, even for a lew moments, made all the difference. Escape.

Despite the frantic manoeuvring to avoid the torpedo, there had been no damage in the ship, apart from some broken crockery in the main galley.

There had been plenty of minor injuries, two men scalded in the boiler-room when they had been hurled from their feet, another with a broken leg after pitching down a ladder to the deck, and several other casualties.

One of the latter was Erika Franke, who had suffered a severe sprain to her wrist.

The medical report had been handed to Hechler with all the other items from the various parts of the ship. It was customary for the doctor to report in person, but he had sent a brief message to say he had too many casualties. Nervousness at meeting him, or a kind of arrogance, Hechler did not know. Yet.

Theil joined him on the bridge, his coat glistening as if it had been raining. The mist was wet and made everything shine in the tailing light.

Hechler said, 'We seem to be clear, Viktor.' He spoke quietly. The men on watch were obviously straining their ears. Perhaps this lull after the roar of gunfire seemed like an anti-climax, or intimated that they had the sea to themselves.

He looked up at the sky, at Leitner's flag curling damply above the ship. 'We shall stand-to tonight.'

Theil looked away. 'Do you still intend to run south of Iceland, sir?'

Hechler nodded. 'Unless we're challenged, yes. At this time of year there's no advantage in taking the northern route through the Denmark Strait. Too much daylight, too many air patrols. If we head between Iceland and the Faeroe Islands it will give us 150 miles on either beam to play with.'

Theil grunted. Do you think we'll get through, sir?

Hechler watched two seamen carrying an empty stretcher into the shelter of the forward turret. It made him think of the girl. Theil was right to question him; he would be required to execute Leitner's wishes should anything happen to him. He looked strained, anxious. He was not worried about their mission, it would be out of character. He was a book man, and rarely trusted personal opinion. Maybe that was why he had never been recommended for a command. No, he was worried about his missing wife. That was bad. You could not afford that kind of diversion when you were at sea. It couid be fata!. For all of them.

Hechler listened to the steady vibration, felt the confident power of the great engines. They had been doing thirty knots when they had made their turn. She could manage thirty-five if need be. Even a destroyer would find her a difficult one to outpace.

It seemed to get darker as they hurried to the south-west, the night an ally, their only friend in this hostile sea.

Hechler tried to contain the excitement. It was like heady wine. After the stark pictures of battle and burning ships, the prospect of actually getting into the Atlantic seemed suddenly real and clean.

Theil saw' the lines at Hechler's mouth soften and wondered how he would have felt in his place.

Like all the senior officers in the ship Theil had studied their orders with great care. The plan was marked both by its audacity, and its very scale. The naval staff under von Hanke must have been working on it for many months just in case the chance presented itself. Perhaps too many people were already involved? Secrecy was vital; without it they might as well give up now.

Von Hanke's son was a U-boat commander, or had been until he had been lost in the Atlantic, Maybe he had first given the old admiral the idea. For two years at the beginning of the war, U-boats had been hampered by the length of time it took them to reach their patrol areas in the Western Ocean, with the same delay in returning to bases in France to refuel and rearm.

To counteract this a building programme had started to produce a flotilla of huge submarines which could stay at sea for months. Their sole duty was to carry fuel and stores for their smaller, operational consorts. In prearranged positions on a specially charted grid, a rendezvous could be made or rejected  according to the needs of each U-boat commander. It more than trebled their time at sea, and the enemy's losses had mounted accordingly. Nobody ever mentioned what this extra time on active service did to the morale of the submarine crews.

Now, these same supply submarines, milch-cows, were to be employed as tankers for the
Prinz.
Daring it certainly was. Practical? Nobody knew, as it had never been done before.

None of the others had voiced any doubts, and after today they might be glad they had not shown any lack of confidence. Once again the ship had come through unscathed. It was a pity about the
Lubeck,
but if it had your number on it, there was not much you could do.
Lubeck
had got off lightly, Theil thought. While she was in port, licking her wounds and enjoying all the glory, the
Prinz
would be in the Atlantic, in the thick of it. It was some c omfort to know that a pin's head laid on a chart of the Western Ocean represented as far as a man could see in any direction.

Hechler said suddenly, 'I was sorry to hear about your wife.'

Theil stared at him and then at the nearest of the watchkeepers.

He lowered his voice. The admiral?'

He had to tell me, Viktor. I would have been informed anyway if Leitner was not aboard. What's the matter, did you think I'd see you as a lesser man?'

Theil felt the colour draining from his face. It makes no difference to my ability. None whatever, and anyone -'

Hechler slid from his chair and moved his legs to get rid of the stiffness.

I'm going to the sick-bay while it's quiet. Take over.' He eyed him calmly. Shake the load off your back, Viktor. I just wanted you to know that I am concerned for you, not your bloody ability!'

Theil was stiii staring after him as he clattered down the internal ladder.

It felt strange, wrong to be off the bridge while the ship was at sea. Hechler saw the surprise on the faces of his men when he passed them while he made his way down two decks to the sick-bay. As a boy he had always hated hospitals, mostly because he had had to visit his gassed father in one; that was when they had promised there was still a good chance of a cure.

His poor mother, he thought, facing up to those daily visits, passing all the other veterans. No legs, no arms, gassed, blinded, some would have been better off lying in the mud of Flanders.

And always the bright cheerfulness of the nurses.
Coming along nicely. As well as can be expected.
It had all been lies.

He wondered how his father was managing now. He would soon be reading about the
Prinz
and their exploits.

His father, so sick but quietly determined to stay alive, was beyond pride. Love would be a better word, he thought.

The sick-quarters were white and brightly lit. Two medical attendants were putting bottles into shelves, and there was a lot of broken glass in a bucket. The same violent turn had done damage here too.

Some of the injured men were dozing in their cots, and one tried to sit to attention when he saw his captain enter, his plastered arm sticking straight out like a white tusk.

Hechler removed his cap and forced a grin.

'Easy there. Rest while you can, eh?'

The new doctor was not at all as he had expected. He was forty years old but looked much older. He had a heavy, studious face with gold-rimmed glasses. A lawyer, or a school teacher, you might think if you saw him as a civilian.

He made to stand but Hechler dosed the door of the sick-bay and sat down. Then he pulled out his pipe and said, 'Is this all right?'

Karl-Heinz Stroheim watched him warily, one hand plucking at the three gold stripes with the Rod of Aesculapius on his sleeve.

He said, 'I have dealt with all the casualties. Captain.'

Hechler lit his pipe. A good feeling, almost sensuous, after being deprived on the bridge.

'1 thought we should meet, so -' He blew out some smoke. 'So, Mohammet and the Mountain, you see?'

I'm honoured.'

'You'll find this a different appointment from your last. The barracks at Wilhelmshaven, right?'

The man nodded. 'Before that, well, you know about it too.'

'You were in trouble.'

A flash of anger came and went in Stroheim's brown eyes. I was too valuable to be thrown out. They put me in uniform instead.'

'No disgrace in that.' Hechler tried not to listen to the engines' beat. So much closer here.

He asked casually, 'Abortions, wasn't it?'

Stroheim's jaw dropped. 'How did you know?'

'1 didn't. I guessed.' He smiled gravely. 'And I shall put down your lack of respect to the suddenness of your appointment, right?'

Stroheim thrust his hands beneath the table. 'I - I am sorry, Captain. I went through a lot. One day they will accept my views. Too late for many, I fear. But I have always believed -' he hesitated, as if he expected. Hechler to stop or reprimand him - 'a woman must have the right to choose.' His voice was suddenly bitter, contemptuous. 'There should be a better reason for having
.1
child than producing soldiers and more mothers for Germany.'

1 lechler stood up, his eyes on a bulkhead telephone, 'We'll talk again.'

Stroheim got to his feet. I'd enjoy that.'

Hechler glanced round the little office. A pile of records and a portable gramophone, some books, and a box of chessmen,

Hechler said, 'Don't make this too much like home. Mix with the others. It's not good to be cut off.'

Stroheim took off his glasses and held them to the light.

'Like you, do you mean, Captain?'

Hechler turned away. 'I don't need a consultation just now, I hank you!'

He paused by the door. Take good care of my men.
They
did not ask to be here, so you see, they are like you, eh?'

He made to leave and almost collided with Erika Franke, her left hand bandaged and in a sling.

She gave a wry smile. 'Next time you change direction. Captain, please let me know. I need both hands for flying, you know!'

He looked past her at the doctor. 'I was sorry to hear of your injury.'

She laughed. It was the first time he had seen her really laugh.

He said, 'Can I see you to your quarters?'

She became serious, and gave him a mock scowl.

'So correct, so proper, Captain.' She relented. 'I shall walk with you. I find the ladders a bit difficult at the moment.'

They reached the upper deck, the passageway in shadows, the steel doors clipped shut.

She said, 'I would like to visit the bridge again. I hate being shut away down here. I feel trapped.'

'Any time,' He watched her, the way she moved her head, the colour of her eyes. He had hoped to see her. The doctor had been an excuse.

A messenger skidded to a halt and saluted. 'There is a message from the bridge, Captain.'

Hechler strode to a handset which was clipped to the grey steel and cranked the handle.

He heard Theil's voice, the muted sound of the sea and wind.

Theil said in a hushed voice, 'The admiral had a signal, sir.
Liibeck
was sunk.'

Hechler replaced the handset very slowly.

She watched him, her eyes concerned. 'May I ask, Captain?'

He looked at her emptily.
‘Lubeck's
gone.'

He could see it as if he was there. As if it was now.

She said quietly, 'You didn't want to leave her. did you?' She saw the question in the brightness of his blue eyes.