by Stephen Ward
“A little, yes, but a long time ago,” replied Weib.
“Tell me more,” ordered the officer.
“Well, I was on the team that designed the first standard torpedo design which became the benchmark for all of those used on board our submarines today. However, I've been away from that work for years. They're much more powerful these days. What use am I?”
“Your knowledge is needed as is your experience with detonators. I wish you to work with a rocket propulsion specialist. Together you will build a prototype capable of carrying the payload to a land-based target.”
“Did you say land-based?” queried Weib in astonishment.
Richter smiled, “As you know our rockets are causing havoc and help to destroy the morale of the Allied Army. If we are to survive you will create a torpedo capable of running undetected underwater until it breaks the surface and flies at a low level towards its target using our new rocket propulsion technology.”
The excitement and enthusiasm in Richter's eyes was enough to enthuse Weib. Full of ideas, Weib listened to Richter until finally he'd finished. He still had doubts as to its viability but, after what he had witnessed he kept them to himself. Speaking calmly he asked, “What time frame were you thinking of?”
Richter straightened himself up at his desk, “Well, Keller has said the boat will be ready in three months so you have that long.”
A gasp came from Weib, “It can't be done. It would take that long to draw up plans!”
Richter's manner changed immediately and that menacing look that Weib had seen before returned.
“It will be ready,” he murmured quietly. “How is your son, Herr Weib? I understand he has a favoured position on Admiral Donitz' staff.”
Weib rose slightly, “Don't you threaten me, Richter.”
The officer who had been quietly standing by the door, stood to attention but Richter held up his hand. “Be mindful of what you say. Three months, Weib, or it will become a problem for the both of us.”
Chapter 33
Huber made his way across the slipway. The now fully-extended hull sat on its trolley all but complete. A new conning tower was still to be fitted but the rest of the boat was coming along nicely. The conveyor and electrical systems were installed for the most part and new batteries were in place and wired. The last couple of weeks had been difficult forcing him to compromise on certain things and Keller's prolonged absence was becoming increasingly problematical.
Since the death of his wife and child Keller had spent most of the time in his quarters. Overcome with grief, he could find peace only at the bottom of a bottle. Huber fervently hoped that he would be able, in some way, to come to terms with their death, as the funeral was to be held today. He, himself, had spoken to the local priest who had agreed to say the Requiem Mass. Huber, after giving final instructions to the yard crew, set off to collect Keller. Straightening his tie and adjusting his yellowed collar, he knocked on the door. Inside, the faint sound of music was just audible over the background noise of the yard. After a few moments, Huber decided to just go in. As he pushed the door open, the frame above his head was hit by what appeared to be a tin mug. Hesitantly, he pushed his head in through the opening. An overpowering odour of sweat and vomit filled his nostrils. A figure was crouched over on the edge of the bed. “Close the fucking door,” came a sharp voice from out of the gloom. “What do you want?”
“It's time,” he said.
“Time for what?” closely followed by another object that bounced off the wall and smashed on the floor at Huber's feet.
“The funeral. It's today.”
Rising to his full height, Huber stepped inside the drink-fumed room closing the door behind him. He knew the truck would be leaving soon. “Please, Wolfgang, you need to come now.”
“Fuck off and leave me alone.”
Annoyance outweighed concern and for the first time Huber spoke louder than a stutter. “It's your family's funeral. People have gone to a lot of effort to give them a proper send off but if you would rather sit here to drink and rot, that's up to you.” and with that he turned and reached for the door handle.
“Wait,” came a rasp and the light flicked on. Keller stood unshaven, with eyes red, his hair standing on one side greasy and lank. Shocked, Huber remained silent. “That is the first time you have ever raised your voice to me, my friend,” uttered Keller.
Huber replied, “Sometimes it's needed. The truck will be leaving soon. You need to clean up. What else can you do but honour them?”
Nodding, Keller ran water into his hands, smoothing it onto his hair, flattening the unruly mess. The water was cold against his bloodshot eyes. Lathering his face he stared into the shard of mirror wedged into its wooden frame and raised his razor. So many memories. Looking into the mirror he watched the lather remove bristles with each stroke of the blade. Leaving a moustache, he finished then wiped his face on a grubby towel. He picked up the clothes that Huber had found and placed on the bed then began to change. Keller looked at himself one last time and turning away from his own reflection, gazed at the photograph of Sabine and Petra. He walked towards the door and paused by the picture as he had done hundreds of times before but this time he reached out and placed it face down on the side.
Huber had retreated outside and was sitting on a nearby post where he could see the obviously drunk Keller making his way towards him.
“You know, Huber, I didn't care for war before. It was just a way of us getting our designs out into the world, but now I see that we need war. We need to clear the world of the unnecessary. Huber looked at him. “Do you know, Keller. You sound more like Richter than yourself.”
The other man's face showed no reaction and just turned to look off into the distance.
As the pair made their way towards the waiting truck, they saw some ten men inside it with an escort car waiting behind. The journey seemed to last an age as both vehicles made their way through town towards the church. Keller said nothing. Instead he gazed out over the bombed out buildings flanking the road. After ten minutes or so they slowed and stopped outside a small stone church which was surrounded by a grassed cemetery. The roof had sustained damage during the recent raid and its outbuildings were a charred ruin. An aged priest stood just by the door holding a Bible. Huber had invited the people closest to Keller but the poor man seemed oblivious to everything. Huber nodded to some of the men and the tailgate was lowered and two coffins were drawn out, one heartbreakingly small. Only then did Keller speak, “But how?”
“The yard crew didn't want them to be sent off in the cattle crates that are usually used, so the men remembered what you have always told them to do…. to make the best of what they have. So they did.”
After the Requiem the procession made its way to a mound of earth under a cherry tree in the corner of the little churchyard. As the priest began reading at the graveside Keller's expression, one of pain and defiance remained unchanged. First Sabine's coffin was lowered followed by little Petra's. Huber threw down a handful of wild flowers that he'd picked, as did the other men who then walked away without speaking. Huber moved a respectful distance away and thanked the priest.
Keller had, so far, managed to hold his emotions together but as he let fall his flowers, grief completely overwhelmed him. With scalding tears and a cracked voice he whispered his loved ones' names repeatedly. Finally his knees gave way and he fell to the ground grasping the loose soil as he wept.
Chapter 34
Forrester's training had taught him never to panic but he could feel his hands shaking badly on the periscope handles. The water was already over the lens and soon green murk filled the view finder.
“Calm down, Forrester,” he thought. “There has to be a way. Think, man, think!” He'd done two weeks training on a submarine but nothing had prepared him for this. Using the small light he looked at the panels. “Valves,” he thought. “Valves. If she came up once, she can do it again.” The pale beam of light illuminated all the panel
s. Despite not having a clue what they would do he took to pushing buttons and turning dials. The noises increased, creaking and groaning as the submarine pitched gently. He could feel that they were going deep as his ears began to pop as he swallowed. Forrester searched for anything which might help. Suddenly light reflected off a shiny surface – a gauge of polished brass. A needle was moving slowly – Ahah! At least one instrument worked. The point counted upwards. “Depth” he thought. He knew that beyond the harbour the water was only 100 feet deep in places so he couldn't go too far down. “Every cloud....!” he thought. But no sooner had he said that to himself, when the submarine hit bottom. It ground, lurched and paused but then began to tilt alarmingly sideways. She rolled almost twenty degrees then stopped as suddenly as she'd started.
Breathing a sigh of relief Forrester found his footing. A small red light on a console had become illuminated. He suspected that it was a reflection of the torchlight. So switching off the torch with his thumb, he allowed his eyes to become accustomed to the dark before looking over in the direction of the glow. “Nothing!” he thought, “So it must have been a trick of the light!” He was continuing his search for the ballast valves when a hiss and a crackle filled the air, followed by silence. Moving in the direction of the noise he spotted a small speaker above him and a green light blinked off as he looked up. “Easy, Forrester. Just old circuits shorting from what's left in these batteries. You must have tripped something when you pushed those controls.” Reaching up he pressed the button of what was obviously an intercom – nothing! A loud slam from somewhere below made him jump. Then a matrix of five white lights came on in front of him, labelled ACHTUNG NICHT SCHALTEN WENN LAMPE AUFLEUCHTET (I II III IV V) Forrester didn't know German but he'd seen enough films to know fire control when he saw it. Then he had an idea. Thinking back to all the films he'd watched, he started looking around for instruments that he recognised. This submarine was different but she had to have the same basic ship functions. Making a note in his head he managed to find what he believed were key functions including fire control, dive planes, communications and periscope. It made sense that the Ballast controls would be by the wheel and planes, so Forrester sat on the seat. As he did so, a hum began and somewhere deep in the bowels of the submarine he could hear motors starting up. A bulb flickered and the filament glowed brighter, then another and another until the room was fully lit. Condensation still covered every panel but hums and whines filled the room. In amazement, Forrester stumbled to his feet. This was impossible. The ship was forty years old, the batteries should be dead and the machinery rusted beyond repair. But still, this clearly wasn't the case and he decided he'd be best advised to look around and find the controls he needed before the lights went back off. Four valve taps by the wheel drew his attention. Turning them all, he heard further creaks and moans from below but nothing else happened. It appeared that the tanks were full of water. In a fit of temper, he slammed his hands down on the wheel in front of him. The lights flickered and the boat lurched sideways. Considering the dire position he was in and its possible consequences, Forrester thought it would be better at this point not to make any more sudden movements. A quiet chirp from the green screen on the adjacent panel attracted Forrester's attention and he walked over to where the three lights glowed. Two together and one further away flashed and moved steadily. It appeared Forrester had been correct, it was indeed a form of radar but unlike any he'd ever seen before.
The light made it easier to explore but he began to wish he'd paid more attention to German lessons at school as, despite the faded buttons being clearly labelled, he was unable to understand a word. He began to talk quietly to himself as he paced the floor “Come on, Forrester, you can't just start pushing buttons. You could launch a torpedo or even worse, flood the sub.” Then a thought popped into his head. If he could flood a section and open a hatch then it could be possible to swim to the surface. It was a stretch but better getting the 'bends' than dying down here.
Chapter 35
Captain Walther Stein had been observing the yard crews intently for quite a while now. The window of the old supervisor's office was perfect for watching his new boat take shape. Richter had requested he report to Lorient after completion of his last assignment. He'd assumed he'd be here to meet him but after a week, his patience was wearing thin. The yard crew below moved around quickly and purposefully like ants carrying out their tasks. Stein had many questions and so he'd requested that the designer join him and run through the details of this new make of submarine. The implication had been that it would be ready soon but from where he was standing, the vessel was nowhere near completion His agreement to leave his last post had been on the express understanding that he had a ready command. Sighing heavily he looked at his watch, a little past two. Late! It wasn't a promising beginning for what was to be their first meeting. Just then a firm knock on the door interrupted his train of thought.
“Come in.”
Huber bumbled in, obviously nervous, and proceeded to drop the rolled up plans all over the floor as he attempted to close the door behind him.
“Good morning, sir. My name is Huber, Nikolaus Huber.
“Well, Huber, what can I do for you? I'm meant to be meeting with a Keller shortly so make it quick.”
Huber swallowed,” I'm sorry, sir. I'm covering for Keller who has been taken ill.” He hoped his poker face would hold as he knew Keller was probably passed out drunk by now. The look of frustration eased from Stein's face, “Oh, I see. Well it isn't your fault but perhaps a telephone call from him apologising would have been a polite and gentlemanly course of action? Now please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Captain Walther Stein.”
Huber relaxed. He could tell immediately that Stein wasn't like the others but he still wanted to make a good first impression. “I'm Herr Keller's apprentice, sir. But please don't worry as I know the design just as well as he does.”
Stein nodded gently.
“Please, if you'll give me a moment to set up I'll explain and answer any questions you may have.” Clipping the plans to the large blackboard Huber spread the drafts as best he could.
“Please begin,” said Stein.
Huber grew more confident and began. “As you can see the U-boat works by...”
“Stein held up his hand, “Please, Nikolaus. I have been aboard ships and U-boats for a long time. Perhaps you could skip the introduction and brief me about the more innovative additions this sub will have.”
“Ah! I see,” for a moment, Huber was thrown but soon recovered his poise and began explaining again. After some thirty minutes and some rough chalk drawings, Huber then gestured for Stein's input. The captain stood and stared at the plans.
“Very interesting. Are you saying that she could run with as few as five men?”
Huber nodded, “That's correct, sir. The basic automation of the launch system and the new diesel electric engines mean that we don't need a large crew.”
Nodding his understanding, Stein asked, “and we live solely in the conning tower?”
“Yes. Of course you have access to the main hull for maintenance but the control room is also the living accommodation. Just below the main area are the toilet and kitchen. The hull comprises of 75% of weapon storage on racks and the rams for loading. To the rear is the engine room and single aft torpedo tube.”
“Single? All this armament yet only a single aft torpedo, you say?” queried Stein.
Huber moved on quickly. “The track and ram system will allow seamless loading of torpedoes without crew involvement. The main aim of this vessel is to enable it to stay out at sea for longer periods of time. Less people, more food, and most importantly, more space for armament.”
Stein was quiet. He tapped at the plans with a pen. “She is huge, I'll give you that, but I have serious concerns about the psychological effect on using just five men for that period of time. It is likely to become very tense. I think you have under-estimated the social complications of a s
maller crew. However, that is yet to be seen.”
Huber was unable to answer. “I wouldn't know, sir. I have never been to sea in a submarine.“
“You're lucky, “answered Stein. “I've seen real men be brought to madness. They're never the same again. Sometimes the only thing that pulls them through is the company of the rest of their crew mates and the camaraderie of the U-boat service. So, Nikolaus, it's not that simple. As I said before, we shall see!”
Huber began to clear the papers away.
“Wait!” Stein looked at a plan that had not been shown. “What is this? I've seen something like it before though not quite the same.”
Huber had rather hoped he wouldn't be asked about this but now he had no option but to explain. “This mark was originally a mine-laying sub. She was fitted with a basic detection system to find her mine plots.”
“Yes, I understand. Go on.”
“Sir, our new mines are capable of distinguishing between acoustic frequencies. For example, a fishing boat can go over magnetic mines but a mine sweeper, destroyer or carrier would make a larger signature, thus setting off the mine. Research has brought these two systems together. The larger surface ships have radar, no? So do we.”
Stein smiled, “Please correct me if I'm wrong but what you're saying is, that we have the same ability to track another vessel as the surface ships can, but that we can also determine the type of vessel automatically?”
“Yes, sir, but it is a little temperamental at present,” groaned Huber.
“So what you are telling me is that this boat can both see and hear. That's amazing! We must fix this system. Well, what are you waiting for?” laughed the captain. “Go. I want progress reports daily. Oh and please, when Keller feels better, I'd like to see him.”
Bundling up his papers, Huber opened the door.
“Oh Huber!” said Stein. “Well done.”
