by Stephen Ward
“Why? That makes no sense!”
Winters muttered almost to himself, “That's why! Commander, it sees the German ensign. Think about this. The sub has been underwater for forty years so it doesn't know that the war is over. That's why she is leaving Berlin alone!”
Filmore looked at the u-boat now it was closer.
“Look, Donald.” he urged.
Winters turned to see what Filmore was gesturing at, and then as plain as day saw the registration on its conning tower – UX505.
“By God, Filmore! That's the one we've been searching for. She is real!” This speech was cut short as shrapnel whistled through the Bridge window.
“Yes, dangerously real,” groaned Filmore.
Steel shouted to the Helmsman, “Put us in front of that thing. It's better that we get the hits rather than Portsmouth dockyard.”
“Aye, sir!”
“Commander, do you speak German?” enquired Winters.
“No, but my Communications Officer, Sims, does. Why?”
Winters pulled out his notebook and scribbled down some notes then passed them to Sims.
“Relay this message to Berlin then to Talisman, if you please.”
After receiving the Commander's permission, Sims began the transmission.
“What are you doing, Winters?” asked Steel.
“Obviously, whoever is controlling that sub is unsure whether Berlin is an ally or not. Let's give it one. I've requested Berlin to attack Talisman and us, if you agree, with blanks. Make it look like a real attack, enough to cause a distraction while we take care of the blasted thing.”
“Very good, Winters, but say someone is watching. It ain't gonna take too long to realise the shells ain't real,” sneered Steel, his thick nasal accent really coming through.
“Life jackets and oil, Commander – we have to look injured,” snarled Filmore.
“Good! Bloody good!” laughed Steel. “It's so crazy it might just work!”
“Sir, Berlin has acknowledged and will commence immediately,” reported Sims.
Picking up the intercom, the Commander alerted his crew.
Soon, Berlin was sending salvo after salvo, her ensign blowing bravely from the main radar mast. It wasn't long until the decks were engulfed with black smoke.
“Let's keep moving, spread that muck and send over a few blanks but make sure they miss.”
Gunshots lessened from the sub as she appeared to be sinking lower in the water.
“What's going on down there, Turret. Send her some fire.”
“We can't, sir. We've sustained damage to the ring. Estimate two hour repair.”
“God dammit, get firing. Make angle -20 degrees and we'll steer the boat gun. Aim using your best guess. For God's sake get some fire out there.”
“Commander, we have Talisman on speaker.”
Turnbull's voice came through, “KENTUCKY COME IN. KENTUCKY. WE HAVE NO OPERABLE GUNS. WE NEED A SCREEN OF SMOKE WHILE WE MAKE PREPARATIONS FOR A RUN. IF ALL GOES TO PLAN WE'RE GOING TO CUT THAT SUB IN TWO. PLEASE MAKE READY TO COLLECT BOATS BUT ONLY AFTER TARGET HAS BEEN NEUTRALISED. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”
“YES ADMIRAL, WE COPY.”
“GOOD! NOW GET ON WITH IT, COMMANDER. I NEED YOU TO BLOCK OUT THE SUN!”
“Crazy son of a bitch” grinned Steel.
Winters nodded, “Yes, but brave too.”
“Hard choice to make when you have a man on board the very vessel you're about to destroy.”
“Ours is not to question why. Ours is to do or die!” murmured Filmore slowly and quietly.
“Sir, look over there. Talisman is abandoning ship.”
“Very good. Let's give them some cover. Stoke up all those deck fires, throw on some oil – shoes – rubbers - anything - I don't care what, I want that smoke thick and black!” Clicking the intercom to ship wide, Steel spoke calmly, “All crew members. Shortly we're about to help end this. I want all guns operational. I want you to fill that sub with lead on my order. Hell if you haven't got a gun, you’re throwing potatoes from the galley. Now stand by!”
Chapter 81
Forrester stood up uncertainly, reaching out instinctively to steady himself. “Give up, Keller. It's over.”
“Really!” sneered the spectre. You thought you could lie to me, didn't you? No war!”
“The war has been over for forty years.” argued Forrester.
“Never! Look for yourself, that German destroyer is firing on your ship and the American. They're burning so perhaps this won't be the end after all!”
Forrester was badly shocked. This couldn't be happening. Hoping against hope that it was some trick of Turnbull's, he kept his mouth shut and his poker face on. Staring through the viewfinder, all he could see was devastation with the seafront ablaze, with flames leaping up and destroying all in their path. Kentucky was engulfed in a blanket of thick black smoke. Talisman, he paused, was nowhere to be seen. His heart sank. She surely couldn't have gone down but his frantic search revealed nothing but smoke, fire and the Berlin. Her guns recoiled, belching smoke, raining havoc as the ship closed on Kentucky. He could see orange flames licking along her deck surrounded by what looked like piles of bodies, blackened and charred.
“You see,” sneered Keller. “It is over. One more victory for Germany.”
Swallowing hard, the commander thought perhaps the entity was correct, but as he continued to peer through the scope, he noticed that the barrels of Berlin's guns weren't pointing upwards at Kentucky but instead, downwards.
“Maybe, maybe not!” replied Forrester and just at that moment a salvo of gunfire hit the sub right on target. Smoke started to fill the sub and air could be heard rushing up through the hatch as water began to rush in. Taking a final glance through the scope, the commander realised what was happening. Through the quickly dissipating smoke screen, Talisman, her bow gone, decks torn away or burning, bore down on the now crippled u-boat.
Before Forrester could speak, a voice loud, clear and confident called, “It is finished, Keller. You have lost.”
“Never!” screamed the spectre. Stein's apparition gained in strength. Again they came together, this time for a horrible eye-gouging contest.
Forrester ran to the hatch. Looking down he could see that the lights were now mostly underwater, flickering eerily in the green gloom. He felt the air rushing in as pressure began to rise and so he pushed with all his might in an effort to close the lid but it was to no avail. Soon water was pouring through and the bow starting to tilt downwards. He could hear the roaring sound of the wake from the fast-approaching Talisman and thought what a stupid end this was, trapped here, in a rusty tin can. Nothing to look forward to now - his career, friends and, above all, his beloved family.
Suddenly, the lights flickered and dimmed. He stood as far away as possible from the fighting couple but to his surprise, they stopped. “Enough, Keller. You've got what you wanted, revenge, death and destruction,” shouted Forrester over the sound of the rushing water. “Now another person will never be able to see his family again, just like you. I hope that's what you wanted.”
To Forrester’s surprise, the look of darkness in Keller's eyes turned to sadness, almost regretful, and with that he was gone. The lights flickered as the last of the batteries succumbed to the sea. All that was left was the figure of Stein who stood close to Forrester. The captain saluted him and smiled. Forrester saluted back and whispered, “Thank you for everything.” Stein nodded and with a gesture said, “Go.” and pointed up the ladder to the hatch.
With a gasp of understanding, the commander scrambled swiftly upwards. Reaching the top, he turned and looked back to see Stein straighten his cap and disappear for the final time.
As Forrester made a last, but fruitless attempt to turn the wheel, there was a dreadful noise unlike anything he'd ever heard before. Then there was nothing but blackness.
Chapter 82
Turnbull replaced the radio back onto the receiver clip and turned to Moorhouse. “I'
m turning the ship on a wide arc. This should keep us behind the smoke screen. Then I want you to take charge of the lifeboats.”
“But sir...”
“God dammit, Paul. Follow my orders.” Then turning to the intercom, Turnbull ordered, All hands, report immediately to your lifeboat station. Abandon ship... I repeat… Abandon ship. Go, Paul! Engine Room,”
“Aye, sir, Craig here.”
“Alex, rig the engines to full speed then get you and your staff to the lifeboats.”
“Aye, sir. You have all four turbines working,” came the response.
“Good! Now go.”
Moorhouse stood beside the Bridge wing door. “Admiral?”
“Yes, Doctor?”
“You will try to get clear, won't you?”
Turnbull said nothing but turned away to hold the wheel. Moorhouse ran down the port side, coughing and spluttering through the oily fumes. All boats except one had gone. Chief Engineer Craig stood holding it steady, waiting for Moorhouse to jump in.
“Let's go, but stay close as we may need to grab the Admiral.”
“Aye, sir,” the mechanic nodded as he powered the small craft away.
Turnbull, alone on the Bridge, walked slowly around. “Well, old girl. It's just you and me. Don't fail me now because I'd very much like to see the boys again and my dear Alison. This may hurt but you can hold together.” Checking one last time that the boats were clear, Turnbull began to steer the large ship on a straight path. Kentucky had been ordered to match speed with the u-boat until the last minute. Talisman was revved up as far as she could go, well past the 'twenty five knot shimmy'. With her stern shaking, loose items began rolling off tables and charts fell from pegs on walls.
A great blast from Berlin sent columns of water and shrapnel up into the air. Smoke cleared as Kentucky moved away quickly. As the grey, rusting mass of the sub loomed before him, the admiral swore, “Jesus Christ! Would you look at that!” Talisman was quickly closing the distance to the now-stationary and perilously listing submarine with her decks completely awash.
Looking at his watch, Turnbull counted down from ten, the seconds ticking by until the u-boat was no longer visible on the surface. A great cacophony of twisting, grinding metal followed and Turnbull fell to the floor trying desperately to hold the wheel amid ship. From below, he could feel his ship's keel ripping through the sub as it pushed it under. What was left of Talisman's devastated bow rode up in the water for a moment then settled. The initial impact brought 'Talisman' to a near halt but the surging momentum soon began to push her forward again. The two huge sections of hull still connected by twisted steel sheets bumped and scraped down the destroyer's hull before separating, turning turtle and finally going under.
Cheers from the surrounding boats broke the ensuing silence. Turnbull rested his head on the wheel breathing a huge sigh of relief. As he gazed out over the debris field he suddenly remembered Forrester, and the enormity of what had just occurred slowly began to sink in.
Chapter 83
Forrester had always laughed when anyone remarked about seeing their life flash before them when death was mentioned. Not anymore! Everyone and everything had flashed into his mind in one brief instant. In fact, he thought the light he saw in front wasn't bright, but quite dull. Actually, he hadn't realised what was happening until he abruptly felt himself manhandled over the side of a boat.
Then a familiar voice said, “Well well well, Look what I've just fished out. That's my second biggest catch of the week! My luck must be in.” and he felt a hard tug.
A sailor at the rear of the same boat noticed something floating close by, its contrasting white colour standing out against the murky water. Reaching over the side he scooped it out and placed it at his feet to dry.
He couldn't remember much more for a few days. Slowly, everything came flooding back. Many people read his report and said that his account of the two apparitions was clearly due to the stress of his ordeal, but as Doctor Moorhouse said, it made for one hell of a story.
Chapter 84
Six months flew by. Rest, relaxation and a complete ban on all work-related matters, by both the Navy and Emma, had left Forrester champing at the bit to get back to sea. His wife constantly questioned his readiness. After all, neither the nightmares nor the cold sweats had entirely gone away.
The letter requesting his presence at the Navy yard to inspect his new command had come as a welcome relief from playing with his daughters and walking baby Max. The day finally arrived. His alarm chirped 0505 and he silenced it with a slap. Some old habits were difficult to break. Turning over, he hugged Emma before rolling out of bed. Still half asleep, he stubbed his toe on the door frame on the way into the bathroom. “Fuck's sake!”
After his run, coffee and breakfast with the girls, he dropped Max off with Emma's mother and they were good to go. A knock at the front door sent both girls running to answer it.
“Uncle Paul!” shouted the pair in unison. Moorhouse strolled in, resplendent in full whites. “Shh!” he whispered, handing each a bag of sweets, “Don't tell your mother! Oh and hide these chocolate buttons for Max, will you? Whit Whoo! Look at you, Commander! If Emma doesn't divorce you, I might have to start an affair with you! Hi Emma, is Max giving you any sleep?”
“Actually, he's a very good baby but he's a bit young for this trip,” laughed Emma.
Forrester grinned, “It's good to see you, Paul. Where've you been for six months?
“Ah well! They keep me busy. Anyway, are you ready to go?”
After a while longer, Moorhouse steered the large MK 2 Jaguar off the gravel drive and sped off towards the M3. The journey was almost over before Forrester realised he had spent almost the whole trip staring out of the car window. Emma placed her hand on his leg, “You OK, Commander?”
“Hmm?” he shrugged, “Yes. Just a little scared, I suppose.” They held hands for the rest of the way, as Moorhouse finished singing Emily's version of “One thousand and eleven green bottles standing on the wall.”
The carpark was full. “You'd think we'd merit a reserved spot, wouldn't you?” snorted the doctor.
“Molly,” he whispered, “Go and move that cone over there for me!” Eagerly, the little girl jumped out and excitedly danced around the cone as the car pulled into the now vacated space. Emma gave him one of her looks!
“What? No one will ever tell a little squirt like her off, plus, we are late!”
After hurrying through the security gate, where they showed their ID cards, Moorhouse went round to the back of the car and came back with a black velvet box under his arm. Forrester remembered seeing it stashed in the car boot. He was puzzled as Moorhouse handed it to him.
“For me?”
“Yup!”
Opening the box, Forrester gazed at the contents. Nestling on the red, velvet cushioned interior was a hat. Gently lifting and examining it carefully he saw it was very old and worn. Its yellowed, once white fabric was crumpled and faded, its black peak bent. Yes, very worn but well loved. “Is this...?”
“Yes, it was pulled out of the debris field after you were recovered,” smiled Moorhouse.
“This was Captain Stein's hat. I saw him wearing it before he disappeared.” Forrester replaced the hat in the box and hugged his friend gratefully.
“Argh! Get away!” laughed Moorhouse. “Are you ready?”
Forrester nodded and they left the girls with Emma who led them round to the VIP seats.
Rounding the corner, his jaw fell open. There, by the dock was 'Talisman', her paint gleaming, decks shining brightly and not a single sign of damage. She bristled with new technology, radar – the new type of ground-to-air.
“Paul, did you know about this?”
“Maybe!” he grinned, “but Chief Craig and the yard crew are the ones to thank. She's a new ship, every nut, bolt, washer and patch has been fixed or replaced. Come on, man.”
The dock was lined with seamen in whites, a space left in the centre for a podium
.
Emma and the girls took their places quickly leaving two seats vacant beside them.
Admiral Turnbull approached the rostrum, cleared his throat and began, “When I left this command, I thought no one could run my ship better than me. And for quite a while, I was proved correct. Until I met this man and after seeing how the crew responded so readily to him, I finally realised what had to be done. So without further ado can I ask Commander Forrester to step forward. Or should I say, CAPTAIN James Forrester. On this date 12/02/1986 I hereby give you command and captaincy of HMS Talisman.”
Forrester shook hands and smiled, “I've never been one for words. I know I've served with most of you, and to those who are new to Talisman and me, welcome.”
Turnbull handed Forrester a letter and an insignia. “We lost some brave men a few months ago and the aim of this ship and its crew is to endeavour to make them proud. One of those lost was Chief Wilton Granger. This leaves us with an opening. Please step forward Acting Chief Engineer Alex Craig. For your courage and bravery under fire in the worst possible circumstances, I hereby promote you to Chief Engineer Alex Craig of HMS Talisman with all the benefits that this rank allows.”
The next few days passed in a blur as Forrester explored Talisman, her old dated rooms and cabins now resplendent and completely refurbished with the most modern equipment. The galley was gleaming and Moorhouse had proudly shown the captain around the very modern surgery and operating theatre.
Moorhouse reclined against the huge window as Forrester sat in his new chair on the Bridge. Forrester clicked his fingers and asked, “Shall we take her for a spin, Doctor?”
“Why not, Captain,” grinned his friend.
“Communications, contact Portsmouth Harbour Control and notify them of our shake down cruise. Helm. Prepare for departure.
Forrester watched as the ship skirted the Isle of Wight. The Channel beckoned. Picking up the intercom, he called, “Chief Craig. Full speed ahead, if you will.”
“Aye, sir!”
