Night Sky

by Clare Francis

  The main group had moved off towards the bridge. Schmidt was pointing to the bowl apparatus and explaining the reason for its shape, which differed considerably from that of the earlier prototypes. As Schmidt’s voice droned on David felt the deck vibrate beneath his feet and saw that the Welle was beginning to move gently away from the wharf. The wind was coming in great gusts now; the sea outside must be very rough.

  David began to wish he hadn’t come. He’d always disliked physical discomfort – as a child he’d been hopeless at sport and rough games – and he had no doubt the Welle would toss and roll like a pig.

  Schmidt’s voice had ceased and everyone moved into the large chart room behind the wheelhouse. David followed and looked for a quiet corner to stand in, but Schmidt impatiently beckoned him forward and directed him to join some junior officers on the outside of the group. The group had formed a circle round a large metal cabinet bolted to the chart room floor. On the top of the cabinet was a circular screen which the senior officers were watching expectantly.

  Schmidt cleared his throat and announced, ‘It will take us a few moments to get to the open sea, where the device can best be demonstrated. We beg your indulgence, but we assure you that the wait will not be in vain. You will not be disappointed!’

  David felt faintly embarrassed at Schmidt’s manner. He was making it like a circus performance. The brass were intelligent men; they didn’t go in for dramatics.

  Suddenly there was a quiet voice at David’s elbow. ‘We have not met. My name is Fischer, Karl Fischer.’ David turned to see a young officer with his hand outstretched.

  ‘Ah, I’m Freymann, David Freymann.’ He shook the hand, then said by way of explanation, ‘I work on this project. My field is radio ranging.’

  Fischer nodded. ‘Well, it will be most interesting to see this device working. I had no idea anything like this was being developed. It is really most extraordinary.’

  David smiled politely. ‘And yourself, are you on the naval staff?’

  ‘No, no.’ Fischer shook his head, and David noticed how even and finely drawn were the younger man’s features. The hair was blond, the eyes pale-blue: he supposed this was what the Nazis meant by Aryan. Then he thought: Why on earth did I think that? I’m getting as bad as Hans.

  Fischer was saying, ‘I have come here with Captain Doenitz. I’m with the First U-boat Flotilla at Kiel, in command of U-13.’

  ‘Ah.’ David did not know much about the new submarine arm.

  ‘It is the first operational flotilla. It is a great honour to serve in it.’

  ‘Indeed, indeed. It is wonderful that Germany has submarines again, after all these years.’

  Fischer looked at the device humming quietly in the centre of the chart room. ‘And this, will it be useful for submarines?’

  ‘Well, at present – in this form – no. As you see the whole thing is too large. Really it is only suitable for use on ships – or on land, of course. It would never fit into submarines or, for that matter, aircraft.’

  ‘I see, I see.’ Fischer frowned in concentration. ‘And what about being detected by such a thing. Could an enemy detect us easily? I am thinking particularly of when we are on the surface at night.’

  David looked at Fischer with new respect. Here at least was someone who recognised the possibility of an enemy possessing this device, which was more than Schmidt did. He said, ‘Well, yes, a surfaced submarine could be picked up. But it would be difficult. A submarine is so low in the water – and so much smaller than a ship, of course – that the conditions would have to be perfect for an enemy to see you. I mean, a calm sea and the range between three and five miles. But even if a ship did manage to detect you I imagine there would be plenty of time to dive and get away. A plane … now a plane would be a bit more tricky.

  If a plane managed to detect you it could be on top of you very quickly.’

  ‘I thought you said it was impossible to construct a device small enough to fit in a plane.’

  David shook his head. ‘Ah, no. What I said was, this device is not suitable for planes. I did not say it was impossible to develop small devices. Quite the opposite.’

  Fischer nodded slowly. ‘After the demonstration, could we talk again? I know that Captain Doenitz would be most interested in what you have to say.’

  ‘Of course.’ David was pleased. It would be an honour to talk to Doenitz.

  The Welle had begun to pitch gently and David realised they must have reached the open sea. He looked out through one of the chart room’s large ports and saw rolling, white-topped waves. He tried to concentrate on the horizon: someone had told him it stopped you from feeling sick.

  Schmidt was speaking again. ‘As you know we have been working hard on the development of the DT device. Incidentally, I shall continue to call it by its cover name, the DT Apparatus, because secrecy is so important. Originally you may have heard it called the revolving turret device, but more properly it should be called a radio detection and ranging device, or radar for short.’ He cleared his throat and paused. Ever theatrical, David thought. Well, perhaps it was justified. It was, after all, a special occasion.

  ‘When we last demonstrated the device, we could not give you great range accuracy. And of course it is not much good if you don’t know how far away your opponent is. But now …’ Schmidt put a hand on the metal cabinet. ‘I am glad to say that, by means of a revolutionary new concept, we can give you the range of your enemy to within about a quarter of a nautical mile.’

  Schmidt’s audience was silent and expectant. For a moment there was no sound except the hum of the device and the vibration of the ship’s engines. Then the chief scientist continued, ‘We have developed a pulse system which sends out a short but powerful radio signal in a single burst. It then waits for the signal to return before sending another. By measuring the time it takes for the signal to get to its target and return, we can measure range with a good degree of accuracy.’

  Schmidt raised his voice. ‘Furthermore, gentlemen, that range is now improved. You will be able to see land approximately ten miles away, other ships eight miles away, and aircraft as much as fifteen miles away.’

  He stepped to one side. ‘And now, gentlemen, I invite you to look at the screen, to see for yourselves.’

  Admiral Raeder and the senior officers stepped forward and leant over the screen. Schmidt pointed to a piece of coast visible on the port side and then put his finger on to the screen. Comparisons were made and there was a great deal of nodding; the brass were obviously impressed. David felt pleased. Schmidt then ordered the aerial to be rotated and the group examined the echo of a ship which was just visible on the horizon. Raeder summoned more of his colleagues and Schmidt began his explanations afresh.

  David was feeling sick. The trick of staring at the horizon had not worked at all. The Welle seemed to be rolling and pitching in every direction and each new movement took his stomach by surprise. He edged towards the door in case he had to make a sudden dash for the rail. He realised he should try to be unobtrusive, but he was fast getting to the stage where he didn’t care.

  Suddenly the sickness welled up. David pulled open the door and heaved over the rail. As soon as his stomach was empty he felt better. The fresh wind helped too; it seemed to blow the cobwebs out of his head. He concentrated on the horizon again. This time the trick seemed to work and the nausea passed. But he decided against going back into the chart room; he wouldn’t last five minutes in there.

  After a while he became mesmerised by the rise and fall of the waves. At one point he looked down to where the waves growled along the ship’s side. But that was a mistake – it brought the nausea back – and he quickly looked up again. Then he tried closing his eyes and found that, despite the sharp wind, he was able to doze where he stood. The sensation was quite pleasant: he felt as if he were floating, gently suspended in water.

  ‘Ahem.’ Someone was clearing his throat. For a moment David hoped the sound might go away, but it w
as repeated. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and turned round.

  It was Fischer. Beside him stood the tall, erect figure of Captain Doenitz.

  Fischer said, ‘Herr Freymann, may I introduce Captain Doenitz? The Captain would be most grateful if you would answer a few of his queries.’

  David tried to wake himself up. He smiled thinly and said, ‘Of course.’

  The captain was frowning in concentration. He had a sharp face with thin lips and protruding ears. But most of all David noticed his eyes, which were small and penetrating, like those of a small animal.

  Doenitz spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. ‘I have grasped the principles of the DT device. I understand how it can be used against aircraft and surface vessels by surface vessels. But I gather this device will never be suitable for submarines. Is that correct?’

  David made an effort to concentrate. ‘In its present form, no. It is too large and cumbersome.’

  ‘Can it be made smaller?’

  ‘It is possible, but it means using shorter wavelengths.’

  ‘And this can be done?’

  David nodded. ‘Work on slightly shorter wavelengths is to start soon, I believe.’

  ‘Slightly—?’

  David sighed and looked down. What was he to do? Tell the truth and suffer Schmidt’s wrath, or toe the official line?

  He brought his eyes back to Doenitz’s face. The captain’s expression was enquiring but anxious. The answer was obviously important to him.

  David thought: Why not? This man deserves to know.

  He said, ‘Yes, only slightly shorter. Investigation into really short wavelengths is not being considered at present. There is a belief that such short wavelengths are impossible to generate – and that they would be less efficient rather than more efficient. But …’ David said firmly, ‘this is only a belief. It is by no means proved.’

  Doenitz was trying to absorb the information. ‘But if it was possible,’ he said slowly, ‘it would be useful for us?’

  ‘Not just useful, it would be revolutionary!’ David talked rapidly, his sickness forgotten. ‘You see, first, short waves would make the device very small indeed. It would be no more than the size of – of say a large suitcase standing on its end. Obviously it would fit easily inside a plane or a submarine. That would mean – well, you can imagine! For the Luftwaffe, it would mean they would be able to see enemy planes coming from miles away, even at night. For you, it would mean you could find your enemy and make your attack in the blackest of conditions!’

  David always liked to understand the practical applications of his work. So few scientists did, and that, he believed, was a great mistake. It meant you were much slower to appreciate the shortcomings of your inventions – and slower, too, to foresee problems.

  David paused before going on. So far he had stated facts that were generally accepted – although Schmidt would have a seizure if he knew David had mentioned them. But it was the next part – the most important part – that was really David’s personal theory. And not only was the theory unproved, but Schmidt was bitterly opposed to it.

  David hesitated, then said quickly, ‘It would also be revolutionary for a second reason – though I must tell you immediately that I am almost alone in this belief.’

  Doenitz nodded and David went on, ‘I believe that a valve could be developed to give enormous power on short waves. This would mean that the device would be small and immensely powerful. It would give the most incredible definition …’

  He was not explaining it properly. These men wanted to know what it meant in practical terms. He searched for the right words. ‘It would pick out each individual object in a group of objects, almost like a photograph. This device here –’ he indicated the cabinet in the chart room – ‘is useful only for seeing objects against the sky, so to speak – for things standing out against a blank background, like an aircraft in the sky or a ship on the horizon. Even then it would be of limited use in a plane because when it is angled down to the land or the sea it cannot pick out individual targets. It gets too many echoes back from the sea or the land for the user to distinguish individual towns or buildings or ships out of the blur.’

  David paused to make sure he had been understood. The two men nodded and he went on, ‘Now a shortwave device … well, it could see like – like a pair of eyes. From the air it could look downwards and read the land like a map. It could pick out individual towns, rivers, lakes, and roads; it could identify individual bombing targets; it could see small objects floating on the surface of the sea; it could see a submarine sitting on the water. Nothing would be hidden from it.’

  Doenitz stared at David in alarm. ‘If this is true, it is … very important. But you say that there is doubt about this. You say some people believe such a device would be less efficient?’

  David spoke carefully. ‘There is a school of thought which believes it is impossible to develop the power. But personally I do not. I believe the necessary valve can be developed.’

  ‘If there is the slightest chance of it, then—’ Doenitz pursed his lips and looked out to sea.

  ‘Of course I would have to do a lot of work on it. And I would need official support …’

  Doenitz looked at him sharply. ‘I have no say in scientific policy. However … I shall do what I can.’

  David nodded and wondered how much longer he could survive without being sick again. He gave himself a minute, certainly no more. It had been all right while he’d been talking.

  Doenitz fixed his dark, penetrating stare on to David and said, ‘So a submarine would be particularly vulnerable to a shortwave device?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do we know if anybody else is working on it? The British, for instance?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I can only say that, as a scientist, I have read nothing – I have heard nothing – to indicate that they have the secret.’

  ‘If they did …’

  David thought quickly. ‘If they did then we could produce a warning device, a detector, to tell a vessel that radar was being operated against them.’

  Doenitz’s eyes lit up. ‘Ah, so there is a defence.’

  ‘Yes,’ David agreed. ‘But we can only develop a detector when we have developed our own technology. No technology, no detector.’ David was forced to be brief; he had only a few seconds left.

  ‘I understand. Thank you.’ Doenitz inclined his head and for a moment David thought he would continue. But he turned and walked away.

  David threw himself across the rail and heaved miserably. Though his stomach was empty, the convulsions went on for several minutes. When he finally looked round the two naval officers had gone.

  David laid his head on his arm and closed his eyes. He no longer cared what he looked like; nor did he mind if people were laughing at him. He just wanted to die.

  After several minutes he looked up. There was no sign of land. It seemed to him that they were still heading out to sea.

  Hilf mir Gott! It was an expression his father often used. His father – dead, and thank God for that. He had been Jewish and proud of it.

  ‘Freymann! Freymann!’

  Without bothering to look up David knew it was Schmidt.

  ‘Freymann, I am appalled!’ The voice was angry, hissing like a snake. David waved a hand of acknowledgement. Nothing would make him raise his head again.

  ‘I absolutely forbid you to speak to anyone else during this trip. You are absolutely not to be trusted. How dare you! How dare you give people the idea that we don’t know what we’re doing!’ The voice spluttered for a moment, then continued, ‘Your lunatic ideas! They are dangerous and stupid and … I will speak to you later. In the meantime keep away, just keep away!’

  David waved a hand again. Schmidt’s order suited him perfectly: no more talking and no more questions to answer. If no-one was going to believe him, there was no point anyway.

  He was beginning to think Ellen was right: he should never have come.

&n
bsp; *

  Doenitz excused himself from a discussion on the use of radar in surface warfare and left the chart room. He chose to go out to the starboard side of the ship so as to avoid the scientist, Freymann, who was still wedged firmly against the port rail.

  Doenitz walked slowly towards the afterdeck and wondered if there had been any truth in what the odd little man had said. The fellow had been so enthusiastic, so sure, that Doenitz had almost been convinced. But then he had talked to Schmidt and Schmidt had been adamant that Freymann was talking nonsense. In fact he had been so vehement Doenitz suspected that there was a great deal of animosity between the two men. Personal differences should not be allowed to interfere with people’s judgement. Doenitz never allowed such things to happen among his men. Nor did he let himself be swayed by personal feelings. One’s duty was to serve, and to serve to the utmost of one’s ability.

  But these scientists were different. They seemed to be incapable of working as a team. Still, Doenitz thought, one has to learn to live with these people, irksome though they may be, if one is to benefit from their extraordinary inventions.

  He considered whether to bring up the subject of Freymann’s theory with the Grand Admiral. But no, he decided, it would not be necessary. Schmidt had promised Doenitz that the theory would be investigated, and finally and conclusively proved or disproved either way.

  Besides, Doenitz had more important things to worry about. For years Germany’s strength had been severely curtailed by the humiliating Versailles Treaty, but now at last the Anglo-German Naval Agreement had been signed and Germany was allowed to build a navy again.

  It was a race against time.

  German U-boat development had never really stopped – it had been carried out secretly in Holland since 1922 – but it would be years, perhaps as many as ten years, before the Kriegsmarine – and particularly the U-boat Arm – would be powerful enough to take on the Royal Navy.