The Last Eagle

by Michael Wenberg

  He spoke briefly into the speaker tube. “Get the captain,” he said. As a tingle of excitement warmed his belly, he brought the glasses back to his eyes.

  After escaping from Gdynia, the Eagle had zigzagged for nearly two hours in a northeasterly direction, protected from German aircraft flying high above by the fog’s gray shroud. By mid-morning, however, the fog began to thin. Stefan ordered the decks cleared, and the Eagle submerged, taking refuge in the black-green depths of the Baltic. Under battery power, and at a much slower 2 knots, Stefan changed course, south toward Gdansk. She had cruised in this direction until mid-afternoon. He had ordered all stop, and the Eagle had settled quietly, 15 fathoms below the surface, waiting here until nightfall.

  The captain joined Stefan and three lookouts on the bridge. He was breathing heavily from the climb up the ladder. Stefan slipped the binoculars from around his neck and offered them to the Captain.

  Sieinski took them without comment. “What do you have?” he said weakly.

  In the pale red light of the conning tower, Sieinski looked ghastly. Despite the chill, his face was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. His lips were purple and the garish bruise on his forehead had mushroomed into a multi-hued stain that began at his eyebrows and disappeared under his hair line. Holding the binoculars seemed to much. His hands were visibly shaking.

  “Vessel off the port bow, moving slowly. Ten thousand meters. Doesn’t seem too worried about us. Looks like a freighter. Low in the water. She’s loaded with something.”

  “Anything else?”

  Stefan shook his head. “I recommend we move in for a closer look.”

  Sieinski chewed on his lower lip. He peered through the glasses again, breathing shallowly. “Three hours until we meet the M10.”

  “We have time,” Stefan replied hastily, alarm bells beginning to go off in his head. Sieinski couldn’t be thinking that they should let this ship pass by unscathed, unchallenged?

  Sieinski lowered the glasses and stared at Stefan. “When I want advice, I’ll ask for it.”

  “She’s probably a German freighter. You can tell by the pattern of lights along the bow. Just our luck she’s out here alone.”

  Sieinski began to cluck his tongue. “So there we have it. We don’t have the time. And even if we did, I still wouldn’t want to risk an attack going bad and miss our rendezvous with M10.”

  “Excuse me, sir?” Stefan didn’t bother to keep the tone of disdain from his voice. “We’re at war and there’s a potential target…”

  “I thought I was clear enough, Mr. Petrofski,” Sieinski barked. “Bring us about and let’s head for our rendezvous point.”

  “But, sir!”

  Sieinski shook his head and sighed. “I know, I know,” he said in a voice one might use with a child or an idiot. “I want to attack, too. But the best hunter has a cold heart. And if by some chance that freighter is German, she will radio for help as soon as we attack. With the coordinates they provide, we’ll have destroyers chasing us in short order. I don’t want to risk our meeting with M10. Does that make sense?”

  Stefan choked back a hot retort. He didn’t need this inexperienced blueblood explaining risk to him. “Aye, aye, sir,” he managed to mumble.

  Sieinski handed the binoculars back to Stefan. “Get me when we find the M10.” He disappeared down the hatch.

  “What a load of bullshit…. ,” one of the lookout’s whispered.

  “Stow it, sailor,” Stefan thundered, glaring over his shoulder. “I’ll have none of that on my bridge.”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  Stefan spoke into the speaker tube. “Helm, bring us about. Two-five-four degrees. Flank speed.”

  As the bow of the Eagle turned away from Gdansk, Stefan pulled a spare pipe out of his pocket. He stuffed the bowl with tobacco and lit it, shielding the flame from his lighter from the stiff breeze. When he was done, he clenched the pipe in his set jaw, and then gripped the lip of the conning tower.

  Of course the lookout was right. It was bullshit. Attack. That’s what submarines did. Risk was inherent with the mission. Stefan’s long years on the bridge of Westling’s fishing boats had taught him a thing or two about freighters—ones from Bremen were as different from ships that hailed from Dublin as a cod was from a herring. To hell with danger. There was a perfect target nearby—a German target, he felt like shouting—and they were turning away.

  “It’s time, Stef,” Squeaky said four hours later.

  Stefan panned the darkness with his binoculars. In the starlight, he could just make out the Polish motorboat, M10, right where it should be.

  “Send them a greeting,” Stef ordered the signalman. “See if anyone is awake over there. Captain to the bridge,” he said into the speaker tube.

  The signal light began to click.

  There was a pause, and then a responding light winking from across the water. Squeaky began to chuckle.

  “They’re wondering if we’ve happened across Adolf,” he said.

  Stefan cracked a smile, his first in hours. “Tell them we were hoping they’d taken care of the bastard.”

  Squeaky relayed the message to the signalman, who flashed a buck-toothed smile and then began clicking furiously. Just as he finished, the captain’s head appeared through the opening in the floor of the bridge. If anything, he looked even worse than he had a few hours earlier, Stefan thought. Squeaky made a move to help him up, but Stefan grabbed his arm and held him in place. The bastard had no business topside if he couldn’t handle the ladders.

  “Ahead slow,” Stefan said into the speaker tube. As the sub began to nose through the chop, the motorboat came around next to her starboard side. Seamen tossed lines from her bow and stern, dropped bumpers off her side, and pulled her close. “All stop,” Stefan said.

  A figure jumped down from the motorboat onto the deck of the Eagle, trotted over to the conning tower, and disappeared from view as he scrambled up the ladder.

  “I could use a good, stiff drink,” said the man, reappearing again as he flung a leg over the side and dropped down onto the deck of the bridge.

  “Welcome aboard the Eagle, Wictor,” Sieinski said his mouth twisting into a grin.

  “Holy mother,” exclaimed Wictor Sopocko, captain of the Polish motorboat M10. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “A Stuka,” Sieinski said.

  “So that was her name,” Sopocko interrupted lightly. “Looks like she got the better of you.” He tapped Sieinski lightly on the shoulder and then frowned with concern when he shivered in response. “You need a doctor, you should be in your bunk with a glass of cognac.”

  “There’s a war on,” Sieinski said.

  “Ah, yes, thanks for the reminder,” Sopocko sighed. He glanced around the conning tower. “Gentlemen,” he said, acknowledging Stefan and then Squeaky. He held out his hand to them.

  Officers of the Polish Navy were a small, select club. Stefan had, of course, met Sopocko before. He was another blueblood like Sieinski. But Sopocko’s father owned a couple of shipyards and a large estate outside of Warsaw. Stefan had seen the shipyards many times. He had, of course, never been invited to the estate. Unlike Sieinski, however, Sopocko didn’t wear his family’s influence on his sleeve. Stefan had liked him from the start, and though not friends, their years as fellow Polish naval officers had done nothing to change that impression.

  Sieinski waited for last handshake and then surprised everyone by saying, “Clear the bridge. You too,” he barked at the lookout. “Captain Sopocko and I need a few minutes alone.”

  Stefan hesitated, looked at Sopocko for support. But he wasn’t paying attention. His head was tilted back and he was staring open-mouthed at the stars.

  “Let’s get some coffee,” Squeaky said, grabbing Stefan by the arm and leading him to the hatch.

  “Very good to see you, sir,” Stefan said softly.

  “Likewise,” responded Sopocko without taking his eyes off the heavens.

  Stefan and S
queaky crossed to the hatch opening and disappeared from sight.

  “What do you want?” Sopocko said when they were finally alone.

  “Your advice,” Sieinski said. There was a hollow tone in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

  Sopocko was silent. He stared down at his motorboat. The hull was pockmarked with holes, but in the darkness, they were just faint smudges. He had two men below decks, wounded from an air attack earlier in the day. He doubted they would be alive when morning dawned. He lit a cigarette, gazed back at Sieinski, his eyes shadowed by the brim of his cap, and waited.

  Sieinski licked his lips. “How many destroyers went to France? Three? Four?”

  Sopocko said nothing.

  “And look at your vessel,” Sieinski said pointedly. “Can you survive another day out here?”

  “What is it you want, Josef? Absolution? Okay. I say it, now. Your sins are forgiven, your sins from the past, the sin you are about to commit.”

  Sieinski recoiled as if struck. “I thought I could at least talk with you,” he hissed. “Of all my friends, I thought you would understand the logic of it.”

  “That the war is lost?” Sopocko’s laughter echoed over the water. “Of course it is lost. You fool. It was lost five years ago. And now brave men are dying. Did I tell you that my father is in Switzerland? Yes, that patriot left a week ago. He didn’t tell my brother, who is an officer in the cavalry, or me. How do you think my brother and his men are doing against the German tanks? Horseflesh versus steel. If it weren’t so horrific, so personal, I would laugh despair. I suppose the old man kept quiet because he knew what we would say. And now the sound of my last name makes me sick. Imagine that?”

  Sieinski reached out, grabbed the sleeve of Sopocko’s jacket. “The army—your brother—they have no choice,” Sieinskihe said fiercely. “We do. We have other options to continue the struggle. By ourselves, it is a lost battle. But with the French, we could fight on. Think about it? That’s why the chief of staff sent those destroyers away. He knew…. he knew….” Sieinski’s words ended in a near shriek. He glanced nervously at the gun crew below, wondered if they heard what he had said.

  Sopocko shook his sleeve free of Sieinski’s clutches, and nodded without conviction. “Perfect sense. I agree. And so you want me to say it? Will it make it easier for you? Okay, I say it. You go, then. Take the Eagle and your men and race to France as fast as you can. And you can believe that no one will think ill toward you. As you pointed out, we have already sent some of our destroyers away for safety. My father has left. Why not a submarine or two?”

  Sieinski’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. “Yes,” he choked. “My thinking, exactly.”

  “Beautiful, aren’t they?” Sopocko said, waving his arm at the canopy of stars above his head. “On some nights I have often wished that we could sail to the horizon, skip over the edge, and continue on, up there. Imagine what it must be like? They say there are a billion stars out there. I wonder if… ” He swept his gaze over the vast expanse, and then stopped at the eastern sky. It was already beginning to show faint hints of light. “Ah, dawn soon. A last dawn, I think, for me and my men.” He saw Sieinski wince. “Is that too harsh for you, my dear Józef? So be it. But I think it will be the most precious dawn of my life. I will squeeze every last second from it—cherish it like no other. Out here, we cannot hide during the day like you, and the Luftwaffe, I fear, will be at us by mid-morning like flies on the ass of a cow. Time to be off, I think. Give my best to your officers and men,” Sopocko said. “Good luck whatever you decide.”

  Sieinski held out his hand. “Goodbye, Wictor.”

  Sopocko stared at Sieinski’s hand, and then shook his head in refusal. “Not that, I think,” he said softly. “You can still change your mind, you know. You have some good men…. But never fear, I will tell no one. I will die with it this day. Or tomorrow. You never should have taken this command, you know.” And with those last words, he disappeared over edge of the conning tower. A moment later, the M10 moved off into the night.

  Sieinski stood there, sick with shame and rage, watching until the vessel disappeared. There was the faint sound of tapping from the gun crew below. He wondered how much they had heard. Probably nothing. No one had heard a thing. Who did he think he was? Talking to him that way. To think that over the years, all those parties, he thought Sopocko a friend. He should have expected as much. Just a motorboat captain. With all his father’s influence, that was the best he could do? There must have been something lacking in his character to warrant a command such as that. Sieinski, on the other hand, was captain of the most deadly boat in the Polish fleet, and not just because of his father’s help.

  Sieinski grabbed the side of the conning tower as a wave of dizziness and nausea swept over him. When it was past, he took a deep breath, scanned the sky. Indeed, dawn would not be far off. Soon it would be time to dive for safety. His men wouldn’t like it, but the decision was clear.

  And they would obey orders.

  He spoke into the speaker tubes. “Lookouts and officers to the bridge.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Stefan lay on his bunk, eyes closed. He was desperately tired, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the meeting on the bridge. Why the secrecy? What was so important that the second in command of a vessel had to be excluded? Was it something to do with him? Didn’t Sieinski trust him? Even worse, was he planning something that he knew Stefan would not approve of?

  Stefan’s thoughts began to take even wild turns. Before they could go far, he growled with frustration, rolled off his bunk, and made his way to the officers’ wardroom. Food and coffee. Since he couldn’t sleep, that’s what he needed.

  He found Kate, Reggie, Eryk and Squeaky huddled around the table that dominated the small room. A plate piled with meat, cheese, bread and sliced fruit sat in the center of the table. Everyone had mugs of coffee. Bookshelves were along one wall. A narrow counter along the other. Photographs of Hollywood starlets filled out the rest of the decorations.

  “Pull up a chair, commander,” Reggie said cheerfully. “You look like hell.”

  Stefan grunted. “Under the circumstances, I’ll take that as a compliment. How go your interviews?” he said to Kate.

  “Interesting,” Kate said. “I didn’t realize that your crew was so young. Is that typical?”

  Stefan nodded, his mouth already filled with a slice of meat.

  Eryk answered for him. “Yes. You’ll find submariners tend to be a young lot. But they’re good boys, smart, quick learners. Navies around the world find that younger men tend to stand up to the rigors of the duty better than older ones.”

  “What about him?” Kate said, pointing at Stefan.

  “He’s an aberration,” Squeaky said, stifling a laugh.

  “Careful with those big words,” Stefan said, eyes glittering. “Might get yourself into trouble.”

  “Oh, I think we’re in enough trouble. What do you think about that powwow upstairs?” he asked cautiously.

  Stefan didn’t take the bait. He shrugged, reached for a plate of fruit.

  “I thought something was different,” Reggie said. “We’re not moving. Oh, I see. You mean, we’ve met another ship?”

  Eryk nodded, kept his eyes on the bread in his hand.

  Kate noticed the change right away. “Not a happy ship,” she said to herself in English. “Just our luck.”

  “What’s that?” Stefan asked.

  “I was just wondering if they might like a couple of passengers,” Kate said, slipping easily back into Polish.

  Stefan shook his head. “You don’t want to be on that boat.”

  “Why, something wrong with the captain?”

  Stefan stared hard at her for a moment, Eryk and Squeaky were looking at her, as well, food paused halfway between their mouths and the plate. Stefan’s face reddened and then he exploded with laughter, Eryk and Squeaky joined in.

  When they finally quieted down, Stefan wiped h
is eye and said, “No, nothing wrong with Sopocko. Hell of a man, good captain, too, from all I heard. I suppose you could ask about a ride. But his motorboat is not the place to be.”

  Eryk and Squeaky had turned suddenly serious, their faces blank.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How do you think it will be for them tomorrow? We will spend the day hiding on the bottom, but they have nowhere to go. They can motor close to shore and hope the coastal batteries provide them some protection, but …” He twirled his hand over his head. “Sopocko is no coward. He will not run for cover, he will fight…” He let that hang in the air.

  “Oh,” Reggie said. “Good point. Perhaps we won’t changes ships, then. I don’t mind staying on board here for another day or two. Still a few more photographs to take, you know…”

  There was a sudden change in the ever present sound and vibrations of the diesel engines.

  “Duty calls,” Squeaky said, as the three officers of the Eagle stood.

  “You have everything you need?” Stefan said, pausing as the others slipped out into the passageway.

  Kate nodded. “Everyone has been gentlemen.”

  Stefan acknowledged the complement with a nod. “Let me know if we can do anything else.”

  “Why the sudden interest in my well-being, commander?” Kate asked. “I still seem to remember a growl about throwing us overboard if we got in the way.”

  Stefan smiled broadly.

  “Oh, there is one thing, if I may be so bold to suggest,” Reggie said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Get us out of here alive.”

  Stefan blinked. “I’ll do the best I can,” he said evenly. And then he disappeared.

  Eryk was already at work at his chart table as Stefan passed through the control room. He paused long enough to glance over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “Plotting our course. The captain wants us to spend the day here.” He stabbed so hard at the chart he broke the tip of his pencil.”