He put on his best jacket and buttoned it carefully. In his mind he could see the admiral very clearly. One of those round, ageless faces with wide confident eyes. He smiled. Unless you knew him. He was only a year or two older than himself and already a rear-admiral. One of Donitz's shining lights, everyone said, highly thought of even by the Fuhrer himself. Or so it was claimed. Looking back it was not so surprising, Hechler thought. He had first met him when they had both been cadets, and then later they had served together in an old training cruiser which had unexpectedly been called to speed to the assistance of a burning cargo-liner in the Mediterranean, The event had captured the headlines, and in Germany had been blown up enormously to cover other less savoury news of attacks on Jews which had been giving the country a bad name abroad.
While others who had once been cadets in those far-off days had progressed or fallen by the wayside, he had always managed to seize the limelight. Now he was a rear-admiral. It would be interesting to see how that had changed him.
Theil said, 'Will there be leave, sir?'
Hechler looked at him and smiled. You to? I expect so. Our people can do with it. This kind of landfall makes the war seem far away.' -
'It's not for myself , sir, you understand
Hechler nodded. 'We all need a break.'
Theil shifted in his chair. 'I hate not knowing. What is expected of us? I am not afraid of fighting, even dying, but not to know is like a weight on your back.'
Hechler thought again of his father. Like waiting to go over the top. Theil was right, but it was not like the man to express it so openly. Perhaps he should have looked for some additional strain earlier?
Hechler said, 'We both know that we cannot go on like this. The Prinz was not built to nurse an army. She was designed to fight. He waved his hand towards the sunlit scuttles. 'In open water, like she did off North Cape.' The picture rarely left his thoughts. It had been the first battle he had fought in this ship. Up there off the Norwegian coast which had been shrouded in daylong darkness. Two British cruisers and some destroyers in a blizzard like the one last year which had covered the end of Scharnhorst in those same terrible seas. At the end of the day
Prinz Luitpold had won the battle, even though her escorts had been sunk, and another cruiser set ablaze. The British had hauled away, their losses unknown, and had left this ship almost unmarked.
Both sides had claimed a triumph, But Hechler knew in his heart that Prinz Luitpold was the only victor.
There was a tap at the door and after a small hesitation the executive officer, Korvettenkapitan Werner Froebe, stepped inside. Froebe was tall and ungainly, with huge hands which seemed forever in his way. Next to Theil he was responsible for l he running of the ship and the supervision of the various watches and working parties.
Theil glared at him. 'Well?'
Froebe looked instead at his captain. I apologise for the intrusion, sir, but there is an officer come aboard from the town.' He dropped his eyes. 'A major of the SS, sir.'
Hechler studied him gravely. 'What does he want?'
'He wishes to load some stores on board, sir.' He held out a piece of paper. 'He has the admiral's authority.'
Hechler took it and frowned. 'It seems in order. Have the boatswain select a party of hands to assist him.'
Froebe said glumly, The major has some people, er, workers
Theil was looking from one of the scuttles. He said shortly, Civilian prisoners, more trouble!'
Hechler saw their exchange of glances. Civilian prisoners could mean anything in wartime, but with an SS major in charge it probably meant they were from a labour camp.
Deal with it.' When Froebe had left he added, 'The admiral will be here soon, Viktor. I don't want the ship cluttered up with working parties when he steps aboard.'
Theil picked up his cap. 'I agree.' He seemed suddenly pleased to go, all thoughts of the next mission, even home leave forgotten.
Hechler examined his feelings. Like most of his colleagues he had heard stories of overcrowded labour camps, and the rough handling by the SS guards. But it was not his province; his place was here in the ship, or another if so ordered. It was what he was trained for, what he had always wanted.
He could almost hear himself saying much the same words when he had asked Inger to marry him.
He walked to a scuttle again, but the day was spoilt. It was like having a bad taste in the mouth. Something you could not explain, and certainly something you could do nothing to change.
Somewhere overhead a speaker came to life, followed by the trill of a boatswain's call. The boatswain was already mustering a working party for the unexpected and as yet unidentified cargo. The deck gave a sudden tremble as one of the powerful generators was switched on, while down in the shining galley the chief cook would be ranting and cursing about having to delay the midday meal until the admiral had been piped aboard.
Hechler left the cabin and walked along the starboard side, his eyes on the choppy water, but missing nothing of his men who worked above or around him. They moved aside to let him pass, while petty officers saluted and called their men to attention if he caught their glance.
They respected him, he had brought them back to a safe anchorage, and that was enough.
He saw some seamen by the float-plane catapult, and Brezinka, the massive boatswain, wagging his finger as he explained what he needed done.
Froebe stood slightly apart with the SS major, a man who would have been utterly insignificant but for his uniform and the death's-head badge on his cap.
Something made Hechler pause. He asked, 'Is anything wrong?'
Froebe jerked to attention. 'N-no, sir. These hands will go ashore to man a lighter and bring it alongside -'
The major interrupted. 'They must be under my orders, Captain.'
Hechler glanced at him coolly. 'They are also under mine, Major. I will be pleased if you remember that.' He saw the man's flush of anger, but felt no pity for his embarrassment. He glanced at Froebe. 'Make it quick.' He saw a young acting petty officer who had been placed in charge of the party and thanked God for his gift of remembering names.
'You will be taking your final exam soon, Stoecker?'
The sailor had an open, pleasant face. One you could rely on.
Stoecker smiled. 'Yes, sir. Three weeks' time if -'
Hechler touched his arm. ‘If, a word that carries much weight for all of us, eh?' He walked on, knowing that Stoecker would remember how the captain had spoken to him after snubbing the major. Cheap? Possibly. But it made a ship's company.
With the warm sunlight across his shoulders Hechler walked alone right around his ship's upper decks. Past the towering bridge structure and capped funnel, beneath the long guns and over the white-painted anchor cables, his eyes missed nothing.
Germany had broken the treaty made by her old enemies to build the Prinz and her sister ships. Ten thousand tons had been the maximum which had been allowed, but secretly they were over 15,000 tons when they had been launched. From her raked stem to her handsome quarterdeck the heavy cruiser would make any shipbuilder proud.
The armament and gunnery controls in each of the class were unmatched anywhere. The ill-fated Bismarck had been given the credit for sinking the British battle-cruiser Hood early in the war, but it was believed throughout the fleet that Prinz Eugen's guns had fired the fatal salvo.
Hechler looked at the two after turrets and forgot about his irritation over the SS officer.
lust given the chance. That word if again.
He smiled at the thought, and two seamen who were polishing I he deck plate which bore the ship's name, where the admiral would step aboard, nodded to each other and grinned. There could be nothing to worry about.
Later, as the gleaming launch, with a rear-admiral's pendant streaming from it, curved in a frothing wake towards the accommodation ladder, Hechler, with the unaccustomed weight of a sword at his side, felt the same sense of pride.
For a moment at least the w
ar itself had become a backcloth, and only the manned anti-aircraft guns, both here and ashore, gave any hint of possible danger.
The ship's company were dressed in their best blue uniforms, unlike their drab seagoing rig, and all but the duty officers were in ranks, with Theil, unsmiling and grim-faced, at their head.
The launch vanished beneath the rail and Hechler saw the top of the accommodation ladder give a tremble as the boat nudged alongside. He controlled the desire to laugh. All it needed was a band. But as they were always being reminded, there was a war on.
Konteradmiral Andreas Leitner lay back in one of the cabin's deep chairs and regarded the glass in his hand.
'Good, eh?' He chuckled. 'I find it hard to admit that only the Frogs can make champagne!
Hechler tried to relax. Leitner was exactly as he had remembered him, youthful, confident, and so buoyant that it was impossible to imagine him ever being ruffled.
He had come aboard with a bounce in his step and after saluting the quarterdeck and side-party had faced the assembled company and thrown up a stiff Nazi salute which had seemed theatrical in spite of his gravity. An act? It was still difficult to judge. Hechler watched him while Pirk, his steward, refilled the glasses. Leitner must have brought a dozen cases of champagne aboard which his flag-lieutenant was now having stowed for future use.
Leitner had not mentioned their mission or his sealed orders; he was taking his time. In that repect too, he had not changed.
His hair was fair and well-groomed, and his skin had a kind of even tan, although Hechler had not heard of his being out of Germany for a year or more.
The admiral nodded to the steward. 'Well trained, eh? Pours it like a head waiter at the Ritz.' He grinned broadly. 'You have a fine ship, Dieter. I am quite jealous the way you are spoken of in the high command.'
He waited for Pirk to withdraw' and said, 'I shall hoist my flag aboard very shortly.' He watched him evenly. A private ship no longer, howT does that strike you, my friend?'
'I am honoured, sir.'
'You are not. I know you too well to accept that!' He laughed and showed his even teeth. 'No matter. You are the right captain. We shall do well together.'
'Shall we return to the Gulf, sir?'
Leitner became serious. 1 cannot discuss it yet. You and your ship have performed wonders, have given pride where it was lacking, a sense of destiny when some were only thinking of comfort and a quick end to the war.'
He wagged the empty glass at him and added, 'I have often thought of you, and the old days, believe me. Your parents, are they well?'
Hechler replied, They are managing.'
"I felt it personally when your brother was lost in Scharnhorst. A good ship too. He lies with a brave company, an honour to our country.'
Hechler tried to compose his features and his reactions. It seemed strangely wrong to hear Leitner, or anyone else, speak of his brother like a part of history. He could see him without difficulty, so full of life, excited at being appointed to so famous a ship.
Leitner was saying, 'Young men like Lothar are an example, part of our heritage
Hechler refilled their glasses, surprised that his hand was so steady. His young brother's name had come off the admiral's tongue so easily, as if they too had been close, and yet he knew they had never met.
He tried again. 'My people have had no leave, sir, and they deserve it. Whatever we are called to do -'
Leitner gave a mock frown. 'You will be told, but now is not the moment. I can only say that I am here for the same reason. You have earned a rest, albeit a short one, but the needs of Germany rise far above our own petty desires, eh?' He laughed lightly. When I watched your ship anchor, my heart was filled, I can tell you.'
Hechler realised he had drained another glass, but Leitner's mood was unnerving. For just a few seconds his pale eyes had filled with misty emotion, then they hardened as he continued, 'We shall have vengeance, Dieter, for Lothar and all the other fine young men who have died for our cause.'
The admiral stood up suddenly and paced about the cabin, touching things as he moved. He said, 'I have arranged some leave, but it will be short, I am afraid. I have my temporary headquarters in Copenhagen. It is not like Berlin, but it must suffice.' He shrugged. 'We do what we can.'
Hechler said, 'You were in America too.'
Leitner swung round, his eyes pleased. 'So you followed my career as I watched over yours, eh? That is good. Friendship is too strong to be parted by events. Yes, I was in Washington as a naval attache. I learned a lot, mostly about American women. If their men fall on their backs as willingly this war will soon be brought to a successful conclusion!' He laughed and wiped his eyes. 'God, what a country. I was worn out!'
Hechler watched him as he moved about the cabin. Leitner had always excelled in sporting events, but he never recalled any great attachments with girls as a junior lieutenant. He had not married either.
Leitner paused by a bookcase and said without turning, 1 was sorry to hear about your marriage, Dieter.'
It was as if he had been reading his thoughts. Like a single bullet. 'It was a mistake.'
'I can tell by your tone that you blame yourself. I doubt that you have any cause, Dieter. An idealist, yes. A bad husband, I think not.' He sighed. 'Women are admirable. But never treat them as equals.'
Hechler relaxed slightly. Another problem solved. Was that how Leitner had gained flag rank, he wondered?
Leitner said, 'My gear will be sent aboard this afternoon. You have quarters for flag officers, that I do know.'
Hechler nodded. 'Had I known you were coming, sir, I would have had the quarters properly prepared. As it is -'
Leitner shrugged indifferently. Castle or charcoal burner's hut, it is the same to me. All I ask is a little luxury here and there.' He did not elaborate. Instead he said, 'Your last mission failed, I believe?'
It was so blunt after his affable chatter that Hechler sensed his own resentment rise to meet it.
'We carried out the bombardment, the objectives were all destroyed. We lost one escort because -'
'I know the hows and whys, thank you.' The smile broke through again like winter sunlight. 'But it w7as a failure nonetheless. I heard from OKM Operations Division an hour ago that we have at least a whole infantry brigade cut off surrounded.' He closed his fingers like a claw. 'They will fight to the death of course, but we lost a good destroyer for nothing.'
Leitner looked directly at Hechler but his pale eyes were faraway. 'No matter, my friend. The Fiihrer has ordered the beginning of an aerial bombardment by rocket, the like of which will make Rotterdam, London, Coventry and the rest, seem like mere skirmishes. The first rocket was launched yesterday. I can say no more than that, but you will soon hear of it. There is no defence. The RAF had some success against our flying bombs over London, but against the V-2 there is nothing!'
Like most serving officers Hechler had heard about the much-vaunted secret weapons. They never seemed to appear. The fanatical confidence in the admiral's voice made him believe that this one was real, terribly so.
Leitner said, 'I know what you are thinking. War on civilians is foul. Perhaps it is. But to shield Germany from invasion any means are acceptable. God will always congratulate the winner!' It seemed to amuse him and he glanced at his gold wrist-watch before adding, 'We shall dine together tonight. In the meantime my flag-lieutenant will present a brief summary of immediate requirements.' His eyebrows lifted as the sentry's booted feet clicked together beyond the door. 'My aide is not blessed with all the arts, but he is ever punctual.'
There was a tap at the door and Hechler called, 'Enter!'
Kapitanleutnant Helmut Theissen strode into the cabin very smartly, a heavy file under one arm. Like his superior he had fair hair, and the same even tan. Maybe they had both been on a secret mission, Hechler thought, to Spain for instance, whose one-sided neutrality had often proved a great asset.
Theissen was young for his rank, with anxious eyes and a willo
wy figure which even his immaculate uniform could not disguise. At the sight of the admiral his confidence seemed to melt.
He said, 'I have brought the file, Admiral.'
Leitner glanced at him coldly. Don't stand there like a Paris whore, man, prepare it for the Captain.'
He looked at Hechler and winked. A mother's gift to a war-starved nation, yes?'
Hechler heard the harsh echo of commands and the clatter of the main winch. The mysterious lighter was about to leave. Froebe's men had done well. They had hardly made a sound.
He would escort the admiral to his quarters or wait until he was ready to go ashore again. He glanced briefly in the bulk-head mirror then looked away quickly. It was like uncovering a secret - worse, sharing it.
In those brief seconds he had seen Leitner and his anxious-eyed aide looking at each other behind his back.
There had been no animosity. Affection was the nearest description he could think of. He was surprised and troubled to discover how the possibility left its mark.
Later at the gangway before they exchanged formal salutes, Leitner said, 'I shall send my car to the pier tonight, Captain.' He glanced at the side-party and rigid guard of helmeted seamen. We shall speak of old times.'
Then he was gone, and Hechler saw his aide staring up from the launch, something like relief on his face,
Hechler nodded to the duty officer. 'March off the guard, Lieutenant.'
He watched them clump away, doubtless thinking of their delayed meal. It was a pity that life could not be that simple for us all, he thought.
When he looked again, the launch had vanished around an anchored freighter w'ith the Swedish flag painted on her side. Her only frail protection against bomb or torpedo.
Life would not be quite the same again, he decided grimly.
A muffled explosion echoed against the superstructure and made several seamen come running, their faces taut with alarm.
Froebe panted along the deck and saluted. 'Captain, the lighter is on fire, an explosion in her engine, I think!'
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