Operation Armageddon

by Richard Freeman

  ‘Well, at least this one is different,’ he thought as he pulled out Some Observations on the Geology of the Mediterranean Seabed. Its tight binding and crisp pages suggested that the book had been little read and, perhaps, abandoned with relief. But a man with time to kill will read anything. Bosanquet sat down by the barely glowing embers of the stove and began to read. He started with the Spanish coast.

  Half an hour later he was racing to Travers’ sea cabin.

  ‘Commander, I’ve solved the mystery.’

  ‘What mystery?’

  ‘Why that U-boat is where it is and why it won’t budge even if we give it twenty-four hours warning that we’re on our way.’

  ‘Spanish waters – yes, you said that before.’

  ‘No! It’s nothing to do with Spanish waters and it’s most definitely not a hoax. Our U-boat is sitting on a geological fault. It’s all in this book. I found it in the wardroom.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Commander, … I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s quite simple. A massive detonation on the seabed just above a fault could set off an earthquake … and an earthquake in the Med means a bloody great tidal wave. According to this book, there was a tidal wave in the Med 8000 years ago that was as high as a ten-storey building.’

  ‘Was there by Jove! That’s interesting.’

  ‘Interesting? Commander, I don’t think you understand. If that U-boat detonates on the seabed, every boat involved in Torch will be at the bottom of the sea within the hour. It will be the most devastating attack on a naval force in history.’

  ‘My God! And on us as well!’

  ‘Unless you destroy the U-boat, Commander.’

  41

  The appearance of authority with which Ingmann had told Zweig that there was no proof that the mission was on the orders of the Führer reflected his triumph at suddenly finding himself in command of a U-boat. A sense of power – even invulnerability – had come over him. This was how it was meant to be.

  When he dared to dream about “after the war”, he saw himself as a lionised U-boat commander with hundreds of thousands of tons sunk to his name. He would be standing on the patio of his country house, enjoying the delights of an Aryan marriage while the next generation were playing in the extensive garden. His wife would come out, put her arm around him and they would share the wonders of the cleansed world which the Nazis had created. Now, though, with Zweig at bay but still a mortal threat to him and his crew, Ingmann knew that his future rested on the next few hours. One wrong decision …

  Those who knew Ingmann well, would tell of the conflict within him. On the one hand, he was an ultra-loyal Nazi, ready to obey any order. On the other hand, he was a man who never missed a chance to advance his career. The order to detonate the U-boat had resurrected this conflict within him. The order was clear. It was his duty to obey. Yet it would end his career in the most final way possible. By his own standards, his new command had been dishonourably seized. How, he deliberated, could he retrieve his honour and his life? He made his decision.

  The loudspeakers throughout the boat clicked into life. The men – still anxious to know the reason for the change of commander – froze at their tasks.

  ‘This is your commander speaking,’ said Ingmann, his voice remarkably steady in the circumstances.

  Zweig, standing forward of the control room, looked down the long corridor through to the stern. This spot, he thought, gave him the best possible means to assess how the seamen reacted to whatever Ingmann was going to say.

  ‘Men,’ said Ingmann, ‘as you know our boat is carrying a cargo of explosives. My orders regarding the cargo are – to say the least – unusual. It is not for delivery but is to be detonated at our current location. Detonation will take place at high tide. Before that time we shall make an orderly disembarkation. We are only a short distance from the Spanish coast. Heil Hitler!’

  The rasping click of the microphone switching off was followed by a brief silence and then an outburst of vigorous conversation. There was relief: ‘At least we know now.’ There was comfort: ‘Those Spanish johnnies will make things right for us.’ And there was bewilderment: ‘All that trouble just to blow up a U-boat where it won’t do no harm to nobody!’

  Zweig’s reaction was different as he sought a means to take control.

  ‘Commander, you can’t do this. Your order is to detonate the U-boat on the bottom, not on the surface.’

  ‘Does it really make much difference, Herr Hauptsturmführer?’

  ‘It must do … I mean … Well …,’ stammered Zweig.

  ‘You don’t know, do you?’

  ‘I …’

  ‘It’s time you took a back seat on this boat, Zweig,’ said Ingmann. ‘The sooner you get back to land, where I presume you know what you are doing, the better. Here, you are just a total interfering ignoramus. We’ve got work to do. So scram!’

  Zweig moved off towards the officers’ quarters as Ingmann added: ‘The bosun will sort out life-jackets for your men.’

  The departing form of the defeated Zweig gave Ingmann a twinge of triumph. He wondered why more officers did not stand up to the SS. It was just a matter of asserting one’s natural authority. He looked at his watch. An hour or so to high tide. That was plenty of time to shut off all the systems not needed to keep the boat on the surface and to get the men overboard.

  Given the unusual nature of the disembarkation he went round to every station and gave the detailed instructions himself. At each station he ordered the officer or senior man to let his men go as soon as they were not needed. Soon a slow dribble of men was making its way to the conning tower, climbing the ladder and sliding down into the water. Some dinghies and floats were tethered to the boat. Most men, though, chose to begin the not-too-long swim to the Spanish shore. Few would have to swim that far since the crews of several Spanish fishing boats were taking a close interest in the mysterious operation unfolding before them. One boat was even hauling in its net in readiness to take on survivors.

  Ingmann stood under the ladder, watching the men go up. Each got a friendly smile and a comforting phrase: ‘Good luck’; ‘Take care’; ‘Well done.’ He even hazarded some ‘See you back at the base, then’ remarks. Soon the boat was about half-empty.

  The smooth disembarkation was interrupted by the arrival of the bosun with something in his stubby hands. The oldest member of the crew, Rupert König, was a man of few words, little stature and considerable girth. His finding the stray document was typical of his keen sense of duty. He handed it to Ingmann.

  ‘I thought this might be important, sir. I found it on the floor under the desk.’

  Unaware of the fateful significance of the scrap of paper, König returned down the boat, his stocky bow-legged body rolling from side to side. Ingmann, who was equally unaware of the dramatic nature of the document absent-mindedly watched the ever-reliable bosun as he paused over two idle men. As usual, a few seconds of the bosun’s silent stare resulted in the men’s speedy return to work.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Zweig, who was more interested in the document than the smooth running of the U-boat.

  ‘Whatever it is, it’s history now,’ said Ingmann.

  ‘History? Let’s see,’ said Zweig as he yanked the paper from Ingmann’s hand.

  ‘How dare you! That’s addressed to the commander! Give it back at once!’

  ‘Addressed to the commander is it? Well, the first commander didn’t read it. And the second showed no interest – until I intervened. You obviously need a little assistance.’

  Zweig stepped aside from Ingmann and turned away to prevent the commander from snatching back the paper.

  ‘Well, well … what have we here?’ said Zweig as he dangled the sheet of paper in front of Ingmann’s angry face.

  ‘Give it to me, Zweig! You’ve no right—’

  ‘No right? Let’s see.’

  Zweig read the order, folded it up into a small square and tucked it into his tunic breast pocket. W
ith a vile smile on his face he leaned back against the boat wall and casually took out his pistol.

  ‘Do you want to read it, Commander?’

  ‘Of course I damned well do, you fucking nosy parker. It’s my boat and I give the orders.’

  ‘We’ll see who gives the orders after you’ve read this, Commander.’

  Zweig reached into his pocket, slowly pulled out the folded paper, and handed it to Ingmann. Throughout this performance Zweig kept his pistol well aimed at the new commander.

  By now, Ingmann was not only angry. He was troubled. From the moment that Zweig had read the order, his manner had changed. He had a superior and menacing air, accompanied by the smile of sweet revenge. Ingmann unfolded the paper and read the brief but most explicit instructions over the signature of the Führer himself.

  ‘So there was a reason for the seabed detonation after all, Commander,’ said Zweig. ‘No wonder that lily-livered Vogel let it drop to the floor. Your disembarkation is a little premature, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Curse you, Zweig,’ said Ingmann.

  ‘You might as well curse your bosun,’ replied Zweig.

  ‘Leave König out of this. He’s rock-solid reliable. A credit to the Kriegsmarine.’

  ‘Which is more than you are, Commander. I think it’s now time for me to assume command. Bosun!’

  ‘Another for your collection,’ said Zweig as he waved his pistol in the direction of Ingmann. ‘They’re lucky their end is near. If they were to get back to Cap d’Enfer, they’d wish they’ve never been born. Lock him up with Vogel.’

  ‘Herr Hauptsturmführer, you are not in command here,’ protested König.

  ‘Not in command? What do you think this is?’

  König felt the jab of the pistol under his jaw. His teeth smashed together with a sickening crack.

  ‘That’s command for you! Get this treacherous scum out of here.’

  ‘Do as he says, bosun,’ said Ingmann. ‘Now’s not the time to argue with his kind. We’ve got much worse things to worry about. If you knew about the cargo …’

  Before Ingmann could say another word, Zweig smashed him on the side of his face with his pistol. Dazed and bleeding, Ingmann was led off to be tied up alongside Vogel.

  ****

  ‘You too? Zweig?’ said Vogel.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Ingmann. ‘He’s got the boat at gunpoint. He’s determined to take it down and detonate the cargo.’

  ‘Just let him try. The men will stop him,’ said Vogel.

  ‘How can they? They haven’t any handguns?’

  ‘Or yes they have. As soon as I heard the SS were joining us I took precautions. The bosun knows where they are.’

  42

  A U-boat is too small a world for secrets. The men soon knew that the SS had taken the boat by force. The fate of Vogel and Ingmann added to their sense that the boat’s mission was reaching its climax. Still having no idea of the fate that awaited them, the men grudgingly executed Zweig’s commands. The first came soon enough as the loudspeakers clicked into life: ‘This boat is now under the command of the SS’, announced Zweig. ‘Disembarkation is to halt immediately. You are to return to your stations and await orders.’

  One seaman, already halfway up the ladder, kept climbing. Zweig let off a couple of shots and the man fell dead on the boat floor. There were no more attempts to leave.

  ‘That’s how we enforce discipline in the SS,’ said Zweig to the few men who were within earshot. ‘I hope we now understand each other.’

  ‘Bosun, take a couple of men up top and call back any of those cowardly filth who dared to abandon their duty. And don’t try any tricks or you’ll end up like him,’ said Zweig as he kicked the corpse.

  König needed no warning about playing tricks – at least not tricks that Zweig could discover. He loyally (as Zweig thought) called back a few men near the boat but, as soon as they reached the boat, he warned them of Zweig’s coup.

  ‘Swim off while I shout at you.’

  So the men swam off as König loudly cursed and threatened them. He returned down the ladder.

  ‘Cowards to the core, sir. Not one of them would come back.’

  ‘I don’t how you put up with such losers. Let’s hope this lot,’ Zweig said as he vaguely waved in the direction of the remaining crew, ‘are up to the job.’

  ‘Control room,’ ordered Zweig, ‘dive – to the seabed.’

  The men in the control room looked at König for reassurance. He shrugged his shoulders, a sign which they accepted as good enough authority.

  The dive was successfully executed, with only the mildest bump as the boat settled on the seabed. König wondered whether Zweig had noticed just how skilled Vogel’s men were – men about whom Zweig had used every pejorative adjective that he could bring to mind. No offence to Vogel, thought König, but the control room had managed the boat perfectly without an officer in sight.

  Zweig was exhilarated by his new command. He strutted up and down the control room; surveyed the engine room; and looked at the dials and valves that were beginning to acquire some significance for him.

  With Zweig distracted, König took the chance to sneak off to check on Vogel and Ingmann. As soon as Ingmann saw König approaching he whispered ‘Here! Quick!’

  As König reached Ingmann, the latter whispered: ‘In my right-side pocket – read it.’

  (When Zweig had arrested Ingmann, he was exhilarated at his triumphal discovery. Ingmann had taken the opportunity of Zweig’s distraction to slip the second part of Order No. 2 into his pocket.)

  ‘Blimey, sir!’ said König after he read the message. ‘Is he really going to do it?’

  ‘Looks like it,’ said Ingmann. ‘You’re the only person who can stop him – you and the men.’

  ‘You mean … shoot an SS man?’

  ‘If you have to.’

  ‘But, sir, when we land—’

  ‘It’s that or be blown to bits at high tide in less than an hour.’

  ‘Couldn’t we just not detonate it?’

  ‘There’s no instructions for detonation. It’s already set – some clock or something like that – no doubt down in the bilges or somewhere equally impossible to get at.’

  ‘I see how it is, sir. Leave it to me,’ said König.

  ****

  For his next step König needed the total confidence of Zweig. It was time to put himself on good terms with the usurper. He returned to the conning tower area, while making a manifest display of checking instruments and fittings. He sat down casually and stretched his arms behind his head, then forward as far as he could reach. This he followed with several deep breaths, each exhaled as slowly as his distressed state allowed. His exercises over, he slapped himself in self-satisfied manner on his knees and folded his arms. He was a picture of contentment.

  ‘All well, Bosun?’

  ‘All well, sir.’

  König’s air of pastoral satisfaction when he was within minutes of making the most dangerous move of his life was a triumph of deception.

  Before he took that terrifying step he needed one final reassurance of its necessity.

  ‘Are we down here for long, sir?’ he asked.

  ‘As long as is set out in the orders.’

  ‘You mean them orders that I gave to the Oberleutnant?’

  ‘Those orders, yes.’

  ‘I see, sir. Well I’ll just run around and check that the men have everything under control. It’s a ticklish business keeping a boat on the seabed.’

  Zweig was too ignorant to realise that the “ticklish” aspect was making sure that you could get the boat up again. When no longer free floating, there was no way of checking on the varying levels of warm and cold water above. König remembered only too well being cooped up in a boat that refused to rise through a layer of warmer water above it. Such problems were of no interest to Zweig.

  König began in the stern, surreptitiously chatting with the men in a manner casual enough to not attract the attent
ion of the SS men stationed around the boat. To each group, he revealed Zweig’s determination to detonate the boat on the seabed at high tide. And, in a whisper, he gave his subversive orders.

  ****

  It was half an hour before König was back in his seat under the conning tower. By now Zweig had ceased to see König as one of the seamen. A deceived man sees what he wishes to see, so when Zweig glanced at König he saw a calm petty officer, ready for duty. Yet a more astute observer would have spotted the sweaty brow, the anxious twitching of the hands and the darting, suspicious eyes. He was near to paralysed with terror.

  When Zweig went off to the toilet – the total lack of hygiene on the boat had taken its toll on him – König knew that he could delay no longer. He jumped up, ran to the siren and pressed … and pressed … and pressed …

  The boat was filled with the ear-splitting scream that normally sent men rushing to their battle stations. Instead the SS men watched in horror as the seamen jumped from desks, cots, machines and control panels, brandishing semi-automatic weapons. An SS officer fired at a seaman. The victim fell in a mortal writhing. The officer followed as the seamen replied. Zweig, holding up his trousers with one hand, his pistol in the other, stumbled out of the toilet. He glanced down the boat. It was mutiny.

  43

  Once Bosanquet had convinced Travers that the U-boat really was off the coast near Malaga, the commander lost his tetchiness about the search-and-destroy operation. Navigating to a reported location was his forte. It was just like the convoy work that gave him such a sense of achievement. Two hours later HMS Ideal was nearing the target area.