The ship had been divided into three segregated accommodation sections and everyone had been given a colored identifying button when they boarded.
“All they have to do is find someone to switch buttons with and they can go into the other area.” Rusty rubbed his hands together. “We should try that. Find someone with red or blue buttons. Then we can explore the rest of the ship.”
“Forget it.” Alan’s tone left no room for argument.
“Yeah,” Dan chimed in. “If they catch us, they might make us walk the plank.”
“I’d like to see that.”
Jennie’s musical voice snapped Rafe’s head around. The gunners immediately surrounded her. If he suggested to Jennie they walk up to the Sun Deck, the boys would invite themselves along. Dan beat him to it.
“Are you here for a moonlit stroll?”
Jennie turned her face to the crescent moon, the white light giving her an ethereal beauty. She shuddered. “Ordinarily I love to moon gaze, but now it seems deadly. Submarines for miles around must be able to see our silhouette.” She inched closer to Rafe. “What was that commotion earlier?”
“A depth charge.”
“The ship’s sonar detected a submarine.”
“Be a joke if it was really a whale.”
“So they dropped a depth charge.”
“Some guys said they saw oil on the ocean’s surface, but I didn’t see that.”
Alan offered Rafe a sympathetic smile as the crewmen tripped over themselves, eager to tell Jennie of the day’s excitement. “Come on, fellas, let’s join the pilots and see what we can see of the Red Area.”
He extended his arms and herded the gunners away like bleating sheep.
Their voices drifted back. Carlo’s voice stood out. “I’m glad we’re in the middle White Area. The forward Red Area has the most up and down motion and the Blue Area in the stern would have more engine noise.”
“Yeah, and in the White Area, we’re in the middle of everything.” That had to be Rusty.
Rafe shook his head. “Like that’s a good thing. Whether a sub or a whale instigated that excitement, it set off a flurry of activity among the ship’s crew. They searched everyone’s rooms for a radio that might have sent out electronic beams a sub could detect.”
“Are you serious? Someone could carelessly get us sunk by listening to a radio?” Jennie turned to the rail and extended her hands in invitation. “‘Come and get us, U-boats.’” She shivered and tucked her hands into her pockets. “We may as well turn on the deck lights.”
“Someone’s nerves are rattled.” Rafe took her arm and tugged. “Come with me. I’ll show you a different kind of light.”
He led her upstairs to the Sun Deck and to the rear of the White Area. Here, they could look out over the Blue Area to the sea beyond.
“Ooh.” Jennie clasped her hands under her chin. The ship’s wake churned with phosphorescence. “It’s beautiful. And look at all the stars sparkling in the sky. Lots more than at home.”
Rafe smiled. Time ticked away. Jennie’s company was much better than a movie in a crowded lounge. Then the wind had picked up, clouds moved in to hide the stars, and waves slapped the Queen’s hull.
“We’re in for another squall. I’ll find out tonight how adequate our hammocks are.”
Beside him, Jennie hummed Rock-A-Bye Baby. He laughed. “I suspect I’ll like it better than a stationary bunk. I hear the old Queen is a notorious roller. You may find yourself tossed down to the floor.”
Long after Rafe retired to his stateroom, the Queen Mary pitched through waves and plunged into troughs. Rolling from side to side to maintain a zigzag course, the ship creaked ominously. Swaying in his hammock, Rafe pictured the ship cracking in two. And to think, he’d once expected to serve in the German navy.
He grimaced at the sound of retching, and a malodorous stench saturated the cabin. Beneath him, Cal groaned. Rafe tensed. A chain reaction of vomiting would likely commence. The Queen lurched into a mighty wave and their porthole blew open, slamming against the wall. Despite being forty feet above the normal water level, waves splashed into the cabin. Along with the water came bracing clean air. Howls of outrage erupted from the men nearest the porthole and those on the floor. Rafe clicked on his flashlight to guide those battling to secure the porthole. Others near the door went in search of mops. By the time the mess was cleaned up, the wind died down. The creaking abated. Very good thing he’d bypassed the navy and opted for the air force. Life at sea wasn’t for him. Smiling into the dark, refreshed air, Rafe dozed.
The North Atlantic
Tuesday, March 7, 1944
Jennie stood beside Rafe in their usual spot at the railing, watching for their first glimpse of Ireland. After the first two days of frigid temperatures, they’d enjoyed unseasonably balmy days above freezing and spent all their time outside at the railing. Tonight they would arrive in Scotland. Overhead, an RAF bomber circled.
“First part of our welcoming committee, it is.” A Queen crewman nodded at the plane. “Soon we’ll have an escort from the Royal Navy. We’re coming up to the most hazardous part of the journey. We have to slow down to navigate the Firth of Clyde. Perfect chance for the Huns to sink us, right in sight of land.” He tipped his cap to Jennie. “But don’t you worry none. The king’s own fleet won’t let nothing happen.”
Jennie stared after him. “He said, ‘Won’t let nothing happen.’ That’s a double negative, which cancels out his assurance.”
Rafe patted her hand on the railing. “Look at it this way. If we’re torpedoed now, the lack of lifeboats shouldn’t matter. We’ll have all those escort vessels to pick us up.”
She hunched her shoulders up to her ears. “Is that your idea of reassuring me?”
He chuckled and squinted into the distance before raising a pair of binoculars. “There they are.”
His quiet words made no sense. She stared forward. Only sea and sky filled the view from the Queen.
“There’s smoke on the horizon. The plume from a ship.” He shifted minutely. “And a second one. I’m guessing destroyers, still a couple miles away. Probably based in Northern Ireland.” He offered her the binoculars.
Jennie gazed at the blobs of smoke. They were miles away? She looked up at the Queen’s smokestacks. Smoke billowed away on the breeze. She swung back around. The oncoming plumes were now visible to the unaided eye. She gawked at Rafe. “We’re leaving a smoke trail, too. We can be seen from miles away?”
Rafe demonstrated his unconcern with a single-shoulder shrug. “I suspect submarines can detect our presence from the sound of our machinery before they see any smoke.” His hands planted on the railing, he offered a grin. “Though I could be wrong. Look at it this way. How many times has this ship gone back and forth across the ocean, and how many times has it been attacked?”
She drummed her fingers on the rail. “I guess our guardian angels have been kept busy watching over us.”
A soft snort came from Rafe and he slanted a glance at her.
A hot flush swept through Jennie. “Don’t you believe angels protect us?”
He straightened and covered her hand with his own. “Sure they do, sometimes. But,” he pursed his lips and looked out to sea. He waved his other hand toward the horizon. “How many ships have been sunk, and how many good men of strong faith have died?” Next he waved his hand through the air. “How many planes have been shot down, and many more good men died? I don’t want to imply their guardian angels hid their heads under their wings, but they don’t always keep us from harm.”
Their gazes locked. Jennie blinked rapidly when her eyes filled with tears, and she had to look away. Of course bad things happened to Christians. They were not supposed to worry about the morrow, but that’s what she’d been doing. What did that say about her faith? Shallow as a bathtub?
Rafe nudged his arm against hers. “We talked about this in catechism class at the cathedral. Someone questioned why the apostles suffered gruesome dea
ths. The priest said something like the temporal isn’t God’s main concern. The eternal is.” His gaze swept the horizon before coming back to her. “And that’s how we should view our brief and momentary troubles on earth. Our goal is our eternal home with God. This war just happens to be sending some of us there a little earlier than we might have expected.”
A long-ago sermon Jennie had heard supported that viewpoint. Something from the list of heroes of the faith in the book of Hebrews. They longed for a better place ― heaven. They had eternity in their hearts. A sigh escaped her. “I always figured I’d have to wait sixty years for my heavenly homecoming. More than once on this voyage, that childhood bedtime prayer has crossed my mind. ‘Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.’”
Rafe wrinkled his nose. “That’s a frightening prayer for little children. They’ll have nightmares thinking something scary might happen while they sleep.”
A soldier squeezed up to the rail on her opposite side. “How do you like that?” He spoke over his shoulder to a buddy. “Our first sign of land in six days and it’s just another stinkin’ ship.”
Rafe muttered something under his breath, and Jennie grinned. Probably something in German of which she didn’t need to know the translation.
Rafe looked around her at the soldier. “You’re looking in the wrong direction.” He pointed to the right of the approaching destroyers. “There’s land. Ireland.”
A very young-looking soldier shoved forward with an eager gleam in his eyes. “Ireland? Boy, I wish we could stop. I’d like to catch me a leprechaun and find me a pot of gold.”
Jennie’s eyes popped open wide. Was the poor kid serious? He didn’t seem bothered by the guffaws of the men who’d heard his exuberance.
Rafe grunted when an elbow jammed his ribs. The press of the crowd intensified as the throng of people eager to see Ireland grew. “Tea should be served soon. What do you say, should we get out of this mess? It’ll be a while before we get to Scotland.”
The lounge was a sanctuary of quiet after the clamor on the Sun Deck. Jennie sank into a chair. “Will we disembark right away when we arrive in Scotland, do you think? Or will we stay aboard overnight?”
“I’m sure we’ll get off today. It should still be daylight when we arrive. Once the troops pass inspection, they’ll be shown to the gangways, bid good-bye, and sent south into England.” He kept his eyes on her while he sipped his tea. “How will you get to Stockholm? I assume you’ll have to fly since Sweden is surrounded by German-occupied territory.”
“Yes. Some sort of travelers’ aid will make sure I get across Scotland to a Royal Air Force base on the eastern coast. The British operate clandestine flights.” She licked her lips and set down her tea cup. Then she started twisting her hands, so she clenched them tight to still them.
“They only fly at night and when conditions are right. No moon, I guess, and with cloud cover. My dad described it like threading a needle to get through German radar.” Now she was twisting her hair. She dropped her hand to her lap and grabbed it with the other.
“I’m getting nervous about what happens now, in Scotland. Not knowing how long I’ll be there, not knowing anyone, being alone in a foreign country.” She crossed her ankles. And uncrossed them. “And this is so ridiculous. You’re sitting there, cool as a cucumber, and yet you’re headed for combat. All I’m going to do is hang around Scotland for a while. I must be thinking too much. Once I get there I’ll be fine, but the getting there has me on edge.”
Rafe smiled. “Take advantage of your time in the land of bagpipes. Sightsee. I’ve heard they have lots of sheep here. You can count them.”
A peal of laughter escaped her and heads turned throughout the lounge. Her face heated as she slouched down. “Rafe, you count sheep when you can’t get to sleep. That would be terribly rude if I fall asleep on my host, or hostess. Whoever.”
He took her hand. It was cold, another barometer of her nervousness. Rafe massaged it between his own hands.
“You’ll do fine. You came aboard a troop ship with thirteen thousand men and conquered them. You’ll conquer the Scots in the same way. They’ll be begging you to stay.”
He said the sweetest things.
“Can you write from Sweden? The plane must provide mail service along with passengers.”
“I’m not sure. I mean, the plane does take mail, but I don’t know if I can write to England.” Jennie hesitated. “It’s complicated. The legation in Stockholm collects all mail, censors it, sends it to the Pentagon in the diplomatic pouch where it’s censored again, and then forwarded in a new envelope. My dad told me about an interned airman who wanted to write to his English girlfriend, but he wasn’t permitted to. I don’t know if I’ll have the same restrictions since I won’t be an internee.”
“Tell you what.” Rafe pulled an envelope out of a pocket and removed the letter. Crossing off the address, he wrote another. “This is my overseas address and the return address is my mother’s. If you can’t write to me, write to her. Tell her we met in our travels and you arrived safely. She’ll pass on the news. Let’s try to stay in touch.”
Jennie accepted the envelope. “I’d like that.”
She sat back and studied him. This could be the last day she’d ever see him. “Tell me about your family.”
By the way her brow wrinkled, her real question was, “Tell me about your father.” A sigh escaped from deep within Rafe. He stared across the room. The Queen Mary vanished, pushed away by that day eight years ago.
“The day started out so well. I still can’t believe the seismic shift that tore apart my world.” He turned to Jennie and found her attention rapt upon him.
“We had gone sailing on the Rhine River, my Naval Hitler Youth group. We were in two sailboats, racing each other back to the Rhine Haus. My best friend, Bertil, was in the same boat as I. He didn’t belong in a naval unit. He only joined because I did. But he wasn’t a sailor.”
Rafe laughed. “We talked about a visit to a destroyer planned for the next week. Ludwig said it was more to his liking than a submarine. He’s claustrophobic and would go insane trapped in a tin can deep beneath the surface.”
Jennie smiled at his wry aside.
“I wonder if the same might have been true of Johan. He planned to be a boss officer up on deck. None of that restriction to the bowels of the ship that an engineering officer could expect.” Rafe took a deep breath and held it. “My cousin Christoph was in the other sailboat that day.” He crossed his left ankle over his right knee, taking his time to brush at a speck of lint.
“You miss them.”
He nodded once, clenching his jaw. His eyes smarted at the rush of emotion. He hadn’t seen them in eight long years, but today they seemed close. Maybe because he was on his way to do battle against them. “Often I wonder where they are, if they’re still alive. The Kriegsmarine, the German navy, hasn’t been exceptional, except the submarines, and they’re on the defensive now. My friends could all be dead.” He pushed his foot off his leg and straightened. “But you didn’t ask about my friends.”
“They’re a happier memory.”
She quietly stated the facts without any meaningless embellishments like, “I’m sure they’re all right.” Folks meant well in uttering such false hope in impossible circumstances, but that always struck him as trying to evade daunting situations. Instead, Jennie’s empathy made it easier to share his darkest pain.
“Christoph was ready to take on Herr Schultz, our Hitler Youth leader who informed me I was no longer welcome.” Rafe shrugged and offered a lopsided grin. “Of course, he probably would have thought better of such an action had a Gestapo agent been the informant. At least he wanted to fight for me. My father didn’t.”
No, when Father learned the Gestapo knew their secret, he had retreated into silence. As the Aryan partner in his marriage, Father could’ve protected them. They might have been social out
casts, but they needn’t have feared arrest and banishment to one of those concentration camps. But Father had only frowned and done nothing.
“When I got home that day, I immediately asked Mother if Herr Schultz’s accusation was true. She stared at me, and this infinite sadness crossed her face. Then she took off her apron, got her coin purse, and asked me to watch the stove. She had to go next door to the apothecary and make a telephone call.”
The memories grabbed him around the throat. Time to lighten the mood, or he’d be in tears. Or Jennie would. Her eyes already glistened. “Lot of good it did to tell me to watch the stove. Dinner could have burned or boiled over, for all I cared. My appetite was an early casualty.”
Jennie smiled. Tears averted.
“She’d called Opa and Oma, and they came over that evening. Opa had been busy planning for the day we would likely have to escape from Germany. I still remember his words, about how life was going to get a lot worse. As each successive measure was accepted by the population without apparent objection, the Nazi Party was emboldened to twist the screws tighter. Our only hope was to get beyond their reach. That finally got a response out of Father.” The ship made another zigzag turn, causing his tea cup to slide on the table. He pushed it back. “He was shocked Opa suggested we leave Germany. Yet what could he expect? Opa laid it out very clearly.” He stared down at the carpet, fraying now under heavy use from thousands of soldiers.
Opa had seemed impatient with Father. His gravelly voice had boomed. “You’ve seen men who’ve come out of those work camps, Heinz, and heard of others who’ve died there. We can only imagine the horrors. Right now those camps may be populated mainly with political opponents and communists, but mark my words, the Jews can’t be far behind. And I, for one, have no desire to experience them myself.”
Father hadn’t refuted Opa. He’d asked where Opa proposed to go. Rafe looked up from the carpet. “Opa had business dealings in Amsterdam. It was the logical place for us to go, since he frequently traveled there. His business partner was ready to extend any assistance we needed.”
No Neutral Ground: A World War II Romance (Promise for Tomorrow Book 2) Page 4
