Wreckers Must Breathe

by Hammond Innes

  The same thought seemed to have crossed Big Logan’s mind, for he said: ‘What’s this Maureen Weston like?’

  I cast my mind back to the time when she had been on the staff of the Recorder. ‘She’s small and dark and very attractive,’ I said. ‘She had Irish blood in her and as women go she’s pretty tough.’ I suddenly remembered that big men like small women. ‘She’s just your type if you’re feeling repressed.’

  He grinned. ‘Sounds interesting,’ he said. ‘But just at the moment I was thinking out some way of destroying her and every one else in this base.’

  ‘So was I,’ I said. ‘But how are we going to do it?’

  ‘We should be able to deal with the guard. There are only two who actually do the rounds. All we have to do is to get the keys off them, go into the munitions store and blow the place up.’

  ‘It sounds easy, put like that,’ I said. ‘But suppose we aren’t able to deal with the guards silently and they rouse the base?’

  ‘We’ll have to take the chance. Even if they were able to give the alarm we’d still have plenty of time.’

  ‘True,’ I nodded, ‘but, on the other hand, we can’t afford to take chances. Can’t we manage it without attacking the guards? What I’ve been thinking about is those six-inch guns on the submarines. You know how to handle them, don’t you? The after gun on U 21 is in working order and the boat lies with its stern facing straight down the main cave. One shot with that would surely be sufficient to block the underwater entrance. That would stop the submarines leaving without destroying them.’

  He shook his head. ‘We must destroy the submarines,’ he said. ‘They might blast their way out through the cliff. And the only way to destroy the boats is to blow the place up. Your scheme would only work if we could get out of the place ourselves and warn the naval authorities.’

  ‘Listen!’ I said. The relief of being able to discuss the position with someone instead of just lying and racking my brains had made me somewhat excited. ‘Maureen has brought three miners with her. If we could release them and, after firing the gun, get into the landward exit with picks and so on, we might be able to get through the falls they have made this afternoon.’

  At that he laughed. ‘Do you know what a bad fall of rock in a Cornish tin mine is like?’ he demanded. ‘There’s maybe a hundred feet of roof brought down along our exit gallery. And the blockage will be caused by huge chunks of granite. And you suggest three miners get through it with picks!’

  ‘Well, there are mobile drills in the base,’ I said, a trifle put out.

  At that he stopped grinning and said: ‘So there are.’ He sat silent for a moment, stroking his beard. ‘The trouble is they’d guess where we had gone. As soon as they had searched the base, they’d be after us, and we shouldn’t have a dog’s chance.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ I said. ‘In the first place they would probably be too worried about other things to come after us for some time, and by then we could have partially blocked the exit gallery behind us. For another, we could lay for the guards and if successful, arm ourselves at the expense of the base. What I mean is that, though I think it rather risky to be dependent upon a successful attack on the guards for our means of destroying the base, I think we might deal with the guards as well as man the gun. If we succeeded with the guards we should have about ten minutes, maybe quarter of an hour, in which to ransack the base for the equipment and weapons we required. If we didn’t succeed, then we’d be no worse off. With the gun loaded and sighted, it would only be a matter of an instant to fire.’

  Logan snapped his fingers. ‘Sure and I believe you’ve got it,’ he said. ‘The next thing to do is to get in touch with this Weston girl again and find out what part of the base she came out into.’

  At that moment we were interrupted by the arrival of the guard to collect our empty stew cans. ‘You’d better get some sleep,’ he said in German, pointing to our beds and laying his hands against his cheek to indicate what he meant. ‘Two submarines are coming in tonight.’ He held up two fingers in front of my face and said: ‘Boats.’

  I thanked him and he departed smiling. He was one of the nicest of our guards, a large fellow with a frank open face and a ridiculous little moustache. I passed the information on to Logan. ‘Thank God, they’re both coming in tonight,’ I said. ‘That leaves tomorrow night free. Unless of course U 47 doesn’t leave tonight, as planned.’

  He got up and went over to the door. In his hand he held the knife he had used to hollow out the leg of his bed. But there seemed much more activity than usual in the gallery. In fact, it was not until nearly ten o’clock that he was able to establish contact with Maureen Weston. Movement in the gallery outside remained remarkably active, and as a result he was not able to keep up a sustained conversation. What he learned was very damping to our spirits. The mine gallery by which she and her companions had reached the base entered it by way of a recess in the guard-room. Moreover, the mine gallery was practically blocked about two hundred feet from the base.

  This meant that the possibility of getting anything like a mobile drill through was small and in any case the chances of ever having the opportunity of entering the mine by way of the guard-room seemed somewhat remote. I understood now the cause of the activity in the gallery outside and the continual movement of men in and out of the guard-room opposite. It was from the guard-room that they were prepared to meet an attack. Probably they had machine-guns ready mounted in the mine galleries in case miners cleared the falls.

  But this activity did not explain the faint but persistent clatter of electric welders and the muffled roar of machinery. Usually at this time of night the base was comparatively quiet, save for the hum of the dynamos and the murmur of voices. But for the fact that my watch said it was ten-twenty I should have said it was day-time. It could mean only one thing. ‘They’re rushing the repairs to U 21,’ I said.

  Logan nodded. ‘I’m afraid they are,’ he agreed. ‘Which means that they’re going to send the boats out tomorrow night and not Sunday.’

  ‘Maybe they’ll get some away tonight.’

  ‘Hell! I wish I hadn’t left it so late.’

  ‘Why did you?’ I asked. ‘For the same reason that I did?’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Oh, just that I put it off until I couldn’t put it off any longer.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘Also I wanted to get the maximum number of boats in the base. Your friend Maureen doesn’t seem to have helped us much.’

  ‘Except in so far as her disappearance may make people suspicious about this mine. Patterson is no fool.’

  ‘But why should they suspect that there is something wrong with the mine? The girl goes down with three miners to look over it and doesn’t appear again. Two deep rumbling sounds are heard—an explosion or a fall? A search party is organized. They find the workings blocked by a big fall. Every one is then satisfied as to the reason why she and her companions never got back.’

  ‘That depends on Patterson,’ I said. ‘Ask her how often she was reporting to Patterson and how much she has told him about the mine.’

  But to get a message through now took some time owing to the activity outside. In all I think it was nearly half an hour before we got the full reply. It came through bit by bit as opportunity offered. It read: ‘Patterson has no idea mine is submarine base. All he knows is that I was suspicious of it and that on the first occasion I went down I found falls that should not have been there and that looked unnatural.’

  ‘And that’s that,’ said Logan, returning to his bed.

  ‘Patterson is no fool,’ I reiterated. ‘And he’s got the sharpest nose for news of any man I know. I think he’ll move heaven and earth to get the mine opened up.’

  ‘Ar, that may be so, but who is going to do the opening up? To clear a big fall of rock takes time and costs a deal of money. Who is going to pay for it—not the paper, I know.’

  ‘Well, it’s our only hope,’ I said, ‘if they
send the boats out tomorrow night.’

  At that moment the key grated in the lock and one of the guards came in. The first of the two U-boats was coming in and we were marched down to the docks.

  We had a wait of more than fifteen minutes in the cold damp atmosphere of No. 3 dock with the constant chugging of the donkey engine echoing from the main cave. In the course of this time I gained several pieces of interesting information. All work had been suspended on U 47 and she would not be ready to go out until Sunday night at the earliest. The whole engin-eering effort of the base was being concentrated on U 21 and the word had apparently gone out that she must be ready for active service by tomorrow afternoon—that was Saturday. This confirmed my belief that the whole fleet would go out on the Saturday and not the Sunday night. There was a rumour that the boat coming in now was the one that had sunk the Athenia. And there was also talk that the second boat was already waiting to come in. That meant that in a few hours’ time there would be no less than six of Germany’s largest ocean-going U-boats in the base, as well as the store barge.

  I passed on the information to Logan. But I did not hear his comment for there was a sudden swirl of water in the dock and a large wave slid quietly along it, overflowing on to the dockside and thoroughly wetting our feet. There was much seething of water in the main cave, then the slam of metal against metal, followed by prolonged cheers. The first of the two U-boats had arrived.

  The diminutive diesel-engined tug fussed noisily about the main cave and in a few minutes the bows of the U-boat appeared opposite No. 3 dock. A rope was tossed on to the dockside and we passed it from hand to hand. As soon as it was fully manned the order was given to heave and we dug our heels into the uneven rock floor and strained at the rope. Slowly the boat slid into the dock, the ratings that lined her decks fending her off from the sides with boat-hooks.

  You seldom realize how wide a submarine is below the surface until you see one manoeuvred into a confined space. Empty, the dock presented quite a wide surface of water, oily and glinting in the electric light. But the U-boat filled it from side to side, and her conning tower almost touched the roof of the cave. I could not help feeling then how entirely insulated this base was from the outside world. It was, in fact, a world of its own. And after a fortnight there it seemed to me quite possible that no other world existed, that my memories of green fields, of huddles of white cottages among the Cornish cliffs, of Piccadilly, of factories and ships were all a dream, and that this was the only reality. And now here was this U-boat come from that other world with probably Kiel as its last port of call.

  As soon as the boat had been made fast the crew were assembled and marched off to their quarters. Normally we should have then been taken back to our cells. But on this occasion we were taken to the next dock, No. 4, where the U 21 lay. Men were required to assist in moving the for’ard six-inch gun from the electric trolley on which it had been taken to the foundry, back on to the deck of the submarine. Repairs to the gun had been completed.

  There was ten minutes’ back-breaking work as it was lifted on pulleys attached to the steel derrick and swung, largely by brute force, into position. It was while this was happening that a slight accident occurred which had a wholly disproportionate influence on what happened later. The commander of U 21 had come down to welcome the Number One of the boat that had just come in, U 27, who was apparently a particular friend. And having seen him to his quarters, he came down to see how the engineers were getting on with his own boat. He was smoking a cigarette. This was strictly against regulations, but no one seemed inclined to point that out to him. There came a moment in the hoisting of the gun when every man was required to strain his utmost to keep the mountings from swinging against the side of the submarine. The commander did not hesitate, but threw his weight in with the rest. It reminded me of a scrum down. We were all pushing against each other with our heads down until at last the mounting was clear of the deck and was allowed to swing slowly inwards.

  We were just straightening our aching backs and getting our breath back when suddenly somebody said: ‘There’s something burning.’ The acrid smell of smouldering rags seemed all around us. Then something flared up by one of the legs of the derrick. For a split second every one stood motionless and my mind recorded a vivid impression as though I were looking at a still from a film. Then one of the engineers dived at the flames and began stamping them out with his feet. What had happened was that the commander had thrown the stub of his cigarette away before helping with the gun, and it had set fire to a mass of oil-sodden rags. Probably they were impregnated with petrol as well. Before the engineer could muffle them the flames had caught at his overalls and the oil in them was burning.

  The U-boat commander ripped off his jacket and flung it round the man’s burning legs. For a second every one seemed to forget about the fire itself, which was now flaring noisily and causing some to move back on account of the heat of it. Moreover, the dockside itself, impregnated with oil, was alight in places. Having settled the engineer’s trousers, the commander flung his jacket on to the flames and stamped them under with his feet.

  By this time we were all coughing with the smoke, which was very heavy now that the flames themselves were muffled. As he stamped with his feet the commander kept coughing. I could see the sweat gathering in beads on his forehead. Then suddenly his knees seemed to sag under him and he collapsed. One man pulled him clear of the smouldering pile of rags, while two others finished the job of extinguishing the fire.

  The doctor was sent for, but it was some time before the commander came round and every one who had been standing near the fire seemed to be feeling queer. One man actually fainted, but recovered as soon as he had been laid out a little farther down the dock. I myself found difficulty in breathing and my head reeled as though I were a little drunk. Logan, too, complained of feeling peculiar.

  Then the order was given to get over to No. 1 dock as the second submarine was coming in. It was shouted by the officer in charge of the fatigue from the end of the dock. Some men obeyed, but the majority were too busy getting their breath back or arguing as to the cause of the trouble. The order was repeated. But instead of obeying it Logan swung himself on to U 21 and joined the engineers in their struggle to lower the gun into its correct position. I followed him. We had lost touch with our guards. The gun was eased into its mountings. The operation took about three minutes and gave us ample opportunity to look around. But the result was most discouraging. Even ready-use ammunition was stowed below deck and it was quite impossible to get at the armoured ammunition truck.

  Our guard then re-established contact with us. As we climbed down on to the dockside I saw that the commander was now on his feet again, looking very white and his clothes in a filthy state. He still seemed a bit short of breath. The doctor said something about asphyxiation, but I couldn’t hear the whole sentence. We were marched down to No. 1 dock. The fatigue party had already manned the hawser and I could see the dark pointed bows of the submarine nosing into the dock. As we took our place, Logan said: ‘What was the matter with him?’

  ‘Asphyxiation of some sort,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, but why did we all suffer from it? What caused it?’

  I said I didn’t know, but presumed it was something to do with the burning waste. Our conversation was interrupted by the order to heave. As soon as the submarine had been made fast, the fatigue party was dismissed and we were taken back to our cell.

  When the door was closed Logan said: ‘This is a helluva mess. Your idea of manning the after gun of U 21 is quite hopeless.’

  ‘You mean we can’t get hold of the ammunition?’ I said.

  ‘Not only that. There’s the guard. It wasn’t until I saw the one on the bridge that I remembered they mount two guards on every submarine in the base day and night. The other was in the bows.’

  I nodded. I was feeling very despondent. When I had discovered that Logan was as alive as I was to the situation, I had for some reason
felt that success was assured. His great bulk gave one confidence where it was a question of action.

  Not only were the guns out of the question, but we had only twenty-four hours in which to carry out any plan. And throughout that time the base would be a hive of activity. It was, as Logan put it—a hell of a mess. Failure would mean the loss of hundreds of British lives. Moreover, it would mean a severe blow to British prestige, and might as a result seriously affect the course of the war, for neutral opinion was a vital factor in the initial stages. I had a sudden picture of those four great ships of the Atlantic squadron wallowing up the Channel, of periscopes cutting the water inside the screening destroyers, of sudden explosions and the sterns of those proud ships lifting as they sank. It was not to be thought of. Something had to be done.

  ‘Well?’ Logan said.

  I began removing my wet shoes and socks. ‘Looks as though we make a desperate attack on the guard,’ I said.

  ‘When?’ he asked. ‘Tonight?’ His tone was sarcastic. He had taken off his dungarees and was climbing into bed. ‘I’m going to sleep on it,’ he announced.

  ‘But, good God, man,’ I said, ‘this is the last full night we’ve got in which to do something.’

  ‘And the base full of men repairing things. Did you see No. 3 dock after we had berthed that last submarine? The stores department were already at work replenishing the supplies. They’ll be at it all night—food, water, munitions. U 21 has got to be finished by tomorrow afternoon. You told me so yourself. And every other boat in the base will have to be ready for sea by then. We’ll have to wait. If we left this cell now every one we met would wonder what we were up to. But if we left it in the day-time—say, when we were having tea—no one would pay any attention to us. They’d just think we were on fatigue. They’re used to seeing us around the base in the day-time.’