Stark Realities

by Stark Realities (retail) (epub)

  ‘A matter for your own judgement, naturally.’ Michelsen turned back to Otto. ‘This damned mutiny – our efforts today have not borne fruit, unfortunately. The latest development is that in several of the battleships, stokers have let the fires die down, so they don’t even have steam. In any event it’s impossible in the present state of things for Admiral von Hipper to contemplate fleet action – the purposes of which would have been to show our enemies that we are still a formidable fighting force, to uphold the honour of Germany, and to some extent influence the detail of armistice negotiations.’

  Pausing, he flipped open a cigar-box, peered into it, flipped it shut again. Resuming, then: ‘Here’s the point, now. Korvetten-Kapitan Winter has offered to take on his own shoulders what the rabble of mutineers has rendered impossible for the Hochseeflotte. His intention is to penetrate Scapa Flow in the Orkney Islands – which although it’s used only sporadically by the British now—’

  ‘Having shifted to the Firth of Forth.’

  ‘—is made use of at intervals, by a few ships at a time, at most one battle squadron, say. They come and go. If there are ships in the Flow when he gets there, he’ll do his best to sink them, and if there are not his plan is to bottom and lie in wait. What’s your view of that?’

  Winter was staring at him now. Morose, unblinking…

  Otto began, ‘I’d say that if he finds he can get in—’

  ‘You can take it for granted that I shall.’

  Another growl from Winter. Otto noted the senselessness of the statement, paused a moment before continuing – to Michelsen – ‘If a boat could get itself in there – unsuspected – in advance of a visit by big ships – easy targets lying by then at anchor – quietly off the mud, then shove the stick up, one torpedo at each maybe, or more if you had more torpedoes than targets – why, yes…’ He shrugged. ‘Getting out might have its problems. But having sunk one or more – maybe several major units of the Grand Fleet – well—’

  A grunt from Winter: could have been either agreement or disdain. Observing then: ‘Withdrawal is a secondary consideration.’

  ‘Von Mettendorff has a point, though. Having accomplished that much, you could save your ship’s company’s lives by surfacing and scuttling. But – von Mettendorff. The three of us are of like mind on the potential of this: that a successful outcome could be of enormous advantage to us. To Germany. At the same time, the element of hazard is – well, proportionate to that potential advantage. And the reason I’m putting this to you – Korvetten-Kapitan Winter would like to take along with him a back-up or alternate commanding officer. Primarily in order that he himself should be at the top of his form when he gets there, also to have an undoubtedly highly competent and reliable alternate commander to whom he can hand over from time to time – when inside the Flow and bottomed, for instance, duration of which is of course quite unpredictable.’

  Otto suggested, ‘Duration being – if necessary – as long as one’s air lasts.’

  ‘Never mind about that.’ Winter’s heavy shoulders shrugging. ‘But in reply to Kommodore Michelsen asking me’ – bison’s eyes on Otto now, and addressing him directly for the first time – ‘whether I had anyone particular in mind—’

  ‘You’re offering me the job.’

  Michelsen put in, ‘One might say, the honour.’

  Winter’s eyes on his still, mouth a hard line. ‘Having no doubts as to your professional competence, and since your own boat’s out of service – what d’you say?’

  * * *

  This track now. Course up the Jade of – oh, 350, 355. Keeping well clear of the Schillig Roads and its litter of bloody battle-wagons, pitch dark unless they were showing lights – which they should not be, but with mutineers running riot, might be. Might be drunk as well. Historically, mutineers’ first thoughts had always been to break into wine and spirits stores. There’d certainly be no moon or stars showing through what was now a heavy overcast. So take careful note of the light-buoys’ characteristics. And then from Minsenen, with the Mellumplate light simultaneously abeam to starboard, alter to 290, into the Wangerooger swept and buoyed channel for seven-and-a-quarter nautical miles. Back to 350, then, and – near as dammit twenty miles, you’d have the Heligoland-W light-buoy abeam, and from there, going by memory, 315 degrees. Best to check it: running the parallel rule over again, and – 315 it was.

  They had her running on both motors now, heading for the exit. One heard the few brief orders echoing in voicepipes, the coxswain’s and telegraphman’s acknowledgements of them, and the motors’ whine, vibration through her frames… Otto turning his back on the chart, leaning against the short transverse section of bulkhead that screened the table off from the wardroom; he’d fumbled a cigarette out, and Hintenberger, passing at that moment, paused and clicked a lighter into flame. Otto stooped to it, grunted thanks, asked him, ‘Settling in?’

  A shrug of the narrow shoulders. ‘Palatial, isn’t it. After our little tub.’ A nod towards the chart. ‘When do we get there?’

  ‘Get where?’

  ‘Sorry. Not supposed to know, am I.’ Moving on aft towards his engine-room, puffing at his own A. Batchari, bought no doubt in Bremen. Otto looking after him, inhaling deeply, his thoughts drifting back to Helena, rehearing her shocked but quiet tones – quiet because she’d have had the Muellers within earshot, he’d realised – but effectively – brain to brain as it were – howling at him.

  ‘I don’t believe it. Can’t be true. It’s a nightmare I’m having… Otto – be kind, admit it’s not true? Or – look’ – note of rising panic – ‘doesn’t have to be, does it, you could get out of it somehow, say you’ve changed your mind? For my sake, tell him? He can’t force you into – whatever it is, this—’

  ‘There’s no force involved.’ He’d spoken with deliberate calm, to counter the imminence of – well, breakdown, actual hysteria. He’d hated having to make this call, dreaded it. Explaining, ‘I was in a position where I couldn’t do anything but volunteer. Kommodore’s eyes on me, expecting nothing less, and I’m sure knowing nothing at all of Winter’s real motive – well, I didn’t either, I don’t, but – God knows, hatred, revenge? He’s at least half out of his damn mind!’

  ‘Hasn’t mentioned me, or—’

  ‘Not a word. Maybe when we’re at sea—’

  ‘Couldn’t you go back to Michelsen, tell him about that business?’

  ‘Not really. Wouldn’t make any odds anyway, he’s not concerned with personal issues. His manner, you see, was that of conferring an honour on me. I’m getting one, incidentally, for having brought UB81 home. He informed me of that, then brought up this other business – my being the one and only alternate CO Korvetten-Kapitan Winter felt he could rely on, wanted to have with him in this mission to restore the honour of the Navy. You see, if I’d refused, I’d have gone down as—’

  ‘Is that what—’

  ‘—at best a coward, at worst a traitor. Yes, that’s the purpose of it – as he sees it, I imagine. But darling – listen. Try to think of it this way. I know it’s shockingly disappointing – heart-breaking – but it’s only for a few days we won’t see each other, and we went through a couple of months of separation, didn’t we – survived that. All right, it’s different now – we’ve become so much more to each other, we’re going to marry – in fact when you think about it we’ve only to get over this damn separation – very short one, at that—’

  ‘Bring yourself back – please?’

  ‘Why, of course I’ll—’

  ‘No – there’s no “of course”, I’m sure you know there isn’t. And so as not to go shrieking mad, I need to know for certain—’

  ‘You can be certain. I’d guess I’ll be away from here about a week. Can’t be much more than that. And when I am back—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘My darling, you know what!’

  ‘Announce our engagement in the papers?’

  ‘Yes, why not. Except better tell parents
first. I’ll tell Winter in any case – when we’re at sea. Darling – while I think of it – be an angel, telephone Kramer’s, cancel the reservation?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Can take time getting through, and I’ve got to do various things – like handing over the command of – you know, my boat – and signing things, and – oh, put some gear together then get down there and help out, or – see, it was only ten minutes ago this was sprung on me—’

  ‘Swear you’ll come back, convince me?’

  ‘I do swear it. Thanking my lucky stars that I’ve got you to come back to. Darling, you don’t have to consider any other possibility. There’s no especial danger involved, only a certain urgency and – well, importance, if they’re right. I mean the retrieval of honour, all that…’

  ‘Isn’t that all pie in the sky?’

  ‘Not really. No, there’s sense in it. Anyway, it’s a fact that I’ve been on much more dangerous trips than this, time and time again, so—’

  ‘But what you just said – and said before, the Kommodore’s stuff about you being the only one who’d measure up—’

  ‘That’s just his way. And more implied than said – in any case inspired by Franz Winter… My darling, I do swear to you—’

  ‘What about Franz Winter, then – you spoke of hate, revenge—’

  ‘My guess, that’s all. His manner’s one of outrage. Taking me away from you, maybe – can’t bear to leave me here, seeing you? That could be all it is, you know, he’s a simple soul, and – still waters run deep, all that: you may have meant more to him than you realised? All right – simple and somewhat brutish, but – darling, listen – if time passes and you don’t hear from me as soon as you expect to – a week, say – you’ve met Gunther Schwaeble, haven’t you – Kapitan zu See? Call and ask him, don’t just mope and bite your fingernails. He knows of our engagement, incidentally, and he’s a very decent sort, so—’

  He’d checked. There’d been a click, and he’d realised the line had been disconnected. He started again – tried to, joggling the hook, but – no good. He hung up. Having said it all, given her all the reassurance he had to offer – and she was no fool, no weakling either. In shock at this moment – as he’d been – but she’d calm down, rationalise, make herself accept, believe…

  Did he?

  Well, of course. Had to. How it was, had always been.

  * * *

  Michelsen and Schwaeble had both been on the quayside to see them off, and Otto had managed to have a minute alone with Schwaeble.

  ‘Between ourselves, sir – the young lady to whom I’ve become engaged – I’ve told her that if a week or more passes without news from me, she might get in touch with you. She mentioned once that she’d met you.’

  ‘We have met, yes. And I’ve guessed who she is. Fraulein Helena Becht?’

  ‘Yes—’

  ‘She’s a friend of some people called Lukesch. But also of’ – a glance in the direction of Franz Winter, then in conversation with Michelsen – ‘Inclines me to ask whether you’re wise to be taking part in this.’

  Otto had shrugged. ‘Little option, sir. Thing is, though – she’s extremely upset. We’d made arrangements for this evening. If I’d left the base half an hour earlier than intended, I’d have been with her now. But if you do hear from her, sir, or have news to pass to her—’

  ‘I’ll do whatever I can to help.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.’

  ‘Good luck…’

  * * *

  While Otto was on watch, Winter mustered his crew in the control-room, told them what they’d be doing and the purpose and background of it. What targets they’d find, he couldn’t say; if there were none in the Flow when they got in there, they’d lie doggo on the mud and wait for some. There still were visits by units and squadrons of the Grand Fleet, and he believed that since the great anchorage was no longer in use as a permanent base, its defences might not be as effective as they had been in recent years. That, he said, was about all he had to tell them: except to explain that for reasons of security, especially with the current state of things ashore and in the Hochseeflotte, he’d decided to keep his trap shut until they were on their way. After all, they’d never been given details of destinations and/or intentions, so why should this departure have been any exception? The one big difference, which he regretted but had not been in a position to do anything about, was this sailing at such extremely short notice, when they’d had every right to expect a good, long interval of shore-time and home leave. But that would come – later than expected, sure, but they could take his word for it – and by that time they’d be entitled to just about every honour in the book, and he’d see they got them too. All right – carry on…

  Neureuther told Otto, when he was taking over the watch at 0200, ‘There was some muttering, but very little. We all like to have our grouse, don’t we. Fact is, sir, they respect him tremendously.’

  ‘He’s a first-class CO. As I know from my own experience.’

  ‘It was gratifying to him that you agreed to come with us. He told me so, when explaining why he needed you. He added to that, “Mind you, I’d have expected nothing less.”’

  ‘Did he, indeed.’

  ‘He has a high regard for you; he’s mentioned you often enough before this, in glowing terms. I’m sorry you’ve been called on to do this watchkeeping, though, sir. Gregor Kantelberg certainly picked his time to get the runs.’

  ‘It doesn’t worry me, Neureuther. Since I’m here – and more rested than any of you. But now – course 350 degrees, four hundred revs, in about forty minutes you’ll have Heligoland-W light-buoy coming up to starboard within spitting distance. Alter when it’s abeam—’

  ‘To 345, sir. I’ve studied the night order book.’

  ‘Right.’ Otto handed him the binoculars he’d borrowed. ‘You’ve got her, then.’

  * * *

  Wednesday 30 October: Otto came off watch at 8 a.m. It was still half-dark, under low cloud as well as intermittent sleet showers, wind force four from the northwest, right on her nose as she ploughed and pitched her way at fifteen knots through a moderate sea, waves fringed and flying white as she broke through them. Pretty well in the middle of the North Sea at this stage, despite which Winter had expressed the intention of remaining on the surface until about 10 am. Otto would have dived before that – would have got down into safety now, in fact. By nine, even in these conditions you’d have near-enough full daylight, so from then on if not sooner you’d be highly vulnerable to attack by any patrolling British submarine; and in staying up for that hour the only gain would be one hour’s difference between surfaced speed and dived speed – a difference of ten knots, say, ten nautical miles therefore, very little gain indeed, reckoned against the Wilhelmshaven-Orkney transit of more than 500 miles. He checked it out on the chart, and over breakfast of bread and honey and enamel mugs of what passed for coffee, asked Winter whether he didn’t think it might be as well to dive a lot sooner than ten o’clock.

  Winter stared at him, still chewing. Emil Hohler, the affable young torpedo and gunnery officer, had had his breakfast and turned in again, and Hintenberger had finished his and shuffled off aft; Otto and Winter were thus on their own.

  He’d slurped coffee, then asked Otto, ‘Why?’

  ‘Because although visibility’s still poor, it could clear in minutes, and these are waters in which enemy submarines have been known to operate.’ He shrugged. ‘If it was up to me, I’d dive now. But you’re the skipper, sir. Only a suggestion.’

  ‘It would be, naturally.’ Cramming more bread and honey in, and setting the heavy jaw working again, adding while continuing to masticate, ‘Enemy boats are more likely to be patrolling off that coast than out here in the middle. To catch us as we come round the corner, you might say. The Firth up there gets a lot of traffic through it… Well, normally I’d dive earlier, yes.’ Grunting, nodding, swallowing. ‘But tomorrow at this time I want b
earings on Peterhead or Rattray Head, and then Kinnaird’s Head. A good fix before the run to Duncansby Head. That means being on the surface at first fight if it’s good enough, otherwise staying up until it is.’

  ‘Because after five hundred miles you wouldn’t want to approach Duncansby Head on nothing more than dead reckoning.’

  A nod. Still chomping. Stuffing more in. Helena would not have enjoyed either the spectacle or the sound-effects. Maybe she’d never shared a meal with him: or at any rate sat opposite him. Sitting beside him, might not have noticed. Otto had forgotten what an ordeal it could be. He tried, ‘But the saving of, say, fifteen sea-miles, no more—’

  ‘Equivalent to an hour on the surface in fair conditions. On its own, could make the difference between getting into the Flow tomorrow night and having to mark time until the night after. An enemy squadron could have left in that space of time, and armistice terms might have been agreed. It’s vital we strike our blow before the politicians sell us out. Hadn’t you understood that?’

  He gave up. Even to visualise, think about exposure to attack in daylight on the surface, in an area where there might be enemy submarines patrolling, and in sea conditions in which you’d be unlikely to spot a periscope, gave him the shivers. It always had, and he’d never taken such a risk, wouldn’t have now if it had been his decision, was astounded at Franz Winter doing so – with his greater experience, and even a tendency in the past to hold forth on such themes. In earlier days he certainly would not have: chances were that neither of them would have been alive now if he had.

  Winter had finished his bread and honey, drained his mug. Cigarette-stub between fingertip and thumb – soggy, discoloured by food and coffee. He dropped it into the mug, heaved himself out of the canvas chair, belching as he moved to the chart.

  ‘Near daylight now, you say.’