by M L Maki
They hear something hit the water above them.
TIRPITZ
Schmitt leans against the rail, thinking. A mechanic from the engineering spaces walks out of a door and dumps a bucket of old parts over the side. When the young man walks aft, past Schmitt, he clears his throat. The mechanic looks up, startled, “Begging you pardon, sir,” and salutes.
SEALs
Greasy nuts and bolts fall past them. The two men look at each other and continue. The find the first charge of Issa’s team. Grunt expertly splices his detonation wires to the charges. They swim to the end, inspect the timer, then swim back to the netting and their submersible.
They hear the screws of a large vessel start turning. Triage looks up. They are no more than twenty feet from the huge screws of the battleship. The screws are motionless. They can see the charges attached onto the fairwater bearing.
USS SAN FRANCISCO
“Conn, Sonar. New contact. Bearing 130. Designate Tango 23. Sir, it has three screws.”
Cumberland, “Three screws?”
Morrison, “Some of the German heavy cruisers had three screws.”
Cumberland looks at Holtz, “Excuse me, sir.” He goes forward and down to torpedo. With the ship at battle stations all the torpedomen are there. “Kennedy, load and make ready torpedoes in tubes 1 through 4. Call me on the sound powered phone when you’re done.”
Kennedy, “Yes, sir.”
Cumberland leaves.
As soon as he is gone, Kennedy calls control, “Control, Morrison.”
Kennedy, “Sir, Commander Cumberland just ordered us to load tubes 1 through 4.”
“Proceed, Chief. Do not flood until our swimmers are safely aboard.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cumberland enters control. Holtz, “What are you doing, Commander?”
“Preparing for after the SEALs are aboard.”
Holtz, “Be patient, Commander.”
Cumberland stares at Holtz, then looks down at the chart table. He begins pacing, then walks into sonar, “What is 22 doing?”
Brown, “Sounds like they’re getting underway, sir.”
“Fuck. The SEALs are getting all the fun, and I have to sit on my hands.”
Brown and Guthrie look at each other, and remain silent.
Cumberland, “Did you dump that girl, Brown?”
“We’re getting married, sir.”
“Fucking hell. No one listens to me. Do you think I’m a joke, Brown?”
“No, sir.”
SOPHIA NEWBERG’S CELL
0010, 5 June, 1942
The two women hear a key in the door. A man enters holding a weapon. Sophia breathes out, it’s her husband, Air Force Sergeant Major, Jerry Newberg. He motions for her to get up and follow him. She goes to Lina, “Come on, Lina.”
“What?” Lina realizes what she’s seeing and her eyes light up.
Sophia turns to Jerry, “We’re taking her.”
He whispers, “Is she American?”
“Yes.”
He looks the woman over, “What was Watergate?”
“I don’t know, a famous door?”
“Okay, what position did Calvin Klein play in baseball?”
Lina, “Pitcher, I think. I don’t watch baseball.”
“What was ‘Top Gun’?”
“I don’t shoot guns, they scare me.”
“What color is the M&M’s?”
“They are an African group, right?”
He butt strokes her, putting her out. He grabs Sophia and they run out down the hall and out into the predawn darkness. “I got the gun. Farm girl, I need you to drive.”
“Okay.” Outside the door is a Sd.Kfz. 231, six-wheeled armored car. He opens the hip hatch and she gets in after him. Reaching past her, he closes the hatch.
Sophia, “Gas. Clutch. Brake. Gear shift. One of these is low range and the other is six-wheel drive.”
“Good. Drive. Turn left onto the road. The border is less than a mile.”
Just as they lurch into motion, they hear a loud rattle on the side of the vehicle. Sophia, “Are they shooting at us?”
Jerry fires a burst through the top hatch, “Go! Go!”
She shifts gears, getting them moving, “Turning!”
Jerry, “Got it.”
They are in high range, rear-wheel drive. Thankfully, the lights work. She runs up the gears and comes to a curve. She takes it at speed, and they sway around the corner, but stay on the road. A straight stretch appears in front of them and she floors it.
SEALs
Triage counts heads as his team swims through the gap in the netting one by one. When they are all outside, Grunt starts the submersible and neutralizes the buoyancy. They all grab on, and they start back. Triage checks his watch. They are running late. Worse still, a cruiser is crossing their path. They don’t dare pass under it. A running pump could suck them up against the hull, or the screw could chop them into mincemeat.
USS SAN FRANCISCO
Cumberland, “Ahead 1/3rd. Bring us to periscope depth.”
Holtz, “What are you doing, Commander?”
“We’re fetching your fish boys, sir.”
“Conn, Torpedo. Tube 3 and 4 are loaded.”
Cumberland, “Flood tube 3.”
Holtz, “Commander.”
Cumberland turns his back.
NEWBERGS, NORTH OF THE SWISS BORDER
The straight road ends and Sophia pushes down on the brakes, trying to slow the heave vehicle. It slows a little, but the curve is coming up fast. “The brakes suck, love.”
Jerry continues firing at the vehicle chasing them, “Okay.”
She shouts, “Hang on!”
SEALs
Issa checks his dive watch. “Where the hell is Triage?” Finally, Triage’s submersible appears out of the murk. Grunt turns, and side by side, the teams head to the rendezvous point.
NEWBERGS, ALMOST TO THE SWISS BORDER
Rounding the curve, they see the border gate directly ahead. Sophia realizes that the gates solid posts and barriers will be impossible for her to get through. On each side are fields and a double row of fencing with light poles. Immediately, she understands what she has to do.
Sophia, “Hang on!” She slams the armored vehicle into six-wheel drive at speed, and floors it. Turning the heavy vehicle sharply, she surfs off the road, slipping and sliding toward the border fence. Missing the posts, they smash through the first fence dragging it behind them. They hit the second fence, making it halfway through. Then, they’re stuck, caught in the wire, wheels spinning.
Swiss soldiers run to them, and the Germans cease firing. Jerry drops down next to her, “Nice driving, love.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” She looks up at her husband. “Love you, honey. Thank God, Greg was safe out to sea on the Stoddert when all this happened.”
“Love you, too. I’m going to miss him, but at least, we know he’s okay. Let’s go meet our hosts.”
USS SAN FRANCISCO
“Conn, Torpedo. Tube 3 is flooded.”
Cumberland, “Open doors.”
Morrison, “Belay that!”
Holtz, “What the fuck are you doing, Commander?”
Cumberland, “It’s a heavy cruiser. By the time the fucking SEALs are on board, it’ll be too late.”
Morrison, “You’ll kill them, sir!”
Cumberland, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up! All of you. I’m in command here. Open the fucking doors!”
Morrison, “Do not open the doors!”
Cumberland grabs for Morrison’s throat. Morrison brings his arms up inside of Cumberland’s and breaks the hold. “Sir!”
Holtz, “Stand down, Commander!”
Cumberland, “No! I’m in command. It’s my boat and I am not letting that cruiser get away. It’s my kill! Don’t you idiots understand? My kills! Fucking SEALS!”
Holtz, “You are relieved. Get the fuck out of control!”
Brown, “Conn, Sonar. We have a heavy cruise
r closing our position. No bearing change.”
Morrison remembers Cumberland’s last order, it was to come to periscope depth. The cruiser is on a collision course. “Five degrees down on the planes. Ahead full. Bring us to 200 feet.”
Cumberland, “Belay that order! Open the doors!” He hits out at Holtz, who side-steps, grabs Cumberland’s shoulders and spins him around. Holtz wraps Cumberland up from behind. Cumberland throws his head back and hits Holtz hard on the forehead. Holtz lets go, staggering back. Cumberland turns, and steps in, throwing a left hook at Holtz. Holtz falls against the chart table.
Morrison grabs Cumberland’s shoulders and spins him around, pushing him away. Cumberland comes at him, swinging. Morrison steps to his left and hits him with an upper cut to the jaw. Cumberland drops to the deck, unconscious.
Morrison spins back to the watch, cradling his right hand, as the submarine accelerates. “Down full on the planes. Left full rudder. Make our depth 200 feet. Make our course 345. Ahead 1/3rd.” They repeat back. “What do we have under our keel?”
The sound of the cruiser gets louder, “200 feet, sir.”
Holtz rolls Cumberland over and puts a knee on his back. “Do you have a place to secure him?”
Morrison picks up the 1MC, “Medic, lay to control. SAR swimmer, lay to control.” He goes to the chart table, “Left full rudder. New course 162.”
HM1 Novogradic and BM1 Sarvis come into control.
Morrison, “Novogradic, the commander has had a mental break. For the safety of the ship, we need him non-violent. I’ll leave that to you. Sarvis, protect Novogradic. Deadly force is authorized. Questions?”
Sarvis, “Where should we put him, sir?” The sound of the cruiser is loud overhead.
“Put him in the wardroom for now. Carry on. Helm, up 5 degrees on the dive planes. We have SEALs to pick up.”
Novogradic, “I’ll be back to take a look at hour hand, sir.”
“Thank you. Later. I’ll be fine.” Then he turns to Holtz, “Are you okay, Commodore?”
Holtz, “I’ve been hit harder by a girl.”
The crew chuckles.
CHAPTER 36
SEALs AT RECOVERY POINT
0210, 5 June, 1942
Grunt slows his submersible alongside Issa’s. There is nothing but murky water. Triage checks his calculations again. He motions to Grunt to shallow them out so he can see the three points they are using for navigation. They are in the right spot.
The murk in front of them slowly turns solid and the submarine appears. Relieved, they go up behind the garage and Triage un-asses to open it. It takes an eternity for the door to open against the pressure of the water. They push the submersibles inside and secure them. Then, the SEALs all crowd in and they close the door. Issa taps on the hatch, then opens it. Issa and five men crowd into the air-lock and cycle it. Inside, a sopping wet Lt. Issa hands his gear to Broke Dick and heads forward to control. He stops at the entrance. “Permission to enter.”
Morrison, “Enter.”
Issa drips his way in and checks his watch. “Thirty-two minutes, sir.”
Morrison, “Sorry, we were late. Something came up.”
“The cruiser? It got in our way, too.”
Holtz, “Is everyone on board?”
“They’re in the garage and cycling through the air lock.”
Holtz, “Tend to your men. We need to work our way out of here.”
“Yes, sir”
SEAL GARAGE
Triage feels the sub turning and picking up speed. The air lock cycles open and he and the last of his team enter. He checks his air.
Grunt, “Little breaths.”
Triage smiles and nods, twiddling his thumbs. The hatch closes. It’s claustrophobic as they wait for the water to drain off. Most of them pull off their masks as soon as their heads are above water.
Steve ‘Mac’ Cook, “Who farted?”
The men chuckle. Triage, “He who smelt it, dealt it.”
When the water is completely drained, the lower hatch opens. Two petty officers help them down. Dripping, they go down to the mess decks and forward to the torpedo room.
USS SAN FRANCISCO
The cruiser slows near the destroyer they passed earlier. They can hear the other destroyer that is between them and the sea. Giblin, “Conn, Hatch. All SEALs are aboard.”
Morrison, “Thank you.” He looks at Holtz, “We’re running out of time. I would like to do something unorthodox.”
Holtz, “It’s your boat, Commander.”
Morrison, “Flood tubes 3 and 4.” Torpedo repeats back.
Morrison, “Gentlemen, can I get a fix on Tango 22 and Tango 23. Tube 3 for 22, and tube 4 for 23.”
“Yes, sir.”
Backes, “Are we going to fight our way out?”
Morrison, “I don’t want to get caught in the shallows with the enemy behind us. Immediately after the Tirpitz blows, fire 3 and 4, cycle 1 and 2, and make a run out of here.”
Backes smiles, “Roger that, sir.”
Issa, in dry BDUs, “Request to enter and report.”
Morrison, “Enter.”
“Conn, Torpedo. Tubes 3 and 4 are flooded.”
“Open doors. Match bearings.”
TIRPITZ
Schmitt waits at the quarterdeck with his friend, Oberleutnant Hansel Zimmerman for the officer’s boat to arrive. They have a pass to go ashore.
Kapitan Karl Topp, “Going for a beer, gentlemen?”
“Yes, sir.”
The boat comes alongside.
USS SAN FRANCISCO
Lt. Issa counts down, “12. 10. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.” The shockwave from the explosion shudders the boat and pushes it out of position. Twenty-four shaped charges detonated simultaneously at the turn of the bilge on the Tirpitz.
Morrison, “Fire 3 and 4.”
“Conn, Torpedo. 3 and 4 fired electrically.”
“Conn, Sonar. 3 and 4 are hot, straight and normal.”
Morrison, “Very well. Cut the cables and shut the doors. What’s the status of tubes 1 and 2?”
“Flooded. Refilling the slug tank, sir.”
TIRPITZ, ENGINE ROOM 2
Obermaschinenmaat Vogt is cleaning an oil strainer on the starboard side when the detonation crushes the opposite bulkhead. He grabs two seamen and gets them up the ladder. The highest seaman is struggling with the hatch. Vogt looks down and sees the top half of his warrant officer in the surging water. The ship slowly rolls to port. “Schnell!!”
BOILER ROOM 1
Feuerwerkermaat Kuhn is caught in the churning water. As the ship rolls, he grabs a hand rail and pulls himself topside.
QUARTERDECK
Schmitt struggles to his feet. He grabs for Zimmerman as a secondary explosion shakes the ship. Zimmerman’s neck is broken. He sets his friend down and looks for the captain. He watches the quarterdeck watch jump over the side into the water.
Schmitt sees Topp struggling to get out from under a fallen J-davit. He shouts, “Sir, we need to counterflood!” All he hears is a muffled mumble. He lifts the J-davit as the ship rolls onto its side. “Help me!” Men run past him, jumping into the water.
Topp, still tangled, pushes at Schmitt, “Go!”
Schmitt forces open a clamp and suddenly the davit comes free. He pulls his captain out and climbs the rail. He manages to get Topp over the rail and onto the, now, level side of the ship.
The Tirpitz continues its roll, picking up speed. Schmitt drags Topp until they are on the bottom. The great battleship settles until only a few feet of keel is out of the water.
USS SAN FRANCISCO
Holtz, “Thank you, Lieutenant Issa. Well done.”
Backes, “5. 4. 3. 2. 1.” The two torpedoes find their marks. Again, shock waves rock the Frisco.
Morrison, “Good job, Issa. Give our congratulations to your team.” He turns away, “New course 285. Bring us up to periscope depth. Ahead full.”
“Conn, Sonar. Tango 22 and 23 are breaking up.
”