The Last Eagle

by Michael Wenberg

  Stefan stared at the mark. “You sure?”

  Eryk nodded.

  “Where is he?”

  Eryk pointed his pencil upward.

  “I’m going to my cabin,” Sieinski snapped when Stefan appeared at his side. He pushed shakily away from the rim of the conning tower, and arms extended, shuffled toward the hatch.

  “Sir?”

  Sieinski paused, swaying back and forth with the movement of the ship. “What is it?”

  “It isn’t deep enough.”

  “What do you mean.”

  “The position you gave Eryk. It isn’t deep enough”

  “Are you going to question every one of my orders, commander.”

  “No, sir, it’s just…”

  “I know the rules and regulations as well as you do commander. Unless you have something else to say, I’ll be in my cabin.”

  Stefan bit his lip, drawing the salty taste of blood. “Aye, aye, sir,” he said crisply, saluting. He watched his captain disappear into the bowels of the the Eagle. A moment later, Squeaky clambered up the ladder. He glanced at Stefan’s face and said, “What now?”

  Stefan shook his head. Of course, the captain was exactly right. He was following protocol. Stefan, however, had grown up on the Baltic. He knew its moods, its looks, like a farmer can read the clouds over the distant mountains. The summer of 1939 had been unseasonably cold. As a result the waters of the Baltic were now colder, and clearer, than normal. Thirty meters might not be deep enough. That was the worry. Of course, it would require a lucky pass by a Nazi plane to come across their shadow on the bottom, but why risk it? Why not go deeper? That was all Stefan had attempted to point out. But Sieinski was in no mood. What had gone on with Sopocko? Stefan wondered.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was an unmistakable sound. The click of a depth charge’s detonator, transmitted to the inhabitants of the Eagle courtesy of the unique acoustic properties of the surrounding saltwater. Once heard, it would never be forgotten.

  Stefan was already rolling off the wardroom bench, his temporary quarters after volunteering his berth for Kate’s use, instantly awake. The Eagle shuddered, the sound of the explosion ringing inside the underwater cylinder like a thousand bass drums. A thin layer of dust was instantly airborne joined immediately by a snow of insulation falling from the ceiling.

  When Stefan burst into the control room a moment later, everyone was standing motionless, still stunned, their faces even paler than usual. A boy at the helm controls was staring down at the dark, wet spot blooming on the front of his pants.

  “Yeah,” Stefan bellowed, grabbing their attention, “I almost pissed my pants, too. But what the fuck, eh? Nothing to worry about. Just a puny-ass Hun depth charge. That’s all. I think we needed a reminder that we’re at war, and not on a Mediterranean cruise. So, Ears, you just sitting in that room with your thumb up your ass and let a German destroyer sneak up on us?”

  The hydrophone operator nicknamed “Ears” for obvious physical reasons, and not just because he was the Eagle’s acoustic operator, leaned out of small room containing the Eagle’s underwater sensors just down from the control room and shook his head rapidly back and forth. “Nah, sir, All I heard was a bunch of dolphins fucking out there,” he grinned at this, “but that’s all until that detonator went off…”

  That help loosen up the men. There were even a few tentative smiles. “Then it was a plane,” Stefan said calmly. “Must have seen us from the air. She’ll be coming around for another pass unless she has some friends flying along with her. If she does, they’ll take the next shot. In any case, we gotta get moving. Blow tanks. Take us up to thirty meters, and all ahead full. Helm, right 10 degrees. No sense going in the direction we were pointing. Eryk, where’s deep water?”

  Eryk leaned over his chart table, pencil and ruler in hand. “Just a second.”

  “We don’t have a second!” Stefan reminded his friend, quietly cursing himself for not having the sense to order Eryk to plot a course to deeper water ahead of time.

  “Two-five-four.”

  “Aye, helm right to new heading, two-five-four degrees.”

  Squeaky repeated the command, as the two sailors on the bench in front of the periscope, turned their wheels to the right.

  “How long?”

  “Ten minutes,” Eryk replied, “and then it really drops off…. to 150 meters. Deeper in places.”

  Stefan glanced at his watch. They’d make another course change in 30 seconds, zigzagging their way to deeper water. It might be enough to force the plane or planes to adjust their runs over the water, providing the time and space the Eagle would need.

  “Plot the next course change.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Sieinski appeared in the control room, breathing heavily, looking nothing like the rich, confident, captain of his imagination. There were bruises beneath his eyes, face pasty and coated with a thin layer of sweat. Dark circles beneath each arm stained his khaki-colored shirt. Open mouthed, spent from the effort it had taken making it the few meters from his bunk to the control room, he rested for a moment against the bulkhead,

  Stefan’s warning was automatic. “Better not do that, sir. Compression from another blast while you’re leaning against the bulkhead could snap your spine like a twig.”

  Sieinski grabbed the pipes overhead and pulled himself away just a moment before the boat was rocked by another explosion. Closer this time. Lights flickered. Somewhere toward the bow there was shout followed by the sound of blows as a seaman hammered a wood plug into a leaking pipe.

  “I want that man on report, Mr. Petrofski.” Sieinski gasped, pointing a shaking finger in the direction of the hydrophone operator.

  “Not a good idea, sir.”

  Sieinski’s eyes flared with crazy light. “Dereliction of duty,” he spat. “That’s what it is. He should have heard the approaching vessel and warned us with enough time to take appropriate measures.”

  Eryk’s eyes flickered in Stefan’s direction. But Stefan kept his tone even. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly. “But it was no destroyer. He heard nothing…”

  “Except dolphins fucking,” someone muttered quietly.

  “What was that,” Sieinski shrieked, his eyes roaming madly around the control room.

  “We were spotted from the air by a German plane,” Stefan said.

  “How do you know? He could be lying.”

  Stefan shook his head. “By the time a destroyer got close enough, we wouldn’t have needed hydrophones to hear her screws. And she would have dropped multiple charges, not just one.”

  Sieinski’s face fell, his mouth opened like a fish gulping for air.

  “A plane? How was that possible? We must not be as deep as I ordered…” He glared in Eryk’s direction.

  “No sir, we were in the exact location you specified,” Stefan said.

  “Then what was it?” Sieinski demanded.

  “Rotten luck?” Squeaky volunteered.

  There was a suppressed giggle from one of the boys at the helm. Dangerous territory, this, Stefan thought. The captain was already damaging himself in front of his men. What little authority he had was being tattered like an old flag in a gale. And anything Stefan could say wouldn’t help the matter. If he explained about the clarity of the Baltic this time of year, it would only make the captain look even more the fool. And if truth be told, it wouldn’t do Stefan any good, either. After all, he knew better, knew they weren’t deep enough. And yet, he had done nothing. If they were killed by one of depth charges, the fault would be his alone. His pettiness might be the death of this boat.

  “He’s probably right, captain,” Stefan added evenly. “Just a fluke that the plane happened over our position with the sun at just the right angle so that our shadow on the bottom was visible.”

  Sieinski glanced around the control room. All eyes except Stefan’s were averted. He wasn’t so sick that he didn’t suspect something else was going on, but he couldn’t id
entify it. Not at the moment. He nodded slowly. “So, fill me in, Mr. Petrofski.”

  “We’re underway,” Stefan said, “heading for deeper water. No doubt the plane has notified the Kriegsmarine of our location. We should be able to avoid detection.”

  There was another detonation, shouts of alarm from somewhere forward. Thankfully, Stefan thought, the woman, Kate, was keeping quiet. But, of course, he wouldn’t expect her to scream, not from something like this. She was tough, that one. Lights flickered again, glass dials on the green board shattered. A stream of water arced across the control room, hitting Sieinski right in the chest. He shrieked with outrage, hopped to the side. Eryk jumped up and cranked a valve closed. The leak shortened and then died out altogether.

  “Take us deeper,” shouted the captain, dabbing at blood that had suddenly begun leaking from one of his nostrils.

  Eryk looked at his watch, shook his head.

  “Not yet, sir, another…” Stefan cautioned. He glanced at Eryk, who flashed two fingers.

  “Another two minutes, and then we can dive deeper.”

  Sieinski clenched his jaws and nodded.

  Even for Stefan, it was the longest two minutes of his life. Each second seemed to mosey on by as if it had all the time in the world before it had to give way to the next. Unlike the rest of the crew, he had experienced depth charges before. But those had been training exercises designed to simulate a depth charge attack, not actually kill the submarine below. The officers running the simulation had made sure that all the cans were dropped at a safe distance away from the submerged submarine. No sense trying to be too realistic and damaging a boat or worse. This was something entirely new. The sudden assault that shook the submarine like a child beating his rattle against a rock, the roar echoing throughout the boat, turning your mind and senses into mush. The roller coaster torment of waiting for the next blast. Another sudden, nerve-shattering explosion. A brief moment of wonder, listening for screams and the roar of ocean water spewing into the ship like blood from a punctured artery. And then a surge of exhilaration at your survival extinguished almost immediately by the fear of the next explosion, and the next one. Everyone kept count. The men in the planes above wanted nothing more than the destruction of the Eagle and the sixty-five human beings inhabiting her insides. They tried six times. And then a break that stretched into a half minute, and longer.

  When Eryk nodded, Stefan ordered the Eagle deeper and called another course correction.

  While the captain watched silently, Stefan hollered, “Anything, Ears?”

  “No, sir. No contacts,” came the response from the sound room.

  Sieinski blew out his cheeks, holding onto the pipes to keep from collapsing. “Well, that’s good news,” he said with shaky voice. “Let’s run for a few hours,” he ordered gruffly, gathering himself, reasserting his position, “and then find a safer place to wait until nightfall. I don’t want to get too far off station.” Sieinski didn’t wait around. He turned and shuffled like an old man back to his bed.

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Stefan said. He glanced around the control room. Minor damage. A few leaks, broken glass, cracked dials. It could have been worse, much worse. And it would have been his fault. The only fool on this boat was him; that was for sure. He clenched his right hand into a fist. Next time, he wouldn’t stay quiet, even if it meant challenging the captain directly in front of the men. No sense obeying orders that got them all killed. He would have to use all his meager skills to make sure it didn’t get that far. Unfortunately, finessing senior officers had never been one of his strong suits. He wasn’t optimistic about how he would do with Sieinski. The man was obviously coming unhinged. It couldn’t all be blamed on the blow to the head. No one really knew how a man would act under stress. Now they were about to find out, not only with Sieinski, but the rest of the crew, as well.

  In a perverse way, however, Stefan knew that the attack hadn’t been a bad thing. It had gotten the crew’s attention, given them their first taste of battle. They must all do their jobs or they would die. It was that simple.

  Stefan noticed the seaman at the helm who had peed himself glancing furtively in his direction. “Back in sixty seconds,” Stefan said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. The boy scrambled out of his seat, and ducked down the passageway toward the bow, trying and failing to hide the stain on front of his pants with his hands.

  Squeaky grinned wickedly. His voice boomed through the control room and after the boy. “Hey, Lubomir, don’t forget to bring back a diaper.”

  There was a smattering of nervous laughter. Even Stefan had to smile. They had survived. And learned something in the process. It could have been worse, much worse.

  “Find us a safe place to rest this time,” Stefan said.

  “Aye, aye,” Eryk intoned.

  “At nightfall, we return the favor.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “A word with you, Captain?” Ritter tapped his knuckles on the bulkhead outside Sieinski’s closet-sized quarters.

  The Eagle had been quiet for an hour, cradled in a bed of silt 80 meters from the surface of the Baltic this time. Around the vessel, the various stations were manned by a skeleton crew. Everyone else resting up for the long night to come, no longer aware of the cocktail of fetid smells so thick it almost made the air visible: the stink of unwashed bodies, ripening bananas, mold, urine, smoked meats, chlorine, excrement, diesel fumes. With humidity at 100 percent, everything was damp with condensation running down the walls and sporadically dropping from the ceiling like rain in a tropical forest.

  “Enter,” came the listless response.

  Ritter pushed aside the curtain, stepped partially inside. On the bunk in front of him was Sieinski, laying on his side, legs pulled up to his chest. Despite the thick layer of blankets, he was shivering violently.

  “Maybe I should come back?” Ritter said.

  “No, no, what is it?” Sieinski said through chattering teeth. “I’ve never been rude to an invited guest and I’m not about to start.”

  Ritter shrugged. “Well then. I won’t be long. I understand you are considering a run to France?”

  “Where did you hear that?” Sieinski said sharply.

  Ritter spread out his arms. “People talk. Hard to piss around here without someone noticing.”

  Sieinski pushed out his chin. He was in no mood to argue. “What if I am?” he said through clenched teeth.

  “You are captain,” Ritter said quickly. “Of course, it is your prerogative. I would not question that. After all, I am just an engineer, a technician, not a soldier. My colleagues and I wanted to make sure you had all the information you needed to make a good decision.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “France…. you will never make it,” Ritter said bluntly.

  Sieinski pushed away the blanket with a derisive snort and sat up, grasping the edge of his bunk with both hands to hold himself steady. “Oh, please, don’t tell me about the capabilities of the vaunted Kriegsmarine. We can travel submerged for nearly 100 hours if we need to. And we have the means to protect ourselves. We can make it, I’m confident of it.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Ritter said softly, his eyes glittering.

  “Explain?”

  “The repairs to the hydraulic pumps and the rest of the systems…. I never expected them to last even this long. There is only one permanent fix. New pumps. If you attempt a journey to France, my, uh, colleagues and I are convinced that, well….” He shook his head. “Like I said. We won’t make it. There is not one possibility in 100.”

  Sieinski bowed his head for a moment, his body sagged. “What does Chief K say?”

  Ritter shrugged. “I think your chief is loyal to his captain, but as far as understanding the mechanics of the Eagle and the intricacies of her hydraulic system, well, that boy with the pimples, Jerzy, he is a better engineer….”

  “I see,” said Sieinski wearily, his eyes dull. It was taking every effort to remain up
right. It was almost impossible to concentrate on this new problem. He had thought it settled, they would patrol for a day longer, and then he would get confirmation from headquarters of the radio message he had sent earlier. With the war going so badly, heading for France was the only sensible thing to do. Sweden was another possibility. “What do you suggest?”

  Ritter didn’t respond right away. Better to be casual about it, not too eager. It must seem like a new thought, an off-the-cuff suggestion. “Well, I don’t know what is best. But we do have repair facilities in Tallinn,” he said. “Modest, of course. But I expect that what the Eagle needs could be found there in short order. Yes, that’s it. Not as close as Sweden, but if you go there, your war is over. They won’t let you leave out of fear of endangering their sacred neutrality. Not to mention Sweden.” He wrinkled his nose. “If for one much prefer the attractions of Paris to those Lutheran tight asses. In Tallinn you could repair the Eagle, get rid of your American passengers and me and my men, and then be on your way to France, and continue the fight You wouldn’t need us anymore. It would only delay you a few days. No more.”

  Sieinski leaned back against the bulkhead, pulled the blanket over his lap and began nodding with interest. Of course, it made sense. Perfect sense. And while there, he could see a doctor about his head and his other need. The very thought of being able to satisfy his craving for opium was almost overwhelming. Was there anything more he needed to prove to himself or his father? Of course not, he rationalized. After all, he had gone without it for three days. That was an adequate test of character, particularly given the tremendous strain he had been under. Tallinn? The real question was, Why he hadn’t he considered it earlier? Or why hadn’t one of his officers? It had become clear to him that they were holding things back from him. But that could all be addressed after a short stop in Tallinn. No need to radio for permission, either. The fleet commanders had other, more important, things to consider. This fell well under the discretion of a captain during time of war.