by Jan Needle
“From eight miles out, unsheltered survivors would emerge – though, at first, they might expect shortened life spans. Here, you might see a spike in cancers at a young age. At ten miles, the effects of the blast would virtually disappear.”
Truly, this was an evil way to wage war.
“The fire of God hath fallen from heaven, and burned up the sheep, the servants, and consumed them; only I have escaped alone to tell thee…” Maddox said.
“What?” asked Fallon.
“Job 1:16,” Maddox replied. “Only this time the ‘Fire of God’ is wrought by man.”
“Quite so, Captain Maddox,” Nelson said. “Which brings us to your mission. In Europe, the war over. Germany has lost. However, there is still a hard core in Germany’s leadership unwilling to accept reality.”
A new film began.
“This submarine left Danzig a week ago,” Nelson continued. “Multiple sources inform us that the Nazis have produced enough uranium to make a bomb.”
His voice crept up a tone. As he spoke with increasing vigour, his glasses began to slide down his nose.
“The impending collapse of the Fatherland has been a boon to us in intelligence terms,” Nelson said. “More and more prominent Nazis are leaking details. Some are deeply concerned about the clique that intends to drag things out to the bitter end.”
“They also tell us that Germany is perhaps a year away from a working device – but that’s if resources remain tight. Our problem is that an unusual group of Nazis have smuggled the material along with top scientists and their prototype atomic device aboard this U-Boat.”
A low murmur erupted among the soldiers.
The men were all experienced in commando raids. Maddox could read their minds from their expressions.
How do you perform a commando raid on a submarine at sea?
3
“The difficulty in our current situation is that we have too much intelligence and it is conflicting,” Nelson continued. “We know the device is heading west. Our best guess is that it’s being sent to Japan. If they develop a working atomic device it might prompt a redistribution of resources by our American cousins, thereby lifting some of the pressure from the Germans here in Europe.”
“No-one in their right minds would go west to Tokyo,” Schaffer interrupted. “It’s twice the distance.”
“I’m afraid you are incorrect,” Nelson replied, sighing at being interrupted once again. “Eastward travel for a U-Boat is not feasible. The Suez Canal is in our hands. That leaves a trip around the Cape in Africa, across the Indian Ocean and past Singapore. They would travel through hostile waters for the majority of the journey. It is far safer to take the long route around South America and across the Pacific. The key obstacle is the U-boat’s range.”
A new slide appeared on the screen showing a sea chart.
It plotted seven courses through the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans in neat, red dashes.
“The U-boat would have to make several stops in order refuel and stock up on supplies,” said Nelson. “Our sources cannot agree on the exact passage except for one detail: the U-boat’s final stop will be here, about two-thirds of the way between Hawaii and New Zealand. It’s a tiny coral atoll that hides a remarkable surprise.”
A grainy photo appeared on the screen. It showed a European castle perched on top of a rocky headland.
What made it remarkable was the unmistakable outline of palm trees.
“This is the fortification known as SchlossBieste – The Castle of Beasts,” Nelson said. “For years we’ve had reports of a German fortification in the Pacific Ocean. With hundreds of tiny islands littering Polynesia and Micronesia we’d assumed it to be a myth. But here it is in a photo taken by an Allied submarine six months ago.”
“A German Micronesia?” a French voice spat.
“We assumed Germany lost all its possessions in the region during the First World War,” replied Nelson. “Either this one was overlooked or, as allies, Japan handed it back as part of some Axis agreement. In fact, until our submarine stumbled across the tiny place, it wasn’t even on our charts. It was pure fluke we found it.”
Chavasse shifted in his seat and tugged at his collar. He raised his hand, shaking it at the photograph.
“You can’t take a submarine in there,” he said. “It would be ripped apart on the coral. The rock is razor-sharp. It would tear the belly out of any submarine.”
One of his subordinates nodded and interjected.
“Even if you made it past the coral,” Aspirant Peuseau agreed, “The central lagoons on these atolls are notoriously difficult to navigate. They’re shallow, with unpredictable riptides, outcrops and sandbanks. For a submersible, it would be suicide.”
“In this case,” Nelson replied, “We can make an exception.”
Nelson clapped his hands.
The lights in the room flickered back to life, leaving the commandos blinking as their eyes adjusted. The main door opened once again and a large model was pushed in on casters.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll join me at the back of the room, please,” Nelson said as he moved purposefully down the central divide between the chairs.
“This is our best representation of SchlossBieste,” he continued. “You can see the headland around the castle is separated from the rest of the atoll. Presumably it came away in the same disaster that caused the break in the island’s shape. That headland is also considerably higher than the rest of the atoll. The only link between the main island and the fort is across a single bridge, here.
Nelson reached out and pointed to a narrow iron and wood structure, just large enough to allow for a single vehicle to cross. A tarmac road led towards the castle, where it split into two. One section disappeared into a tunnel that presumably led down to the subterranean dock beneath the headland. The second part headed up to the main castle gate.
Maddox’s eyes followed the road across the bridge and down onto the mainland. The track continued briefly, following the curved contours of the atoll. Then, it too split.
One lane carried on, fully tarmacked, to a jetty that ran out into the lagoon. The second fork curved away from the coast and passed into the coconut-palm forest that covered much of the rest of the island.
The tarmac abruptly ended just before the thick woodland began. A dirt track continued on for around a mile. Here, there was a break in the forestation and an aerodrome complete with a hangar had been built. Apart from that, it appeared the island had been left much as nature intended.
“The island is an ideal submarine base. As you can see from the dark blue colour of the water in the sound, the Germans have dredged a channel into the lagoon to make a harbour,” Nelson said. “The headland that the castle sits upon has also been tunnelled into. There is a second dock that has been built inside the rock beneath the castle itself.”
“Your own desert island getaway, complete with castle, two docks, an airstrip and roads,” Maddox mused. “Somebody’s poured an awful lot of effort into this spit of land. I presume it has fresh water or it wouldn’t have been worth it?”
Nelson pushed his glasses back up his nose once more.
“Quite right, Captain. Water is often a problem for these tiny outcrops. This one, though, has a water table. Without it, our scientists tell us the level of flora would not be possible. And also, you have made an acute observation about the high level of investment in this outpost.”
Nelson tapped his fingers on the model of the aircraft hangar and pointed to the airstrip.
“Our reports tell us the aerodrome houses a Junkers heavy cargo plane.”
He nudged his way past two of the Americans and rounded the table. He highlighted the jetty.
“The quayside is home to a fully serviced E-Boat. It allows the island to obtain fresh supplies from nearby islands and any passing Japanese vessels. Obviously, at this stage in the war, re-supply is an issue for the garrison stationed at SchlossBieste.”
Peuseau raised his palm and
pointed at the model.
“An E-Boat? In the Pacific? It’s a brown-water craft, not an ocean ship. How’d they get that there?”
“Our information is not omniscient,” Nelson’s lips curled in aggravation. “There are some details as to the workings of this fortification that are not fully known to us at this time.”
Maddox reached out his fingers as Nelson continued his description of the island and its defences. He ran his digits delicately across the plaster of the model, brushing the stretch of ocean in front of him.
It had been rippled in mock simulation of waves. Although varnished, it was coarse and gritty to the touch. The crests were tipped white. It was a beautiful piece of work – the type that would take many months to construct.
Opposite Maddox, Lieutenant Schaffer listened intently to the lecture. The American scratched his cheek.
“Has a plan been set up by your backroom boffins on how to attack this place?” he asked.
Nelson removed his glasses. He breathed a fine fog across the lenses and polished them with a pocket-handkerchief.
“It was decided that the unique nature of this joint mission meant that the specifics of the plan should be left solely to you, Capitaine Chavasse and Captain Maddox.”
Nelson finished polishing his glasses and returned them to his face.
“You are to be informed of the parameters of the mission, its goals and the options at your disposal and then choose the exact methods of attack. To go with this model, we have some limited schematics for the inside of the castle.”
“What are the mission goals?” Maddox asked.
“There are three targets,” Nelson replied. “The scientists, the atomic device itself and the uranium used to power it. The spoils of this raid will be split equally between the participants. This has already been agreed at the level of our respective national leaders: to Britain, the technology, to France, the uranium and to the United States, the expertise.”
Maddox sniffed loudly.
There was a strong stench in the air – one of cattle.
“So SOE had no input into the mission’s makeup?” asked Maddox, his eyebrows arching. “Then why the representation from three separate forces?”
Nelson blinked twice at the directness of Maddox’s question. His eyes, already magnified larger than life behind the thick glass of his spectacles, grew larger still.
“Once again, Captain, you make an acute observation,” Nelson replied. “Yes, the SOE had input into the teams undertaking the mission. Once we knew three nations would be supplying expert commandoes, we requested naval specialists to assist with infiltration of the island, army techniques to take the installation and air force men to hijack the Junkers and facilitate a quick escape.”
Maddox tapped his hand gently on the model.
“So there was a plan put forward?” he said.
Nelson straightened the knot of his already pristinely placed tie. He brought a hand to his mouth and coughed.
“There was an initial plan made,” he conceded. “It went to the appropriate level and was rejected. It was deemed that the three of you were best placed to choose strategies that suit your teams and their particular skills.”
His gaze remained fixed on Maddox as he spoke. Chavasse intently watched Nelson as he continued.
“You will have forty-eight hours here in London to determine your line of attack,” he said. “Then you will fly to Honolulu. From there, a submarine will transport you to the coast of SchlossBieste. All other considerations – from the equipment you take to the tactics you adopt – will be entirely your own. With that, gentlemen, I suggest we break for the evening.”
The men looked from one to another and then began to talk amongst themselves. They broke away from the model. Maddox remained stationary, absorbing the contours of the atoll.
He felt a hand pat firmly on his back. He knew that gesture well. Marlowe.
“What’s wrong, sir?”
Maddox didn’t turn around.
“How many briefings have we done in our time, Marlowe? How many missions?”
“Together? I’ve served with you on twenty-seven missions, sir. Before that, perhaps a dozen more.”
“It’s been roughly the same for me,” Maddox confirmed. “And never have I been party to anything like this bullshit.”
Marlowe moved in closer. The colour sergeant propped himself on the model.
“Permission to speak freely?” Marlowe asked.
“Tell me your thoughts, my friend.”
He rolled his tongue around his mouth.
“This stinks like a dead cat stuffed in my duffel bag. Three nations and three services? It’s going to be a disaster.”
Maddox said nothing.
He observed Chavasse whispering to the other Frenchmen whilst ushering them into the corridor. His epaulettes were still stained with cigarette ash.
In the far corner of the room, Schaffer grinned as he conferred with his own team. He gestured with his hands. Big movements. Over confident. The airmen laughed and joked as he talked.
“Gather the men. My room. One hour.”