iron pirate

by Unknown Author

  He said, 'What do we know, gentlemen, really know?’ They remained silent and he added, 'Some Jerry remains were picked up but we cannot be certain they were from Prinz Luitpold. Or if they were, she might be damaged, steaming away to put it right, preparing to come back into the fight when she's good and ready.'

  The navigating officer, a fresh-faced lieutenant who had proved his ability even to Hemrose's satisfaction, said, 'My guess is I he latter, sir. She was damaged, and is making for home base again.' He looked at the others as if for support. 'And why not? She's wiped out a convoy and other ships besides - she'll likely got a hero's welcome if she makes it back to Norway or wherever.'

  Hemrose nodded, his heavy features giving nothing away.

  good thinking, Pilot. In which case the Home Fleet will catch the bugger this time.' He looked round. 'Ideas?'

  The chaplain cleared his throat. 'But suppose the raider is still at large, sir. Where will she go next? How does she find fuel?'

  'Fucking good question.' He saw the chaplain wince at his crude comment, as he had known he would. ‘She'll likely go for the big troop convoy, although my guess is that she's left it too late. The escort has already put down two U-boats, and they've not lost a single ship as yet.'

  The navigating officer tapped the chart. There's the iron-ore convoy, sir. It should be near the Falklands about now.' He lifted the chart to peer underneath. 'Two more off Durban, both destined for the UK, and of course the fast oil convoy from the Gulf.'

  Hemrose pictured the network of convoy routes in and out of Britain. In two great wars those same lifelines had almost been cut. Had that happened, the country, and therefore her dwindling allies would have been brought down. So many times, the convoy losses in the Atlantic had outpaced their ability to build replacements. It had been a raging battle from the first day, and the casualties had been awesome. Yet still men went back to sea, again and again, with only a handful of clapped-out escorts to protect them or die too.

  He tried to picture himself in Wiltshire, a lone raider like Hechler's ship. At large, as the chaplain had described it. He would. But the man of God had a point about fuel supplies. It had to be something big before Prinz Luitpold could run for home. Iron-ore? He peered at the chart, his shadow across it like a cloud. Once it could have been vital, but not now. Not unless Mister Hitler pulled another rabbit from his hat. The Russians were still advancing, and the Allies were about to burst across the Rhine. It was still almost too hard to believe after all the retreats and stupid mistakes.

  The Durban convoys then? He examined the navigator's typed notes. Times, dates, weather, and already some hint of the escort. He said bluntly, 'I'd go for the big prize.' He thrust the upper charts aside. 'The oilers. Still the most valuable convoy, no matter what the newspapers blather about.'

  The commander said, 'It would be a terrible risk, sir.' He flinched under Hemrose's red-rimmed stare. 'For the krauts, I mean.'

  'Of course it would.' He stood back and decided he would have a Horse's Neck in a few moments to settle his thoughts. 'He could get cut off on the wrong side of the Cape of Good Hope if he decides to go looking for the convoy too soon.'

  The commander said, 'But if their lordships and the C-in-C have already considered this, then surely -'

  Hemrose beamed at him. Godson's stupidity was somehow reassuring. He had not missed the fact that none of them had further suggested thai the Prim Luitpold had been destroyed, or that they were all wasting their time.

  He nodded, his mind made up. 'Did you signal Simonstown?'

  The commander sighed. 'Ail agreed, sir.'

  Hemrose rubbed his hands. Captains' conference immediately we anchor.'

  The navigator looked up from the chart and asked simply, 'But if we're wrong, sir?'

  Hemrose did not reply at once. 'You mean if i'm wrong. Pilot?' They all laughed politely.

  Hemrose picked up his cap and studied it. It would look good with another row of oak leaves around the peak, he thought.

  He said, 'My wife won't like it a bit.'

  Not one of them realised that he actually meant it.

  Korvettenkapitan Josef Gudegast stood with his hands on his hips and waited for the two Arado pilots to scribble a few more notes on their pads. It might be another warm day, but the dawn air in the conning tower was cold and dank. The massive steel door purred open on its slide and Gudegast saw the captain framed against a dull grey sky.

  Nearly ready, sir.'

  Hechler glanced at the two pilots who had sprung to attention, 'At ease.' He knew Gudegast would take care of everything. He had done it often enough, but the pilots had to be certain of their orders. Both float-planes had been stripped of unnecessary weight, and would carry no bombs.

  As Leitner had replied testily when this had been mentioned, 'We want to use the radio station, not blow its bloody mast down.'

  He was up there now on his bridge, impatient, eager to get moving.

  Hechler went over it again. Both aircraft would land in a tiny sheltered strip of water, and the landing party would go ashore without delay in rubber dinghies. The planes would be packed like cans of sardines, he thought. He lingered over the officer in t harge, Oberleutnant Bauer. An obvious choice as he was a communications specialist . But he had done very little field training, so a good petty officer had been selected as second-in-command.

  I light men in all, excluding the pilots. The intelligence reports were definite about the radio station. It was never fully operational and reliable reports stated that it was about to be adapted as a giant radar beacon. The invasion of Europe had made that an unwanted luxury. There were only three men on that lonely pinnacle of rock. Gudegast had said, 'What a way to fight a war. The poor bastards might never be told if it's over, or who's won!'

  Theil had snapped at him. The war will end for them if they try to sabotage the station!

  Poor Theil, he was looking more strained, with deep lines around his mouth.

  Hechler said, 'Met reports are good.' He looked at each of the fliers and recalled Leitner's angry outburst when he had suggested that the new Arado should be sent, and so keep a fully operational one on board, just in case.

  Leitner had shouted. That is defeatist talk, Captain! For a man of action you seem beset by caution! The new plane will be employed when 1 say so!'

  He too seemed more on edge. The prospect of action, the apparent lack of enemy signals. It was like steaming into an i mpenetra ble 1 og.

  Hechler glanced at the bulkhead clock. "Five minutes.' He nodded to the pilots. 'Good luck.' He recalled his letters to the parents of the men lost in the Baltic. Their faces already wiped from his memory. He resisted the urge to shiver.

  He made his way to the fore bridge, and noted the lookouts and

  gun crews huddled together at their defence stations.

  There goes the captain, he could almost hear the whispers. Does he look worried?

  He waited for a seaman to wipe the moisture from his chair and then climbed into it.

  Korvettenkapitan Werner Froebe had the morning watch, his face red in the chilled air, his huge hands wrapped around the gyro-repeater so that it looked no larger than a coffee cup. Young Jaeger was nearby, ready to relay orders, watching and learning. He seemed to have become suddenly mature after the lifeboat, and the convoy.

  Hechler thought of their two survivors. The aged boatswain was still in a kind of daze, and Stroheim said that he rarely paid attention to anything that was happening. The other one, the young mate called Ames, had made a complete recovery. Hechler pictured the drifting corpses. If anyone ever got over that sort of experience.

  Theil joined him on the gratings, his fingers busily adjusting his powerful binoculars.

  Hechler glanced at him. After we find the convoy, Viktor, we can turn for home. Fight our way right through the British Fleet if need be.'

  The first Arado coughed into life and he tasted the sharp tang of high-octane fuel. Surprise was everything. It was unlikely tha
t the crew of the radio station would even guess what had hit them. After all, it had never happened before.

  A phone buzzed and the seaman who picked it up yelled, 'Ready, sir!'

  Hechler could imagine Leitner peering down from his armoured nest. But he did not turn to look. 'Go!'

  The plane roared along the short catapult, dived clumsily towards the water, rallied and then climbed away from the slow-moving ship.

  Voices muttered by the starboard ladder and Jaegar said, 'Visitor, sir.'

  Hechler glanced across in time to see Theil's frowning disapproval and a signalman's quick grin.

  She crossed the bridge very carefully, her hair rippling over her coat collar while she rested on a stanchion for support. Hechler took her hand and guided her to the chair. Once, he glanced up to Leitner's bridge and thought he saw the admiral's cap move back quickly out of sight.

  He asked, 'How are you?' He noticed the way she was holding her side and wondered why she had come. All those ladders, and she was still weak from losing so much blood.

  She settled down on the chair and tucked her chin into a scarf.

  ' The doctor said it was safe.' She watched the second Arado as it roared away from the side, the camouflage dull against the dark, heaving water. I feel better already.'

  Hechler heard Froebe say, The camera is cranking away, I see!

  God, we'll all be film stars yet!'

  Hechler looked at her and found he was able to shelve his immediate problems. The next fuelling rendezvous. The convoy. The cost in ships and men. Perhaps after that, Leitner would be content. He ought to be.

  He offered, 'You look fine. You've got your colour back.'

  She looked at him, and for a few moments it was like a bond, a physical embrace although neither of them had moved.

  A seaman called, 'From W/T office, sir. They are monitoring a broadcast and request instructions.'

  Hechler nodded. 'You go down, Viktor. It may be nothing, but we need all the news we can get.'

  He thought of Froebe's sarcastic comment, and then of the supply submarine's hideous end. Leitner had said originally that t he women of the camera crew would be transferred to the supply boat with their cans of film. The milch-cow had been due to return to base to replenish stocks of fuel. He did not imagine that I he two women would be very pleased at being made to wait for another rendezvous, with the prospect of a battle before-hand. With luck, the risk of damage should be minimal. All the enemy's heavy escorts were with the big troop convoy, and other units were still sweeping to the North for some reason. It was likely that valuable though it was, the convoy of oil tankers would rely on speed and a small, local escort until the last long haul of Biscay and beyond.

  She was still watching him, her tawny eyes very bright in spite of the misty dawn reflections.

  She said, 'It is like going on and on for ever.' She placed her hand on the rail below the screen so that it was just inches from his.

  Another voice called, 'Lost contact with aircraft, sir.'

  'Very well.' Hechler looked at her hand. It was almost a physical pain. But it was no longer ridiculous, even though any kind of future was nothing more than an idle dream.

  She dropped her voice. ‘Do you still miss her?'

  Hechler stared. 'No. I - I'm not sure. To say I have wasted my other life beyond this ship, is like a betrayal a deep hurt.'

  The words seemed to burst out of him, yet he could not recall ever being so open with anyone. Like being stripped naked, left without any defences.

  She said, 'I know what you're thinking, Dieter. You are wrong. 1 think all the more of you because of your frankness, your sense of honour,'

  Hechler was only half aware that she had called him by name, that for just a few seconds her fingers had rested on his wrist.

  She added, 1 have never met anybody like you.' She withdrew her hand and shrugged. 'Will you make me say it? Would you despise me if I told you?'

  He looked at her. The figures around the bridge seeming to mist over like moisture on metal fittings.

  He heard himself say, 'I will not make you. Let me say it, no matter what the rights and wrongs are.'

  She said, 'We can decide.'

  Yes.' He looked away, afraid she would change her mind because of his inability to find the words. '1 want you.' It sounded so flat, so crude that he looked at her, expecting to see anger, or contempt. He was shocked by the happiness in her eyes, a new brightness there like the moment in his quarters.

  She whispered, 'It's all 1 needed to hear. I've known there was something, I think from the beginning.' She shook her head as if she barely believed it. 'We must talk.'

  Jaeger said, 'W/T office, sir.' He held out the telephone, his eyes on the girl.

  'Captain?'

  It was Theil. 'It was just some Brazilian radio station, sir.' He sounded petulant, as if he thought a junior officer could have been sent to deal with it.

  Hechler looked at the horizon. The light was strengthening ail the time. He tried to picture it in his mind. One hundred miles to the Cable and Wireless outpost. They should have arrived by now. Give them another five minutes, then full speed ahead. The I’rinz would be there in three hours. By that time - he glanced at the chair but it was empty. He looked at Jaeger who said, 'She went below, sir.' He sounded very calm, but his young face asked .1 million questions. Something to tell his hero father about, if I hey ever got home again.

  He heard Theil, humming quietly in his ear. A nervous sound.

  I lechler said, 'Never mind, Viktor. Check it through. You might glean something, eh?' He put the telephone in Jaeger's hand. 'Ask I he navigating officer to come here.' He smiled, glad of something l<> distract him as he saw Gudegast already present, stripping off (he canvas cover from the ready-use chart-table after a quick glance at the clear sky.

  'What do you think?'

  Gudegast stuck out his lower lip so that his untidy beard sprouted over his uniform, mottled with grey like frost on a bush.

  'Now, sir.'

  Hechler nodded. The W/T office would have picked up any alarm call from the island if the mission had gone rotten on them. There was always the chance of course that the two pilots had lost their way. He saw Gudegast’s expression and knew it was less lhan likely.

  Take over. Full speed. Warn radar, and tell the Gunnery Officer to muster his landing party.'

  Hechler would not be able to step ashore. Nothing was safe any more. But it would have been like a release to tread on firm ground again. With her. Her fingers inside his. Just a few moments of make-believe. He had said it to her. I want you. He examined his feelings, and the words seemed stronger than ever. It was true. He climbed into the chair. She had been loved, perhaps even married. He took another glance at his thoughts. Nothing changed. It was not a dream after all.

  Theil watched the stooped shoulders of the radio operators, and listened to the endless murmur of morse and static over the speakers. The junior officer in charge, Leutnant zur See Ziegler, stared at him anxiously and said, 'I am not certain, sir. My superior has left no instructions -'

  Theil glared. 'I'll deal with it!' He gripped the handle of Leutnant Bauer's private office and then rattled it angrily.

  Ziegler stammered, 'It's locked, sir.'

  'I can see that, you dolt!' He knew he was being unreasonable, but somehow he could not contain it. Perhaps seeing Hechler with that girl had done it. He was married. What was he thinking of?

  'Give me the key!'

  The young one-striper wrenched open a desk and handed it to him. Theil saw that it had a red tag on it. To be used only in a final emergency. He ground his teeth. It was unlikely that anyone would bother about colour tags with a ship on her last nose-dive to the bottom.

  He slammed the door behind him and slumped down in Bauer's chair. It was curious that he had never set foot in here since the ship had been handed over by the builders. A secret place. A nerve centre.

  He was growing calmer again and took several deep bre
aths.

  There was a framed photograph of a young naval officer on the desk. Theil picked it up and grunted. It was Bauer himself. Typical of the man. He thought of Stroheim's outburst in the wardroom, the stares of the other officers while he shot his mouth off about some enemy propaganda. Naturally the British would claim all sorts of victories for themselves and their allies. They would hope for fools like Stroheim to listen in and spread the poison.

  There was another key on the tag, a much smaller one.

  Theil listened to the busy radio-room beyond the door. Back to normal, each man thinking of the one-striper's embarrassment when he had been told off. Serve him right, he thought savagely. We all went through it - he pushed the key into a steel drawer and held his breath as it clicked open.

  He was the second-in-command. In battle he stayed with damage-control, whereas Hechler usually stood firm on the open bridge and disdained the massive armour plate of the conning-tower. Theil had thought about it often. He guessed that many officers in his position would consider the very real possibility of stepping into a dead man's shoes.

  Even Leitner might fall in battle. Theil suddenly saw himself returning to his home in Schleswig-Holstein, to be decorated by the Leader.

  His hand faltered on a pale pink folder with the eagle crest and stamp of naval intelligence emblazoned on the cover. He flicked it open and felt his heart stop. His own name was at the top. Serial number, rank, date of commission, everything. There was his original photograph when he had joined this ship. His fingers felt numb, unable to turn the page. He wanted to lock the drawer, leave now, and to hell with the Brazilian broadcast. There was a freshly typed signal flimsy under the first page. His eyes blurred as he scanned the bottom first where Leitner's signature had been counter-signed by Bauer.