by John Day
***
Franz soon found himself wondering how things would work out for his future.
He had every confidence in Witt. The man was a born leader and ideal for the dangerous command on a submarine. He was calm and always ready with a sensible answer, even before a problem became a crisis. Now he was away from the man’s influence, the reality of the situation dawned on him.
Preoccupied with thoughts of his new life in Caracas, he had ignored the predicament of the submarine. To him it was an annoying breakdown like a punctured car tyre. Soon it would be out beneath the waves again, heading for his new home.
As part of his plan, Franz made discreet enquiries about the political situation in Venezuela. It was declared neutral, but what he didn’t hear was the attitude towards Germany, because of the British, French and Dutch colonies in the area. The country was not prepared to pay more than lip service to neutrality with Germany. This was exacerbated by the attack by German submarines on oil tankers in Aruba in 1942.
Franz was confident that someone amongst the thousands of German immigrants in the country would help him find a safe place to hide his stolen wealth. He just needed two large lorries, a secure building and an out of the way dock to unload the submarine. Staying submerged till night seemed such a safe thing to do…
Things were quite different now though and perhaps simpler to implement. The few bars of gold left onboard would pay for a suitable boat to collect the treasure and secretly deliver it to his new home. The submarine wouldn’t need to hang around or risk being seen.
He would not be carrying any gold to the hired ship himself, just supervising the labour and making sure nothing stuck to their fingers. The situation looked much better now and he felt quite relaxed, as he dozed off to the soothing crackle and hiss of the burning wood fire.
***
It was barely getting light when Franz and Herman set off back to the shore. Coffee and food were the only thing on their minds. Even meat products would be acceptable.
The cool damp morning air made travel a great deal easier, as did the steady downhill journey.
By mid-morning, they broke through the tree line of the jungle and trudged wearily across the fine white sand to the shore. The first thing they noticed was that U-159 was now out in the lagoon. Franz also spotted a large pile of carefully stacked crates and boxes, half way up the beach.
The lookouts on deck spotted the two weary men approaching and called the Captain. He was greatly relieved to see they were safe and organised a dinghy to bring them to the submarine. Over a welcome meal, Franz explained to Helmut what had happened to his men. Helmut was deeply shocked at the gruesome news and hoped they hadn’t suffered. His mood brightened when he heard they had found a cave, as well as fresh water.
Helmut Witt decided, they were staying to transport the cargo to the cave. He issued his orders and crew were despatched immediately to shore, to cut foliage to drape over the submarine as camouflage. The news that they were staying a while longer in the lagoon was well received by the crew, who preferred this piece of paradise to fighting in a cramped, stinking submarine. The real danger of being attacked seemed so remote by now, they hardly gave it a thought.
The cave.
Present day.
Aboard the Celeste, the room erupted in anger and frustration.
Is the treasure still on board or not? That was the big question.
Alan felt physically sick. If there was no treasure on board, what the heck were they doing here with the storm so close at hand?
Ellen felt a smirk, almost a gloat coming on. Henshaw and Mr sodding Mendez might be sailing off into the storm with nothing but a huge cost to pay, for the abortive salvage operation. She figured that Henshaw would not take a loss, and as menacing as Mendez was, if he ever wanted to see dry land again, he would be the one paying. No doubt cash in the Bank before landfall, Mr Mendez, if you please.
Walter was calm and collected. He had seen the shift in power as well. They just needed to know where the treasure went. To him, it was patently obvious it was not on U-159. True, the ballast sections had not been searched yet, but the weight of the bullion was the problem and that would have been the first to be jettisoned. The less durable artwork would not be down there and it was also not in the crew’s quarters. They had searched there.
Sarah was still in sickbay under observation, hooked up to a heart monitor, breathing oxygen. It was just a precaution, she had only experienced a terrible shock and was going to be fine.
Charles Henshaw could have ripped out Benny’s throat for dumping such bad news from the logbook, in his lap. After all, he was the instigator of this foolish treasure hunt.
First the sub is not where it should have been. OK Mendez paid up, but he’d slept with a gun under his pillow ever since. Now the sub is empty.
Henshaw cast a brief glance at Mendez. The implacable mask hiding the evil malevolence of the real face, had fallen away like a shroud ripped off a corpse. No doubt he had a plan of revenge tucked away, but it was too early to react.
It was not lost on either Henshaw or Mendez that because of time constraints of the storm, they would be sailing without the fortune they had come for.
Benny scanned quietly on through the pages to see where the treasure went, until Mendez spoke.
“Read on Mr Markowitz, I want to know what happened to the treasure.”
No one here mattered to Mendez any longer. No more Mr Nice Guy.
“Ahem! Yes, of course…”
Logbook entry.
The engineer has suggested he strips the faulty cylinder to the engine so we know how bad it really is. It might be alright to use, or liable to fail at any moment. We are camouflaged now and there is time to find out.
With just 33 men left, I estimate it will take many days to carry the cargo to the cave. Now we know the natives are primitive, we can better deal with them, if they decide to attack again.
Grupenfurer Kaltman suggested we attack the village at night and kill the men. This is an unnecessary risk in my view and stealth is more effective. If they don’t realise we are in the jungle, they have no reason to harm us. It is probable that the gunfire of the first expedition, when they shot animals, made the natives aware of our existence.
I plan to bring back fresh water each time we leave the cave. It won’t be enough to top up our tanks, but it will taste better. Some of the men have made spears and perhaps we might catch something big enough to roast. No fruit or vegetables have been found so far.
The first trip to the cave is about to start at 5.00am. May God go with them all.
-----
Flashback
It was an early breakfast of gruel and fresh fish for the whole crew. The reef teamed with fish and this natural resource could not be neglected. The men attached ropes to the corners of any thin, worn out blankets and they were sunk below the surface. Stale bread thrown on the sea above attracted hundreds of large fish. They slowly raised the blankets, stranding the fish.
None of the men were looking forward to venturing into the jungle and all manner of protection was devised for arms and legs, against insects and snakes. All the coverings did was speed up heat exhaustion.
Although the men moved quietly through the jungle, their vibrations and sounds of movement drove everything away, apart from the insects.
Franz Kaltman and Herman Vogel led the party. Franz wanted to be sure he could remember the way to the cave. Once he was certain he could do so, he would stay with the sub and go up occasionally to check nothing had gone astray.
The men carrying the cargo gave their weapons to the guard team to carry. They swapped roles during the journey. The division of labour must have been fair, because when the expedition eventually returned to U-159, everyone was totally exhausted.
Eventually the party reached the cave. The stones blocking the entrance were undisturbed, so the cannibals hadn’t attempted to enter. No animals had got in either, so there were no more surprises waitin
g for them, in the inner darkness.
With electric torches, Kaltman directed the storage so the vulnerable items could be placed off the floor on top of the bullion. He just couldn’t bear the thought they might be damaged in a flood. Not because they were now his property, but because of the loss of the art itself.
After temporarily sealing up the cave, the expedition headed on to collect the water. While the containers were filling, everyone drank all they could.
With the submarine afloat and working, the cargo being stored safely in the cave and no conflict with the cannibals, it seemed as if all their troubles were over.
However, the submariners would soon come to realise, even the smallest creature on earth can affect the ripples of time…
Final salute.
Flashback cont.
Transporting the cargo to the cave was extremely arduous. As the days wore on, some men became feverish and ill. At first Helmut and Franz believed they were trying to avoid the strenuous work. As more men developed similar symptoms, it was put down to exhaustion.
After 10 days the final load was stored in the cave. Kaltman counted the bullion and packages and set the men busy moving the largest stones they could, placing them well back into the entrance. These were faced with the smaller stones, behind which the men set grenades as booby traps. Any unwary thief or intruder would release the spring clip as the securing stone was disturbed.
Foliage that could be encouraged to dangle down over the entrance was carefully placed to obscure it. Then all traces of them having been there were swept away, with foliage brushes, off the stone apron and path. Kaltman turned and looked back. Now he felt satisfied no one would even suspect the cave existed.
On the final day, while returning from the cave, several men were collapsing and the others forced to carry them. Even Kaltman was ill and unable to hold down food.
Logbook entry. 26th August.
A total of 16 men have now died. Apart from me, everyone is seriously ill with a fever and cannot keep down food or liquids. I don’t have enough men to operate the submarine now and neither can we stay here. We have heard planes and spotted ships far out to sea.
The foliage used as camouflage has turned an unnatural brown in this dry heat, and without able bodied men, there is no possibility of replacing it.
I dare not leave U-159 on the surface a moment longer. It breaks my heart to do this, but she must be scuttled. I have asked for volunteers to help me guide her through the gap in the reef and out into deep water. Grupenfurer Franz Kaltman has asked to come with us. His condition is so serious, this will be a one-way trip. He has not said anything, and I have not discussed it with him.
When I see the dead, I am struck by the same thought. Now they have gone, it is as though they never really existed. Why are we here? What is our divine purpose? I wonder why the wondrous perfection of life must end without even an enduring spirit remaining.
---
The heavy anchor rumbled as it was winched in for the last time, and the breaker switches connecting the battery bus-bars to the electric motors were pulled down and locked. The familiar powerful whine from the motors as the twin screws turned slowly in the water made this final journey particularly cruel. The loyal vessel knew no different though, it would continue to do its best, yet it was being driven to its death. The ultimate betrayal, having been through so much together.
Dead on their feet, the few men able enough to turn valves, pull levers and steer by directions from the bridge, pointed U-159 at the narrow gap in the reef. Gliding obediently over the mill pond, branches and foliage slipping off in the wake, she passed through and ploughed into the chop of the sea outside.
Helmut Witte gave his last order. “Leave the motor running at minimum rpm to maintain steerage, lock the helm dead ahead and assemble in the dinghy. I have a few things to do and I will join you.”
The men found energy from somewhere and climbed into the dinghy being towed alongside the barely moving submarine.
Removing his Logbook, Helmut made his final entry, slipped the heavy book into a special waterproof cover and locked it away in the safe.
As he pocketed the keys, like he always did, he wondered if anyone would discover what had happened since the vessel left Lorient - more to the point, would anyone care?
Helmut walked to the crew quarters and found Franz sat on the side of his bunk. The dying man swayed a little, his face running with sweat, destined to soak into the neck of his damp shirt.
Kaltman had laid out his uniform on his bunk. “Helmut, would you do me the honour of helping me dress. I have an important appointment with destiny and I need to look my best.” Franz forced a smile.
It was a struggle to dress the exhausted man. His limbs were weak and poorly coordinated, his skin and underclothes saturated with sweat and clung to both his body and the uniform, but in principle, he was dressed in his finery.
Franz had hoped to slip away peacefully. The thought of the water rushing in and drowning him filled him with terror. “How do you plan to sink her, Helmut?”
“I will set the timers in the bilge and blow holes in her. She doesn’t deserve it, but that is what I must do.”
“Can I open the valves so she dives? So long as she sinks, what harm can it do how it is achieved?”
“Are you certain you can manage, if I show you which valves to turn?” Franz smiled weakly, he felt sure he could manage.
Helmut helped him up and together they staggered to the controls.
“There are so many of them, to be on the safe side, I will set them with a slow release of air. You can open them more and adjust the attitude as she settles. I will shut the hatch and leave.”
Helmut couldn’t take the chance of U-159 not sinking if Franz failed to open the valves.
“I understand Helmut, it will be done, don’t worry.”
Helmut hurriedly turned the two columns of small red wheel valves and heard the hiss and bubble of escaping air from the casing.
“Goodbye Grupenfurer Franz Kaltman, safe journey.”
Helmut saluted the man. Was this a brave act? Who was he to judge. He couldn’t have done it.
“Thank you, Kapitänleutnant Helmut Witte. I salute you. Safe journey to you as well, I don’t envy you trudging through that dreadful jungle. All those insects and snakes. I am safer in here. He saluted and staggered against the valves.
Sensing the submarine was listing to port and dropping at the bow, Helmut made some adjustments to the valves and it levelled out. With the bow planes turned to lift the bow, he hoped it would stay level, if only for Franz’s comfort.
“I must leave now old friend. I would rather not go with you.” He turned and ran for the conning tower ladder.
The clang as the hatch slammed shut, and the rusty squeak as the wheel turned to engage the locking dogs, was final. There was no going back.
Overcome with fatigue, Franz stood in a dazed state, watching the depth gauge needle move down. The motion of the vessel was different now as the waves washed over the battered hull.
Outside, Helmut and the crew watched from the dinghy, as the sea crested white foam against the base of the conning tower. U-159 would vanish soon, for ever.
Franz staggered back to his bunk and climbed on. It seemed comfortingly narrow and he felt along the edge against the hull. Yes, 1,2,3… and 4. His gold bars were still there.
Helmut watched sadly as the top of the conning tower vanished below the waves in a turmoil of white foam. That was the final salute from U-159 and he sadly returned his own.
Franz made himself comfortable on his bunk and straightened his uniform for the last time. Moments later he fell into a deep faint and never heard or felt the screech of metal, as the perceptibly sinking hull glided onto a large spread of boulders, 40 metres down.
The screws continued to turn for hours while the battery held charge, but the submarine would be locked into its resting place for the next 7 decades, waiting for the ripples of time to affect
the lives of others…
Matthew.
Present day.
Benny flipped through all the pages of the Logbook, checking for slips of paper or other notes.
“That’s it! That was the last entry, everyone!” Benny slammed the Logbook shut to emphasize the point…
The reading had not been the catharsis everyone hoped for. There were no answers, no clues, no hope of finding the cargo now!
The thump of the Logbook punctuated the silence as Benny threw it on the top of the chart table, and they all absorbed the finality of their search.
All the time and money wasted so far, searching for U-159, then locating and raising it, only to discover they were no nearer to finding the cargo.
The cave Witte mentioned could take forever to find, if the cannibals didn’t find them first. Jake Saunders, of Parque Nacional Natural Tayrona had warned Alan about them. Their only inkling was that the cave was near fresh water, in the jungle.
A crew man on the bridge of Celeste pulled Henshaw aside. Suddenly everyone on the bridge became aware of the ominous storm clouds on the seaward side, from a glance through the window.
The sea had gone flat, but wrinkled with fine waves. The familiar deep tropical blue had transformed into a threatening leaden look.
Sarah walked in at that moment, looking concerned.
“Have you seen the colour of that sky? What are we doing about Hurricane Matthew?”
The questions were directed generally, but she was expecting Charles to reassure her.
Henshaw gave Mendez a knowing look and whispered to the crew man, who left the bridge on the run. Less than a minute later, 8 burly seamen filed in.
Henshaw barked an order. “Escort these five to the ship’s rail and throw them overboard.”
He turned to the bridge crew man and ordered, “Cut the lines to the submarine and get underway immediately, head north-north- east, full ahead.”