by Phil Ward
Skipper Finley walked up, “Talked to the cook who’d come out on deck to smoke a cigarette. There’s five men onboard. The captain’s drinking in his cabin, the radio operator, a skeleton crew of two men in the engine room to keep the steam up and the cook—everyone else is out on the town.
Col. Randal said, “King, team up with Skipper Finley. You’ve got the ship’s captain – lead out first. Captain McKoy, you and Mr. Treywick go below and seize the two sailors in the engine room, we want ’em alive.
“I’ll take the radio operator.
“King, once the captain’s secure, deal with the cook.”
“Mr. Treywick, loan your silenced High Standard .22 to Percy. That Fritz Special 38/44 of yours won’t be heard from the bowls of the ship if you have to use it. Try not to —we need the stokers in one piece to do their job.
“Percy, you and Rocky stand by ready at the gangway. Don’t let anyone on or off the ship.”
“Questions?” Col. Randal said. “Let’s do this.”
King and Skipper Finley started up the pier. Col. Randal was right behind them. Then came Capt. McKoy and Waldo. Rocky and Percy waited a few moments to give them a head start then they strolled up the dock.
There was no one at the gangway when King and Skipper Finley stepped on board the SS Wartenfels. However, the cook, a chain smoker, had come out on deck to have another cigarette. King shot him three times with his silenced .22 High Standard Military Model D.
Skipper Finley led the way to the captain’s cabin.
Right behind them came Col. Randal who stepped over the body of the cook and followed the two up the stairs to the upper deck.
Capt. McKoy and Waldo came aboard and saw the dead cook lying in their path with a glowing cigarette still in his lips.
“They claim,” Capt. McKoy said, “Smokin’ can be hazardous to your health.”
Waldo said, “Killed him.”
They went below, pistols at the ready.
On the upper deck Skipper Finley pointed to an open door. King stepped into the lead. He went in and found the ship’s captain passed out drunk on his bunk. They tied him up, shut the door and went to the bridge to make ready the SS Wartenfels to get underway.
When King and Skipper Finley disappeared into the captain’s cabin, Col. Randal moved on past and walked toward the open door where the music was coming from— Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood’, as popular in Berlin as London or New York.
Col. Randal stepped into the radio room. There was a sailor sitting in a chair in front of a bank of radios. Next to the radios was a 9mm Luger P-08. While Col. Randal was trying to get out “Hande Hoch,” the Nazi lunged for the pistol.
WHIIIIICH, WHIIIIICH.
The silenced .22 did not make a sound any louder than a match striking.
Col. Randal rolled the dead German out of the chair. Next to the Lugar was what he was looking for—a wooden box. When he opened it, inside was a typewriter device. He had no idea what the machine did exactly—only that it was something the Navy Intelligence Division, Royal Navy, would go to any length to get their hands on.
Even that knowledge was more than Col. Randal was cleared to know.
Capt. McKoy and Waldo made their way down to the engine room. They slipped inside and found two sailors on duty. The Germans wisely surrendered.
“You boys must be married men,” Capt. McKoy said as he indicated with the barrel of his Colt. 38 Super pistol for them to start shoveling coal. “Made yourself a good decision.”
The SS Wartenfels slipped the dock and made her way out of the harbor. It required some tricky navigation because the trip was a long, circuitous voyage around the north end of the island. Fortunately, Percy was a skilled yachtsman and knew his way into and out of Diego Suarez.
No one paid the slightest attention.
The ship was German flagged and could come and go as she pleased. No sane French naval officer would dare to interfere with a Kriegsmarine vessel under way. Everyone in Diego Suarez knew there was a long distance radio aboard. The story about her being a merchant steamer was a fig leaf—the SS Wartenfels was a spy ship.
Once they were out of the harbor and could feel the swell of the open seas, everyone started to breathe a little easier. As soon as he could be spared from the bridge, Percy went to the engine room and tuned to a radio frequency Col. Randal supplied. Then the Frenchman began to transmit the mission identifier, Shortcake Harvester and the code word Golden Fleece.
Col. Randal was beginning to get the idea Percy Mather was a skilled and resourceful SOE operative.
An acknowledgement came back right away.
Percy transmitted a brief message explaining the Shortcake Harvester team was aboard a captured enemy ship en route to attempt to rendezvous with the Royal Navy.
The comeback was to report to the commander of Force H, Rear Admiral Edward Syfret, for instructions. It included the necessary radio frequency to make contact with the flagship of the Royal Navy’s invasion fleet.
“Percy,” Col. Randal said, “none of this never happened.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Phil Ward is a decorated combat veteran commissioned at age nineteen. A former instructor at the Army Ranger School, he has had a lifelong interest in small unit tactics and special operations. He lives in Texas, on a mountain overlooking Lake Austin.
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Other books in the Raiding Forces Series:
Those Who Dare
Dead Eagles
Blood Wings
Roman Candle
Guerrilla Command
Necessary Force
Desert Patrol
Private Army
Africa 1941
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