A Dawn Like Thunder

by Douglas Reeman

  Napier rubbed his chin. ‘Another three hours. That’s a bit of a risk.’

  Jessop stared past him at the curved hull, the tired, intent faces. ‘It’s a hell of a risk to my men, all fifty-eight of them, every time we attempt one of these crackpot schemes!’

  Napier looked surprised at the skipper’s hostility. ‘I only meant . . .’

  ‘We sighted a convoy of ten ships yesterday, with just the one clapped-out escort. A full pattern of torpedoes would have taken care of most of them – I might even have had time to reload for a second go. More use, surely, than a grounded hulk full of railway gear?’

  Tucker said, ‘I’ve brought my own kit, sir. The chariot will carry three, especially if we go on the surface for most of the time.’

  Napier said sharply, ‘Was this Commander Ross’s idea?’

  Tucker grinned. ‘Even ratings have good ideas sometimes, sir!’

  Napier flushed again. ‘Sorry. Asked for that.’ He made no further comment, as if it was already settled. Then, hesitantly, he said, ‘Together we could . . .’

  Tucker said casually, ‘Of course we can.’ He added, ‘I’ll tell Nick Rice, if you like.’

  Napier shook his head. ‘No. I’ll tell him.’ He walked away, his mind apparently resolved.

  The skipper said, ‘What was the subbie’s brother like? Jamie Ross’s best friend, they tell me.’

  ‘I’ve never seen two men so close, sir. Like brothers, they were.’ He dodged the question he knew was coming. ‘Jamie Ross has never got over it.’

  Jessop said, ‘I see.’ Then, ‘Thanks for sorting it out. When we get back I’ll stand you a drink, anything you like. Then the boat’s in for an overhaul. About bloody time too!’

  The navigator returned, his face suitably blank. ‘All fixed, sir?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks to our diplomat here, I think we can say just that.’

  The last hour aboard the submarine went quickly: usually the waiting-time seemed to drag. Dressed in their rubber suits, the three men sat in the petty officers’ mess, half listening to the sound of the trimming tanks being adjusted, feeling the slow swell now that the boat had glided up to periscope depth. Tucker did not know what Napier had said to Rice, but he felt that the Number Two was pleased, if surprised, that Tucker himself was going along. He wondered vaguely what Ross would say when he found out. He had already suggested to him that the chariot’s two-man crew would feel more confident with one of their own helping them to ‘take off. He had not said who it might be.

  Why had he decided to be the third man? Two men alone took enough risks in the chariots . . . men had died or just silently vanished. Nothing could change that. Why complicate it?

  Napier broke into his thoughts. ‘There are a couple of small islands where the freighter ran aground.’ He peered at the borrowed chart. ‘Just a few miles from the Rangoon River, her destination no doubt. Once inshore of the nearest one, we shall get a better idea.’

  Rice asked sharply, ‘No booms?’

  Tucker noticed that he avoided looking at the young officer.

  Napier folded the chart. ‘They say not. We’ll fix the charge and head straight back. No slip-ups. We should make it before full daylight.’

  Rice muttered, ‘Christ, I should hope so. The place will be crawling with Japs!’

  Tucker said, ‘I’ve checked my gear.’

  Rice nodded. ‘Me too.’ He patted his suit. ‘Pistol, blood-chit, money, the lot.’ He forced a grin. ‘Even the headache pill!’ But it made him look even more strained.

  Napier stood up and groaned. ‘I’ll just have a last word with the skipper.’

  Rice breathed out very slowly. ‘D’you reckon he’s going to be O.K?’

  ‘Of course. Right as ninepence. The last one was his real test. This’ll be like a training cruise.’

  Rice did not look convinced. ‘I’m glad you’re coming along, Tommy. In your place I’d have thought twice about it.’ He touched his arm. ‘You didn’t tell Ross, did you?’

  Tucker shrugged. ‘He had enough on his plate.’

  Napier reappeared in the entrance. ‘Ready to go.’ He looked at each of them in turn. Afterwards Tucker remembered it well. As if he was trying to reassure himself, rather than give assurance.

  Out and through the control-room, now fully manned although Tucker had barely heard anything. As if the boat was holding her breath.

  Jessop glanced at them briefly, his dark beard almost red in the dimmed lights.

  ‘Remember the current, Sub. And watch out for fishing boats – they’ll be sleeping with their nets most likely, but don’t take anything for granted.’ He singled out Tucker and said in an undertone, ‘Keep your head down.’

  After that, it was like moving to an unspoken drill pattern. The surprisingly cool air after the hull’s stuffy confines, water sloshing over their feet while they prepared to release the chariot from its various clamps. Tucker had already noticed that the casing party was only two or three men and the saddle-tanks were already almost awash. The skipper was keeping his command trimmed down, a minimum target should the enemy have any detection gear which might reach this far. Three hours there, three back, Tucker thought. A long night. He watched as Napier slipped into the forward position; he saw the glowing dials on the control panel suddenly light up, and hoped he would remember to adjust the pump and air pressure to allow for the extra man. He could recall when the old rear-admiral, Ossie Dyer, had insisted on donning a full suit and full gear to be dragged through a Scottish loch to see what it was like. It had nearly killed him, but the lads had loved him for it.

  Tucker helped Rice to climb aboard and then turned to look up at the conning tower. Not many stars but a clear sky, so that he could see the skipper and his lookouts watching as the motor kicked into life, and a backlash of bubbles and phosphorescence surged against the two seated figures.

  A thumbs-up? Or it could have been a casual salute. The next moment he was aboard, his arms wrapped around Rice’s body while the chariot dipped heavily and then backed clear of the dark hull. He felt rather than heard the thunder of inrushing water as Turquoise began to flood her tanks and prepared to dive.

  Napier twisted round in his seat and waved his arm. He was in control, with nothing but the operation in his thoughts.

  Tucker adjusted his breathing apparatus and sucked deeply on the air supply. The chariot was answering well in spite of his additional weight. He felt the water surge around his chest and throat, splattering his mask, and wondered what Rice was thinking about. Probably nothing. Yet. They would be all right once they got started.

  Tucker doubled his fist and felt Rice tense under it. Otherwise I’ll have to be a bit regimental with the pair of them!

  Far away on the starboard bow they saw a tiny cluster of lights. Fishing boats, but too far off to be dangerous. The Japs were that confident. Hardly surprising when you considered that their armies occupied the whole of South-East Asia from Burma down to Java, to say nothing of the hundreds of islands in the Pacific, where long-range sea and air battles had already cost so many ships and lives, Japanese and American alike.

  Tucker pictured the great warhead of explosive they were carrying. Set against the immensity of war, it might not seem very significant, as Turquoise’s skipper had bitterly remarked. Without noticing it, he patted Rice’s gleaming rubber suit. But like Sicily, it was a beginning: the road back.

  It was the only way to think of it.

  The sea grew more choppy closer in to the land, and Tucker knew Napier had his work cut out keeping the chariot on its proper course. When he looked abeam, he noticed that the faint lights from the fishing boats had vanished, as if they had all been doused in response to a secret signal. Half an hour later they began to reappear, and Tucker gave a quiet sigh of relief. The lights had been momentarily hidden by the first small island. They were on course. Napier was doing his job, and he hoped that Rice would regain some confidence by the time they reached their objective.

&nb
sp; Provided that nothing delayed them, they should be making their return journey to the rendezvous with precious little darkness left to conceal them.

  Tucker smiled. If you can’t take a joke, you shouldn’t have joined. The sailor’s answer to just about everything.

  He tensed as something dark and shapeless drifted past; Napier must have seen it just in time to avoid hitting it. A half-submerged boat of some kind, doomed to drift up and down the invisible coast until it finally went to the bottom.

  It would be almost funny if the target had been moved, or emptied of her much needed cargo. He wondered what Napier would do then. Drop the charge anyway, if only to prove he could do it?

  A bright green flare exploded somewhere over the land and floated gently into the darkness. A long way off. The Japanese Army perhaps, or was it some kind of signal to the dozing fishermen?

  In spite of his discomfort Tucker almost fell asleep to the even, sluggish motion. He saw Napier and Rice exchanging hand signals and he wished he could see his own watch to check their progress. Like a leaping fish, a white feather of spray broke across the blackness between sea and land. The second island, the offshore current breaking across some scattered rocks like those he had seen on the chart. Three hours? It hardly seemed any time since they had watched the submarine begin to dive, their only contact broken.

  He thought he saw Napier hunching his shoulders, ready to dive and shake off their trailing phosphorescence if a strange vessel loomed over them. But there was nothing.

  Napier’s arm lifted and stiffened, and as he steered the chariot in a shallow turn, Tucker saw the black, motionless wedge of a ship. Their ship. It had to be. Napier made no attempt to dive but continued along the side of the blacked-out vessel until they could identify the solitary funnel and old-fashioned bridge, and the derricks that must have been used to load the cargo of rail tracks. Tucker did not need to be reminded of the grim stories now filtering through of wretched Allied prisoners-of-war being forced to work on road and railway construction for the Japanese Army. Starved, brutally treated, and without medical care, it was no wonder men were calling them the railways of death. But instead of fear at the possibility of what might happen if they were captured, Tucker was surprised to discover that he felt only anger, even hate.

  There was a dangling rope ladder, and Tucker saw that some of the lifeboat davits were empty. The Japs had taken no chances. It was probably a native crew, which they had put ashore rather than risk some further disaster. There had been mention of a salvage tug. If it had indeed arrived, it would make an early appearance to begin or complete the work of moving the vessel, or the cargo, to a more suitable position.

  Napier and Rice were holding the rope ladder and peering up at the ship’s guardrails. Napier opened his visor and said, ‘The anchor’s down. Let’s get on with it.’ He sounded very calm, matter-of-fact, as if it were indeed just another exercise. Rice slipped into the water, his hands fending off the steel plating.

  Napier called down to him, ‘Right here, I think.’ He closed his visor and twisted round towards Tucker to indicate that he was going to dive.

  Tucker slithered into the water to join the other man. It was all going well. The time fuse was set, and as he helped Rice fix the magnets to a surprisingly clean bilge, he felt the warhead detach and float down beside them until it was suspended firmly beneath the hull. The explosion plus the weight of the cargo would break the vessel’s back and scatter the contents across the seabed.

  It was done, and Tucker turned round, clinging to the chariot as Rice slapped his shoulder and gestured with excitement.

  Napier brought the chariot carefully to the surface again. Not a jolt or a scrape had marred the manoeuvre and all three of them sat in the water, visors open as they sucked in the air and fought down the urge to laugh or cheer.

  Napier was peering at his luminous clock again. He found it an effort to remain calm and unruffled.

  ‘Ahead of time, would you believe?’ He stared up at the guardrails, still only just visible in the surrounding darkness. He seemed to grin, like his dead brother for just that moment, Tucker thought. He said, ‘I’m going up for a souvenir. Be ready to cast off, lads!’ Then he was clambering up the rope ladder, apparently heedless and unhindered by his breathing apparatus.

  Rice said grudgingly, ‘Like a bloody kid! What do you think, Tommy?’

  Tucker stood up, swaying, and then seized the ladder. ‘I think he’s being stupid!’ He knew Rice was gaping at him, but he didn’t care. Rule One, never take chances. He thought of Bob Jessop’s last words. Keep your head down. He snapped, ‘I’ll get him back, and then we’re bloody well off!’

  He climbed swiftly up the ladder, his whole body suddenly cold, as if he were naked.

  The freighter’s deck was like any other, with loose gear and uncoiled mooring wires scattered about to show the haste of the crew’s departure. Tucker lowered himself to his knees and winced as a rivet ground into his leg. He heard Napier rummaging about among the discarded equipment by an open door at the foot of the bridge. A souvenir. For the mess, or to impress some girl or other. It made him unreasonably angry, and he was about to call out to him when he glanced at the open door again. There was a tiny glow, where before there had been only blackness. The man, whoever he was, must have been on deck for a quiet smoke when Napier had blundered jubilantly aboard. Tucker could feel his heart lurch as if it might stop altogether and then, as if another’s hand were guiding his, he unfastened his knife and pulled the blade carefully from its sheath. Like those other times; like the moment when the German frogman had found them and had been about to raise the alarm. When Ross had gone for him, taken him with him into the swirling water. Ending it.

  Napier stood up, something flapping in his hand. Then he froze, his arms flailing as he saw the other man and realized what was happening. Tucker bounded forward, seizing and flinging the man to the deck. Noise no longer mattered. Nothing mattered but survival. He felt the man’s buttoned tunic and realized he was a soldier; at the same time he saw him drop a rifle, which had been hidden in the darkness.

  He heard Napier cry, ‘Oh, my Christ! Christ, help me!’

  Tucker sat astride the soldier and held him between his legs, one arm pinioned so that he could feel the joint cracking. There was a bayonet on the rifle. Napier’s screams of agony told him the rest. He said quietly, ‘Coming, sir.’ The formality made him want to scream or laugh. If he did either, he knew he would be unable to stop. He saw the soldier’s eyes swivel as he tried to look at him, then he drove the blade into his body, counted the seconds before twisting it and dragging it free. Then he moved carefully to Napier, expecting at any moment to hear shouts and challenges, feel the same thrust of steel, then nothing.

  ‘Where is it, sir?’

  Napier was gripping his left shoulder, his blood like black paint between his clawed fingers.

  ‘I’ll put a dressing on it.’ He heard Napier choking on a scream as he lifted him bodily and put him over his shoulder. ‘But first, we get the hell out of here!’

  Rice had at last realized something had happened, and helped him lower the groaning officer back down to the chariot. Before he followed down the ladder, Tucker found time to notice that the dead soldier’s cigarette was still glowing on the deck.

  He said, ‘I’ll take over, sir. Nick’ll hold you.’

  He sensed Napier’s refusal, clinging to some last fragment of authority which refused to give in. ‘No! I’m in command here!’

  Tucker ignored him. ‘Take a good grip. There’s a gash in his suit. If it fills with water . . .’ He did not need to go on.

  He slipped into the control seat and tested the joystick. They had all been trained for this in case of just such an eventuality. Go out on the surface, and to hell with caution. Only speed counted now. He cursed himself for not dropping the Jap into the sea. Someone might discover what had happened. Even Bob Jessop wouldn’t risk his Turquoise if a chase was in progress. He made him
self take a few deep breaths. Especially Bob Jessop.

  ‘Cast off.’ He watched the compass and felt the chariot edge away from the target. He tried to think it out, put his thoughts in order. I just killed a man. But nothing formed in his mind. ‘Here we go!’ What wouldn’t I give for a tot right now!

  He craned his neck and saw the first of the fishing-boat lights. Paler, perhaps? He tried to control his sense of urgency. As they ploughed into a small wave he heard Napier cry out, and Rice’s despairing, ‘For Christ’s sake shut it! Haven’t you done enough for one bloody night?’

  Not officer and rating any more. Just two frightened people who were depending on him.

  They would be well clear of the islands soon. After that . . .

  The explosion was as deafening as it was vivid, and for a few seconds more Tucker imagined that the charge had exploded prematurely, even though they never did. The darkness that followed was total and enveloping, but Tucker had seen part of an island illuminated by the blast as if it had been touched by fire.

  Napier was calling weakly, ‘What happened? Did the charge blow?’ He sounded irritated, querulous, like a small, disgruntled boy.

  Rice took a firmer grip on him and stared into the sea. ‘Can’t you smell it? If you’d been in the Western Ocean you’d recognize it quick enough!’

  Tucker said dully, ‘It was Turquoise. She’s gone.’ He too could smell the burned oil, could picture the shattered hull falling like a torn leaf to the bottom. He could even hear Jessop’s anger. My men, all fifty-eight of them. What had happened was anybody’s guess. One fact stood out. They were alone.

  Napier asked, ‘What are you doing?’

  Tucker shrugged. ‘Going back. We don’t have much time left. I think I can find a place where we can ditch the chariot and our gear.’ He was thinking aloud, some of his words muffled as water slopped over his open visor.

  Rice said, ‘Going back?’ He sounded dazed. ‘They’ll be looking for us.’

  Tucker responded savagely, ‘Well, nobody else will be, so shut up and save your breath!’