Stark Realities

by Stark Realities (retail) (epub)

  Gone. Schwaeble and Bohme staring after him. Schwaeble fingering the duelling scar on his cheek; asking Otto after a moment, ‘What was that about?’

  ‘Well.’ Shake of the head. ‘I’d deduce that he’s taken a dislike to me.’

  ‘Reasonable deduction.’ Bohme and Otto both smiled. Schwaeble didn’t; he asked Otto, ‘What have you done to offend him?’

  ‘Really can’t say. Saw him ashore last night, as it happens, but we didn’t speak. He was half-seas over, by the look and sound of him.’

  ‘Where was this?’

  ‘At the Weinstube in Rastede. Grueninger’s. I was just leaving and so was he. I’d been in the restaurant upstairs, but—’

  ‘The Snake Pit.’ Bohme grinning at him. ‘Well, well…’

  ‘I’d been dining with my fiancée, as it happens.’

  ‘Fiancée?’ Schwaeble’s eyebrows hooped. ‘In the Snake Pit? And since when have you aspired to possession of a fiancée?’

  ‘Since last night, sir. I took her there to have her to myself, talk her into accepting me. You know, you get a room to yourselves – and when they put themselves out they can still lay on a lavish meal. And the stratagem worked.’ He nodded. ‘Proof of the pudding – which incidentally was profiteroles au chocolat.’

  ‘And who is she?’

  ‘If you don’t mind, sir, even our parents don’t know about it yet. And with things as uncertain as they are at present, one can’t – well, set a date, for instance.’

  Looking at their glasses, and his own. Schwaeble murmuring congratulations, Bohme echoing them, then asking, ‘Why should running into you in that place have upset Willi?’

  ‘Heaven knows.’ Otto had signalled to the steward for another round. ‘Might be something else entirely. Except – well, he shouted to me and I kept going. It’s not a place to keep a decent girl hanging around, and he and his pals had obviously been making an evening of it.’ He shrugged: ‘But if his skin’s that thin – as well as grossly inflated…’

  * * *

  He got through to Helena’s place of work in Oldenburg at about two-thirty, and when he asked for Frl. Becht was required first to identify himself and then to state the nature of his business. He told the man, who sounded young and not over-educated, ‘Personal matter’, and was then asked not to occupy the line for longer than was essential, as they were exceptionally busy. Then he was put through to her.

  ‘Helena. Me.’

  ‘Otto – darling…’

  Low-toned, that ‘darling’, so evidently not alone, or not sound-proof anyway. He told her, ‘They’re guarding you closely. I had to state my business to some office boy. I said it was personal. Might have said, “I wish to speak with my fiancée”, but I didn’t know whether you’d have liked that.’

  ‘No-one here knows about it yet. Might just as well, mind you. But—’

  ‘I’d have thought it might lead to mass suicides.’

  ‘Ha ha. But we’re frantically busy. Well, you can imagine – the way things are, and our concerns being what they are?’

  ‘Of course. But here our engagement is now known to certain individuals. The man we ran into last night—’

  ‘Ahrens?’

  ‘Right. He became rather insulting in the Mess, before lunch, then waddled off in a huff, so I told the others who were present – one of them Kapitan zu See Gunther Schwaeble, whom you know – he’s second in command, Kommodore Michelsen’s deputy – I told them the circumstances of our presence at Grueninger’s, and – here’s the point – they swallowed it hook, line and sinker, neither of ’em doubting you were with me for the purpose as stated – privacy, for the proposal of marriage. I excused myself from naming you – on the grounds that our parents didn’t know yet. And that’s it.’

  ‘I’d have no objection to being named. Rather looking forward to changing it, that’s all. I was trying out what’ll be my new signature – takes up about half a line!’

  ‘Don’t put it on any bank cheques yet, that’s all. I’ve got to be quick, though, so – essentials now. I’ve booked at Kramer’s for eight-fifteen and I have the loan of the car. Eight, at the Muellers’?’

  ‘Dying for it. For you… Is Franz Winter back?’

  ‘He’s been back, but had to take a cruise up into the Schillig Roads for purposes I can’t go into, should be back again any time now. Ahrens, I may say, is waiting to pounce on him.’

  ‘You’ll tell him about us anyway, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes. When he raises the subject. Or I suppose even if he doesn’t.’

  ‘If by any chance he should telephone me, I’ll tell him. Have to, obviously. Oh, I’m so happy, Otto!’

  ‘Good. Me too. Ecstatic. Transforms – well, everything. Extraordinary…’

  ‘Soon as I get a minute I’m going to tell my parents. Maybe I’ll call them from the Muellers’, so they’ll know too. I’ve been thinking about how I’ll describe you to them – tall, fair and—’

  ‘Ugly, overweight, foul-mannered, lecherous—’

  ‘That, for sure. They’ll love it, be dying to meet you! Better stop this now, though – our lines are madly busy, it’s a wonder you got through. Are you telling your parents?’

  ‘I will soon. Evenings are the best time to ring them. I might tell Gerda – my sister – for a start. She’ll be a great help. You’ll like her – and she’ll be thrilled. Which will be good for her, incidentally: she lost her husband very recently, poor—’

  ‘Otto, I’ve been told I must clear this line. Sorry, but—’

  ‘See you at eight.’

  He hung up, on a line that had already gone dead, thinking that Gerda really would be thrilled, and if the parents were sticky about it, which they might well be to start with, her enthusiasm would help a lot. In fact the parents would be difficult; they’d be aghast, to start with. He’d recognised this from the start and tried to keep it out of mind, telling himself, cross that bridge when we come to it. He was in the office that Hans Graischer used and had led him to when he’d docked 81, last – oh, Saturday. Only three days ago, although it felt more like a month. So much happening, both personal and professional. Well, more political than professional: although all one got of it were dribs and drabs, rumours and speculation, mounting awareness of general confusion, which according to some of the papers presaged revolution, or at the very least drastic change.

  Which would be likely to include one’s career going up in smoke.

  So thank God for Helena, he thought. For love as well as lust. Permanence. In all the mess, the rising flood of it – revolution, even – something really thrilling, combining happiness and excitement and – and which was largely in one’s own control. Remember that, next time one started having second thoughts.

  * * *

  Land and sea were darkening when 201 re-entered and Franz Winter conned her through to the berth she’d occupied before, in the Verbindungshafen. Lights glowed along the quay where the berthing party were standing ready, some of the light glittering on Gunther Schwaeble’s and Willi Ahrens’ greatcoats’ epaulettes – four stripes on Schwaeble’s, three on Ahrens’.

  ‘Slow astern together. Midships the wheel.’

  Scummy water sluicing up her sides. He stopped the starboard screw first, and put on starboard helm, waited while the astern-running port screw brought her stern in: her bow was already in; this was largely a matter of taking the angle off her. Now – ‘Stop port.’

  U201 drifting in alongside, Coxswain Muller’s voice grating, ‘Wheel’s amidships, port motor stopped, sir.’ Heaving lines were tossed over, bringing fore and after breasts over from the quay; Winter passed down the voicepipe, ‘Finished with motors, open fore hatch.’

  Find out what they have in store for us next, he thought. Asking Neureuther, ‘Who has the duty tonight?’

  ‘Regrettably, sir, I have.’

  ‘So have one of the others cover for you while you get a bath and a meal first.’

  ‘But I’ve paperwork
to catch up on, sir. Make a start on it, at least.’

  The plank crashed over; almost simultaneously the fore hatch swung open and thumped back, light from the torpedo stowage compartment streaming up. Breasts had been secured by this time, springs were being hauled over – fore spring running from her stem to a bollard well aft on the quay, back spring from her stern to well for’ard. Neureuther asked, ‘Fall out from harbour stations, sir?’ and Winter nodded, told both him and Muller as he climbed down through the tower, ‘Tell you what’s what as soon as I know it.’

  ‘Aye, sir. But about Muhbauer’s compassionate leave—’

  ‘Yes. Let him go.’

  Lucky bugger. Probably wasn’t one man on board who wouldn’t leap at the chance of being ‘let go’. Oneself included. Tired, and fed up to the back teeth. Had had to lie out there in the Schillig Roads while mutineers had been hunted out from every corner of the Thuringen and transferred to the tenders under guard; the second tender had had to be seen to finish and cast off before 201 could start back. While during those hours there’d been cat-calling and occasionally the sight of a red flag – on Helgoland – and whether the mutiny had been affected in the least, let alone nipped in the bud…

  Telephone her, though. Stiff drink first, then call her, forget all this – for five or ten blessed minutes anyway.

  On the casing, Schwaeble shook his hand.

  ‘Well done. The first of the tenders has already landed its prisoners, I’m told.’

  ‘Think it’ll have done any good, sir?’

  ‘That, I’m not sure of. Kommodore’ll have a better idea of it than I have. He’s been in communication with the Chief of Staff. And he’s in his office now, expecting you.’

  ‘Can we count on at least a week’s stand-off, sir?’

  ‘Ask him. But I’d imagine so. Pretty sure of it, in fact.’

  ‘Then we won’t be taking part in the fleet action plan that’s—’

  ‘No. Far too late. But FdU is waiting, so—’

  ‘I’ll go along.’

  ‘And Ahrens is still after you for something or other. On the quay there. Don’t let him hold you up – Kommodore has the devil of a lot on his plate at this juncture.’

  ‘Right.’ He looked round for Neureuther, found him sort of hovering, told him, ‘Duty-part of the watch to remain on board, rest carry on ashore. Seems we’ll be in at least a week. I’m on my way to see FdU. If I don’t come back you can take it for granted that’s how it is.’

  * * *

  Willi Ahrens, bulky in his greatcoat, was waiting near the plank, stamping his feet to warm them.

  ‘Franz…’

  ‘Hello, Willi. You want to talk. I’m on my way to FdU, why not come along?’

  ‘I will. You did the job out there, I gather?’

  ‘Did what I was told, that’s all. Whether it’ll get any of us anywhere, I rather doubt. What’s on your mind?’

  ‘Nothing pleasant. Not by any means.’ Falling in beside him, matching his steps to Winters. ‘Important that you should know, however – and before you get in touch with – I’m sorry, Franz, as an old friend I do have to tell you this – before you speak to Fraulein Becht…’

  * * *

  In his room, Otto put studs and links into a clean shirt and collar, and brushed down his better uniform jacket and trousers. The steward who attended to the rooms on this floor had cleaned his boots for him: and that was about all the preparations necessary. Oh – clean socks, and a handkerchief… Six o’clock now, by the old watch that had been a paternal gift almost before he’d learnt to tell the time; he needed to be on the road by seven, or even a little before that, so—

  Blankets. He peeled them off the spare bed, rolled them and took the bundle down to Graischer’s motor, which was in the yard behind the Mess. Hoping not to encounter friends or acquaintances on the way down there. To run into Willi Ahrens, for instance, might have been slightly embarrassing, with these.

  He stowed them on the floor at the back. It was going to be a cold night, hard frost was a certainty, but – the rug as a wrap-around, plus blankets, greatcoat on oneself…

  Won’t be like last night. Wednesday, for that. Had the reservation, in any case. Discuss it with her tonight: might be wiser not to risk another incident like last night’s. Wouldn’t put anything past bloody Ahrens… On the other hand, how about the jaunt to Hanover which they’d discussed earlier? Depending on the dust having settled here, of course…

  Ring Gerda?

  Six-ten now. Ten minutes, say, to make the call, then half an hour for a bath and change, be on one’s way by about six-fifty.

  The Mess secretary was just leaving his office: didn’t mind Otto using the telephone, only asked him to lock the door when he’d finished, leave the key on the board in the hallway. Local call, was it? Otto nodded, thanked him, asked the exchange to get Gerda’s number in Berlin, and again, surprisingly, got through in only a few minutes.

  ‘Gerda – how are you?’

  ‘Better for hearing your voice, my dear Kapitan-Leutnant. Seriously, is a nice surprise. Everything’s going from foul to stinking, whichever way you look, isn’t it?’

  ‘The general outlook’s not good, but—’

  ‘You haven’t seen the evening papers, then. If you had, you’d know it was a lot worse than just “not good”.’

  ‘Well. Afraid I haven’t time for you to expand on that, either. Sorry, but—’

  ‘You’ll sleep better for not knowing. What’s new with you?’

  ‘That is absolutely the right question, and I’m only too happy to give you the answer to it. Gerda – I’ve become engaged.’

  He heard her intake of breath. Then the beginnings of a laugh, and – ‘Trapped at last?’

  ‘Congratulations would be in order. She’s absolutely lovely – also charming, intelligent, enormous fun and – and you’ll adore her. Don’t tell me I’ve used some of those words before – if I have, put it down to my limited vocabulary. I’m not exaggerating, she’s all those things. Enthuse now, please. You asked me last time we spoke, how about wedding bells – or something of that kind—’

  ‘That was ironic. A joke!’

  ‘Well, this is not. I assure you—’

  ‘A reaction to the hard time you had at sea, perhaps? Crazed stallion desperate for a regular supply of oats?’

  ‘Gerda – please stop that. I’ve known Helena for several months, I love her and she loves me. It’s the happiest, most wonderful thing, and I’d expect you to be happy for us, with us.’

  ‘Is she German?’

  ‘Of course she’s German!’

  ‘Have you told the parents yet?’

  ‘Haven’t had time. On my way to take her to dinner now. She’s based about half an hour away – an Intelligence outfit, military. Her parents live in Hamburg.’

  ‘Otto!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘What sort of people live in Hamburg?’

  Silence, for a moment. Then: ‘I have to go. We’ll talk again when I hope you’ll be in a better frame of mind.’

  Damn her!

  But – could be very much a matter of her state of mind. The loss of her husband – despite her apparent bravery last time they’d spoken – and some kind of awful news this evening…

  He locked the door of the office, took the key to the board in the hallway, started back up to his room. Gerda, he thought – really very disappointing. Call her again, offer sympathy…

  Might make it worse, though. And without her backup, the parents really were going to take some handling…

  ‘Kapitan-Leutnant von Mettendorff, sir?’

  On the first landing – he recognised the man from FdU’s outer office, the leading writer who’d made copies of the patrol report. He’d been descending the stairs at speed, now skidded to a halt.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Kommodore Michelsen’s compliments, sir, would you report to him at once, please!’

  * * *

  Andreas
Michelsen had told Winter, ‘You couldn’t have done it better. Unfortunately we were over-optimistic in thinking that a mutiny which is now widespread in the fleet could have been snuffed out so easily. The Commander-in-Chief has been conducting his own investigations; his Chief of Staff Admiral von Trotha instructs me to thank you for your efforts, but the trouble’s too deep-rooted. In fact it’s become necessary to cancel the plan for fleet action. Battle squadrons are being dispersed – to Kiel, Cuxhaven, and so forth.’

  ‘That’s hellish news.’

  He’d actually flinched from it. Had arrived grim-faced, now looked even grimmer. Sitting bolt upright, glaring across the desk at the FdU. Scowling – shaking… Had been, anyway, was struggling to control it. An abrupt shake of the head: ‘What we’re left with then – forced to – is surrender?’

  Grimacing, as if the word had a bitter taste.

  Michelsen said, ‘Armistice negotiations are in progress, is what I’m told.’

  ‘Politicians’ negotiations…’

  ‘Terms of an armistice would cover detail of naval and military cease-fire as well as political agreement – yes – though presumably the Admiralstab will have their say in it. That means Reinhardt von Scheer, on whom we can certainly count not to let us down. But political wrangling first, yes, I suppose, then detail as to how it’s to affect us.’

  ‘Such as surrendering our ships, including U-boats.’

  Michelsen obviously didn’t like that prospect any more than Winter did. It would be his unpleasant duty to preside over the implementation of whatever was agreed, that was all. Closing his eyes, thinking, that’s all, indeed…Winter grating, ‘When we’ve not been beaten – nowhere near beaten – in fact we were winning hands-down until we were ordered to suspend operations against merchantmen!’

  ‘True. Because our government were requesting an armistice, and that was a pre-condition imposed by the American president. You and I are on the same side, Winter, our views are I’m sure identical. Fact of it is, the Army has been beaten. Came near to sweeping all before them in von Ludendorff’s spring offensive, lost it to the British, Canadians, Americans and French between the eighth and twenty-first of August, east and southeast of Amiens. The Kaiser said then, “We are at the end of our resources”, and Ludendorff declared that the war would have to be ended. You’re right in saying we have not been beaten, but—’