Submerged

by Thomas F Monteleone

  “It is something you never want to think about. And so I tried to forget. Besides, as long as the secret, along with everything else stayed buried…”

  “What did it matter, right?” said Dex, finishing the thought.

  “That is correct.” Bruckner closed his log book with a small dramatic flourish as if to emphasize the point, then put the old fragile book in the side pocket of his golf jacket.

  “But now, we might have trouble. No way to know if the Navy or anybody else found your little surprise. Not yet anyway.”

  “I…do not want anyone to get hurt because of something I did so long ago.”

  Dex looked at Bruckner—he looked concerned, distressed, maybe, but a long way from incompetent.

  “Man, after all this time, I have no way of knowing if it could still go off,” said Dex. “We need to talk to the right people.”

  Jason looked at his grandfather. “Does Dad know any of this?”

  Bruckner shook his head. “No. Nobody ever did—except Manny and Freddie Hausser. And they are both in the Great Beyond.”

  “Did either of them ever share it with anyone?” Tommy asked the question in a half-whisper.

  Bruckner shrugged. “I do not know. But I would think not.”

  “Unbelievable,” said Jason. “This is just crazy.”

  The old man regarded his grandson. “Why do you think I told you about the number of the U-boat? Because I knew what I had left inside it. My log could lead people to find those ruins, and what I left there. And over the years, I had seen stories, Jason. Like the Titanic. More and more people have been finding wrecks, and—”

  “You were very smart to be cautious,” said Dex. Whenever he contacted Parker Whitehurst, he was going to have a hell of a punchline to his story.

  “I have many times told my grandson—there had to be a reason God has let me live so long. I believe this is it.”

  Augie, who’d been sitting in stunned silence through most of this, now stood and walked over to Bruckner, placed a thin hand on his shoulder. “I understand what you mean. I’ve had thoughts like that myself.”

  “What’re we going to tell Dad?” Jason was looking at his grandfather with an expression equal parts admiration and anger.

  “Ha!” Bruckner smiled. “Nothing! We tell him nothing for now. My son is not built for this kind of thing. You want to give him a heart attack?”

  Dex grinned despite the revelations; he really liked the old captain. He was ready to make a suggestion on how to proceed when his Trac Fone started chirping. The sound so startled him, for an instant, he felt confused and wary…until he realized he’d been expecting this call. The impact of Bruckner’s story had deflected Dex’s anticipation, but he smiled when he saw the 202 area code on the ID screen.

  “Would everyone excuse me for a minute,” he said. “I’m going to need to take this.”

  “Of course, of course.” Bruckner, gesturing him toward the other room. “Jason, could you go downstairs and get everyone a refill?”

  As the grandson complied, Dex moved quickly into the office area, sat behind a desk, and pushed the right button on the disposable phone.

  “Hello, Dex McCauley here…”

  “Chief, this is Admiral Whitehurst. Before we go any further, I should tell you some newscasts are telling people you’re a dead man.”

  “That was, as Twain said, ‘exaggerated’.”

  “Maybe.” Whitehurst paused. “How do I know you’re who you say you are?”

  Dex had been prepared for this. “Ask me something only Dex McCauley would know.”

  The Admiral chuckled, then paused. “All right, sailor. Back when you were just getting started at Panama City, I was driving a car I liked a lot back then—what was it?”

  “Austin Healy. Bug-eye Sprite. British Racing Green, sir.” Dex said without hesitation, then paused. “I…I don’t remember the year.”

  “That’s okay. Very good. Now, one more thing. My secretary had a bad habit of sending your recruits out for ice cream—what flavor?”

  “Butter pecan, sir.”

  Admiral Whitehurst laughed in relief. “All right, all right. Now, McCauley, whatever you’ve got to tell me better be damned good.”

  The two men spoke with a casual familiarity that bespoke twenty years of serving together. Skipping any small talk, Dex answered frankly. “I think you know me well enough, sir. I wouldn’t have contacted you without good reason.”

  “I know that, Chief. I did some preliminary checking on your list—now fill me in.”

  Dex did his best to summarize the sequence of events that pushed him to make the call. When he’d finally finished, Whitehurst didn’t speak for a moment. Then: “Jesus Christ, you’re serious, aren’t you? About all of it…and the old U-boat captain, he’s really still alive?”

  “Yes sir, all true.”

  “I need some time to let all this settle, to see the larger picture. If that secret base is even close to what you think it might be…” Whitehurst paused again.

  Dex waited, then risked interrupting his thoughts. “Admiral, sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “I…I just need to know. And I don’t want you to get upset with me for even asking a question like this, but…those guys who’re after us…”

  “Stow it, sailor,” said Whitehurst. “They’re not ours. We wouldn’t do that to our own. You’ll be safe with me, McCauley.”

  “Well, I must’ve already believed that, or I’d never have called you.”

  “Noted,” said Whitehurst. “However, you should know we’re going to need to pick you and your people up. You’re still in danger.”

  “Any idea who those guys could be?”

  “We’ll find out.”

  “So, what’s our next move?”

  “How many in your group are we talking about?”

  “Four.”

  “I’ll scramble a Sea Ranger from the Naval Hospital in Philly. They’ll get it there within the hour, I’m sure. We need to get you and your people down here to DC for a debriefing. Can the old bastard fly?”

  “Pretty sure. He looks plenty healthy to me,” said Dex. He was feeling an electric surge in his pulse, a coiled spring tension in his shoulders and arms. He’d almost forgotten what that sense of readiness was like. But it was as comfortable as an old shoe, and Dex smiled.

  “The pilot will call you when he’s close to the field. I’m assuming Lancaster has an airport—if not we’ll coordinate as soon as I get a confirmed LZ, okay? But I think you should get started right away.”

  “Yes sir, and thank you for calling back, Admiral.”

  “Let’s just say you got my curiosity. Get moving, sailor.”

  Disconnecting the call, Dex re-entered the room and told everybody the plan. When Captain Bruckner learned of the Navy’s plan to fly him out, his eyes brightened, warming to the suggestion of adventure.

  Dex was about to suggest they start making plans when something occurred to him. One of the things he’d always done in Rescue was have a back-up plan, and with this in mind, he spoke to Bruckner.

  “Captain, is there any way you might be able to make me a map? Can you remember what that place looked like? Enough to give me an idea where you left the bomb?”

  Bruckner nodded. “Yes. I will never forget that place.”

  Moving quickly, Erich found some copy machine paper and a pen from the office area. He cleared the drinks and snacks off the tray and let the old man start sketching. As he watched him slowly connect a series of shaky lines, Dex became aware of the music playing beneath their feet. The steady thump of a bass line sounded like the beating heart of a great beast, buried, but slowly awakening—which was exactly what was happening, wasn’t it?

  While he watched Bruckner, the door opened at the landing and Jason appeared with new drinks and so
me bar snacks. Dex thanked him and explained what his grandfather was trying to do.

  Jason nodded, put the tray on the table between the chairs. Quietly, he gestured for Dex to follow him back out of the room where the old man couldn’t hear them.

  “You know,” he said. “It’s funny, I keep going over all this—everything I’ve found out today—and I keep trying to figure out whose fault it is.”

  “Hey, come on…” Dex started to say something.

  Jason waved him off. “I mean, that’s how they teach us to think these days—that it’s always somebody to blame, right? So I’m thinking—how did all this shit get so complicated? So fast? And every time I look at that sweet old guy, the guy who’s loved me and taught me so much since I was just a kid, I…I can’t believe he did anything like this.”

  “He did what he had to do,” said Dex. “Just like he’s doing now.”

  “So, you’re…you’re okay with him?” Jason looked apprehensive.

  “You kidding?” said Dex. “‘Okay’ with him? Your grandfather’s an officer—I’m counting on him.”

  Jason absorbed that simple truth, and unleashed a genuine smile.

  They returned to the room to see that Bruckner had finished his map. Although the lines were a little shaky, and the scale wasn’t altogether accurate, the relative positions of things he’d described were all there. He showed it to Dex with an expression of obvious self-satisfaction.

  “Not bad, eh?” he said.

  “Pretty good, actually,” said Dex. “We may need this at some point. I can keep it, right?”

  “Of course.”

  As Dex folded it up to stash in his pocket, the old man looked away for a moment as if replaying another memory.

  “You know, there is something else,” said Bruckner. “One more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  The old man grinned, waved his finger chidingly at Dex. “No, I must show you. Telling would do no good.”

  “What’re you talking about?” said Jason.

  Erich sighed. “As I said before, as the time passed, and nothing ever came of our sunken boat. Buried under the bay, and forgotten. There was only one thing to tie us to any of it, and Manny and I had to decide what to do with it.”

  Dex nodded. “And what thing is that?”

  “Something we retrieved from the wreckage,” said Bruckner. He shook his head, as if to indicate there was no way he could relate it to them.

  “Was it a piece of metal? Shaped kind of like a brick?”

  Bruckner looked surprised. “How did you know that?”

  “I read your log, remember?”

  “Oh, yes, of course. And yes, I’ve kept it all these years.”

  “Plus, we found another one,” said Dex. “Right where you must have left it—by the aft hatch.”

  “Yes, I remember…when it dropped away from me.” Bruckner’s gaze was somewhere else in the corridors of his memories. “Where is it? Do you have it with you?”

  Dex shrugged, not feeling like this was the best time to unravel the rest of his story concerning the attack on the Sea Dog. “No…we…lost it…in an accident. It’s back in the Bay.”

  “No matter. I made provision to keep the one I took. It was the only solid proof I had…the proof we had really been there.”

  “Where is it now?” Dex looked around at the small group, then directly at Bruckner. “You can tell us all, Captain—we’re all in this together.”

  The old man looked at his grandson. “Jason knows. He was with me when I secured it there. Conestoga Memorial Cemetery. Next to Manny’s headstone, we buried it there, right after he died, remember?”

  Jason nodded. “I remember,” he said in a solemn voice.

  “I had kept that object with me all these years, in a box I kept by my bed. It was the only thing that proved to me it had all been real. But when Manny died…I don’t know, there was nothing left to connect me to the past.”

  “I think we should leave it there for now,” said Dex. “Believe me, sir, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

  Bruckner considered this for moment, then nodded. “Perhaps you are right,” he said. “And now, should we prepare for our trip?”

  “Yeah,” said Dex, looking at Jason, who was standing at his grandfather’s side. “Is there anything he’s going to need before we leave?”

  “He has a bunch of prescriptions, some clothes, I guess, right?”

  Dex nodded, gestured to everybody. “Sounds good to me. Let’s get going.”

  While Jason carefully helped the elder Bruckner down the stairs, into the corridor that exited Manny’s Tap Room, Dex did the same for Augie, who complained he didn’t need any help, but the whole time held onto Dex’s arm in a deathgrip. Tommy followed everyone out into the parking lot. The sun had set while they’d been inside, and the night sky burned clear and starry above them. The muted sounds of bass-driven music buffeted the back door of the bar. As Jason helped the two old guys into the spacious back seat of the Murano, Dex caught Tommy’s sleeve as he looked around in the darkness and the phalanx of cars all around them.

  “Hey,” he said in a whisper. “Keep an eye out. I feel very exposed out here.”

  Tommy tensed, put a hand in the pocket of his windbreaker to touch the grip of the Glock 18. “Jeez…you think—?”

  “I don’t know what to think. But we have to be careful, No way to know if our big bald friend’s gotten loose or not.”

  “Gotcha.” Tommy climbed into the shotgun seat looking very uncomfortable.

  As Jason backed out of the parking space, Dex looked over at Bruckner. “There’s more to your story, Captain. Do you mind telling us what happened after your last entry in the log?”

  “Hmmm?” Bruckner looked up from his thoughts.

  “Well, basically,” said Dex. “I’m curious. How’d you get from there…to here?”

  “Yes, I suppose there is more to the story.” The old guy grinned, nodded.

  “He’s right, Opa,” said Jason. “I don’t think I’ve heard all this, either.”

  “All right,” said Bruckner. “We have a little bit of a ride. I can tell you all the rest of my story.”

  Chapter Forty

  Erich Bruckner

  Chesapeake Bay

  4 May 1945

  Ostermann was the last to leave the boat. “Are you certain you want to do this, Captain?”

  Erich shook his hand. “A captain stays with his ship,” he said. “I will try to get her where she belongs.”

  His navigator saluted, then headed for the Sturm. There had been no need to share his intentions with the rest of the crew. As Manny and Hausser watched the big cruiser glide away from them, Erich was already charting a course for the short run south to the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. They would be forced to remain on the surface because they would not have enough crew to perform even the most rudimentary diving or surfacing operations.

  Erich had no choice but to gamble they would not be discovered. For the scant hour or so of daylight, a low cloud cover was in their favor if the Americans had continued recon flights along the coast despite the war’s end.

  Hours later, rocked in the cradle of midnight, the U-5001 tossed gently on the surface of the Bay. They had made it. It was very dark—and the cloud cover remained heavy with the possibility of a storm. Frederich Hausser stood by an inflated rubber dinghy, tied up alongside the rear hatch. He stood at the ready to unleash it in case of an emergency. After all this planning, Erich did not want the sinking submarine to pull their life raft down with it.

  Manny was not certain how close they might be to any onshore installations or homes, and for that reason he did not want to place any charges. If sounds of detonations drew attention, they would be risking capture. Erich did not want the Americans to know anything about his boat’s true
mission. And so, it was necessary to scuttle the boat by hand in a fairly deep drop off in the seabed.

  He and Manny opened the ballast doors, overflowing all tanks. The effect was immediate and much faster than they imagined and the brackish water rushed in the open hatches around their feet in an instant.

  “Get to the aft hatch!” yelled Manny.

  As they ran, Erich could feel the boat was lowering itself into the water with great speed. He knew they had little time before all open hatches were breached. When that happened, she would go down.

  As he rushed headlong past his captain’s quarters, Erich paused, debating for an instant whether he had time or inclination to bring his small footlocker—containing his papers and the ship’s log. He’d previously convinced himself he would be starting over with a whole new life, but when the moment came to let everything go, he felt hesitation.

  But it was short-lived. Manny ran up behind him, pushed him along, yelling like a maniac. “No time! No time!”

  Erich trailed his friend as they scrambled up the ladder to the escape hatch. At that moment, the strap to Manny’s rucksack snagged on a jutting pipe. When it pulled taut, its flap opened and one of the metallic bars he carried fell away, clattering to the deck below. Erich paused, thought about trying to retrieve it, and Manny yelled something unintelligible as he grabbed his captain by the neck of his sweater and yanked him up the ladder.

  Water breached the hatch; a torrent roared past Erich just as Manny pulled him clear. If he had not done that, Erich could have been trapped.

  And then it happened so quick after that. He was stunned how fast the water took her down. Jumping into the dinghy, he barely had time to turn and salute his last command. The U-5001 slipped beneath the shimmering black bay and was gone.

  It had been a sobering scene.

  So final.

  After seeing it, the three men paddled slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Without the bright, clear chart of the stars, they had no cues for direction, but they could see a pale, distant scattering of lights, which defined the shoreline and the general north-south orientation of the Bay. At that moment, Erich tried to concentrate on their position rather than think too deeply upon the enormity of what he was doing. But one thought would not leave him: he was certainly a very desperate young man.