Krauser opted to leave the curtain to his bunk open. It was nice to have privacy, but it also helped morale if he could show himself to be approachable; and it was only a matter of minutes before someone did stop to see him.
“How are things, my Captain?”
Krauser set down the book that he had yet to make it past page twenty of, and smiled at his old friend.
“Until now, things have been rather too quiet.”
Dr Josef Arnold was the ship’s medical officer, responsible for taking care of any sick and injured crew. On a good trip, there was nothing for him to do, other than to pitch in during times of great strain and difficulty. A bad trip – such as the previous patrol, which had seen an ensign break both arms when a torpedo tore loose of its mountings – would end in the doctor tired beyond all measure.
“Too quiet? Can there really be such a thing?” asked the doctor.
“Yes, doctor and all too easily. A quiet ship is a quiet crew, and a quiet crew is a bored crew. You know that some of the men have arranged a chess tournament?”
“I’m confident I’ll make it through to the quarter finals, at least.”
Krauser laughed. “I don’t doubt it. Blumenfeld is a good player, though. I think he will take the prize.”
“And what is the prize?”
“A bottle and a woman of your choice at the next shore leave.”
“Then I expect you shall be playing your hardest?”
The Captain shook his head and sat up in his bunk. “No, I will not be entering. It’s uncomfortable for the crew when I join in these things. They don’t want to beat me, but they don’t want to be seen to be losing too easily to me either. It is better I do not join in.”
“It sounds to me like you’re trying to avoid losing.”
Krauser threw up his hands in defeat. “Yes, yes; I am awful at chess. I lack the ability to plan forward more than one move at a time. Sometimes I can see two, I suppose, but a truly great chess player can be ten, fifteen, twenty moves beyond you, in his head. I lack that foresight, that memory, that… forethought.”
Dr Arnold raised his eyebrows. “Rather an odd admission for the captain of a sea vessel, in time of war.”
Krauser lowered his voice, now wishing that he did have a cabin or an office of his own. “I suppose that is why this particular role suits me so well. I can cruise along, and only have to come up with a strategy once we actually engage the target. I don’t have to worry about where the enemy is three weeks in advance, or the counterintelligence he has. I just have to turn up, and engage on the fly, almost. I will never be a Dönitz, or a Rommel – or even a Churchill, for that matter – but this? This is a job I can do.”
“I understand completely. For me, every patient is a surprise. I don’t know what sickness or injury will greet me until I see it with my own eyes. It is both a blessing and curse.”
Krauser stood from his bunk, and gripped the doctor’s arm. “It is good, then, that we have both found careers that so suit our abilities and foibles.”
The doctor nodded. “Is there anything I can do to help you at present, my Captain?”
Krauser shook his head. “I, and all my chief staff, are well. So, unless you want to provide me some chess lessons…”
“And give away all my best strategies? The prize is mine, sir!”
They were interrupted by the arrival of Hertz, stinking and sweating. “Sir, we have determined that the freighter is unescorted. Permission to surface?”
Krauser nodded. While known for operating underwater, truth be told, U-Boats were only supposed to do so when threatened, or otherwise attempting to avoid detection. “Permission granted. Surface, but slowly if possible.”
“Yes, sir.” Hertz snapped and headed quickly to the control room.
“He likes being in the control room when you’re not there,” said Dr Arnold, wryly. “It gives him a chance to play act as captain for a while.”
Krauser knew the doctor was right, and it irked him a little. He thought he was the only one who had detected Hertz’s suppressed resentment, but apparently this was not the case. “He’s a good man. He would make an excellent captain – on another ship, mind – if he managed to get that chip off his shoulder.”
“Agreed. Anyway, I shall let you rest. I have chess to practice.”
The U-616 sailed slowly through the North Sea, unseen by the Norwegian supply ship Freyr, bound for Britain, with a cargo of meat, fish and clothing. An experienced sailor can easily navigate by the moon and the stars, of course; and the crews of both the U-616 and the Freyr were experienced, trained and able to do so. Truth be told, most could navigate to their destination armed only with a map and a compass; but the night holds other dangers. Darkness holds other dangers.
The sea is dark, and the sea is deep, and it holds many secrets.
At ten o’clock that night, Krauser climbed from his bunk and made his way to the control room. The attack would begin shortly.
-TWO-
Krauser stepped into the control room to salutes from Hertz and the attendant seamen. There was a tension in the air, such as always preceded an attack like this. Days and days of no action took a toll on the men who had signed up to do their part for their country, and nothing blew off some steam quite like firing a brace of torpedoes towards a fat, juicy target.
“Report, Mr Hertz,” said Krauser, stepping to the periscope.
“Vessel is a Norwegian freighter, sir. Heading for either North England or Scotland. We’re matching speed at fifteen knots, at present. No sign of escort, or air support.”
Krauser peered through the periscope at the darkness all around them. The ship was close now, but he was confident that the U-Boat would sit too low in the water to be easily spotted. He was able to read the name Freyr on the side. The Norse goddess of the harvest. “Let’s go up top. I can’t see much through the scope at night.”
“Yes, sir.”
The two of them, accompanied by four men – two to arm the flak gun, two to the deck gun – climbed up through the hatch. The noise inside a U-Boat was a constant drone of diesel and machinery that was cacophonous at first, but eventually became such a constant background that one barely noticed it. Up top, the waves and the wind were just as loud, but they were jarringly different. The whirring and oscillating of the noises of the U-Boat were at least a constant. The noises of the waves playing against the side of the boat, the howling of the wind, and the distant chug of the Freyr’s engines were all somehow discordant and chaotic compared to the consistency of the submarine.
Krauser wished he’d brought a windbreaker up with him, and suppressed a shiver in the North Sea breeze. Hertz had come prepared, and while he said nothing, Krauser still felt as though he was taking this as yet another of his silent victories over the younger captain. He pulled his binoculars up, and studied the vessel. “That hull looks to be reinforced.”
“Sir?”
“I don’t think the deck gun will penetrate. Prepare to fire torpedoes.”
“Sir, I must protest. The deck gun carries eighty-eight millimetre shells; that’s more than even our largest tanks can fire, and this is just a freighter…”
“It’s a large freighter, Mr Hertz. And I intend to see it destroyed as quickly and efficiently as possible. The torpedoes will not have to worry as much about penetrating the armour, and the wind… The wind, Mr Hertz, will make the deck gun inaccurate. We will fire torpedoes.”