“The coffee is awful. My apologies,” smiled Dr Arnold.
Dahlen nodded, before continuing his story. “We had no warning. Well, looking back now, I think I could hear something. Almost as though I could hear water rushing, or the pressure building up, on the other side of the hull. I thought nothing of it at the time, and even if I had, I don’t believe that there is anything I could have done to help the Freyr escape its fate. Øystein was right by the weak spot, examining some of the damaged rivets in one of the braces. I remember there was a trickle of water running from one or two of them, and although the flow was very gentle, it was already causing the paint to bubble and warp. Then, seemingly from nowhere, there was an explosion.”
Krauser nodded. “As I said: the torpedo.”
Dahlen shook his head. “Forget your torpedo, Captain. I am sorry to rob you of your victory and pride, but what I saw was not man made.
“The wall of the hold just… burst open. The metal split and pushed inwards, as though some giant had fixed it with a bayonet. The walls peeled upwards and split as the shark forced its way in. Captain… the size of this thing. It looked like the devil himself had taken shark form. It was faded grey… maybe even white in places. One dead black eye stared into the room; it must have lost the other in some battles months, perhaps even decades past, as all that remained was a sod of lumpy scar tissue. The head of the shark pushed its way into the hold and we felt the entire ship shift under its weight, causing the floor to become a slope directly into the things mouth.
“I was fortunate enough to grab a hold of a support pillar. The steel held, despite the chaos.”
Dahlen sat for a moment, lost in his memory. Eventually Krauser grew uncomfortable in the silence and felt the need to push him along. “And Øystein?”
Dahlen breathed in deeply, and blew it out shakily. “Øystein was… not so fortunate. He lost his footing as the sea water cascaded in. The floor turned into a slide under the salt water and the deadly angle the shark created. He went straight onto his backside, and… slid straight to the beast. The shark opened its jaw and… Captain, its mouth must have opened three metres wide. Not that that was the worst part.
“Sharks have more than one set of teeth you know. They have rows and rows of them, like a meat grinder. Almost as soon as one is lost, the next can roll forward to fill the gap. This jaw spread open three metres, let out a gust of disgusting, rotting breath, and those teeth…
“Øystein slid in feet first. He managed to catch hold of the thing’s bottom lip, and tried to kick and lever himself out, but it did no good. Those jaws came together with a suctioning boom, and Øystein screamed as the teeth drove into his thighs, broke his legs, ripped at his stomach. He slid in another half a metre, and they came down again, crushing his rib cage this time. He vomited a gout of blood which only seemed to ignite the beast’s hunger further. Two more chomps in rapid succession and Øystein was dead. Two more and he was gone from sight. The thing ate him whole, Captain.”
Dr Arnold looked terrified. “My god, if what you say is true, this thing is… simply colossal. Captain, can a shark really puncture through the steel of a tanker? Can they grow to that size?”
Krauser paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “I am not an expert on sharks, doctor, but I do not believe that Mr Dahlen is lying. I am sorry for the loss of your friend, Øystein, Mr Dahlen.”
Dahlen waved his hand in part acknowledgement, part dismissal. “He was not exactly a friend, but he was a young man, and I was sorry to see him go. Especially in so grotesque a manner.”
“Please continue your story.”
“The shark retreated once it had consumed Øystein, and slid back into the dark waters. Immediately the cold sea poured in through the hole it had torn, and I was left drenched and freezing. Instantly I felt the boat lurch hard to the side, and I knew that we had to be sinking. I ran for the ladder back to the upper decks. I slowly made my way there by bouncing off and grabbing onto struts and packing crates and chains, the water making my every step laborious. When I at last reached the ladder, the hold shuddered as if in a seizure, and once again the shark came for me. It caught and scratched its skin on the shredded metal of the opening, but this did not seem to bother it in the slightest. I felt myself tremble under the gaze of that dead eye once more, before the adrenaline kicked in and I was up the ladder and on deck before I knew what was happening.
“Captain Otness was leading the evacuation. Like yourself, he assumed that it was a torpedo that had hit us. I tried to tell him what had happened, but he could not hear me in the chaos of the men readying the lifeboats for escape. He waved me off and shoved me in the direction of the nearest lifeboat, and I followed this order.
“Once we were in the boat, it seemed to crash down through the darkness and onto the water. Two of the men – I forget their names already – rowed us as far away from the ship as we could get. They feared a fire reaching the fuel reserves, or something of that nature, I suppose. I didn’t tell them what the real thing to fear was. Who of them would have believed me?”
Dahlen fell silent for a moment, and sipped his coffee. When he continued, the panic that had been edging into his voice had subsided, and he was back to his normal, almost stoic, manner. “I did not see the first lifeboat go down. I don’t know that anyone did. I heard some of the men shout that the boat was missing. At first they called for their friends, hoping that they were just adrift in the darkness. Perhaps some of them feared they had capsized, or something, but in my heart, I already knew what had happened… and I knew it was only a matter of time until our boat was next.”
“We saw what happened to the other lifeboats,” said Krauser. “We were making our way toward you to provide assistance when your boat was sunk. We feared you were lost to the shark, until we spotted you clinging to that driftwood.”
“I have no idea how I survived, myself,” replied Dahlen. “I do not even really remember the shark hitting our lifeboat. Well, I do, but it is… sort of in a dream. Or rather a nightmare, eh? I remember our boat being… thrown up, I suppose… though it actually felt more as though the boat was pushed upwards. I did not see the shark. I just saw the foam and spray, heard the shouts of my colleagues… but I smelled that same death and rotten fish odour that I remembered from the cargo hold. Then I crashed into the water, and… to be honest, the next thing I really remember is being helped aboard your ship.”
“Boat.”
“Sorry?”
“We are a boat, not a ship. A minor technicality, but a bugbear of most submarine crews.”
Dahlen nodded in understanding. Dr Arnold turned to Krauser to offer his diagnosis. “He’s in shock, and there’s possibly a slight concussion, but nothing serious. Keep him warm and dry and rested for a day or two and he’ll be in perfect health.”
Krauser nodded. “Mr Dahlen, we will hand you over to the Kriegsmarine when we return home at the end of this patrol in a week or so. They will arrange your safe return back to your family.”
“Thank you, Captain. I appreciate your hospitality. And I hope that we make it ‘home’.”
Krauser left the man with the doctor, and made his way back to the control room. He knew what Dahlen was inferring. If this shark had indeed sunk a freighter, then what chance did the U-616 stand?
-SEVEN-