He collapsed the scope, nodded to his helmsman to retract it. As he turned around, Erich saw his Exec looking at him from nearby.
“You look preoccupied,” said Manfred Fassbaden.
Erich shrugged, then shared his concerns.
“It would be different if we hadn’t been spotted right out of the yards,” said Manfred. “You could not risk being trailed or passed along to a pack of destroyers.”
Erich nodded. That was true enough — the habits of U-boat captains and the rigid orders from Berlin had made it easier for the allies to predict where a submarine might be once it had been spotted and its position charted. Admiral Doenitz understood this — the reason he had decided to deviate from the usual pattern, opting for a more circuitous route.
“True enough,” he said. “When we have fresh batteries, we will resume at cruise depth.”
Aboard his previous boats, Erich had stayed on the surface as much as possible during the night hours. He believed it was still relatively safe, as it had been — at least until the last six months of the war when allied detection techniques had significantly improved. But this mission was so important, he could not dare risk being spotted on the surface. The secrecy in constructing this giant submarine had been the most stringent of the war, and Erich had been sworn to preserve it.
For now, that meant sweating through the minutes and hours until they could slip beneath surface once more.
Manfred moved closer and looked him squarely in the eye. Erich could read concern and urgency in his friend’s expression. His Exec spoke softly. “I require a word with you, sir. In your cabin.”
Not wanting to leave the con under the potentially troubling circumstances, Erich considered putting things off, but he also knew Manfred would not ask such a thing lightly.
“Very well,” said Erich, leading the way toward the hatch leading down to the main deck corridor. Just before descending he gave the con to Ostermann.
The commander’s cabin was only several strides from the ladder. When both men had entered it, Erich closed the door, and indicated they both sit at a small table which did double service as his desk.
“I will assume there is a problem,” said Erich.
“Potentially, yes.” He paused as if unsure how to continue. He looked embarrassed, as if trying to make himself smaller. The Exec was about as big as a man could be and still function in the close quarters of U-boat.
“Come on, Manny. Out with it.”
“I finally had time to do a routine check of the crew roster, and there is a… discrepancy.”
“What does that mean?” Erich leaned forward, listening intently.
“One of our men in the forward torpedo room is listed as Seaman Oscar Kliner… but Kliner is not onboard.”
“What? And how did this happen?”
“Apparently Kliner suffered an attack of acute appendicitis only moments before the crew was to begin boarding. He was taken to the infirmary, and in order to maintain the schedule, the Officer of the Watch assigned a replacement.”
Erich absorbed this, and fought his immediate reaction, which was to become furious. There was simply no excuse for not informing him of any problem. He had been ordered, by Doenitz, no less, to personally hand-pick his crew. If any one of them were unavailable, he should have been told at the moment it was known. The U-5001 should not have been allowed to sail until its Captain had been given a chance to deal with the problem.
The German military was getting sloppy, he thought. This is why we are going to lose this war. The truth of that sank through him like an anchor plumbing the coldest depths.
“Manfred, what you are telling me… it is frankly unbelievable.”
“I am aware of that. If we had not been attacked so quickly into our mission, I would have learned of it much sooner.” Fassbaden’s fists tightened as he revealed his own anger and helplessness. “To be honest, Warrant Officer Kress was terrified to tell me.”
“Some officious numb-skull at Trondheim took it upon himself to find me a new crewman?” Erich pounded the small table with his open palms. “How dare that fool!”
“There may be more to it,” said the Exec.
“Why?” said Erich understanding instantly what Fassbaden was intimating. “Who is our replacement?”
“His name is Roland Liebling.”
The name resonated with him; he knew this seaman. “He is the man rumored to have attempted to start a mutiny on the U-479. A few days before it hit a mine in the Eastern Baltic Sea.”
“That is our man,” said Fassbaden. “Unfortunately, there is no proof — other than the word of the only other survivor from that sinking.”
Erich felt a sudden urge for a cigarette, but he had forbidden smoking on his ship unless surfaced. He could not allow himself to break one of his own rules. Sheisse… he did not need this kind of trouble. “What else do we know about this man?”
Reaching into his shirt pocket, Fassbaden pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper. “Not much. Without radio, I cannot get a dossier check confirmed. I… had to rely on whatever scuttlebutt the Chief knew.”
Erich had to grin just a little. Chief Warrant Officer Helmut Massenburg had been in the Navy for so long, he probably claimed to remember von Tirpitz. He was also a great repository of information on whatever was going on in the U-boat service.
“All right. And what did he know?”
“More than I would have thought. Seems that Liebling has been trouble from the beginning.” Fassbaden glanced at his unfolded notepaper. “The man is twenty-six. Family runs a very small dairy farm near the Austrian border. He was conscripted — Regular Army — to work in Food Services.”
“What is he doing with us?”
“The Chief says High Command has been pulling men for the U-boats from wherever they can get them. There is, as you know, a great demand for men.”
Erich nodded. His Exec, being as superstitious as most true sailors, would not outwardly acknowledge the outrageously high mortality rate of the U-boat crews. “And they are becoming less and less discriminating.”
“So it would seem,” said Fassbaden. “Liebling makes it well known he hates the military. He has been in many fistfights, and has been stockaded twice. He claims to know nothing of U-boats, and according to Kress, has already made several enemies among the torpedo and gunnery mates.”
“Have your best men keep a close watch on him. I will shoot him myself if he becomes a real problem.”
Fassbaden nodded, said nothing.
Erich knew his old friend believed him — even though both of them knew he’d never shot anyone in his entire life. Although Erich liked to think of himself as a very civilized man, he would not hesitate to do whatever necessary to protect his crew.
Neither spoke for a moment, then Erich added, “The more I think about it, we should get Liebling out of the torpedo room. Assign him to the galley with Hausser. Have the cook watch him and report anything odd to you immediately.”
“Good idea. If we get called to battle station, I can have Massenburg fill in down there.”
“That will work,” said Erich. “But let us hope it will not be necessary.”
Fassbaden nodded, stood up, knowing instinctively their meeting had ended. Erich liked that decisive confidence in his Exec, and trusted him without question. He followed the tall, broad-shouldered man into the corridor leading to the control deck where Ostermann and his charts awaited him.
“We will be beyond the range of the base within twenty minutes,” said the navigator, who had been carefully plotting their exact position as the U-5001 continued to sneak past the Ammassalik base.