“Put down those crowbars and follow me,” instructed the Texan.
“Excuse me, Sir,” countered Jon Huslid.
“But we’re just starting to make some progress here.”
“Do what you like,” shot back Lawton.
“But if you want me, I’ll most likely be found in the sub’s control room, that I’ll be accessing through the open hatchway positioned ten meters behind you.”
Not waiting to give them a chance to respond to this revelation, Lawton swam off to do just as he said. No sooner did he reach the open hatch, than a pair of lights could be seen rapidly approaching from the sub’s forward end.
“We’ll I’ll be damned, Jon,” observed Jakob as he spotted this entrance.
The photographer swam by David Lawton and skeptically peeked inside.
“It looks clear, alright,” he said.
“Let’s give it a shot. Watch those umbilicals, Jakob. I’m going in.”
The Texan reported their movements to the surface.
“We’re proceeding to enter U-3312 through its sail-mounted aft, starboard hatchway.”
“I read you,” replied Magne.
“Good hunting.
You’ve got forty-seven and a half minutes and counting.”
Lawton signalled Jakob to go on and enter the sail. The Norwegian did so readily. Lawton made certain that their umbilicals were clear before entering the hatchway himself.
It was eerie as he carefully swam down the length of the well and emerged into the vessel’s control room. The curious Norwegians had already begun their inspection of this space, and Lawton did his best to carefully scan the compartment with the limited light available to him.
The cold water had kept most of the fittings in a fairly decent state of preservation. He swam by the diving station, and was able to identify the assortment of large brass wheels that would be turned to adjust the U-boat’s trim. Nearby he found the remnants of a cracked gyro-compass, and a compact, barnacle-laden table that he supposed was reserved for the navigator’s charts. A closed bin lay beneath this table, and curious as to what lay inside, Lawton bent over to have a look.
He laid his torch on the deck and grabbed the bin’s handles. When they didn’t give at first, he put his foot up against the adjoining bulkhead, and using his back for leverage, yanked backward with all his might. The doors parted, and out shot a black creature with a slimy narrow body, bright yellow eyes, and massive, snapping jaws. His pulse pounding in terror, Lawton blindly dove to his left, causing the giant eel’s slithering body to smack up against his side and then dart off into the blackness.
He was still trying hard to regain his composure, when he heard one of the Norwegians cry out in disgust.
“Oh, for the love of God, just look at what’s left of that poor fellow!”
His curiosity now fully satisfied, Lawton backed away from the open bin and swam toward the flickering lights at the center of the compartment. Both of the Norwegians were gathered there, their torches illuminating the skeletoned figure of a man, who was still dressed in a ragged black uniform complete with a white hat, draped over what appeared to be the partially deployed periscope.
“Looks like he died right at his station,” observed one of the Norwegians somberly.
Lawton felt a heavy lump gathering at the back of his throat as he pulled his glance away from this macabre scene.
“Come on, lads. We’d better be moving now,” he managed.
This time he led the way to the forward hatchway.
He found it jammed shut. While Jakob utilized a crowbar to free it, the central portion of the control room flashed with a photographer’s strobe.
Soon after this strobe faded, Jon joined them at the stuck hatch, and with their combined strength, they finally succeeded in wrenching it open.
A long, narrow passageway led to the boat’s forward spaces. With no time left to explore the various spaces that bordered this corridor, they continued on toward the sub’s bow, stopping only when they came to another closed hatch.
“This should be the entrance to the torpedo room,” remarked Lawton.
“Make certain that those umbilicals have plenty of slack in them while I give the hatch a try.”
Using a crowbar, the Texan managed to turn the circular locking mechanism, which opened with a loud, rusty squeal. His pulse quickened as he pulled the hatch toward him and swam into the spacious compartment that lay beyond.
While he circled this cavernous space with his light held up before him, Lawton listened as one of the Norwegians sent a report topside.
“We’ve entered what appears to be the forward torpedo room, Chief. But strange as it may seem, there doesn’t appear to be anything in it. The whole room looks like it’s been stripped bare.”
“Why that’s impossible,” returned Magne.
“Are you certain you’re in the right space?”
“It’s the torpedo room alright,” said Lawton.
“I just passed its six bow caps. But the compartment does appear to be completely empty.”
“Get a load of this, Jon!” interrupted Jakob.
“What in the hell?”
“You’re down to less than a half hour, gentlemen.
It’s time to clear out of there and return to the bell” warned their conscience from above.
Totally ignoring this advice, the three divers gathered on the port side of the compartment, where the Lapp had just made a puzzling discovery. Cut into the side bulkhead was a neatly cut rectangular hole that extended all the way through both hulls and led directly into the open sea.
“Good Lord!” exclaimed Jakob.
“It looks like this cut is recent, and it appears just wide enough to fit a single diver.”
“Did you hear me, gentlemen?” repeated the sharp voice of Magne.
“I said that it’s time to return to the bell! Do you copy that?”
“Magne, this is David. We hear you all right, and we’ll return to the bell in a minute. But in the meantime, just hold onto your horses a second.
We’ll be getting back to you right shortly.”
Without waiting for Magne to respond, the Texan made certain that he had plenty of slack in his umbilical before fitting his head and shoulders up against the mysterious opening. Seeing that he could just clear it with a couple of inches to spare, he kicked himself forward and entered the void that lay between the sub’s inner pressure hull and its outer skin.
“David, I want you out of there right now!” screamed Magne urgently.
“Jon, Jakob, what the hell is going on down there? Either get back to the bell, or I’m going to have to send Arne in to carry you back by force!”
Oblivious to this threat, the two Norwegians followed the American’s lead, with Jakob going into the hole first. Instead of heading right for the outer skin of the vessel, the Lapp plunged down into the black space that separated the two hulls. It was easily wide enough to fit two divers, and Jakob knew that somewhere down here was stored the sub’s ballast tanks. With his mercury-vapor torch held out in front of him, he continued downward toward the keel, as the infuriated voice of his boss rattled forth from his mask mounted speakers.
“Arne, I want you to suit up right now. Then get out there and pull those guys up out of there if you have to.”
It was obvious that Magne was furious, and before Arne was forced to needlessly leave the shelter of the bell, David Lawton responded.
“Hold on, partner. I’ve seen what I had to see, and now we’re headed on back to the ranch. Keep dry, Arne. We’re comin’ home.”
Both David Lawton and Jon Huslid returned through the hole that they had swum through and reentered the empty torpedo room. Yet one umbilical still remained on the other side of the opening, and the photographer was quick to speak out.