Hands gripped him by the shoulders and pulled him forward. Warmth wrapped around him as the sudden cessation of the punishing wind cut off. Other hands peeled his frozen scarf from his face.
“Wilhelm?”
“Sir,” Wilhelm gasped. “My… apologies. I think… the wireless…”
The navigator who’d caught and assisted him helped him further, pulling him up to stand. Wilhelm found that he couldn’t uncurl his frozen fingers enough to unclip his safety tether, so the officer did it for him, and then handed him a mug.
“Careful,” the navigator cautioned. “It’s barely warm, but you could still scald yourself. What about the wireless?”
Wilhelm took a sip of the coffee, which felt deliciously warm, and drew in a deep breath.
“Yes, sir. I think I was able to restore power to the receiver, at least. The machinists say that the forward engine is a complete loss, however. There’s no way to fix her in the air.”
“Damn,” the navigator said. “I’ll tell the captain. You go check on your wireless set.”
“Yes, sir,” Wilhelm said again. He nodded respectfully and made his way carefully back to his own crew station, cradling the mug of coffee and fervently wishing that he never again had to make that trip during this mission.
Ludwig clapped his exhausted navigator on the shoulder.
“I have the ship, Heinrich,” he said softly. “Why don’t you step around to the officers’ berth and get some rest.”
“Aye, sir,” Leutnant zur See Maas said, fatigue and gratitude threading through his tone. It was near midnight, and the command deck was quiet. Most of the men had also been dismissed back to their crowded common berth compartment to get what rest they could. As the captain, Ludwig had the luxury of a tiny closet all to himself, and he’d taken himself there shortly after sundown for his own rest. Experience had taught him that he couldn’t care for his crew if he didn’t also take care of himself. So once dusk had found them high overhead of the Nile and following its course south, he’d left the ship in the capable hands of his officer for a few hours.
“Looks like it’s you and me, Wilhelm,” Ludwig said to the young wireless operator sitting at his console.
“Aye, sir,” the young man said, coming smartly to his feet. Ludwig waved him back down to a seat. There wasn’t a need to be quite so formal during the middle watch, not with nothing going on. And though the man looked worlds better than he had after his harrowing heroics that afternoon, his face still shone pinched and pale in the dimly lit compartment.
“Did you get some rest, Wilhelm?” Ludwig asked. “Stay seated, for God’s sake.”
“Aye, sir,” Wilhelm said. “I did. The Obermaschinistenmaat ordered me into the berths and told me not to come out for a solid four hours. He kept a careful log of any transmissions, sir, I checked.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Ludwig said, hiding a smile. The young man looked both terrified and gratified to be having this late night conversation. Funny as it might seem to him, he could understand, given the differences in their respective ranks and stations. He nodded at the man, then lifted his binoculars to look out the front windows, thus releasing Wilhelm from any further discussion.
It was a beautiful, clear night. Stars studded the sky like a spray of chipped ice on midnight blue satin. The moon, just barely past half, rode high, spilling stolen light on the desert terrain below. Up ahead, the Nile shone, a close, silver ribbon twisting through the hills as it pointed their way south.
It was closer than it ought to be, actually.
Ludwig lowered the binoculars and frowned, then turned to try to focus on the dimly lit altimeter. He squinted his eyes, bending toward the instrument panel. He was barely able to make out the numbers painted on the dial.
Two-thousand, nine hundred feet?
That couldn’t be right. He reached out and tapped the gauge. Sometimes, the needles could get stuck…
“Captain, a message.”
Ludwig straightened and turned back to Wilhelm at the wireless console. The young man held out a pair of headphones, and he wasted no time in putting them on.
Ludwig could read Morse as well as any signaler. He translated in his own mind as the message repeated. “… Break off operation. Return. Enemy has seized greater part of Makonde Highlands, already holds Kitangari. Portuguese are attacking remainder of Protectorate Forces from south.”
“Wilhelm,” Ludwig said quietly, his voice calm, even as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. “This is genuine?”
“I authenticated the code, sir,” Wilhelm said, sounding as sick as Ludwig felt. “It’s genuine.”
“Very well,” Ludwig said. He took a deep breath and stepped over to the message tube. He didn’t think Wilhelm or any of the other men on the night watch could see, but perhaps he could be forgiven as his hand trembled just a little when he pulled the speaking cone to his face.
“Crew, this is the Captain,” he said, hearing his own voice echo into the tube. “We have been recalled by the High Command. Prepare to come about.”
A chorus of disbelief and outrage rose from both the officers’ compartment and the crew berths that lay on the other side of the bulkhead from the command cabin. Heinrich, his navigator and second-in-command, charged up onto the command deck with his coat undone and his hair all askew from sleep.
“Sir, you can’t be serious!” Heinrich said, and the men piling in after him raised their voices in agreement. “We’ve come so far! Been through so much! This message can’t be genuine! Von Lettow-Vorbeck is lost without these supplies!”
“Leutnant Maas, you forget yourself,” Ludwig said coldly to Heinrich.
“Sir, you know I’d never disrespect you, but consider! A recall now? This makes no sense! It must be the British—”
“Leutnant!” Ludwig thundered, just as the zeppelin lurched and tilted. He’d ordered her elevator set to fly with their nose up at four degrees above the horizon throughout the night. A tell-tale shudder reverberated through the floor, and Ludwig spun, throwing himself toward the instrument panel.
“Nose down!” he yelled, as his eyes locked onto the altimeter. The needle began to spin, slowly at first, and then accelerating as they fell through the skies. “Nose down, full power from all remaining engines! We’ve stalled in the cold night air!”
The deep thrumming that always existed in the background picked up in pitch as someone—maybe even the unfortunate Heinrich—picked up the command tube and relayed his order to the engine room. The captain heard men grunting and swearing behind him as they fought with the elevator controls to try to bring the behemoth’s nose down in order to get her flying again.
Slowly, their pitch attitude changed.
Too slowly. The altimeter needle continued to spin. Two-thousand feet. One thousand nine hundred ninety feet…
“We’re too heavy! Engelke, get some of the men and head back to the cargo compartment. Jettison the heaviest cargo—ammunition, the machine guns—and about half of our own ballast. We can pick up more if we need it once we’re once again in friendly skies.”
“Captain, the supplies—”
Ludwig whirled around and stabbed a finger at Heinrich Maas, his eyes angry and hot.
“Enough!” he spat. “Engelke, take Leutnant Maas with you and if he does not help jettison the cargo as ordered, then jettison him as well! This is not a game, gentlemen! We are a warship at war and we have our orders!”