The deck heaved underneath him, and Wilhelm reached out a hand to steady himself on the bulkhead as he stepped carefully out onto the catwalk that connected the two compartments. It was unusual for a zeppelin to have such a feature, but L59 was a bit of a one-off. The catwalk was little more than a horizontal ladder cage that contained the captain’s command communication tubes and the electrical and hydraulic lines required to operate the elevators and rudder.
Wilhelm drew in a deep breath and pulled his scarf up over his nose and face, then unclipped the safety tether they all wore attached to their specially designed belts and fastened it to the rail of the catwalk. He slowly stepped out into the howling, whipping wind and began to pull himself rung over rung back to the aft compartment, the engine compartment. As he drew closer, the noise and stench of L59’s five engines began to hammer into his skull, and he spared a moment of pity for Gustav and his other friends consigned to this hell for the four days of the journey.
“Wilhelm!”
Gustav’s shout barely cut through the din, but Wilhelm recognized his friend’s squat frame, even though he wore the usual layers of uniform, warm coveralls, and protective overcoat. Gustav pushed past his fellow machinists and raised his goggles up on his forehead to grin at Wilhelm as he pulled himself in through the hatch and swung down to his feet.
“What’re you doing back here, then?” he asked, his eyes crinkling up on the corners. “You getting good power for the wireless? Our engines are purring like kittens back here, though the air does feel a little bumpy.”
“We’re circumnavigating a storm over Crete,” Wilhelm said, leaning forward to shout the words into Gustav’s ear as he unclipped his safety tether and returned it to his belt. “I’m to pull in the antenna.”
“Right,” Gustav said. He pulled his goggles back down over his eyes, and turned his body aft, waving for Wilhelm to follow. The gesture was unnecessary, as Wilhelm knew very well where the antenna winch was located, but he followed his friend out of courtesy. This was, after all, the engine compartment, and therefore Gustav’s domain.
He nodded at the other men peering at various dials and indicators as he squeezed past them, careful not to touch any part of the huge engine that rumbled and smoked in the center of the gondola compartment. That engine, and four more like it, provided the thrust required to move and steer the L59 along her course. On the far side of the engine, Wilhelm could see the empty machine gun mounts that normally held their defensive weaponry, just in case any enemy fighters showed up to play. For this mission, however, every kilogram counted, and so they’d left the guns behind and trusted to stealth and secrecy. Wilhelm hoped it would be enough.
“Here, let me get out of your way, so you can get to the winch,” Gustav said, pressing his body to the bulkhead once they’d made their way past the bulk of the engine. Wilhelm nodded and squeezed his friend’s arm, then eased by him in the narrow space and pulled the hand crank out of its stowage cradle.
The deck bucked upward again, and then back down, causing Wilhelm to stumble against the bulkhead. He caught himself with one hand on the stowage cradle and kept his feet splayed wide as he shoved the male end of the crank into the female receptacle on the winch. Then he took a deep breath of the stinking engine compartment air and began cranking.
It didn’t take long for his back and shoulders to burn with the effort. The zeppelin’s wireless antenna wasn’t as long as the antenna used on some of the surface fleet vessels, but it was long enough. Wilhelm fought to keep his breathing steady as his legs and back and arms worked the crank around and around, reeling in the delicate-seeming steel cable even as the rising wind whipped it to and fro.
Finally, just when Wilhelm was fearing he’d have to ask for help, the winch clanked loud enough to be heard over the engine’s thrum, and the safety bolt fell into place on the antenna spool. Wilhelm closed his eyes and breathed a prayer of thanks as the deck shuddered and lurched with more turbulence.
With shaking arms, he detached the crank and returned it to the stowage cradle, then wiped his sweating brow and pulled his own overcoat closer around his throat. Up here, in the chill of altitude, sweat could be deadly. He straightened his aching back and turned around to see that Gustav had gone back to work on the engine itself. He was tuning it to withstand the unpredictable air from the storm, no doubt.
Wilhelm didn’t interrupt him, just squeezed on past as he made his way back forward to the command compartment. With the antenna retracted, they would be unable to receive any signals, but he wasn’t going to be accused of abandoning his watch. Besides, as soon as they had gotten safely around the storm, the captain would order the antenna extended again, and Wilhelm would need to be there to hear it.
“How far off course have we come?” Ludwig asked. He didn’t turn his head, trusting that his navigator was ready with the answer. Sure enough, the man spoke up almost immediately.
“Nearly a hundred miles, Captain,” the navigator said. “Most of it due to the turbulence. But I’ve calculated an intercept course that will make up the distance and still see us overhead the African coast by dawn.”
“Excellent,” Ludwig said. “Give your new course to the helm. Well done, gentlemen,” he went on, allowing himself a small smile. “I believe we’re out of the storm entirely. Very good work by all concerned.”
He could feel his men stand a little straighter at this praise, and he felt a surge of warmth in return. As a young officer, he’d had the occasion to observe two different ship’s captains and their various command styles. The first, Kapitaen Leitzke, had been a staunch traditionalist. He remained consistently aloof and cold with his men, and even, to an extent, with his officers. He’d been a successful commander, in that they’d completed their missions to a satisfactory level (all training missions, at that time, before the war). But there’d been no brilliance on that ship, no fire in any of the men. Leitzke’s addresses had lacked sincerity and passion, and so they’d remained merely “good enough,” and Ludwig had never been satisfied with that.
The other captain he’d served under, Captain Oursler, had carried a reputation as a bit of a wildcard. Unlike Leitzke, Oursler spoke with the crew as a whole on a regular basis. He took watches for himself. He spent an inordinate amount of time with his officers, constantly coaching and developing them, giving them opportunities to learn. He worked extensively with his senior enlisted men as well and entrusted them with much of the responsibility for the discipline of the crew.
The result was like night and day to Ludwig’s first posting. Captain Oursler’s ship consistently outperformed the others in her group. Every man on that ship, Ludwig included, had felt a personal investment and pride in her mission. It had been a heady experience, and a valuable lesson in leadership that Ludwig took with him to the skies. He believed in praising his men in public and with very few exceptions, reprimanding them in private. The result was a tight-knit, highly competent group that functioned like a dream. He knew he couldn’t take credit for all of their excellence—after all, only the best were chosen to be here—but he felt very strongly that his leadership style worked well, enabling them to complete the most difficult of missions.
God willing, that would include this one.
He raised his binocular glasses again and looked out at the glimmering sea spread before him. Africa waited just beyond that horizon. Africa… and destiny.
Wilhelm made a face as he lifted the mug and downed the last of the bitter, strong ersatz coffee in it. It was hot, but he didn’t mind. They’d overflown the coast near dawn, and as the sun burned its way up the sky, the heated gas lifted the Zeppelin higher and higher. Wilhelm felt the beginnings of his usual altitude-headache knotting between his brows, compounding the fatigue that came from over twenty-four hours on duty at this point. Fortunately, the coffee tended to help both conditions. As did the sugar in the chocolate, and the bread and sausage they ate for rations.