The lads are busy cutting up white triangular victory pennants from that white bed sheet, for our return.
Francks is sharing my space the best he can. But to be fair we have both been busy over the last couple of days. The Bay of Biscay is far from safe if you're not on your toes.
"I meant to ask, Reuben, what was the emblem of the U-467 before she went down?"
And so it was that when U-46 guided herself up the river towards St Nazaire, intact for once, that alongside the Laughing Swordfish emblem, was a sheet draped on either side painted with the five olympic rings of the U-467. Their crewmen had pride of place standing to attention on our foredeck, and I think I spotted one or two of them blubbing.
We'd found another white cap cover to give to Francks. Against regulations of course, but he was the senior surviving commander of his boat and crew, and deserved to see them into harbour in style. He took the salute alongside me on the bridge, his eyes moistening on his craggy face.
Otto was hopping up and down with excitement, of course, just desperate to get the first train to Frankfurt and his pregnant wife.
I suppose there's no prizes for guessing who I was looking out for.
I caught a glimpse of her, waving frantically near the military band, and it made my heart leap into my throat.
"Christian," I whispered.
"Dock the boat for me this time will you?"
"I want to be first ashore..."
Lt de Bunsen, U-46
|