[DanBiddle]

Hechler shifted on the steel chair and pushed his back further into the seatback. If he sat up, he could see all the way along the foredeck, wet and glistening in the damp air as if the ship had been hit by a rainsquall, but every now and then the high bows dipped into the seas and massive welters of spray crashed over the long forecastle. It was afternoon, and the sky was covered by long, dark clouds. He heard Clausen’s deep tones behind him as he passed more helm orders forward, checking and rechecking the course for the rendezvous.

The ship’s motion was uncomfortable as she was throttled down in the large seas, and Hechler noticed a young sailor looking distinctly green. It reminded him of his U-boat days, and the wild motion the submarines took up when in heavy seas. The Prinz Luitpold was moving slowly through the seas, in mid-Atlantic, waiting for Rahn’s U-32 to appear and join with the cruiser. Leitner was to brief the two commanding officers on the tactics required for the daring convoy attacks. U-32 would dive and disappear below the waves whilst Rahn was aboard, and search around its larger consort to act as a further warning against detection. Hechler shrugged his shoulders deeper into his thick watchcoat to keep the damp air away.

At the moment, he didn’t look like a typical captain, his old fisherman’s sweater showing beneath his uniform jacket, and the jacket itself was an older one, frayed at the edges. It was a drawback to his U-boat days, but Hechler preferred it that way, and enjoyed the warm comfort his old sweater gave him. It also had another, not totally unwanted effect of irritating Leitner, who always seemed to be impeccably dressed; his cap at a rakish angle on his head.

Hechler looked up over the screen as he saw the admiral appear from behind Turret Anton, head high despite the spray, his face flushed and youthful. It was no surprise to Hechler to see Leitner walking next to Oberletnant Bauer, the signals and communications officer. He was also the political officer and had taken numerous walks with the youthful admiral, and Hechler wondered what they discussed. He was willing to wager a large amount of money that Suhren and the Prinz’s captain were probably one of the more frequent topics of discussion. Hechler was surprised to find that he didn’t care.

Clausen called, “New course, sir. Two-one-five.”

Hechler looked across the bridge as the heavy cruiser slowly turned he bows across the seas, nosing into the waves now, and he grinned as he saw the two figures on the foredeck move swiftly out of the way of a wave that had broken over the foredeck. If they saw anything now, they would have to forego the rendezvous, and proceed towards the next one. Hechler wasn’t too concerned, for there were frequent meetings planned with the Milch Cows. Leitner intended to keep the Prinz Luitpold’s tanks topped up as much as possible.

It had been four days since the cruiser had faded into the mist after leaving the Lübeck to her fate, and Hechler had seen the girl a few times since then, but she had kept below decks for the most part, and Hechler wondered if the heavy seas had made her uncomfortable moving around with her injured wrist. The Prinz Luitpold had covered almost two thousand miles in that time, and was now about a thousand miles north of the Azores. The rest of the wolfpack were gathered further south, somewhere between the Canary Islands and the Cape Verde islands.

He heard Suhren’s footsteps on the gratings and shifted around to look at him.

“All well, Viktor?” Things were still strained between them, and had been since Hechler had talked to Suhren about his wife. Suhren was almost never seen now without a surly, moody expression on his face, and Hechler guessed that he had been brooding a lot. Not the best mindset when they were about to head into battle. Hechler thought about the impending rendezvous, and thought again of how different Suhren was from Rahn, the only two officers who had served as his second-in-command. Hechler felt he had grown to know Suhren, but that had all changed since his leave. Suhren was much more withdrawn now, although it had done little to reduce his biting comments, and his endless search for efficiency.

Apart from a grunted ‘yes’, Suhren remained silent on the bridge. Hechler glanced at his watch. The rendezvous was any minute now, and he looked out to port at the waves. They were not too large, but would make it difficult for Rahn to climb aboard. The camera team were already assembling on the side, ready to shoot some footage of the U-boat meeting with the powerful cruiser in the middle of the Atlantic.

“U-boat on the port beam, sir!”

The lookout had spotted her first, and Hechler held the heavy glasses to his eyes as he saw the dull, battered conning-tower emerging from the sea, water streaming off her deck as she headed closer to the larger warship. Hechler could see the large white numbers, ‘32’ on the side of the tower, and then his eyes widened as he saw the emblem on the side of the tower. It was a U-boat commander, looking exactly like Hechler, with a telescope held to his eye facing directly away from a large merchant that was steaming behind him. The officer had a speech bubble from his mouth, and as the submarine drew closer and her motion eased as she passed under the lee of the cruiser, Hechler could read the words, and couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Hechler’s image on the conning tower was saying, ‘I see no ships!’

Hechler swiftly moved off the bridge and down onto the upper deck as he moved aft towards the accommodation ladder, already being lowered for Rahn to climb aboard. In the lee of the cruiser, the seas were much calmer, and the U-boat was moving easily towards the ladder. Hechler grinned as he thought of Rahn’s tribute to U-32’s last commander, his reputation as Dieter ‘Blindman’ Hechler and the famous words of his idol, Vice-Admiral Lord Nelson. A side party of seamen were already assembling, young Heyse drilling them into line as Hechler stood in front of them, ready to welcome his friend aboard. Leitner was already hurrying forward, Bauer at his heels as they waited for the young U-boat officer. Out of the corner of his eye, Hechler spotted Erika Franke standing on the deck above, looking down at the welcome party from over the rail.

Hechler turned and smiled at her before stepping forward as he saw the ladder jerk as the U-boat latched on. The ladder trembled as Rahn started climbing up, still unseen. The peals and trills of the side-party began as his white cap emerged level with the deck. He stepped aboard and saluted crisply as Leitner stepped forward. The admiral returned the salute before shaking Rahn’s hand. Hechler stood just behind the Leitner, and as Leitner moved away, they saluted each other, their faces a mask of formality, before Hechler grinned and embraced him.

“It’s good to have you with us, Dietrich,” He murmured as he stepped away. “And the new tower emblem, absolutely brilliant Dietrich! It was Rehburg, right?”

Rahn grinned at him and nodded, before turning and watching his command slip below the waves. The Prinz Luitpold would be travelling too fast for the submarine to keep pace on the surface, so U-32 under the capable hands of Rahn’s second-in-command would take the sub to the next rendezvous in five hours time.

As Hechler turned around, he noticed the side party moving away as the deck trembled afresh as Clausen and Suhren got her under way again. Leitner had disappeared, but Hechler knew that he had only gone to prepare his briefing for the two commanding officers. He looked up and noticed she was still standing next to the rail, a curious expression on her face. Hechler smiled at her before he clapped Rahn on the shoulder as they headed for the admiral’s large cabin.

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“Please be seated, gentlemen.” Leitner beamed at them from behind the large desk in his spacious quarters. Hechler sat in the comfortable chair, aware of Rahn doing the same to the left of him. “Korvettenkapitän Rahn, it is a pleasure to have you with us.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Leitner sat back in the heavy chair before reaching under his desk to reveal a large chart of the Atlantic. It was covered with pencil marks, arrows and scribbled notes in the margins. Hechler leaned forward a little, his interest peaked.

Leitner was speaking again. “It has been confirmed that the major convoy of enemy troops is going ahead.” He pointed out the position on the chart. “All the way around Good Hope and then up the Atlantic to Gibraltar, where they will be met by heavy air cover.” He paused again, his eyes gleaming. Hechler reflected that he had always been like this, gleeful at knowing something others didn’t. “However, as well as an expansive ASW escort cover, there are a few large surface escorts sailing with the convoy. Latest intelligence reports that there is at least one battleship, and several cruisers. Odds far to steep, even for a ship as powerful as this.”

Hechler imagined it in his mind, the strong, fast convoy with packed troopships and merchants full with tanks and other military equipment, then the heavy surface escort. Even the Prinz Luitpold couldn’t take on a battleship. He thought again of the Tirpitz, holed up in a Norwegian fjord whilst her fuel had been earmarked for tanks on the Russian front. If she had been here with the Prinz, they could have taken any convoy, no matter what the odds. He was drawn from his thoughts as Leitner began to speak again.

“It never ceases to amaze me – if the British have one weakness it is their overriding interest in protecting men rather than materials. They never seem to realize that without materials of war, men will be killed more surely than in a convoy battle. We will prove how futile their sense of honour is.” He pointed to the Indian Ocean. “Three days ago, one of our long-range U-boats enroute for Japan spotted a fast convoy of tankers with a heavy ASW escort heading for the Cape of Good Hope. We all know where it is headed, eh?” He looked across at both of them, his expression suddenly sorrowful. “Unfortunately, the intelligence report the U-boat commander sent cost him dearly. He managed to get a signal off estimating at least 20 large tankers, but he must have been discovered, and there has been no further contact with the U-boat.”
His eyes were gleaming again, his features excited, as he stood and leaned forward. “Except for any unforeseen factor there would be little chance of surprise. As we speak, a careful campaign is ahead to leak radio reports to the effect that The Prinz Luitpold is headed for the Caribbean. It is hoped that this will allow us a better chance against the convoy. Even the Allies seemed to grasp the fact that this convoy is absolutely vital, yet seem to place their trust in speed rather than brute force. My information…” He let his gaze rest briefly on Hecher, “is that the enemy has no idea where we are at present, nor how we aim to access fuel. They definitely have no idea that we are working in conjunction with our brave wolfpack.” He nodded slowly. “Planning, gentlemen. It far outpaces sentiment and outdated strategy.” He picked up a long wooden pointer and rested it on a dot in the middle of the Atlantic. “Ascension Island, gentlemen. One of the Allies’ strongholds in this region.” He looked up at them as the pointer slowly moved south. “We shall travel a further two thousand miles south, out of the range of most Allied aircraft. We will fuel at a couple of rendezvous on the way, and the wolfpack will also fuel at the pre-arranged points. We will alter out final rendezvous once greater intelligence tells us the course of the convoy. It is highly possible that the convoy will pick up a heavy surface escort at Cape Town, but they will be surprised, eh?”

Leitner straightened up and walked across the cabin, pacing steadily over the plush carpet. He turned and faced them, his face subdued, his voice calm and quiet again. “Then there is the other matter of our mission, one that only the Führer and Willentrop know of. Gentlemen, it is with a heavy heart that I have to break this news to you. The Reich is fighting for its life. We are hard pressed on two fronts, the very thing we strove to avoid. Our U-boats are suffering catastrophic losses, and our other Naval vessels scared of their own shadows. This ship, the Prinz Luitpold, is the only remaining major unit in the Kriegsmarine capable of inflicting damage on the enemy, yet even we cannot hope to change the course of the battle.”

Rahn looked across at Hechler, noting that his friend was outwardly calm, his features composed, yet his eyes told a different story. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what his expression was. There certainly wasn’t any sorrow for the Fatherland, he thought. Rahn felt like a traitor as he silently thanked God that the Allies would reach Eva before the Russians. He dragged his attention back to Leitner as the admiral began to speak again.

“We are entrusted with a vital mission.” He walked briskly over to the map again. The pointer was resting on the River Plate. “After the convoy battle, you are to take your ship to Buenos Aires where we will meet with the German consulate to arrange the extradition of senior Party officials from Germany. They will arrive by submarine, but we are to set up procedures and facilities in Argentina to quickly change the identities of our politicians.” He looked at them. “That is all gentlemen.”

Hechler followed Rahn out of the cabin, his thoughts unraveling before him. He heard Rahn mention something about taking a walk around the upper deck, and made a brief reply before walking briskly down the passageway, his feet pounding rapidly over the steel plates. So, not a brave end for the Prinz Luitpold, but yet another bolt-hole, he thought. He swore savagely, wondering how the German High Command could be so willing to discard the heavy cruiser to the same fate as the Graf Spee. He was so consumed by his thoughts that he never saw the girl staring at him as he walked briskly past her, her eyes wide in concern.

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Rahn walked slowly around the upper deck, savouring the exercise denied him in the submarine. He thought again of Hechler, worried for his friend. If the attack on the tanker convoy worked, the British would be out for their blood. The Prinz Luitpold would be hunted down, and Rahn couldn’t imagine Hechler running for a bolt-hole. What was the phrase he always quoted from Nelson? “The boldest measures are always the safest” or something like that. He shook his head and grinned. Imagine if the High Command found out that Hechler’s idol was a British Admiral.

Rahn thought of his role in the ‘grand mission’ as he had come to call it. The plan was certainly daring, and Rahn was sure that his U-boats could rout the convoy if the cruiser could take out the destroyers. The boats had plenty of fuel, although Rahn’s U-32 would be hard pushed to make the rendezvous on time, he was sure they would make it. He looked up as someone touched his arm. It was the flier, he struggled for her name. Erika Franke, wasn’t it?

She spoke in a quiet tone. “May I walk with you?”

Rahn looked down at her, containing his sudden surprise. “Certainly. I would enjoy the company.”

The walked in comfortable silence before Rahn looked over at her. “How are you finding the navy? I have heard of your exploits in the air, but I didn’t realise you were serving on one of our warships.”

She laughed then, and a nearby sailor stared at them as they walked by. “Willentrop’s orders. You are just like the Captain! He asked me almost the exact same thing only a few days ago.” She looked across at him, her eyes inquisitive. “You are very close to him, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I was his second-in-command in U-32 for just over a year, and we grew very close.” Rahn watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye.

“I saw how he greeted you as you came aboard. He doesn’t tend to show too much emotion.” She looked at him directly. “He is different to what I expected.”

Rahn noted her expression. So that was it. He thought of Hechler as he remembered him most, on the open bridge of U-32, his hair blowing wildly and his tall, powerful frame ignoring the frequent bursts of spray that had crashed over the tower. Then his compassion towards every last member of his crew, a kind word here and there, a reassuring glance. No wonder she was so interested. He thought of a suitable reply. “An enigma perhaps?”

She smiled at him. “You are leading me.” She added, “He seems to care so much about people. How can he do his work?”

Rahn nodded slowly, his expression controlled. “Yes, in that way he is unlike any man I have ever known. Even in the midst of a depthcharge attack, he would ask a sailor how his family were doing, if his son was in school yet. He was even compassionate towards our old Chief Engineer who had pulled a gun on Hechler when we were being depthcharged. He had cracked under the pressure, and almost killed Hechler, yet he was still cut up when the SS took Krystoflak away. It never ceases to amaze me.”

She smiled again. “When I first came aboard I thought he was so dull, uptight. Another political creature. I never knew how carefully he kept his guard up.”

Rahn nodded again. “He wasn’t always like that. He was hurt badly when Inger left him.”

“I met her. She is very beautiful. Are they still married or anything?”

He warmed to her. “Anything would be closer, I believe. He wouldn’t take her back now, after all she has done.”

She nodded, then said quietly, “I’ll bid you farewell, Commander. Thank you for telling me about him.” She slipped away as the U-boat surfaced next to the Prinz, and Rahn was still thinking about their brief conversation as Hechler had seen him over the side. He hoped Hechler would realise it himself, but Rahn was fully prepared to give him a nudge in the right direction if his friend showed any signs of stubborn-ness. It was a troubled U-boat Commander that conned the submarine beneath the waves, and as the fast screws of the heavy cruiser faded away, Rahn lay in his bunk, thinking of the battles ahead.

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