[DanBiddle]

Kapitänleutnant Max Donath stepped down from the staff car and turned towards the fjord. He heard the base commander giving instructions to the driver about something, and wished he could have been alone for these last free moments. Taking command, even joining a ship for the first time, was a testing business. All the way from Lorient, changing trains, holding on to solitude even in crowded compartments, he had thought about it. Then again on the transport as it flew him up to the fjords.

His new company would be much more worried about what their new captain might be like. Why couldn’t he accept that nothing would ever be the same? U-31 was gone. All the faces, the weaknesses, and the rough camaraderie that made any ship were gone. Eight survivors.

He passed the journey north going over the brief notes Dönitz had handed him, putting names to people ho would soon become an everyday part of his life. Whenever he glanced up from his papers, a ruddy-faced major had tried to force him into conversation about the war. What the navy, ‘the blue jobs’ as he called them, really thought about it, while he took occasional sips from a silver flask that certainly didn’t contain coffee. He had not offered it to Donath. He felt his mouth relax into a thin smile. Just as well. I’d probably have told him!

The base commander was speaking again.

Donath turned towards him. “What is it?”

The base commander replied, “Nothing, Donath. Just a young lad joining. Asking about boats. I told him to report to…”

“I’ll take him.”

He caught sight of a young lieutenant with a pile of ill-assorted luggage and an instrument case. He had a solitary star on his sleeve, denoting the rank of Oberfähnrich.

“Great! Thanks!” The man stared in dismay as he saw the oak leaves around the peak of Donath’s cap. “God, I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t realise!” He added helplessly, “I’m joining U-335, you see.”

Donath nodded, and then smiled. “So am I, as it happens.”

The lieutenant slipped the raincoat off his shoulder and saluted. “Meier, sir. Coming aboard to join.”

Donath returned the salute and then turned as the base commander started speaking again. “The tender is here, Donath.”

Donath nodded. “Right on time.”

The base commander replied, but Donath barely heard him. He was feeling in his pockets, half expecting to find his pipe there, but that had gone too, probably when they had picked him up. All the time, he had been trying to hold on to the other man, hearing his voice. Help me. Somebody help me. And another voice, a stranger’s. “No use, sir. He’s gone.”

“Excuse me, sir.”

“What?” He swung on the young officer almost blindly. “What is it?”

“I just realised what a stupid goddamn fool I am. Who you are. What you did.” He shook his head. “And all I do is…”

Donath held out his hand. “Don’t say it. This is an important day for both of us.” He turned as the tender’s engines coughed astern, and the hull came to rest against the jetty’s fenders with barely a shudder.

A lieutenant scrambled ashore and saluted. “Ready when you are, sir.”

Donath turned to shake hands with the base commander. “Thanks for your help, sir.”

“Good luck, Donath.” The other man saluted.”

The lieutenant was staring at Meier, confused, angry perhaps, that something unrehearsed was happening. He was gathering up his bags, and lastly the instrument.

“After you, sir.”

Donath did not raise his voice. “It’s not vital, Mr Meier, but senior officers go last, right? And you’ll have to leave the instrument and one of those bags behind. There’s no room for anything more.

More confusion, until a seaman ran to carry the unwanted bags back to the hard. Donath could feel the scrutiny, the curiosity, perhaps the understanding, too. The navy was a family, after all. He touched the peak of his cap and stepped down into the boat.

“Bear off forrard! Let go aft!” The boat tore away from the jetty and caught Meier off balance; Donath heard a yelp and a bang as he fell in a crumpled heap on the deckplates. A face he would get to know, and the man behind it, like all the rest of them. He gripped the safety rail until his hand throbbed. But not too intimately. Not again.

He looked around at the high valley sides that enclosed the fjord. They were certainly majestic, and had a sad beauty about them. His gaze fell on the partially completed bunker. That would spoil it, he thought. The launch turned a corner and Donath saw her for the first time. U-335, a type VIIC submarine. Almost brand new, she had been commissioned at Emden in early December.

The launch was slowing down but Donath did not move, although his reefer jacket was shining black with spray.

The young lieutenant, Meier, stared at him, wanting to understand, needing to remember this moment for all of time. A senior Kapitänleutnant, he thought, yet so youthful himself. A face you would trust. Believe. He saw the ruffled brown hair playing in the wind underneath the gleaming white cap and smiled. He could hardly be older than 30.

The launch pulled up alongside the U-boat, her decks wet with spray. Meier made to move but the lieutenant pulled him aside. “Seniors in last, out first! Got it?” Meier nodded vaguely, watching as Donath climbed out of the launch and saluted the second-in-command. Meier could see them exchanging words, and then Donath climbed up into the tower and then disappeared through the hatch.

Meier stared in confusion as he found the officer on the U-boat yelling at him. “You there! If you’re joining, then get a bloody move on!” He scrambled hurriedly up onto the casing, ignoring the grins on the faces of the launch crew. As the launch moved away he climbed down the ladder. He had a lot to learn, he thought grimly.

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“Sit down please.” Donath was seated in the centre of the wardroom bench waiting for his officers to get settled before beginning the introductions. It was a tight squeeze around the table; Dönitz had already mentioned that U-335 would have a full complement of officers.

He looked around at each one of them before beginning. “Very well. I don’t believe I’ve ever met any of you before, but some of you may know me from Lorient or earlier in the war. Some of you are as new to me as you are to the service.” He let his gaze rest on Meier, who grinned at him. “Later we shall get to know each other better, all I can say for the moment is to look to your departments and make sure they’re all up to scratch. We will be heading out on patrol this afternoon, so make sure you’re all sorted.” He smiled at them. “Now, I’m sure we will get along fine.” He looked to his right, “And now if the first lieutenant could introduce you all I’ll be able to put names to faces!”

Donath looked at his first lieutenant as he began to speak. He was tall and thin, and had the slight stoop all submariners acquired after a time. He held an arm out and motioned to the officer sitting directly to Donath’s left. “Oberleutnant Ludwig Altern, Engineering Officer.” Donath had a quick impression of dark curly hair and a broad grin. He nodded, aware of Donath’s scrutiny. The first lieutenant moved along to the next man. “Leutnant Wilhelm Hartmann, Navigation Officer.” Hartmann nodded, “Sir.” Donath looked at the man who would become a key member of their little community, yet he seemed vaguely out of place. Handsome and well-bred, with the easy drawling tone of one who could be slightly contemptuous of those around him. His grave features betrayed no emotion, and his pale grey eyes were calm and assured. A hard man to know, Donath thought to himself.

The others were Leutnant Manheim Brezinka, Torpedo Officer; a dour looking man with sharp features and darting eyes. He seemed on edge, and Donath wondered if his nerves were betraying him. The last member was Oberfähnrich Hans Meier, who Donath had already met. As junior officer, he was assigned the task of decoding and coding up their signals and generally learning everything he could about submarines. Fresh-faced and with almost delicate features, it was hard to picture him as a man of action. He still wore a broad grin, obviously not too upset that his luggage had been cut down to almost a third. Donath knew from his documents that Meier had passed his submarine and gunnery courses at the top of the list. There was obviously more to him than was instantly recognisable.

The last member was Oberleutnant Rudi Frenzel, the first lieutenant. He had been watching the man during the brief introductions, and his even tone suggested that he was a dependable man. He was the most experienced officer on board aside from Donath, and he was also one of the oldest.

“Very well, men. Prepare the boat for sea. We leave in two hours.” Donath nodded to them as they stood up and left the wardroom, departing to their particular parts of the boat. Hartmann was no doubt going over his charts and specialised equipment, Frenzel off to make some last check of the stores.

As first lieutenant, he was responsible for the trim of the boat at all times. He had to supervise the loading, and take account of the tiniest addition of weight. He would be kept busy for the entire cruise, and had to be totally on top of his game; it had been known for a U-boat’s bow to rise right out of the water when a torpedo was fired, all because the first lieutenant had forgotten to take into account their loss in weight. Frenzel looked like a pro, and Donath was quite content in trusting him to get the job done.

Meier was the only one who hadn’t moved. He was no doubt curious, and as Donath watched he could see Meier’s eyes roving all over the wardroom, taking in all the new sights and smells. He had seemed quite incredulous when he had first come aboard; most are shocked at the cramped conditions. He seemed happy enough about it now though. Donath stood up and walked slowly to his cabin. He sat down and brought out the orders he had been given by the base commander a few hours earlier.

It seemed the 11th Flotilla was to be engaged well up in the northern reaches of the Atlantic. U-335 had been given orders to patrol grid AD78, approximately 5000 kilometres away, bang in the middle of the Denmark Strait. Donath hoped BdU had seen fit to equip the crew with cold weather gear, or it would be a very unpleasant cruise.

Two hours later he stood at the front of the bridge, watching as Meier’s deck party took control of the mooring lines. He heard the diesels rumble into life behind him and saw Meier wave to him as the last line was cast off. He bent down and uncovered the voicepipe. One last glance around and then he spoke to Frenzel down in the control room.

“Take her to sea, Number One.”

He was back.



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Cheers,



Dan