(Story) Marlena Hessler Story

[Miss Behavin]

Hello again!

While playing overat Wolves at War They have one section in their forums called "War Diary." This is where one can post their boat's logs, tell an "in character" story, etc.

On Marlena Hessler's third patrol, she ran into a bit of a problem. After an air attack in the Denmark Strait, the flooding was at a higher level than the pumps could handle; therefor, after blowing ballast three times, she was able to surface her boat and abandon it.

At WAW, when you're in trouble, your flottille commander will make every effort possible to get other boats to your area to effect a rescue; so basically, you are interacting with other players.

I started writing in the War Diaries, what was intended to be a very short story about the demise of U-406 and subsequent rescue of her crew. Well, once I got started I was on a roll and it is now at page 84 in my 'Word' documents.

This has been an ongoing story as it has had to be written as the actions of others took place. When you see radio messages in the story, those from other boats or FdU, are the actual messages from them, not written by myself. You may see reference to a bar in the story called the Drakkar. This is the Flotille forum where one can enter 'in character' posts. I only mention that now as reference to it will come up in the story that I am about to post.

My reason for posting it here is that there have been some WAW members greatly enjoying it and I have been PM'd and asked to post it over here as well.

I welcome comments but for those would-be critics, bear in mind that much of this was written in haste as sometimes the other players involved had to wait on messages from U-406 before they could play their mission in SH3 appropriately.

The end of the story is on hold because I have reached the point where I must now wait on the actions of another player to see what will happen. For the most part, it is complete and i hope that you enjoy it.

Cheers!

Miss Behavin'

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And now, the story:


Chapter One – Her Last Dive

At 15.11 hours, on the 30th of March, the watch spotted an enemy aircraft approaching from the southeast. By my standing orders, an alarm was immediately given to crash dive to seventy meters, simultaneously with a turn hard to port to throw off the approaching aircraft’s aim; more commonly know as a ‘knuckle’ maneuver.

Since the 17th, we had received such attacks on an almost daily basis, sometimes twice in the same day. It was almost becoming routine. This time it wasn’t.

We had a good twenty meters of water above us and still diving rapidly when a large explosion sounded and rocked the boat, throwing many of us to the deck, despite how much we were hanging on in preparation. Fuses blew, and numerous seals were leaking but all that was forgotten beneath the ominous sound of men screaming orders and the sound of inrushing water in the forward compartment; and no small amount at that.

The repair crew, headed by Leutnant (j.g.) Willi Niebling, was immediately moving into the stricken compartment. In the meantime we listened as other depth-charges detonated; fortunately, not as close as the one that pounded us just a moment ago.

Within a few minutes, Niebling had rushed back to the command room, a look of dread on his face and before even speaking, I could tell by his entire demeanor that he bore no good news. “Kaleu Hessler, we must stop diving immediately and prepare to abandon the boat!� he exclaimed.

For a fraction of a second I looked at him incredulously, wanting so much for this to be some form of crude joke. I knew better though, even as the thought crossed my mind. Willi, wizard that he is in the quick repair of the boats various systems, would never be known for a thriving sense of humor. By then we were at fifty meters and still diving. I immediately ordered trim to level the boat and bring her back toward the surface.

In less than a minute he explained the situation; the main cause for alarm being a breach in the pressure hull itself. The incoming volume of water was at least twice what the pumps could handle and within minutes there would be no saving the men forward. On that note I gave the command for all men forward of the radio room to abandon those compartments. They wasted little time doing so and as the last one came into the command room, the hatch was closed and sealed.

In that short amount of time, we were now at seventy meters. The boat had leveled out to some extent but was still resisting our attempts to begin ascending. I ordered the ballast tanks blown which was immediately done but no visible effect took place. Two more applications of pressurized air were required before the boats nose was pointed at the surface and we began rising. I knew that little pressurized air remained to be able to do so again, and how long we would have on the surface would, most likely, be quite minimal.

Ringlemann, my XO, was given orders to prepare the crew to abandon the boat. Meanwhile, I headed to the radio room to prepare an SOS for Seaman 1st class Wiese to get out immediately upon surfacing. The fear was quite evident on his face and I gave his shoulder a firm grip as I assured him that I would not leave his side until he went out ahead of me. I had no intention of any of my crew leaving this boat after myself. I would be the last.

We did not have long to wait. I could hear the crew getting ready as they began crowding toward the control room. I found myself focusing on the myriad sounds of the boat that had become home to me. I could not help but wonder if it would be the last time I heard them for the sea was rough above us and I knew our chances for rescue would be slim at best. I could only hope that the aircraft that had attacked us would radio our position to a nearby enemy destroyer; and even then, would they be able to mount a rescue, or even try in such heavy seas. I hoped so. Lasting out the remainder of the war in a POW camp would be much more preferable to slowly succumbing to the cold of these Icelandic waters.

It was only minutes before we broke surface but it seemed like an eternity. Many thoughts and memories came to mind during the interlude. I wondered if my picture would soon join those on the memorial wall at the Drakkar. A gnawing feeling of despair began settling over me like a death shroud and I tried to fight it off, attempting to keep my wits about me to do all until my last breathe to save these men; men who so desperately depended upon me to bring them home. It was at that moment that a calm befell me and I would be told later that a warm smile came to my face. I was remembering a warm hand squeezing mine as we parted company to prepare for war. Were his feelings the same? Would he think of me much after I was gone? I could not say, but I knew then that I was not going to give up without a fight.

At that moment, hatches were thrown open and the crew were making good their escape, safety lines lashing them together once on deck as they inflated the rafts. Escape to what fate we did not know, the only certain thing being a cold watery grave if we remained with the boat too much longer.

Wiese was already pounding away on the telegrapher’s key. I willed him to move faster as water could now be seen trickling under the hatch between us and the forward compartment. My subconscious wanted to panic and flee yet at the same time I could feel a non-present hand holding my own as if assuring me that there would be enough time. “Done!�, Wiese exclaimed, jumping up from his seat to race toward escape. Another explosion rocked the boat and from above I could hear the screams of injured and terrified men. For a moment, ridiculous as it was, I thought that somehow one of the forward torpedoes had detonated. Then the sound of an aircraft reached my ears through the open hatch and I knew that the enemy aircraft had come back to finish the job. Could he not see that the job was already done; that we were abandoning the vessel?

Rage made a red haze fill my vision as I followed on the heels of the radioman. The second explosion had apparently hit alongside the command room as I could see water streaming in through multiple gashes in the hull and in the short time it took me to grab the rungs of the ladder, the frigid water was up to my knees.

As I came onto the tower, the carnage that greeted me put a knot in my stomach. I could see at least four men dead, their bodies ripped asunder, and I suspected there were more I did not immediately see. Blood was everywhere and crewmen were yelling at me from the life rafts. On the heavy swells they were struggling to keep the raft in position, while at the same time the u-boat was rapidly settling beneath my feet.

As I climbed over the railing to leap to the relative safety of the flimsy raft, my ears were filled with the roar of the bombers engines and my skin crawled with fear, expecting any moment for another bomb to make mincemeat of all of us, or to be chewed up by bullets from the aircrafts gunners. I landed half in, half out of the raft and got thoroughly soaked by icy water before numerous hands grabbed hold of me and pulled me the rest of the way in. The feared rending of jagged shrapnel or searing hot lead did not come however. Apparently the bomber crew could see that we were finished and circled us a number of times as we did our best to stay together; struggling in the heavy seas to lash the rafts together and take care of our wounded. I turned to look back at the 406 just in time to see the tower slip below the crest of a wave, never to be seen again by the eyes of man.

I could not say exactly how long the plane circled us but eventually it turned and headed off to disappear to the east; most likely heading to a base in Iceland. Had they radioed our position? Had anyone picked up our transmission? There was no way of knowing. All I knew for sure is that if rescue did not come soon, only by a miracle would they find us in these seas; and then would we even be alive. I could already see many of the men shivering and I realized that my teeth were chattering too as I tried to help comfort one of the wounded men that was aboard our raft.

Time seemed to have come to a standstill. Minutes dragged on into what felt like hours yet, checking my watch with numbed fingers, only one hour had passed since our attacker had disappeared. This was the worst part now, the waiting, utterly helpless to do anything as the bitter cold seeped deeper into our bones. As I listened to the keening wind, one could imagine how ancient mariners came to believe in the sirens that lured unwary sailors to their deaths. We had all become quieter, each crewman turning within himself as though to conserve that last bit of energy and internal warmth that bred life. I was struggling to keep my eyes open, the cold sapping away my strength and the wind singing to me as a lullaby beckons one to sleep; a sleep from which one would not wake.

A hand shook my arm and I struggled to be free from it, resenting its intrusion into the peaceful calm that was settling over me. Then I could hear others crying out and as the hand shook me again, someone calling my name, I forced my eyes open and shook my head to clear it. The hand that had forced me awake was that of the radioman, Wiese, and with effusive gesturing, I realized he was pointing at something. I squinted to look in the direction he was indicating and though my face was numb from the cold, I knew that I smiled for I saw the green eyes of the man in my thoughts. I yearned to feel his touch once more. Then my vision cleared and the eyes became one, and it grew nearer. In a moment the single glowing eye became that of the green starboard navigation lamp of a trawler that came looming into view, riding the swell of a wave. Many of the crew were crying out to get their attention, although I knew that they would not be heard over the wind and roar of the sea. Despite that, even I cried out with joy that we were to be clutched from the jaws of what just a moment ago was certain death.

A few of the crewmen had flashlights and were waving them about. Those on the trawler evidently saw them as its bow soon swung in our direction and slowed, the vessel making just enough headway to maneuver closer; crewmen gathering on her rolling deck as lifelines were being prepared.

Within minutes we were being assisted aboard. For many of us, including myself, quite literally as we had become too cold and lethargic to be able to do much of anything. It was no mean feat by far as the heaving sea made it difficult to keep one’s footing, let alone do much else. Under different circumstances and were my spirits in better condition, I would have been amused by the look of shock when the fisherman helping me aboard realized that the U-boat commander was a woman! As cold and tired as I was, my mind was still working and I could not help but wonder if I could work that to our advantage.

The crew were being led below but I refused to leave the deck until I saw the last of my crewmen brought aboard. The look in my eyes must have told the fishermen that I meant business and rather than have an undesirable scene on a pitching deck, they decided to leave me be whilst they retrieved the rest of my crew. Turning my attention back to the proceedings, it was then, to my horror, that I realized one of the rafts was missing. Apparently the lashings had given way in the rough seas and the raft drifted silently away from the main group, nobody the wiser in their cold, huddle state. My eyes scanned the horizon and claws of doom clutched at my heart when no sign of it could be seen.

We had been drifting for almost two hours before the trawler found us. Seven of my men had been killed during the second attack of the enemy aircraft and it was quite likely that more would succumb to their wounds before they could receive proper medical attention. If this missing raft were not found, and soon, there would be eight more added to that list. I wished to stay topside while the vessel searched for them, but the authority of a British Sten gun cradled in the arms of an insistent fisherman turned guard overrode my wishes and I was escorted inside.

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Chapter Two – It’s Not the Queen Mary?

Unlike the rest of my crew, I was led up to the bridge to meet Captain Gestur Þór
Jóhannsson, master of the vessel. His age was hard to determine as he bore the weathered look of one who has spent many years at sea. Forced to guess I would have put him in his forties somewhere as he was developing a bit of a paunch, which age was making more difficult to avoid. So far I had seen no one wearing a uniform of any kind and the captain was no exception, dressed in somewhat rumpled slacks and a heavy, grey, pull-over sweater. The Sten-gun held by my escort had been the only thing of a military nature I had yet seen.

Even though he had already been informed that one of those rescued was a woman, there must have resided some doubt for he was obviously taken aback as he turned to look at me. His eyes were of a piercing Nordic blue and I could not say that I was overly pleased with the way he was looking me over. My chin was lifted in a defiant state and I gave him my name,

“I am Oberleutnant Marlena Hessler, commander of the U-406. I have men who are hurt and I would be appreciative if you could provide any medical supplies that you may have on board. There is also another raft with eight men aboard. I am hoping that you will be continuing your search for them as well.�

For a moment, he continued to silently look me over in a speculative way. I returned his gaze with an equal air of quiescence. After a moment he spoke and I was fortunate that German is a predominant language in Iceland. The dialect was different, more of the ‘Old Norse’ but I was accustomed to this from having grown up around my grandfather who sometimes spoke in a similar way.

“So, Germany is getting so desperate that they are now sending women to sea, eh?�

I did not care for the haughty tone of his voice and had to bite my tongue to stifle the reply that immediately came to mind. I chose a better path of discretion to answer instead with a repeat of request of aid for my wounded and continued search for the missing raft.

With an air of impatience, he informed me that they would indeed continue to look for the other raft, albeit, with little chance of finding it in these sea. The rolling deck beneath my feet reminded me of the conditions outside and with a sinking feeling I had to mentally concede that he was right. There was little hope for my missing crewmen.

He followed with, “We will continue to look, at least until you and your crew are handed over to the British or the Americans, whichever comes first.�

He turned his attention momentarily to a another of his crew on the bridge to order him below with their medical kit for the prisoners. For this I thanked him. All the while, my mind was racing in search of some advantage. It could only be a matter of hours at the most before a destroyer or the like could rendezvous with the trawler. Looking out the forward windows at the condition of the sea, however, made me wonder how on earth they hoped to be able to transfer us to the larger vessel. As it was I was still impressed with their skill in plucking us out of the water without anyone getting hurt or lost overboard.

I was opening my mouth to request to be taken to my crew when another fellow entered, a look of hesitation as he glanced first at me and then the captain. Impatiently the Captain asked, “Well? What is it?�

The one who had just entered hesitated, as is wont to do for bearers with bad news.

“It is the American destroyer Captain. They claim that they will be unable to conduct the transfer of prisoners in these seas. We are to take them to their military facility at Hvalfjordur.�

You could almost see the poor fellow cringe. Looking at the captain, I could see why, as a vivid red climbed up his neck and into his face like a rising thermometer.

“What,� he bellowed! “And how do they expect me to profit from a load of German prisoners. A fine price THEY will bring at the fish market! This is outrageous!�

The young man, who must fill in as their radio operator, chose that moment to make good his escape. I am certain that a corner of my mouth lifted in a smirk. The vessel could be making no more than six knots and at that speed it would be a good six days to Hvalfjordur, plenty of time for us to take advantage of any opportunity should it arise. The captain was now pacing, at least as much as the small confines of the bridge would allow. As looked back at me I quickly forced any look of smugness from my face, replacing it with one of sincere commiseration. Actually, I did feel a little sorry for him, but in light of my situation and that of my crew, was thankful for the extra time before we were turned over to the allies.

“I am sorry for your inconvenience Captain. I suppose that it is little consolation that you have my gratitude for rescuing myself and my crew.�

Flinging up his hands with an exasperated, “Bah!� he wheels about to face me.

“Did they not already know that I have you aboard, I swear to God I would be tempted to cast you all back into the sea. This is disgraceful! Coming back with empty holds. I suppose there will be some compensation, but nothing to what a hold full of fish would have brought.�

For a moment he stood there and glared at me, his countenance one of contemplation. In the meantime, I watched his heightened pulse rate in the bulging blood-vessels at his temples while wondering how many more years would go by before this man suffered a massive stroke.

After a moment, his rage began to subside and his shoulders took a slight slump. I mentally relaxed for I could tell that he had just become resigned to returning home empty-handed, so to speak.

He removed his cap to run a hand through his hair and with a sigh,

“Alright then, nothing to be done for it. How much trouble are you and your bunch going to be to me?�

At this point, I offered him a reassuring smile.

“None at all Captain; providing, that is, that we are treated within the mandates as called out by the Geneva Convention for prisoners of war.�

The exasperated look was beginning to return. The man was a fisherman and it was obvious that he was clueless as to what the Geneva Convention dictated. Seeing this, I then attempted to give a brief rundown of what, as our captor, was expected of him.

I couldn’t help but be a bit amused as his look of exasperation was quickly turning to one of astonishment.

“What do you think this is!?� he exclaimed, “some sort of luxury resort!? This is a fishing trawler, not the Queen Mary! How do you propose I am to provide these things that you say are in this Geneva Convention; and how do I know you are not just making all of that up?�

I was doing all that I could to keep the bemused smile from spreading across my face, but his arms were starting to wave up and down as he spoke and I could not help but be reminded of a little toy clown I had as a child. It was on a stick and its arms and legs would go up and down when you pulled on a string.

“No need to get excited Captain. I am not asking for all that. I am well aware of your limited resources. Anything you can do Captain, anything. Blankets. Some hot food perhaps? They will be grateful enough for that.�

With that he relaxed somewhat.

“Yeah? And what is in it for me if I do, eh?�

That ‘look’ was coming into his eyes again and I sighed to myself, thinking that this was going to be a very long six days if I did not play my cards right.

Letting all of my tiredness show, “My undying gratitude Captain, for one. But for right now, I too could use something to eat, not to mention a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. I am still cold, hungry, tired; I stink, and would like to see to the conditions of my crew. I assure you that at this moment I am the farthest thing away there is to being anything resembling social graces.�

This seemed to get through to him and he looked at me in a different light of awareness, finally realizing that I, as well as the rest of my crew, were exhausted from the hell we had been through over the last three hours.

“Alright then, I will see to these things, but don’t expect anything fancy.�

He then ordered my guard to take me to see my crew and afterwards to be ensconced in his quarters. As I was led away, I was hoping that the décor of his quarters did not include him.

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Chapter Three - Fish Stew and Sten Guns

I was led to the vessel’s mess room where I was greeted with the sight of twenty-nine men crammed into a space designed for half that. Perfect, I thought, they should all feel right at home. My XO, Leutnant Ringelmann, as efficient as ever, had the men arranged about the room in a fashion that, amazingly enough, still left just enough space where one man could maneuver about, either to disburse food or where one could get back and forth to the head.

The wounded were placed on the outer fringes nearer the door so as to ease Ringelmann’s access to them, a necessity, as he was also my boat medical officer. When the war started, he’d already had over a years worth of medical school under his belt so, by default, was elected to the position.

The space was small and the air stale, but it was relatively warm; and a palace when compared to being tossed about in a liferaft in freezing waters. Blankets had been distributed, albeit many had to serve for two, there just not being enough to go around, and some of the men were still finishing what smelled like some sort of a fish stew. It smelled wonderful. Others had already drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

So, Captain Jóhannsson was perhaps not the gruff and recalcitrant savior he made out to be. There had not been time enough for all of this to have been distributed after our discussion of the matter. I was grateful to realize that my men had been seen to as soon as they had been brought aboard.

As I stepped into the room, no more than two feet actually as any farther I would be in the way, Ringelmann, who was just finishing tending to one of the wounded, noticed my presence and rose to greet me, relieved to see that I was alright.

My first inquiry was to the condition of the wounded. Most would probably be alright with minor shrapnel wounds but two of them, Dorwald and Theil, he did not hold much optimism for. Medical supplies had been provided but even so, those were limited and there was only so much he could do under these circumstances. They needed a hospital. All of this, he explained to me under a lowered voice.

Looking over the men and the space available, of which I could see only enough for one, probably Ringelmann’s, he regretfully accounted as to how this was the best he could do in fitting them all in here. Gesturing to the one space left, next to the wounded, he offered to share with me as he would probably be up most of the time anyway.

Smiling and giving his shoulder a squeeze, “It is alright Albert. Captain Jóhannsson has insisted that I utilize his quarters.� Albert, to whom I will refer as such from here on, narrowed his eyes in suspicious inquiry.

I shrugged my shoulders, knowing where his thoughts were going, “I don’t know, perhaps. We’ll just have to hope that he is a proper gentleman and merely being a good host, no?� Albert didn’t look convinced.

Aware that our guards, fishermen turned soldiers, were only a few feet behind me just outside the open door, I switched to French, knowing that Albert spoke it fluently. With a sly smile, I winked at him and said, “Have you seen that horrible thing on the side of that fisherman’s neck?�

Albert glanced past my shoulder then smiled. In French he replied, �Not a flutter of an eyelid. In fact, they seem more interested in keeping their distance, at least as much as they can on this small tub.�

For a moment, I could see a longing look in Alberts eyes as he watched them and the scent of cigarette smoke reached my nose. Albert was a smoking man and one didn’t get to enjoy them very much when aboard a consistently damp and enclosed U-boat. Reverting back to German, I turned to my captors. “Gentlemen. Is it possible that I could persuade you to part with some of those for my men?�

Our guard with the cigarette paused, looking past me at all of my men then, with a begrudging but conscientious expression, produced from a pocket an almost full pack. Taking it, I gave him the most charming smile I could muster and beseeched, “Two? Please?�

Seeing him balk at that, I reached up and unfastened the top button of my blouse. A startled look came across the guards face and I realized that he thought that I was up to something else entirely. Men! From around my neck I removed a delicate gold chain that supported a small gold crucifix and extended it to him in offering.

He was lifting his hand to take it when Albert stated with a bit of alarm, “Kaleun Hessler! Did you not tell me that your mother gave that to you as a gift when you graduated the academy?�

�Yes Albert,� I replied. �But that’s not important right now.�

The guard’s hand has frozen in midair and a guilty look had come to his expression. Withdrawing his hand, he told me to keep the cross. He could not take that, but would get my men more cigarettes. I graciously thanked him then turned back to Albert, handing him the pack of smokes. “Do you still have your lighter?� I inquired.

�Of course,� he answered. �You should not have done that; and I am glad that he refused it. I know how much that means to you. I would not have felt comfortable in taking them.�

Gesturing to the men then looking back at him, �Albert, right now, you and these men are what is important.� Switching back to French, �Know this, that should the opportunity arise, I will do whatever I have to do to secure our escape and return home.� Like a good chess-player, I was already thinking six moves ahead and told him, �If one of the guards comes and asks for my headache medicine, be prepared for anything and ready to move. Be sure to inform the men. Until then, sit tight and look as harmless as possible.�

We both looked at the men, all of them either prostrate or sitting, many of them asleep, then at each other with a smile. Albert exclaimed, �I don’t think that will be too hard to accomplish. Headache medicine?�

With a bit of an embarrassed smile, “Oh shut up. I had to think of some sort of signal didn’t I? You want better than that, go hire some spy from Etappendienst. We’re not finished yet.�

Alberts expression turned to one of concern. �Be careful, okay?�

I tried to reassure him with a smile, unsuccessfully I think. Inclining my head toward our guards, �These are fisherman Albert, not soldiers, but even then, yes, I will be careful.�

Before I could turn to leave, he grasped my arm. �Fishermen, yes, but just remember, those Sten-guns are not fishing hooks.�

I nodded and with that, turned back to my captors. Reverting back to German, “I am finished now. Thank you for looking after them.�

They looked almost embarrassed by my gratitude, rough men accustomed to an even rougher life, but I suppose that to them, regardless of whose flag we sailed under, we were all sailors in one fashion or another. I was relieved with the conviction that my crew would not be mistreated. The one who had escorted me to the mess room, motioned ahead with the wicked-looking muzzle of his weapon and I stepped out of the room to retrace our path.

Along the way, trying to sound casual, �So many prisoners. Don’t you think you should break out more weapons?�

�Two are all that we have,� he replied, a trace of disgust in his voice. �The British weren’t very generous in giving them out to civilians.�

To belay any fears he may have had in this regard, I stated, �Well, no worries Leifur. I have ordered my crew to behave themselves. The war is over for us.�

He seemed surprised that I knew his name and I explained that I had heard his companion outside the mess room address him so, which indeed I had. He seemed pleased by this and although I would not swear to it, I had the feeling that this fisherman who shared the same language as mine, would have been more happy to see us back to our homeland than handed over to the allies. It is something that I made a mental note of and tucked away for further use if need be.

I was guided to a different door rather than back to the bridge. Opening it revealed what was obviously the Captain’s quarters. Despite his rumpled appearance when meeting him on the bridge, the room was surprisingly neat and orderly. Upon entering, my escort reached in to grasp the handle and closed the door behind me. I waited for the sound of a lock engaging but did not hear it. So, they did not seem to be too concerned that I would pose any trouble. All the better. Without going so far as to search the drawers, I performed a cursory search of the room nonetheless. I was not so foolish as to believe that anything that could be used as an effective weapon would be left for me to find.

I had been in the room no more than five minutes or so when there was a knock. Whoever it was, I suspected the Captain, I told to come in and as it opened, it revealed instead the ship’s cook who entered with a tray laden with bread, real butter, a bowl of the same fish stew I had smelled earlier in the mess room and, of all things, a steaming mug of coffee; and not that horrible ersatz stuff either! As the aroma of it reached my nostrils, I inhaled deeply. My God! I didn’t think anybody could even get the real thing anymore, what with the war and all. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d had real coffee. The cook actually looked apologetic that this was all he could offer. Right now it looked like a feast to me and I thanked him gratefully, assuring him that this was perfectly fine. Once he was satisfied that I was more than content with the offerings, he left, looking quite pleased with himself. I smiled, wondering if he had ever waited on a woman before.

The heady aromas emanating from the simple repast were overpowering but not as much as the coffee. Seating myself at the small table I took a sip of the brew and found it amazing how one could find something so precious that had before, been so common. Taking my time with the coffee so as to savor it, I sampled the stew and found it tasting even better than it smelled, a trace of rich spices to enhance yet not overpower it. I found myself wondering if the cook was as good a fisherman as he was a chef.

Initially, I’d had no appetite when we were hauled aboard the trawler but as I ate, I discovered that I was starving. It is amazing how much stress and exhaustion can take out of a person. The stew was made short work of, the last dregs being sopped up with a piece of bread, and I was in a state of repose, enjoying the last of the coffee when there was a knock on the door before it opened, Captain Jóhannsson stepping in but leaving the door open where I could see, beyond him, my erstwhile guard, Leifur. The crew were not as attentive as I would have preferred were I in the captain’s shoes, yet he was not being entirely foolish either.

“I’m sorry, am I intruding?� his gaze momentarily going to the unfinished remnants of my dinner.

“Not at all,� I replied. �I was just finishing and taking the luxury of enjoying your coffee. We can’t get that anymore in Germany unless you wish to pay an arm and a leg on the black market for it.�

He actually smiled, something I had come to believe he was incapable of. �Well, it is not available in large quantities, but there is more if you want it. I hope that the meal met with your satisfaction. I trust that you are satisfied with the arrangements provided for your crew. I fear it is the largest room available, short of the hold itself.�

Tempted though I was to ask for more coffee, I was finding it harder to think clearly as my exhaustion was finally starting to get the better of me. As good as the coffee was, the bunk was starting to look far more inviting. I glanced longingly at the basin where clean towels hung and a fresh bar of soap lay waiting.

By something in his tone I sensed that the coffee was perhaps not as easy to come by as he would have me believe. “No, thank you Captain. It was delicious, but at this point, I think I would like nothing more than the opportunity to clean up and get some sleep. Thank you for the use of your cabin.�

“Not at all. I seldom use it other than to sleep and for that I can trade off with my first mate. Please, make yourself comfortable.�

I could see his eyes make a brief examination of the room, perhaps trying to ascertain if I had been rifling the drawers or cabinets.

Seeing this, I disarmed him somewhat by saying, “Captain, I just want you to know that I appreciate the trouble you have been put to in our regard. I will do all that I can to make sure we are no more trouble to you than we already are; and, um, I would not be so rude as to profane your hospitality by going through your things.� At least he had enough decency to look embarrassed by having suspected that I had already done so.

�Besides, the only thing I could have possibly been looking for, I see you have tucked in the waistband of your trousers.� my eyes lowering to the butt of the French “Lebel� revolver.

My last statement made him look even more uncomfortable. It was obvious that he was not accustomed to carrying it. I took note that the butt pointed toward his left side, indicating that he was left-handed, making it all that much easier for myself, being right-handed, to grab hold of it were the opportunity to arise. One more little fact to tuck away for future possibilities.

His hand gesturing toward the gun, �You will have to forgive me, but, even with your assurances, you cannot blame me for taking precautions.�

“No apology necessary Captain. You do not strike me as a foolish man.� Actually, they all seemed more careless than I would have expected, but then, I also reminded myself that these men were not soldiers, hence accustomed to being in the vicinity of dangerous people. Of course, I was not about to tell him as much. Just one more thing in our favor.

Clearing his throat, I could see that he was having difficulty with something when, with a sincerely regretful inflection, he informed me that they were turning for home where we would be turned over to the Americans. This meant that they were abandoning the continued search for my missing crewmen aboard the wayward raft. Knowing that there was practically no chance of his finding them anyway, it pained me, but I silently nodded in acquiescence.

�I am sorry Frau Hessler,� he said, then turned for the door, for a moment lingering, watching me as that earlier look came into his eyes again. �You will want to rest now.�

My eyes fell to the wedding band he wore and as he was about to step into the passageway, I said “Captain, your wife. She must miss you during your long stays at sea?�

He had stopped when I addressed him and at mention of a wife, I could see a brief grimace of emotional pain wash across his countenance. For a moment he said nothing. He just stood there. Then with a look as though a great burden were upon his shoulders, he said, “Not any more,� then turned and left me to my own company.

I rose from my seat and went over to close the door, offering Leifur a genial smile before doing so. There was a latch upon the door and although it looked relatively flimsy, unable to stand up to any sort of serious forced entry, I bolted it anyway. I then went to the basin and, with many thoughts coursing through my mind, proceeded to strip and clean up as much as the small confines of the cabin would allow. As much as I would have liked to crawl under the inviting quilt just as I was, I could not afford to be caught unready for anything that might present itself. A fresh uniform would have been nice, then I immediately felt guilty as I thought of my crew, disbursed about the floor of the mess while I luxuriated with a sink bath of hot water and soap, and a warm, comfortable looking bunk awaiting me.

To atone, I quickly donned my salt encrusted uniform and crawled into the bunk. I didn’t have the heart, however, to foul the sheets therefore I lay between the blanket and the quilt, pulling it in about my shoulders as I nestled into the embracing comfort of the mattress and coverings. I could smell the maleness of Captain Jóhannsson on the pillow and as exhaustion and sleep overcame me, a smile came to my face as my thoughts drifted to another, one with eyes of green.

==============================================


Chapter Four - A Plan Foments

As tired as I was, I slept fitfully, the sound of depth charges exploding near our boat, to be repeated over and over. It was then that I woke to the sound of someone pounding on the door.

�Frau Hessler, please. Do not make me break the lock on my own door.�

I recognized the voice as that of Captain Jóhannsson and while trying to clear the cobwebs and fading nightmare from my head, "A moment, please!�

I quickly rose and went to the basin where I took a moment to splash cold water in my face, the better to waken and bring myself to full alertness. From there I went to the door and, slipping the bolt, opened it to find Captain Jóhannsson, my guard Leifur, and the cook all congregated outside in the narrow passageway.

�Frau Hessler, you had us a bit concerned. Do you sleep as late when aboard your U-boats?�

I glanced at my watch to discover that it was almost oh-eight-hundred hours. I felt my face flush with embarrassment. This must have amused the Captain for he bore a wry smile as I stepped back from the door, allowing him and the cook to enter. The cook, whose name I later learned was Gústav Helgason, went past me to set a tray on the small table. Again, there was bread and butter, a cup of coffee, and something whose look and aroma reminded me of a Quiche. He gave me a smile and looked as though he would like to linger but a gaze from the Captain sent him on his way; not, however before I was sure to thank him, mouthing the words, “It looks delicious.� I found myself amused by the thought of shanghaiing him to be MY cook.

I was about to express to the Captain that I would like to dine with my crew but remembering the crowded conditions where they were, I remained silent, deigning not to. By now, they had probably already eaten anyway.

Again, the door was left open where the Sten-gun wielding Leifur could see and hear everything within the room. The Captain gestured toward my waiting breakfast, “Please, Frau Hessler, do not let me keep you. It will get cold. When you are finished, let Leifur know and he will take you to your crew. I imagine you would like to see them again; perhaps to verify that I am abiding by your Geneva Convention rules.�

He turned to leave as I was sitting down to the table but paused upon reaching the door. Turning to look at me, “Tell me Frau Hessler, why did you ask me about my wife last evening?�

My mind was racing as when I had asked, my thoughts weren’t very polite ones; at the moment only trying to ascertain what his intentions might be toward myself.

�I don’t know really. I saw the ring, and more than that, I sensed something about you. Sadness, loneliness,� shrugging my shoulders, �I really don’t know for sure.�

His gaze turned to one of inner speculation as he nodded his head. “Perhaps. I was merely curious as it seemed a strange question from one in your situation.� He nodded and turned to leave then caught himself once more. �I was thinking Frau Hessler; perhaps you would be kind enough to join me for dinner this evening. I usually eat alone but . . .�

�I would be delighted to Captain Jóhannsson,� I replied quickly, hoping that I did not sound too eager.

He smiled, pleased by my answer. �I will send for you then at that time,� then turning and disappearing into the passageway.

Leifur, reaching in to close the door, “Is everything alright Frau Hessler?�

I paused in lifting the mug of coffee to my lips to look at him. Offering a forced smile as everything certainly was not alright, “Under my current circumstances Leifur, I suppose they are good enough. It will have to do won’t it?�

He looked a little embarrassed by his question and offered an apologetic smile as he quietly closed the door. I didn’t actually wish to dine with Captain Jóhannsson yet at the same time, did not wish to anger him or do anything else that would give him inclination to detain me with the rest of my crew. As long as I was out here, there was a better chance that I would be able to take advantage of any opportunity should it arise. I have never considered myself a very good liar nor in possession of any credible acting qualities. I was praying that he did not detect anything amongst my thoughts other than resigned cooperation until we made port. As I made to partake of the excellent breakfast Gústav had prepared for me, something about Leifur’s weapon nagged at the back of my mind. At the moment I could not determine what it was for the life of me.

Finishing breakfast and savoring the cup of coffee while entertaining various thoughts, I quickly discarded one scheme after another. Regretfully, the coffee was soon gone and I rose to use the facilities in the cramped water closet adjoining the Captain’s cabin. Pausing afterward to freshen up at the basin, I picked up the tray of empty breakfast dishes before opening the door to inform Leifur that I was ready to visit my crew. Already informed by the Captain that this was to be allowed, he simply nodded and stepped aside so that I could precede him.

Allowing myself the risk of a brief glance at the Sten-gun, it struck me like an electric shock as to what had been niggling at me regarding his weapon. Hope raced through me as I pondered the possibilities and I quickly attempted to cover any sign of my countenance arousing suspicion with Leifur by continuing down the passageway while saying back over my shoulder, “You must get awfully bored standing around all day guarding me. Doesn’t that thing get heavy after while?�

His quick smile in reply to my query showed that he believed himself forgiven for asking such an obviously stupid question earlier. “Not really,� he countered. “We are going back home with an empty hold so I suppose I must earn my pay in some way. Besides, this is much easier than the myriad of other tasks the Captain could have me doing in the meantime.�

With my back to him as we continued down the passage, a slight smile came to my lips for the pieces were falling together; I had a plan.

===============================================


Chapter Five - Dorwald’s Song

As I entered the Mess, my escort remained outside to converse with his counterpart. Albert, my XO and boat medic, rose from where he had been tending the two more serious of the wounded. Wiese, my radio operator, came forward and, nodding a greeting, took my tray where he then disappeared through another hatchway to the galley.

�How are they,� I asked, nodding my head to Dorwald and Theil. I noticed that they now lay on mattresses, probably appropriated from the trawlers crew quarters.

With his back where the men could not see his face, he gave me a grim look that told me all I needed to know. �Dorwald will be lucky if he makes it another day. He has internal bleeding and infection has set in. Theil, I just don’t know. His wounds are serious but he is stubborn.�

I could see the exhaustion on Alberts face, dark circles beginning to form beneath his eyes. I would be surprised if he had had more than a few hours of sleep since our rescue; and I would order him to rest but I knew he would only disobey me. His frustration was obvious as well. I knew he had the skill to do more but without the facilities he was all but helpless.

With a sigh of utter resignation, Albert’s shoulders slumped, �He knows he is dying, Kaleun. I have spoke with the captain and he assures me that he has given me everything he has. I believe him. He himself sent down the mattresses so as to try to make them more comfortable. There is a little morphine but I have been using it sparingly; saving it for when it really gets bad.�

Feeling as helpless and frustrated as Albert, I knelt down next to Dorwald. His brow was beaded with the sweat of a fever and his pallor was that of a corpse. I took his hand in mine and as his morphine-dilated eyes opened to meet mine, I forced a smile to my lips with the vain hope of encouragement. I tried to remember how old he was but the memory failed me. I knew he couldn’t be anymore than eighteen or nineteen, twenty at the most, but I doubted it. He looked so small laying there.

My heart was breaking. These men had put their trust in me to bring them home and I was failing them. In his other hand was a small wallet-sized photograph. I nodded to it and with barely enough strength to lift his arm, he handed it to me. In the photo was a young girl, certainly no older than he was. �Your girlfriend?� I asked; to which he replied with a nod and a smile of his own.

�Her name is Marlena, just like yours Kaleun. She is beautiful isn’t she?�

This was more than I could bear yet I had to, for his sake. I was the one who had brought him to this final chapter of his far too short life and no one else could bear the responsibility but me. I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent a sob escaping my lips and nodded. With an indisguisable quaver in my voice, �Yes. She is very beautiful.� Handing the photo back to him, �You are very lucky Dorwald.� He took the photo back and gazed at it, a smile on his pale features.

“Is there anything I can do for you?� I asked, wishing that I could do far more than I could.

He looked back at me, his hand clutching the photo dropping slowly back down to his side, and for a moment he looked like a shy little boy as he nodded. Opening his mouth a few times as though to speak, he seemed reluctant and I had to encourage him. �Go ahead Dorwald, what is it?�

I realized that the Mess had grown silent, the focus of the rest of the crew directed solely on myself and Dorwald. His voice was weak and I could tell it was a struggle for him but he spoke nonetheless. “I have heard it said that you sing Kaleun Hessler.�

His eyes looked into mine as I held his hand, a fragile glimmer of hope lighting his eyes. My mind raced with panic, recalling that as of late my singing debut was usually at the Drakkar and even then, only when I was well on the way to being thoroughly inebriated. I may sound fine to a bunch of half-drunken U-boat captains and officers, but now? Here? Despite myself, I found myself nodding in confirmation. �Is there any song in particular Dorwald?�

In barely more than a whisper, he replied, “C'Etait Une Histoire D'Amour�

It was a very popular French love song by the acclaimed Edith Piaf. I knew it well, often humming it to myself when thinking of someone I had come to regard as special.

I nodded and, taking a deep breath to compose myself, I started.

J´ai connu des jours magnifiques.
L´amour était mon serviteur.
La vie chantait comme un´ musique
Et elle m´offrait des tas d´bonheurs
Mais j´en achetais sans compter:
J´avais mon cœur à dépenser.

C´était un histoire d´amour.
C´était comme un beau jour de fête,
Plein de soleil et de guinguettes,
Où le printemps m´faisait la cour
Mais quand le histoir´s sont trop jolies,
Ça ne peut pas durer toujours.
C´était une histoire d´amour.
Ma part de joie, ma part de rêve,
Il a bien fallu qu´ell´ s´achève
Pour me faire un chagrin d´amour.

Et tant pis si mes nuits sont blanches,
Tant pis pour moi si j´pleur´ tout l´temps.
C´est le chagrin qui prend sa r´vanche.
Y a qu´le chagrin qui est content.
Vraiment, il y a de quoi rire.
J´ai l´impression d´vouloir mourir.

C´était un histoire d´amour.
C´était comme un beau jour de fête,
Plein de soleil et de guinguettes,
Où le printemps m´faisait la cour
Mais quand les histoir´s son trop jolies,
Ça ne peut pas durer toujours...
C´était une histoire d´amour
Dont rien désormais ne demeure.
Il faut toujours que quelqu´un pleure
Pour faire une histoire d´amour

For those who wish to hear it, I zipped and uploaded the song to where you can access it. The download link is:

http://rapidshare.de/files/15776833/..._Piaf.zip.html

Halfway through, a peaceful smile had encompassed his young face and by the end his eyes were closed; his breathing so shallow that for a moment I thought he had died. With a panicked look I turned my gaze to Albert but he smiled and grasped my shoulder, �He is only asleep. I will look after him now. It is a good thing you have done for him.�

I rose on trembling legs, for a moment looking at the rest of my crew and I was met with reassuring nods. I could feel warm tears running down my face but I didn’t care by then. Their expressions still showed an unfaltering trust in me; a trust I did not feel I deserved.
Even the guards outside the door had fallen silent, mesmerized by the somber atmosphere.

I wanted so badly to just let go. To just let all my sorrow pour out, but not yet. For a while longer I had to be strong. Too many were still depending on me. It would come though. Of that I had no doubt. One can only hold in so much. For now, it had to be forced aside, letting my frustrations and anger focus on the moment at hand.

Speaking in French again, with the two guards so close at hand, �I have to talk to you Arnold. I have a plan but right now it is too quiet here. Soon though.� While speaking, I made it a point to periodically glance down at Dorwald so as to lead the guards to believe that we were discussing him, perhaps in a different language so that he would not realize we were discussing his impending demise. I could not afford to have them get suspicious now that my plan was so close to realization. I broke away from Arnold and killed time by moving about the crew, stopping here and there to speak to some, offering words of encouragement but not so much as to cause any excitement. To the few officers and non-coms I could trust to maintain a stoic expression, I explained a bit more in detail, for the most part to just be ready and wait for the XO’s signal.

As conversation amongst the crew slowly regained its former level, I returned to Arnold, to explain what I had in mind. He looked at me with an expression of utter dismay. �Have you lost your mind?� he exclaimed. �You’re going to get yourself killed! What good is that going to do anybody?�

�Keep your voice down and get hold of yourself. You’ll be attracting their attention,� shifting my eyes toward the open doorway where the two guards stood on duty. So far we were lucky as they were ensconced in their own conversation and seemed little enough interested in us. In a beseeching tone, �Albert. If we believed what you said every time we take a risk, we would all scuttle our boats right in their pens and nobody would leave the harbor.�

Resignedly, he nodded in agreement. Once he had recomposed himself to a reasonable level, I went on to explain more of the details, including what I had noticed about Leifur’s weapon. This last revelation caught his interest significantly and I could tell it was all he could do not to look toward Leifur with surprise, hence possibly alerting him to something amiss.

He still didn’t like the idea but when challenged to come up with something better, he had to concede that he couldn’t; nothing short of simply rushing them while they were both together. Shaking my head, I told him no. The doorway was too narrow to allow more than one man to pass at a time and they always leaned against the opposing bulkhead where they could look into the Mess. It might work but it might also get a number of our men killed too. I have heard stories about the nasty effectiveness of a Sten-gun, especially in close confines, and I didn’t want to see it demonstrated here. I was not willing to risk any more than myself until I could be certain that the firearms were in the hands of my own people instead of Captain Jóhannsson’s. Now it was just a matter of waiting.

Under escort of my guard, I returned once to the captain’s cabin under the guise of needing the use of the facilities. While there, I used a piece of scrap paper to fold together a small packet not too much larger than a postage stamp. This I filled with the powder from one of the bottles in the medicine cabinet, folding over the flap and sealing it as best I could with a dab of Kolynos dental cream. This I pocketed, washed my hands, then rejoined my guard to return to the Mess.

More time in casual conversation was spent and Albert asked me of my plans once again; shaking his head in disbelief that I intended to attempt carrying it out. As midday drew near, Gústav, the trawler’s cook, came through lugging a heavy-looking tureen with a basket of sandwiches tucked precariously under one arm; by the aroma, I guessed corned beef. I offered the assistance of one of my men and after a short conversation with our guards, this was allowed, one of them going along with them. Many of my crew were stirring in anticipation of lunch and I did a double-take when I noticed four of them in the corner playing cards. I shook my head in wonderment. Leave it to a bunch of sailors to have a deck of cards, even when abandoning ship in the middle of a tossing sea.

Albert, fearing my impending actions, utilized his medical knowledge to enlighten me about various nerve points on the human body and how I could possibly use them to suppress an attacker when unarmed. He covered the carotid sinuses in the neck, but focused mainly on the hypoglossal, vagus and glossopharyngeal nerves, warning me that with the first one I could easily kill my opponent were I not careful with it; showing me just how he estimated one should properly strike for the best effect; glancing at the door first to make sure Leifur was not watching.

I studied Albert for a moment, a bit stunned. �I thought you were studying to become a doctor?� I said, with not a small amount of surprise in my voice.

Albert merely shrugged his shoulders, �What can heal, can also kill. I prefer the former myself, but…�

�I feel sorry for anybody you ever get in a bar-fight with,� I retorted.

By then, Gústav had returned along with the crewman I had sent to assist him. To the delight of my crew, he informed them that they were next as he disappeared into the galley. As their conversation was picking up, Leifur called me to the doorway and informed me that the Captain would be pleased if I joined him for lunch.

This caught me a bit off guard as I wasn’t expecting to be seeing him until this evening. On the other hand, I could not prepare any more than I already had and the waiting was the worst. Looking back toward Albert, “Well, earlier than expected, huh?� giving him a slight nod. �By the way, you got my headache medicine upon leaving the boat didn’t you? I feel one coming on.� He nodded knowingly and with that I turned and left the Mess, preceding Leifur down the passageway.

===============================================


Chapter Six – Hard to Swallow

By now I was familiar with the route and by Leifur’s direction proceeded directly to Captain Jóhannsson’s cabin. Leifur, by now, had come to be so lax around me that I almost felt sorry for him; almost. From behind me he reached around to knock on the door and I used the opportunity to turn allowing more room for him to do so. At the same time it gave me a better view of his weapon; all the better to ascertain that its condition was still the same as before. To my great relief, it still was.

As tempted as I was to grab it from him right there, I suffered no illusions that although Leifur was no bigger than most average men, life aboard a trawler was no environment for weaklings and that he’d probably overpower me. Even then, unless I was immediately successful, there was still the Captain just inside with that Lebel revolver of his. No, I thought to myself, stick with the plan.

From inside came the Captain’s voice, “Come in.�

I gave Leifur a disarming smile and opened the door myself to step in; as before leaving the door open with Leifur left standing just outside. The Captain was standing beside the table which had been set properly, a tureen of soup centered with corned-beef sandwiches to the side.

He looked genuinely pleased that I had accepted his invitation and with a rather self-conscious bow, greeted me and invited me to sit. I had to give the poor fellow credit, at least he was trying.

After I had seated myself, he addressed Leifur, asking him to close the door before he himself took a chair. Well, I thought, this is new. The ante has just been raised. Gesturing to the door, he asked, “Do you mind?�

I shook my head, “No, of course not.�

He looked slightly uncomfortable; as though there were things he wanted to say but did not know how to go about it. “It’s just that, well, I thought we could speak of other things more openly without others . . . well . . .�

Knowing that I had to keep him off guard and without suspicion, I reached across the small table, resting my hand on his. “It is alright Captain, really, I understand.�

This action on my part came as an obvious surprise to him and for a moment nothing was said. At the same time, I did not fail to notice that he did not withdraw his. I left mine there long enough to send just the right signal before retrieving it. A distinctly disappointed look came to his eyes as I did and I pretended not to notice; instead turning my attention to the fare lay out before us. Besides the sandwiches, on bread that was still warm from the oven, there was again fresh coffee but this time, one could not help but notice that there was also an opened bottle of wine to one side. I lifted the lid on the tureen to better smell the exquisite aroma emanating from within.

Captain Jóhannsson explained, “It is Saltkjöt og baunir, a soup of lamb, split peas, potatoes, onions, carrots, rutabagas, and smoked bacon. It is one of Gústav’s specialties.

It smelled exhilarating. With my mouth already watering, I threw all pride aside and ladled a generous portion of it into the bowl provided for me. Between that and the corned-beef sandwich, which by it’s size was a meal unto itself alone, I was going to be stuffed. I couldn’t see any point, however, in engaging my plans on an empty stomach and I still needed a little time to build myself up for what I was going to do.

“Tell me Captain; is there anything that Gústav does not specialize in? Everything I have eaten prepared by his hand has been excellent.�

“I will be sure to tell him that you approve,� replied Jóhannsson. He smiled, watching me eat for a few moments before starting himself. “Oh, my apologies. You would like some wine?�

As much as I would like to, I had to keep a clear head. “I know it may violate etiquette, but can we wait until afterward Captain. I would like to be able to savor it. I fear where we will be going it is going to be a long time before I get the opportunity again.�

His hand paused at the bottle then retreated, “Yes, of course. Quite understandable.�