“No sir, we were in the exact location you specified,” Stefan said.
“Then what was it?” Sieinski demanded.
“Rotten luck?” Squeaky volunteered.
There was a suppressed giggle from one of the boys at the helm. Dangerous territory, this, Stefan thought. The captain was already damaging himself in front of his men. What little authority he had was being tattered like an old flag in a gale. And anything Stefan could say wouldn’t help the matter. If he explained about the clarity of the Baltic this time of year, it would only make the captain look even more the fool. And if truth be told, it wouldn’t do Stefan any good, either. After all, he knew better, knew they weren’t deep enough. And yet, he had done nothing. If they were killed by one of depth charges, the fault would be his alone. His pettiness might be the death of this boat.
“He’s probably right, captain,” Stefan added evenly. “Just a fluke that the plane happened over our position with the sun at just the right angle so that our shadow on the bottom was visible.”
Sieinski glanced around the control room. All eyes except Stefan’s were averted. He wasn’t so sick that he didn’t suspect something else was going on, but he couldn’t identify it. Not at the moment. He nodded slowly. “So, fill me in, Mr. Petrofski.”
“We’re underway,” Stefan said, “heading for deeper water. No doubt the plane has notified the
Kriegsmarine
of our location. We should be able to avoid detection.”
There was another detonation, shouts of alarm from somewhere forward. Thankfully, Stefan thought, the woman, Kate, was keeping quiet. But, of course, he wouldn’t expect her to scream, not from something like this. She was tough, that one. Lights flickered again, glass dials on the green board shattered. A stream of water arced across the control room, hitting Sieinski right in the chest. He shrieked with outrage, hopped to the side. Eryk jumped up and cranked a valve closed. The leak shortened and then died out altogether.
“Take us deeper,” shouted the captain, dabbing at blood that had suddenly begun leaking from one of his nostrils.
Eryk looked at his watch, shook his head.
“Not yet, sir, another …” Stefan cautioned. He glanced at Eryk, who flashed two fingers.
“Another two minutes, and then we can dive deeper.”
Sieinski clenched his jaws and nodded.
Even for Stefan, it was the longest two minutes of his life. Each second seemed to mosey on by as if it had all the time in the world before it had to give way to the next. Unlike the rest of the crew, he had experienced depth charges before. But those had been training exercises designed to simulate a depth charge attack, not actually kill the submarine below. The officers running the simulation had made sure that all the cans were dropped at a safe distance away from the submerged submarine. No sense trying to be too realistic and damaging a boat or worse. This was something entirely new. The sudden assault that shook the submarine like a child beating his rattle against a rock, the roar echoing throughout the boat, turning your mind and senses into mush. The roller coaster torment of waiting for the next blast. Another sudden, nerve-shattering explosion. A brief moment of wonder, listening for screams and the roar of ocean water spewing into the ship like blood from a punctured artery. And then a surge of exhilaration at your survival extinguished almost immediately by the fear of the next explosion, and the next one. Everyone kept count. The men in the planes above wanted nothing more than the destruction of the
Eagle
and the sixty-five human beings inhabiting her insides. They tried six times. And then a break that stretched into a half minute, and longer.
When Eryk nodded, Stefan ordered the
Eagle
deeper and called another course correction.
While the captain watched silently, Stefan hollered, “Anything, Ears?”
“No, sir. No contacts,” came the response from the sound room.
Sieinski blew out his cheeks, holding onto the pipes to keep from collapsing. “Well, that’s good news,” he said with shaky voice. “Let’s run for a few hours,” he ordered gruffly, gathering himself, reasserting his position, “and then find a safer place to wait until nightfall. I don’t want to get too far off station.” Sieinski didn’t wait around. He turned and shuffled like an old man back to his bed.
“Aye, aye, sir,” Stefan said. He glanced around the control room. Minor damage. A few leaks, broken glass, cracked dials. It could have been worse, much worse. And it would have been his fault. The only fool on this boat was him; that was for sure. He clenched his right hand into a fist. Next time, he wouldn’t stay quiet, even if it meant challenging the captain directly in front of the men. No sense obeying orders that got them all killed. He would have to use all his meager skills to make sure it didn’t get that far. Unfortunately, finessing senior officers had never been one of his strong suits. He wasn’t optimistic about how he would do with Sieinski. The man was obviously coming unhinged. It couldn’t all be blamed on the blow to the head. No one really knew how a man would act under stress. Now they were about to find out, not only with Sieinski, but the rest of the crew, as well.
In a perverse way, however, Stefan knew that the attack hadn’t been a bad thing. It had gotten the crew’s attention, given them their first taste of battle. They must all do their jobs or they would die. It was that simple.
Stefan noticed the seaman at the helm who had peed himself glancing furtively in his direction. “Back in sixty seconds,” Stefan said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. The boy scrambled out of his seat, and ducked down the passageway toward the bow, trying and failing to hide the stain on front of his pants with his hands.
Squeaky grinned wickedly. His voice boomed through the control room and after the boy. “Hey, Lubomir, don’t forget to bring back a diaper.”
There was a smattering of nervous laughter. Even Stefan had to smile. They had survived. And learned something in the process. It could have been worse, much worse.
“Find us a safe place to rest this time,” Stefan said.
“Aye, aye,” Eryk intoned.
“At nightfall, we return the favor.”
“A word with you, Captain?” Ritter tapped his knuckles on the bulkhead outside Sieinski’s closet-sized quarters.
The
Eagle
had been quiet for an hour, cradled in a bed of silt 80 meters from the surface of the Baltic this time. Around the vessel, the various stations were manned by a skeleton crew. Everyone else resting up for the long night to come, no longer aware of the cocktail of fetid smells so thick it almost made the air visible: the stink of unwashed bodies, ripening bananas, mold, urine, smoked meats, chlorine, excrement, diesel fumes. With humidity at 100 percent, everything was damp with condensation running down the walls and sporadically dropping from the ceiling like rain in a tropical forest.
“Enter,” came the listless response.
Ritter pushed aside the curtain, stepped partially inside. On the bunk in front of him was Sieinski, laying on his side, legs pulled up to his chest. Despite the thick layer of blankets, he was shivering violently.
“Maybe I should come back?” Ritter said.
“No, no, what is it?” Sieinski said through chattering teeth. “I’ve never been rude to an invited guest and I’m not about to start.”
Ritter shrugged. “Well then. I won’t be long. I understand you are considering a run to France?”
“Where did you hear that?” Sieinski said sharply.
Ritter spread out his arms. “People talk. Hard to piss around here without someone noticing.”
Sieinski pushed out his chin. He was in no mood to argue. “What if I am?” he said through clenched teeth.
“You are captain,” Ritter said quickly. “Of course, it is your prerogative. I would not question that. After all, I am just an engineer, a technician, not a soldier. My colleagues and I wanted to make sure you had all the information you needed to make a good decision.”
“What do you mean?”
“France .... you will never make it,” Ritter said bluntly.
Sieinski pushed away the blanket with a derisive snort and sat up, grasping the edge of his bunk with both hands to hold himself steady. “Oh, please, don’t tell me about the capabilities of the vaunted
Kriegsmarine
. We can travel submerged for nearly 100 hours if we need to. And we have the means to protect ourselves. We can make it, I’m confident of it.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Ritter said softly, his eyes glittering.
“Explain?”
“The repairs to the hydraulic pumps and the rest of the systems …. I never expected them to last even this long. There is only one permanent fix. New pumps. If you attempt a journey to France, my, uh, colleagues and I are convinced that, well ….” He shook his head. “Like I said. We won’t make it. There is not one possibility in 100.”
Sieinski bowed his head for a moment, his body sagged. “What does Chief K say?”
Ritter shrugged. “I think your chief is loyal to his captain, but as far as understanding the mechanics of the
Eagle
and the intricacies of her hydraulic system, well, that boy with the pimples, Jerzy, he is a better engineer ….”
“I see,” said Sieinski wearily, his eyes dull. It was taking every effort to remain upright. It was almost impossible to concentrate on this new problem. He had thought it settled, they would patrol for a day longer, and then he would get confirmation from headquarters of the radio message he had sent earlier. With the war going so badly, heading for France was the only sensible thing to do. Sweden was another possibility. “What do you suggest?”
Ritter didn’t respond right away. Better to be casual about it, not too eager. It must seem like a new thought, an off-the-cuff suggestion. “Well, I don’t know what is best. But we do have repair facilities in Tallinn,” he said. “Modest, of course. But I expect that what the
Eagle
needs could be found there in short order. Yes, that’s it. Not as close as Sweden, but if you go there, your war is over. They won’t let you leave out of fear of endangering their sacred neutrality. Not to mention Sweden.” He wrinkled his nose. “If for one much prefer the attractions of Paris to those Lutheran tight asses. In Tallinn you could repair the
Eagle
, get rid of your American passengers and me and my men, and then be on your way to France, and continue the fight You wouldn’t need us anymore. It would only delay you a few days. No more.”
Sieinski leaned back against the bulkhead, pulled the blanket over his lap and began nodding with interest. Of course, it made sense. Perfect sense. And while there, he could see a doctor about his head and his other need. The very thought of being able to satisfy his craving for opium was almost overwhelming. Was there anything more he needed to prove to himself or his father? Of course not, he rationalized. After all, he had gone without it for three days. That was an adequate test of character, particularly given the tremendous strain he had been under. Tallinn? The real question was, Why he hadn’t he considered it earlier? Or why hadn’t one of his officers? It had become clear to him that they were holding things back from him. But that could all be addressed after a short stop in Tallinn. No need to radio for permission, either. The fleet commanders had other, more important, things to consider. This fell well under the discretion of a captain during time of war.
“Can I get you anything, sir?”
Sieinski smiled. “You are a gentleman. Please, a cup of tea would do nicely. I am feeling a bit better. Nasty blow to the head and a bout of something else. A visit to Tallinn would also give me a chance to see a doctor and visit some family. Did you know that my mother is from Tallinn?”
Ritter smiled. “What a pleasant surprise,” he said.
“Tallinn?” Stefan exclaimed. “Why?”
Sieinski took his time replying. He sipped from his tea, smacked his lips, and then took another sip. “Tell him …” Sieinski nodded to Ritter who was crowded into the doorway with Stefan.
“The repairs we made were only temporary. It is imperative you find more permanent solutions before subjecting the
Eagle
to the further rigors of war. We have facilities close at hand in Tallinn to help make that happen.”
“Since when? I’ve never heard of any.”
“Then, I’m sorry to say, you are behind the times. They’ve been there since, ah, last year, I believe.” Ritter stared blankly back at Stefan, not a challenge, but not backing down either.
Stefan peered over his shoulder. “Chief, get down here.”
Chief K, who had noticed the crowd in front of the captain’s doorway and was attempting to duck into the toilet, sagged noticeably and began trudging down the passageway toward them.
“What’s the status of the repairs?” Stefan asked. “Any problems?
Chief K glanced furtively at Ritter, licked his lips, and then dropped his eyes to the floor. “Well, you see, they seem,” he drew out the last word for emphasis, “all right for now, but no guarantees that they will last.”
Stefan gave a short bark of laughter. “There are no guarantees in war or life, Chief, didn’t you know that? We could all be dead a moment from now.”
“Well, what I mean to say is … “
Time for a little push, Ritter decided. “Captain,” he interrupted, “I won’t be responsible for what may happen to this vessel when she breaks down. And she will break down, mark my words. Therefore, if you choose not to seek port and procure a permanent solution to our temporary repairs, my men and I request a life raft, if you please. We will depart the vessel immediately, and take our chances out there ….”