Having spent some time in UB81, also visited the hospital to see two men who were still confined there, finding that he still had an hour before lunch, he’d visited the tailor and collected the rest of his gear with its second stripes and new epaulettes. The second stripes were noticeably brighter than the older ones and the gilt crowns above them, but it would have been a waste of money to have had the whole lot renewed.
Sooner spend it on Helena. Especially as one mightn’t be wearing uniform much longer. Extraordinary thought, that: never having considered any possibility of not wearing it for life. Barely imaginable, in fact – overnight to become a civilian, former kapitan-leutnant – and maybe to be seeking employment with adequate remuneration for the support of a wife, for heaven’s sake. This thought occurring when on his way out of the base he’d been passed by a platoon of young trainees moving at the double under the command of a PO who, seeing Otto, had ordered ‘Eyes right!’ and saluted him as they trotted past. Training as what, he’d wondered. Street-sweepers, beggars? Well, like everything else, training obviously had to go on until it stopped, so to speak – but when it did, how many millions of unemployed would there be on German streets?
Better telephone Helena. Not now: after lunch. Let her know he’d booked a table and arranged to borrow Hans Graischer’s motor again. And tell her about Ahrens’ attempt to buttonhole Franz Winter. As well that she should be forewarned. Ahrens might or might not have got hold of Winter between his briefing by FdU and 201’s departure for the Schillig Roads. Maybe not, since the departure had been a rushed one; in which case you could bet fat Willi would be on the quayside when Franz brought her back in.
Get my word in first, maybe, spike the bastard’s guns…
He’d brought his re-vamped kit up to his room, shoved things on hangers and was at the window now, with a view over the various basins and dry docks and swing-bridges to the Jade’s sliding, barely rumpled surface. No sight of U201, no submarine movements at all in progress. A minesweeper just entering, fighters in tow of a tug moving up-river, gulls wheeling, screeching… Thinking of Helena again, and making himself face the question he’d woken with – whether he was a lucky man, as he’d thought when turning in, or an idiot; whether he shouldn’t have kept his damn mouth shut. Drink, high blood-pressure, afterglow of the best sex he’d ever had: on top of that the jolt of running into those people – Ahrens of all people – a jolt to him, near-lethal body-blow to her; her tone of despair, his shocked recognition that it had been entirely his doing, having assured her he’d look after her…
In fact, seduced her. Although she hadn’t been a virgin, and had been fairly keen on being seduced.
Well – girls were. Always had been. From way back. At least, since the English girl. Maybe since the dawn of history, but the English girl – well. Different kettle of fish, that one. Different circumstances entirely, as well as different people. Oneself so young, she even younger.
Remember to put a couple of blankets in Graischer’s motor. The rug that was in it already was of course softer, silkier; rug next to her skin, therefore…
Claus Stahl was in the Mess; Otto bought two glasses of schnapps and joined him, gave him an update on the two still in hospital. Three others had been sent home on sick-leave. And there’d been a rumour floating around, Stahl told him, that they’d be wanting 81 moved into a repair dock tomorrow, Wednesday.
‘No doubt someone will be good enough to let me know about it, if it’s true.’
‘I’m sure they will, sir.’
‘But how far they’ll get with mending her before the whole show grinds to a halt…’
Stahl wagging his head: gloomy look on the pale, creased face. ‘Never dreamt it might come to anything like this, did we. Saw ourselves entering British ports in triumph. Our ensign above theirs on every mast. Eh?’
‘I suppose that’s true. But we haven’t lost, Claus. As well for morale to bear that in mind.’
‘Absolutely right. Result’s the same, though – ground cut from under one’s feet, nothing to do but jag in. Then we are beaten. Oh, hello, Kurt.’
Kurt Hahn, Ahrens’ first lieutenant, who’d been with Fatty at the Snake Pit last night. Scrawny, dark, weasel-faced. He’d raised a glass to Stahl, glanced nervously at Otto and turned away, resuming a conversation with the paymaster, Hans Deuker. And beyond them – just arriving – Schwaeble’s sturdy figure trailed by Ahrens’ tubby one. Schwaeble calling an order to the bar steward, then looking round, seeing Otto and beckoning him.
‘Excuse me, Claus, I’m summoned.’
‘Of course.’ Stahl moved to join Hahn and Deuker. And now Hintenberger had sloped in, was joining them. He still looked like something out of a hole in the ground, but it looked as if he’d at least trimmed his beard. He’d found his father in reasonably good shape, and the cats now eight in number instead of six, apparently. No explanation given, that was simply how it was. Otto, edging through to Schwaeble, saw Ahrens’ moon-face freeze. Had already been telling tales, maybe? Walter Bohme was joining them too: Bohme’s Coastal still languishing in dock, presumably. Otto heard him offer, ‘Buy anyone a drink, can I?’
Schwaeble told him, ‘You can come in on this round. Timed it just right.’ Nodding to the steward: ‘Add another, Hartje’.Then to Otto, ‘They’ll be starting on 81 tomorrow, von Mettendorff. Best be ready to shift her first thing in the morning. Enough juice in the battery to move on your motors, or will you need a tug?’
‘Battery should just about manage it, sir.’
‘Cracked containers and all. You were very lucky not to have had a chlorine problem.’ He told Ahrens, ‘Took quite a bashing. Getting her back was a remarkable achievement.’ Otto said, ‘Quite a bashing, but luck as well.’ From the normality of Schwaeble s manner he didn’t think Ahrens had as yet spilled the beans. Saving it for Winter, no doubt… ‘Any news of 201 yet, sir?’
‘Not as yet.’ Raising his glass: ‘Here’s to her. And to Winter.’
‘Winter.’ Ahrens gulped some schnapps and added, ‘Couldn’t have a better man on the job, in any case.’ A hostile glance at Otto, then to Schwaeble, ‘He’s the best we’ve got, in my opinion.’
‘One of the best, certainly.’
‘Remember U3’s accident?’
Schwaeble frowning, remembering… ‘Long time ago, that. His first boat, wasn’t she?’
‘First and damn near his last!’
Bohme shook his head. ‘I know U3 came to grief, but—’
‘Before your time. I was still in training. At Kiel, naturally, which was also where U3 completed her fitting-out – had completed, was making her first trip to sea, and – yes, Franzi’s first submarine appointment. Leutnant zu See, green as grass. There was to be a trial dive in harbour, and they’d left an engine-room ventilation outlet open. In fact it was the builders’ doing – KW – the indicator showed it as shut when it was open, and vice-versa. Soon as the dive started she took in enough dirty harbour water to make her stern-heavy, and down she went. Her captain was in the upper control-room with an officer of the watch and helmsman, passed the order down for all hands to shut themselves into the for’ard compartment – which they did, twenty-nine of ’em. Well, two floating cranes were towed over from KW, and it took the best part of twelve hours for divers to rig cables around the boat’s forepart. Cranes were then to drag her bow up and the lads’d crawl out through the torpedo tubes. But as the bow broke surface the cables parted, and down she went again. Second attempt took not twelve hours, but fourteen – thirty hours altogether before they had her up, and they all crawled out – the twenty-nine, including young Franz – but the three in the tower had been dead some while by then. Chlorine gas up the voicepipes, apparently.’
Schwaeble nodded. ‘Hence airtight cocks on all voicepipes now. The chaps for’ard were saved by the Drager filtration system, weren’t they. Caustic potash filters. Couldn’t see you crawling through a torpedo tube, Ahrens.’
‘Very amusing – sir. But as I was saying, Franz Winter was one of them, and that was his first outing!’
‘Did him no great harm, anyway.’
‘That’s rather my point. Going through that ordeal, then coming out of it declaring, “Hey, this is the life for me!” He did, though. So impressed by the way they’d all behaved throughout those thirty hours, he told me not long afterwards.’
Bohme nodded. ‘I can see that. One would be. But he’s a good ’un, is Franzi.’
Otto agreed. ‘Is indeed. A brilliant CO.’
‘Certainly gave you a helping hand in the early stages, von Mettendorff?’
A nod to Ahrens. ‘I owe him a great deal.’
‘Repaying the debt now, in your own inimitable manner?’
Tone and look of contempt. Otto saw surprise in the others’ faces, and shrugged. ‘I’m afraid I’m not with you.’
‘With no-one but yourself, I’d say.’ He tossed his drink, bowed slightly with a click of his heels to Schwaeble. ‘If you’d excuse me, sir.’
Gone. Schwaeble and Bohme staring after him. Schwaeble fingering the duelling scar on his cheek; asking Otto after a moment, ‘What was that about?’
‘Well.’ Shake of the head. ‘I’d deduce that he’s taken a dislike to me.’
‘Reasonable deduction.’ Bohme and Otto both smiled. Schwaeble didn’t; he asked Otto, ‘What have you done to offend him?’
‘Really can’t say. Saw him ashore last night, as it happens, but we didn’t speak. He was half-seas over, by the look and sound of him.’
‘Where was this?’
‘At the Weinstube in Rastede. Grueninger’s. I was just leaving and so was he. I’d been in the restaurant upstairs, but—’
‘The Snake Pit.’ Bohme grinning at him. ‘Well, well…’
‘I’d been dining with my fiancée, as it happens.’
‘Fiancée?’ Schwaeble’s eyebrows hooped. ‘In the Snake Pit? And since when have you aspired to possession of a fiancée?’
‘Since last night, sir. I took her there to have her to myself, talk her into accepting me. You know, you get a room to yourselves – and when they put themselves out they can still lay on a lavish meal. And the stratagem worked.’ He nodded. ‘Proof of the pudding – which incidentally was profiteroles au chocolat.’
‘And who is she?’
‘If you don’t mind, sir, even our parents don’t know about it yet. And with things as uncertain as they are at present, one can’t – well, set a date, for instance.’
Looking at their glasses, and his own. Schwaeble murmuring congratulations, Bohme echoing them, then asking, ‘Why should running into you in that place have upset Willi?’
‘Heaven knows.’ Otto had signalled to the steward for another round. ‘Might be something else entirely. Except – well, he shouted to me and I kept going. It’s not a place to keep a decent girl hanging around, and he and his pals had obviously been making an evening of it.’ He shrugged: ‘But if his skin’s that thin – as well as grossly inflated…’
He got through to Helena’s place of work in Oldenburg at about two-thirty, and when he asked for Frl. Becht was required first to identify himself and then to state the nature of his business. He told the man, who sounded young and not over-educated, ‘Personal matter’, and was then asked not to occupy the line for longer than was essential, as they were exceptionally busy. Then he was put through to her.
‘Helena. Me.’
‘Otto – darling…’
Low-toned, that ‘darling’, so evidently not alone, or not sound-proof anyway. He told her, ‘They’re guarding you closely. I had to state my business to some office boy. I said it was personal. Might have said, “I wish to speak with my fiancée”, but I didn’t know whether you’d have liked that.’
‘No-one here knows about it yet. Might just as well, mind you. But—’
‘I’d have thought it might lead to mass suicides.’
‘Ha ha. But we’re frantically busy. Well, you can imagine – the way things are, and our concerns being what they are?’
‘Of course. But here our engagement is now known to certain individuals. The man we ran into last night—’
‘Ahrens?’
‘Right. He became rather insulting in the Mess, before lunch, then waddled off in a huff, so I told the others who were present – one of them Kapitan zu See Gunther Schwaeble, whom you know – he’s second in command, Kommodore Michelsen’s deputy – I told them the circumstances of our presence at Grueninger’s, and – here’s the point – they swallowed it hook, line and sinker, neither of ’em doubting you were with me for the purpose as stated – privacy, for the proposal of marriage. I excused myself from naming you – on the grounds that our parents didn’t know yet. And that’s it.’
‘I’d have no objection to being named. Rather looking forward to changing it, that’s all. I was trying out what’ll be my new signature – takes up about half a line!’
‘Don’t put it on any bank cheques yet, that’s all. I’ve got to be quick, though, so – essentials now. I’ve booked at Kramer’s for eight-fifteen and I have the loan of the car. Eight, at the Muellers’?’
‘Dying for it. For you… Is Franz Winter back?’
‘He’s been back, but had to take a cruise up into the Schillig Roads for purposes I can’t go into, should be back again any time now. Ahrens, I may say, is waiting to pounce on him.’
‘You’ll tell him about us anyway, won’t you?’
‘Yes. When he raises the subject. Or I suppose even if he doesn’t.’
‘If by any chance he should telephone me, I’ll tell him. Have to, obviously. Oh, I’m so happy, Otto!’
‘Good. Me too. Ecstatic. Transforms – well, everything. Extraordinary…’
‘Soon as I get a minute I’m going to tell my parents. Maybe I’ll call them from the Muellers’, so they’ll know too. I’ve been thinking about how I’ll describe you to them – tall, fair and—’
‘Ugly, overweight, foul-mannered, lecherous—’
‘That, for sure. They’ll love it, be dying to meet you! Better stop this now, though – our lines are madly busy, it’s a wonder you got through. Are you telling your parents?’
‘I will soon. Evenings are the best time to ring them. I might tell Gerda – my sister – for a start. She’ll be a great help. You’ll like her – and she’ll be thrilled. Which will be good for her, incidentally: she lost her husband very recently, poor—’
‘Otto, I’ve been told I must clear this line. Sorry, but—’
‘See you at eight.’
He hung up, on a line that had already gone dead, thinking that Gerda really would be thrilled, and if the parents were sticky about it, which they might well be to start with, her enthusiasm would help a lot. In fact the parents would be difficult; they’d be aghast, to start with. He’d recognised this from the start and tried to keep it out of mind, telling himself, cross that bridge when we come to it. He was in the office that Hans Graischer used and had led him to when he’d docked 81, last – oh, Saturday. Only three days ago, although it felt more like a month. So much happening, both personal and professional. Well, more political than professional: although all one got of it were dribs and drabs, rumours and speculation, mounting awareness of general confusion, which according to some of the papers presaged revolution, or at the very least drastic change.
Which would be likely to include one’s career going up in smoke.
So thank God for Helena, he thought. For love as well as lust. Permanence. In all the mess, the rising flood of it – revolution, even – something really thrilling, combining happiness and excitement and – and which was largely in one’s own control. Remember that, next time one started having second thoughts.
Land and sea were darkening when 201 re-entered and Franz Winter conned her through to the berth she’d occupied before, in the Verbindungshafen. Lights glowed along the quay where the berthing party were standing ready, some of the light glittering on Gunther Schwaeble’s and Willi Ahrens’ greatcoats’ epaulettes – four stripes on Schwaeble’s, three on Ahrens’.
‘Slow astern together. Midships the wheel.’
Scummy water sluicing up her sides. He stopped the starboard screw first, and put on starboard helm, waited while the astern-running port screw brought her stern in: her bow was already in; this was largely a matter of taking the angle off her. Now – ‘Stop port.’
U201 drifting in alongside, Coxswain Muller’s voice grating, ‘Wheel’s amidships, port motor stopped, sir.’ Heaving lines were tossed over, bringing fore and after breasts over from the quay; Winter passed down the voicepipe, ‘Finished with motors, open fore hatch.’
Find out what they have in store for us next, he thought. Asking Neureuther, ‘Who has the duty tonight?’
‘Regrettably, sir, I have.’
‘So have one of the others cover for you while you get a bath and a meal first.’
‘But I’ve paperwork to catch up on, sir. Make a start on it, at least.’
The plank crashed over; almost simultaneously the fore hatch swung open and thumped back, light from the torpedo stowage compartment streaming up. Breasts had been secured by this time, springs were being hauled over – fore spring running from her stem to a bollard well aft on the quay, back spring from her stern to well for’ard. Neureuther asked, ‘Fall out from harbour stations, sir?’ and Winter nodded, told both him and Muller as he climbed down through the tower, ‘Tell you what’s what as soon as I know it.’
‘Aye, sir. But about Muhbauer’s compassionate leave—’
‘Yes. Let him go.’
Lucky bugger. Probably wasn’t one man on board who wouldn’t leap at the chance of being ‘let go’. Oneself included. Tired, and fed up to the back teeth. Had had to lie out there in the Schillig Roads while mutineers had been hunted out from every corner of the Thuringen and transferred to the tenders under guard; the second tender had had to be seen to finish and cast off before 201 could start back. While during those hours there’d been cat-calling and occasionally the sight of a red flag – on Helgoland – and whether the mutiny had been affected in the least, let alone nipped in the bud…
Telephone her, though. Stiff drink first, then call her, forget all this – for five or ten blessed minutes anyway.
On the casing, Schwaeble shook his hand.
‘Well done. The first of the tenders has already landed its prisoners, I’m told.’
‘Think it’ll have done any good, sir?’
‘That, I’m not sure of. Kommodore’ll have a better idea of it than I have. He’s been in communication with the Chief of Staff. And he’s in his office now, expecting you.’
‘Can we count on at least a week’s stand-off, sir?’
‘Ask him. But I’d imagine so. Pretty sure of it, in fact.’
‘Then we won’t be taking part in the fleet action plan that’s—’
‘No. Far too late. But FdU is waiting, so—’
‘I’ll go along.’
‘And Ahrens is still after you for something or other. On the quay there. Don’t let him hold you up – Kommodore has the devil of a lot on his plate at this juncture.’
‘Right.’ He looked round for Neureuther, found him sort of hovering, told him, ‘Duty-part of the watch to remain on board, rest carry on ashore. Seems we’ll be in at least a week. I’m on my way to see FdU. If I don’t come back you can take it for granted that’s how it is.’
Willi Ahrens, bulky in his greatcoat, was waiting near the plank, stamping his feet to warm them.
‘Franz…’
‘Hello, Willi. You want to talk. I’m on my way to FdU, why not come along?’
‘I will. You did the job out there, I gather?’
‘Did what I was told, that’s all. Whether it’ll get any of us anywhere, I rather doubt. What’s on your mind?’
‘Nothing pleasant. Not by any means.’ Falling in beside him, matching his steps to Winters. ‘Important that you should know, however – and before you get in touch with – I’m sorry, Franz, as an old friend I do have to tell you this – before you speak to Fraulein Becht…’
In his room, Otto put studs and links into a clean shirt and collar, and brushed down his better uniform jacket and trousers. The steward who attended to the rooms on this floor had cleaned his boots for him: and that was about all the preparations necessary. Oh – clean socks, and a handkerchief… Six o’clock now, by the old watch that had been a paternal gift almost before he’d learnt to tell the time; he needed to be on the road by seven, or even a little before that, so—
Blankets. He peeled them off the spare bed, rolled them and took the bundle down to Graischer’s motor, which was in the yard behind the Mess. Hoping not to encounter friends or acquaintances on the way down there. To run into Willi Ahrens, for instance, might have been slightly embarrassing, with these.
He stowed them on the floor at the back. It was going to be a cold night, hard frost was a certainty, but – the rug as a wrap-around, plus blankets, greatcoat on oneself…
Won’t be like last night. Wednesday, for that. Had the reservation, in any case. Discuss it with her tonight: might be wiser not to risk another incident like last night’s. Wouldn’t put anything past bloody Ahrens… On the other hand, how about the jaunt to Hanover which they’d discussed earlier? Depending on the dust having settled here, of course…
Ring Gerda?
Six-ten now. Ten minutes, say, to make the call, then half an hour for a bath and change, be on one’s way by about six-fifty.
The Mess secretary was just leaving his office: didn’t mind Otto using the telephone, only asked him to lock the door when he’d finished, leave the key on the board in the hallway. Local call, was it? Otto nodded, thanked him, asked the exchange to get Gerda’s number in Berlin, and again, surprisingly, got through in only a few minutes.
‘Gerda – how are you?’
‘Better for hearing your voice, my dear Kapitan-Leutnant. Seriously, is a nice surprise. Everything’s going from foul to stinking, whichever way you look, isn’t it?’
‘The general outlook’s not good, but—’
‘You haven’t seen the evening papers, then. If you had, you’d know it was a lot worse than just “not good”.’
‘Well. Afraid I haven’t time for you to expand on that, either. Sorry, but—’
‘You’ll sleep better for not knowing. What’s new with you?’
‘That is absolutely the right question, and I’m only too happy to give you the answer to it. Gerda – I’ve become engaged.’
He heard her intake of breath. Then the beginnings of a laugh, and – ‘Trapped at last?’
‘Congratulations would be in order. She’s absolutely lovely – also charming, intelligent, enormous fun and – and you’ll adore her. Don’t tell me I’ve used some of those words before – if I have, put it down to my limited vocabulary. I’m not exaggerating, she’s all those things. Enthuse now, please. You asked me last time we spoke, how about wedding bells – or something of that kind—’
‘That was ironic. A joke!’
‘Well, this is not. I assure you—’
‘A reaction to the hard time you had at sea, perhaps? Crazed stallion desperate for a regular supply of oats?’
‘Gerda – please stop that. I’ve known Helena for several months, I love her and she loves me. It’s the happiest, most wonderful thing, and I’d expect you to be happy for us, with us.’
‘Is she German?’
‘Of course she’s German!’
‘Have you told the parents yet?’
‘Haven’t had time. On my way to take her to dinner now. She’s based about half an hour away – an Intelligence outfit, military. Her parents live in Hamburg.’
‘Otto!’
‘What?’
‘What sort of people live in Hamburg?’
Silence, for a moment. Then: ‘I have to go. We’ll talk again when I hope you’ll be in a better frame of mind.’
Damn her!
But – could be very much a matter of her state of mind. The loss of her husband – despite her apparent bravery last time they’d spoken – and some kind of awful news this evening…
He locked the door of the office, took the key to the board in the hallway, started back up to his room. Gerda, he thought – really very disappointing. Call her again, offer sympathy…
Might make it worse, though. And without her backup, the parents really were going to take some handling…
‘Kapitan-Leutnant von Mettendorff, sir?’
On the first landing – he recognised the man from FdU’s outer office, the leading writer who’d made copies of the patrol report. He’d been descending the stairs at speed, now skidded to a halt.
‘Yes?’
‘Kommodore Michelsen’s compliments, sir, would you report to him at once, please!’
Andreas Michelsen had told Winter, ‘You couldn’t have done it better. Unfortunately we were over-optimistic in thinking that a mutiny which is now widespread in the fleet could have been snuffed out so easily. The Commander-in-Chief has been conducting his own investigations; his Chief of Staff Admiral von Trotha instructs me to thank you for your efforts, but the trouble’s too deep-rooted. In fact it’s become necessary to cancel the plan for fleet action. Battle squadrons are being dispersed – to Kiel, Cuxhaven, and so forth.’
‘That’s hellish news.’
He’d actually flinched from it. Had arrived grim-faced, now looked even grimmer. Sitting bolt upright, glaring across the desk at the FdU. Scowling – shaking… Had been, anyway, was struggling to control it. An abrupt shake of the head: ‘What we’re left with then – forced to – is surrender?’
Grimacing, as if the word had a bitter taste.
Michelsen said, ‘Armistice negotiations are in progress, is what I’m told.’
‘Politicians’ negotiations…’
‘Terms of an armistice would cover detail of naval and military cease-fire as well as political agreement – yes – though presumably the Admiralstab will have their say in it. That means Reinhardt von Scheer, on whom we can certainly count not to let us down. But political wrangling first, yes, I suppose, then detail as to how it’s to affect us.’
‘Such as surrendering our ships, including U-boats.’
Michelsen obviously didn’t like that prospect any more than Winter did. It would be his unpleasant duty to preside over the implementation of whatever was agreed, that was all. Closing his eyes, thinking, that’s all, indeed…Winter grating, ‘When we’ve not been beaten – nowhere near beaten – in fact we were winning hands-down until we were ordered to suspend operations against merchantmen!’
‘True. Because our government were requesting an armistice, and that was a pre-condition imposed by the American president. You and I are on the same side, Winter, our views are I’m sure identical. Fact of it is, the Army has been beaten. Came near to sweeping all before them in von Ludendorff’s spring offensive, lost it to the British, Canadians, Americans and French between the eighth and twenty-first of August, east and southeast of Amiens. The Kaiser said then, “We are at the end of our resources”, and Ludendorff declared that the war would have to be ended. You’re right in saying we have not been beaten, but—’
‘Dishonoured. This mutiny on top of everything else is an appalling thing!’
Michelsen nodded. ‘I agree, of course. And obviously my immediate concern is for the U-boat arm. To start with, while recalling some and re-deploying others, I’m stipulating that any ship flying a red flag is to be treated as an enemy. We can preserve our honour—’
‘May I suggest another way we might do that, sir?’ Shake of the bison’s head. ‘My apologies – interrupting – but—’
‘Go on.’
‘Action by the High Seas Fleet was to have saved the Navy’s honour, and influenced the terms of armistice. Since it’s not now to take place, we might replace it with action of our own. You might, sir – by authorising the targeting of the British fleet in Scapa Flow. I request the privilege of doing so, sir. It hasn’t been attempted since von Hennig’s attempt in U18 in November of ’14 – and this is not the first time I’ve thought of it—’
‘The Grand Fleet is now based in the Firth of Forth, Winter.’
‘But Scapa Flow’s still being used. As mentioned in an Intelligence summary only a few weeks ago.’
‘Detachments of the Grand Fleet deploying in support of the North Sea Barrage and Norwegian convoys, etcetera.’ A nod. ‘Quite so. But although we’ve probed up that way quite recently—’
‘Valentiner and Forstmann both drew blank. I know that, sir. But what I’m proposing—’
‘You’d try to get inside.’ Gazing at him, thinking about it – or about him, Franz Winter. Both, maybe. Motives, chances… Asking him then, ‘By the Hoxa entrance, as von Hennig tried it?’
Hans von Hennig in U18 had got inside, but finding the great anchorage empty – Grand Fleet out on a sweep of the North Sea – had turned to make his way out, given himself away by showing too much periscope, and been rammed first by an armed trawler and then by a destroyer. Damaged and out of control, he’d got U18 out of the Flow but had been swept on to the Skerries, where he’d scuttled her. He and others were picked up and taken prisoner. Winter was saying, ‘Hoxa’s the obvious entry point. Von Hennig followed some small supply vessel in. But I wouldn’t just poke my nose in and if the Flow’s empty come right out again. If the targets are there, I’d go for them, but if not, wait for them. I’d bottom, lie quiet and wait. Knowing they do periodically use the place, and being inside – well, one’s there, in position.’ He raised one hand with thick fingers crossed: showed his teeth. ‘I think I’d stand a good chance, sir.’
‘The risks would be enormous.’
‘So would the triumph be. What the Hochseeflotte can’t do—’
‘Of course.’
‘And since the Flow’s only in occasional use, no longer the fleet base it has been, don’t you think its defences might have become less efficient?’
‘Conceivable.’ Michelsen leaning back in his chair, eyes slitted, staring at Winter down his nose. ‘Perhaps especially now, when they’re thinking the war’s as good as finished, that we’re finished.’ He nodded. ‘Very well. But – when would you—’
‘Sooner the better. Immediately. If a so-called armistice is truly imminent—’
‘Yes. I agree. We’d be bound by its terms from the minute it’s announced. You’re right, sooner the better. Your requirements therefore – tonight, immediately – fuel, fresh water, stores, torpedoes—’
‘I have four in the bow tubes, none aft. Need four reloads for’ard therefore, and—’
‘You’d hardly have opportunity to re-load, surely!’
‘Perhaps not.’ Thinking about it. Having fired those four, would not be left in peace to lie on the bottom for the couple of hours it took to re-load. He nodded. ‘Just two in the stern tubes, then. And as you say, bunkers, fresh water, provisions—’
‘Ammunition?’
Shake of the head. ‘Didn’t use the gun, this last patrol. Can’t imagine I would on this task, either.’
‘No.’ Michelsen checked the time. Getting on for six-thirty. ‘I suppose not. But – all right. I’ll have the departments concerned alerted. Say an hour before any of it gets under way – you’ve got to get your crew back on board, for a start – but then with most of it happening simultaneously, and allowing let’s say another hour for unexpected hold-ups, might sail you at 2300, say. Important question, though – how will your crew react to this?’
‘They’ll be astonished, furious, despondent. But they’ll respond to my explanation of it. One other thought, sir – I’d like to take with me a – call him an alternate commanding officer. Then if I should crack up – I’m not expecting to, no such thing, but I could use some sleep on the way up there, to be on top form when I need to be—’
‘Anyone in mind?’
‘Yes.’ A brisk nod. ‘Von Mettendorff. His boat’s out of action, isn’t she; he’s a first-class man – professionally – he was my first lieutenant in U53, we know each other well enough. If he were invited to – volunteer, I suppose—’
‘I’d guess he’ll consider it an honour.’ Michelsen looked towards his outer office, called, ‘Hillebrand! Here a minute!’