Corporal Fritz Schreiner’s arms and shoulders ached from the heavy weight of the oars as he pummelled them through the dark waters. Constant rubbing on the old, rough oar handles had blistered his hands and the salty sea water made them sting terribly. He was not at all an experienced boatman and never ever professed to be one. The true limit of his experience was rowing a small pleasure boat on his local lake as a young boy which he found not that entirely enjoyable. He was not a submariner either. In fact he was more than happy to be rid of that undersea boat. Living under water in a pressurised tin can was not high on his list of life experiences. His thoughts returned to the present and he became aware of the gentle drizzle that was now falling and noticed that the breeze had picked up a little. He was constantly doused with a cold, wet spray as he lifted the heavy oars out of the water. If it wasn’t enough that he was soaked to the skin, it was the salty water continually splashing over him, stinging his eyes and making his mouth yearn for fresh water. Then, rather abruptly, he became aware of a change in sounds. The now familiar sound of water lapping against the boat became a more intense sound of thrashing against solid objects. Soon he realised that the new sounds were from behind him and to the front of the boat, as he was facing to the rear to row. We must be nearing land, he thought, and was about to turn around when the senior agent spoke.
“You,” he ordered, pointing a finger towards Fritz, “Stop rowing.” Fritz immediately obeyed. He did not have to be told twice … he was more than happy to stop. As he did, his weakened body slumped forward for a moment. He mustered the energy to twist around and look towards the front of the boat. The fog had now thinned enough to see a huge rocky precipice rising high above them. The cliff face tapered to form a huge rock monolith, which was unusually flat across its crown. The senior agent indicated that this was the marker for the cave entrance and guided them into a small, tapering cove.
Within minutes all hands were standing on the small stony beachhead pulling the front of the heavy boat up close enough to offload the equipment. In virtual silence they one by one started to carry the wooden boxes into the narrow cave entrance. The younger agent had gone ahead of them and lit paraffin lamps within the cave. A soft glow just managing to light the entrance. As Fritz entered the cave for the first time he was absolutely stunned by the size of the internal cavern. It rose up high towards the back. A rough-hewn stone stairway could be seen winding its way up on the right side and to the far left was a reasonably flat area where a pile of crates and boxes of all shapes and sizes were stacked. A central area had a couple of rickety wooden tables erected where some radio equipment was already set up. Fritz followed in the footsteps of the younger scientist ahead of him and made his way into the deep left of the cavern and placed his wooden box next to the growing pile.
“When did all this other stuff arrive?” asked Fritz, stopping the scientist as he was about to return to the boat. This scientist was much the younger of the two scientists and Fritz guessed his age as around twenty years.
“I’m told it’s been here about three months. We should have been here a lot sooner ourselves but there have been some complications I believe.”
“What complications were they?” Fritz inquired. The scientist was about to open his mouth when he caught sight of Captain Krause watching him intently. The scientist promptly headed back to the entrance. Fritz followed, but kept his distance, realising that he may be overstepping the mark by asking too many questions. Fritz lifted another crate from the boat and headed back into the cave. At that moment his boot caught on the side of a rock causing him to stumble and drop the heavy crate.
“Dummkopf!” shouted Krause, standing over Fritz as he cowered on the ground near the upturned crate, “If you have damaged this equipment, I will surely have you shot. Now get up.” Krause turned towards the scientists, but they quickly looked away so as to not make any eye contact. Krause stormed over to the tables and started playing with the radio knobs and dials, although it was plainly obvious there was no power to them. Fritz picked up the crate and carefully placed it on another and then mumbled something as he made his way back for another load. He decided it was not a good idea to remind the Captain that he actually spoke a German word, remembering that Krause had previously instructed everyone to speak in German with no exceptions. Eventually the boat was emptied and the two special agents clambered aboard. All except Captain Krause assisted in pushing the boat clear of the beach. Without a friendly wave or gesture the agents both took up the oars and silently faded away into the fog.
The first task at hand was to make camp. Almost without hesitation, everyone including Krause was taking off their wet clothing and laying it out on the dry rocks within the cavern. Fritz opened his kitbag and felt inside. He was surprised to find the contents were still dry. He pulled out a thin, but warm, grey woollen pullover that his wife had knitted. He thought of her as he put it on. Instantly he felt his warmth returning and his spirits lifting. Putting his hand far inside his bag, he pulled out a small metal tin. Sitting down on the nearest, most comfortably flat rock, Fritz opened his tin and was more than thankful he had some chocolate and biscuits inside to appease his nagging appetite. As Fritz sat and ate, he scanned the cavern more slowly. He looked up at the jagged rock roof above his head and had thoughts of a rogue rock deciding in that very moment to dislodge itself and land squarely on his head. Thankfully it never happened. He placed another piece of chocolate into his mouth and then continued to analyse the structure of his current abode. Looking again at the small entrance, he panned his head slowly to his right, turning his body as he did so. At his immediate right was the stack of crates with the two scientists sitting nearby in hushed conservation. The senior scientist saw him and turned away as if hiding something. Fritz paused for a moment but was unable to eavesdrop. What kept his interest were the graffiti-like writings on the wall, above and to the sides of the stack of crates. Most etchings were in Latin, a language which he never understood, but what caught his eye were the few words written in English, however he did not recognise their significance. Going beyond the crates he turned to examine the right-rear corner of the cavern. Here there seemed to be a darkened alcove where the light of the lamps did not penetrate. He thought nothing more of it, so he turned back to face the entrance and then followed the cavern walls to his left. This side was just a rough rock wall. He stopped to study the stone steps ascending upwards in the rear corner. His eyes followed the steps in an upwardly fashion until they were also lost in the dim light. I wonder where that leads, he thought to himself. Maybe it’s another way out, as you can only leave the cave entrance by boat otherwise.
Fritz looked behind him at the tables. They were not tables in the real sense, but planks of wood placed on rocks at one end and utilising crates, presumably empty, at the other. Perched on the planks was the radio equipment that Krause had been fiddling with a moment ago. Cables and leads hung down at the back as if hungrily looking for something to connect to. Behind the makeshift table and placed on a large flat slab, was a collection of silver metallic boxes that had been assembled into tidy stacks and interconnected by fat cables. Someone had obviously been busy setting all this up at some time, thought Fritz. He turned back to face the cave front once again, then realising he did not see Captain Krause; he stood up and glanced quickly around the cavern. He was about to shout out when he saw the Captain emerge from the dark corner at the rear. Krause wound his way around a number of rock fixtures and approached him. “There are bunks set up in the chamber and a number of ration supplies,” advised Krause as he pointed back into the black hole.
Fritz was pleased they had some bedding arrangements as he was on his last legs and could certainly do with some rest. His expectations were short lived. “You will keep watch until eight hundred hours,” instructed Krause, who then casually wandered back towards the rear. Fritz mumbled to himself and dutifully took up position on his rock as Captain Krause grabbed one of the lit lanterns and led the two scientists into the rear chamber. He checked his watch. It was 4.30am.
Fritz wandered around the confines of the cavern a number of times in an effort to exercise his stiff legs. Occasionally he would stop to peer out of the entrance and watch the waves that dashed from under the dense layer of fog and break upon the small stretch of stones that formed the tiny beach. It was on this last look out of the entrance that he noticed the tide had risen and the tiny beach was now submerged. He also noticed that it was getting lighter outside and the fog was starting to thin. He glanced at his watch. It was now 6.48am.
Fritz headed back inside and at that moment a dull knocking was audible that slightly echoed within the cavern. He moved further into the cavern following the sound and stopped at the foot of the stone steps, listening intently. Then the knocking came again and Fritz started his way up the steps. He stopped at a small stone platform and it was now evident the knocking was coming from the other side of the rock wall. The visibility at the top of the steps was poor, so Fritz carefully descended back down the steps, grabbed the nearest lantern and then returned back up the steps. Now he could see a large flat stone that formed a sort of door. A groove could be seen under the slab door and this ran back for a short distance. The top of the door also ran in a groove. Fritz realising that the door must slide, put his shoulder and weight behind it, but it would not budge. He shone the lantern around the extremities of the large door and then noticed a small rusty metal rod was inserted through a chiselled hole at base of the door. He pulled at the rod and it slid out reasonably easy. With a little effort the door slid back to reveal a small gap. Fritz instinctively peered through the gap and jumped when the senior agent suddenly appeared peering impatiently on the other side. The agent slid the door further open with some ease and entered into the cavern. Without a saying a word, he patted Fritz on the shoulder as if in appreciation, then made his way down the steps.
“Come here Corporal,” came a voice from beyond the door, “I need a hand.”
Fritz stepped over the door groove and stood beyond the wall. He found himself standing on a slippery rock-strewn slope, which was surprisingly well covered in wild grasses where he stood, but became a mass of larger rocks as the slope gradually headed down to the water’s edge. To his left and in front was just a wall of rock face that towered above him. The air was still, but cold as he followed the younger agent as he crossed the slope. The agent then disappeared around the edge of the wall opposite. As Fritz came around the wall he stopped dead in his tracks. There, previously hidden from his view was a small stone building partly built into the adjacent rock wall so that the two melded together at one point. This was obviously a man-made structure, he thought as he looked up at the wall which was constructed from irregular-sized stone blocks. The agent called to him from a small arched doorway. Fritz stepped though the doorway and down a few stone steps into a small room. A number of small crates were stacked in the middle of the room. Another doorway was located on the left of the wall at the other end, and adjacent to this on the right was a purpose built stone platform, where a fading cross had been long etched into the wall above it. A frameless window was at shoulder level. Fritz looked out to see the tapered rock monolith at the far point of the cliff face that had been the marker when they arrived last night. Beyond that the fog still hung heavily over the water blocking any view. He turned to the young agent and held out his hand.
“I’m Fritz. Fritz Schreiner”
“I am Woodolf Schmidt,” replied the agent, shaking Fritz’s hand, “Pweased to meet you.” Rudolf’s lisp was very evident as he spoke.
“Pleased to meet you Rudolf,” responded Fritz, making every effort to correctly pronounce his name, “What is this place?”
“It is shown on our maps as Saint Gowan’s Chapel. It’s long been abandoned so we use it as a marker for the location of the cave’s entwance” said Rudolf.
“Did you build that sliding stone door?”
“No, that was alweady here. We only found it after we came acwoss this cave when we looking for a suitable pwace to store the eqwipment and suppwies for this mission.”
“How long have you been here in England?” Fritz asked.
“We have been here nearwy nine months … and wemember this is Wales not Engwand,” corrected Rudolf, “Now we have to get a move on and shift these cwates.”
“Okay, but why so many?” asked Fritz.
“They’re thomething to do with the pwans to blow up London with the atomic bombs. The one’s you are thending by twain.”
“Oh, of course,” replied Fritz, trying his utmost not to be surprised. As he assisted Rudolf with the crates, he thought to himself, I knew that Krause was up to something, but why keep it secret from me?