Go In and Sink! (24 page)

‘Just follow me, Captain! The Jerries were thoughtful enough to make a bit of a breakwater with some sunken ships when they were last here.’ He chuckled tinnily. ‘They make a good jetty, provided you watch out for the jagged edges!’

Buck muttered, ‘Stupid sod.’

A bobbing sternlight presented itself beyond the U-boat’s bows, and without more ado they set off again towards the invisible shore.

Marshall said, ‘Tell the casing party to get on deck.
They’ll
need a good hand-lamp. Too bad about security, but I’m not ripping the guts out of her at this stage.’

He was surprised at the vehemence in his tone. He touched the cold plating. Was he actually growing fond of her? He turned away. Even Buck had sounded angry at the words from the motor boat. It was stupid of course. All the same …

He saw something loom by the starboard side. A ship, or part of one, like a buckled, rusting reef, man-made, and left by men to rot. If and when the war ended, would they ever be able to clean up the debris of it? Or would generations to come see these pitiful remains as marks of their sacrifice, mementos of men’s stupidity?

A bright beam of light probed from the darkness and moved slowly along the submarine’s hull. Marshall saw his men on the casing, caught in the hard glare, like gaunt statues, or parts of some forgotten tableau. More beams peeped above the uneasy swell, and he saw the nearest wedge of makeshift jetty quite clearly, the lights glittering on a line of partly submerged scuttles and one jagged gash through which the water eddied and gurgled unhindered.

‘Stop starboard.’ He saw a heaving line snaking into the lights, heard someone slip and fall splashing into the water as he tried to catch it. ‘Slow astern starboard. Stop port.’ The submarine’s bows were right above the nearest lights now, and he saw bobbing figures hurrying with crude fenders to ease the first contact. ‘Stop starboard.’ He felt the hull lurch slightly, and watched Cain’s deck party dragging more wires aft to secure the boat against the motionless wreck.

There were quick, exchanges through the darkness, and somewhere a man burst out in a fit of laughter. He sounded as if he could not stop.

A pale figure was being helped up and over the saddle tank, and even as Marshall ordered Frenzel to ring off the motors a head and shoulders rose above the bridge screen and said calmly, ‘So you made it, old son. Good show.’ It was Simeon.

In the poor light it was still possible to see his white smile, the relaxed way he held his head.

Marshall said, ‘This is quite a place.’ He did not know what to say. It was all so unreal and vaguely absurd. Two men meeting out here in the black wilderness. Like the middle of a darkened stage. In a moment the lights would come on, and then …

Simeon said, ‘Let’s go below, eh? It’s a bit parky up here. I’m not dressed for it.’

As they clattered down into the brightly lit control room Marshall was again forced to make comparisons. His own men, tired-eyed and in filthy sweaters as they hurried about the business of opening up hatches and the fuel intake valves. Others were being mustered with empty boxes and stowage cases, their faces so weary that hardly one gave Simeon a glance. He, on the other hand, was perfect. He was wearing a pale khaki drill and carried a pistol at his hip, as if he was expecting to quell a riot.

He followed Marshall into the wardroom and stared round at the untidy interior with ill-disguised amusement.

‘Really, you chaps have been roughing it!’

Marshall opened the cupboard and took out a bottle and two glasses. He said shortly, ‘We sank the dock. Cost us two men——’ He faltered, remembering Willard. His face across the table as he spoke of his mother. And along the length of the fore deck while he had waited to die. ‘I’m still not sure about our damage. A faulty torpedo——’ He broke off, seeing the emptiness in Simeon’s eyes. He
didn’t
care. Didn’t give a bloody damn. ‘It’s all in my report.’

Simeon took the proffered glass and replied, ‘We heard about the dock. From other sources. Good show. The enemy still don’t seem to know about
you
though. I said you had the capacity for causing chaos.’ He lifted the glass. ‘Cheers.’

Marshall sank down on a bench seat and ran his fingers through his hair. It felt gritty. Sand from the shore probably. He swallowed the whisky in one mouthful.

Simeon said, ‘Now don’t you worry about a thing. This place is a dump, literally. There are some engineers ashore sorting out captured weapons and other enemy gear left behind in the rush. They’ll come in useful for partisans and so forth. I’ve managed to get two old German fuel lighters brought here. I’ll give you full diesel capacity before daylight. Water too, and almost anything else you want.’ He sounded pleased with himself.

‘Thanks.’ Marshall could not help feeling admiration for him. ‘How is the war going?’

Simeon’s eyebrows rose slightly. ‘Of course, you wouldn’t know much. The Germans are almost gone from North Africa. Still a few troops here, but most have already skipped by way of Cape Bon in Tunisia. General Rommel flew out some time back, so that shows it’s all over bar the shouting.’

Gerrard appeared in the doorway. ‘Look, sir, the shore party seem to have things moving. Could I let some of our unemployed hands ashore? They can start taking our gear to wherever Commander Simeon has earmarked for us while we’re here.’

Simeon eyes him coolly. ‘That’s the stuff, Number One. Look after the lads first, eh?’ He smiled. ‘But it’s not on,
I’m
afraid. This boat will be out of here by dawn, or I’ll want to know why.’ He was still smiling but there was no disguising the coldness in his eyes.

Gerrard stared at him and then at Marshall. ‘Is this true, sir?’

Simeon snapped, ‘Look, I don’t intend to discuss my arrangements with every Tom, Dick and Harry in the company, right? I will tell your captain. He will tell you.’ He leaned back and eyed Gerrard for several long seconds, ‘If he feels like it.’

Marshall stood up slowly, the sides of the wardroom fading and shivering like a mirage. ‘Carry on, Number One.’ He waited until Gerrard had backed into the passageway and then said, ‘Didn’t you see my people when you came aboard just now, sir? They’re worn out. Some of them have been on their bloody feet for days and nights on end!’ He could feel his limbs shaking, the pressure in his throat like something solid. ‘What the hell are you asking of them now?’

‘
Do
sit down.’ Simeon regarded him calmly. ‘In case you hadn’t heard me properly, I’ll explain. The war out here has reached a climax. The Army, the Navy, the Commander-in-Chief,
and
the enemy, they all know it’s a vital time for everybody. Like them, I don’t feel inclined to order a halt while you and your company sit on your backsides!’ There was a new edge to his voice. ‘Everything’s geared for an invasion through Sicily. Why we’ve even got most of the recaptured ports in service again. Sousse was operational within days of the Afrika Korps pulling back. That was where I got your damned fuel from!’

A generator grumbled into life, and Marshall was vaguely aware of other sounds outside the hull. Heavy crates being dragged along the casing. The squeak of tackles as more supplies were lowered through the fore hatch.

He sat down and stared at the empty glass. ‘What is it you want?’

Simeon reached over and poured two more large drinks. ‘That’s more like it, old son.’ He smiled. ‘No sense in going at each other, eh?’

‘Just tell me.’

‘Very well.’ Simeon took out a fat notebook and flicked through the pages. ‘With the Jerries pulling out so quickly things have got to move even faster. With luck the invasion will be within—’ he looked up sharply, ‘—within two months of now.’

Marshall nodded heavily. ‘So?’

‘Something’s come up.’ He held his glass to the light. ‘The Intelligence people have got word that the Germans have invented a new weapon.’

‘Not another one, surely?’ Marshall did not hide his bitterness.

‘This is real enough.’ Simeon closed his book with a snap. ‘A radio-controlled bomb. Once dropped from an aircraft it can be “homed” by radio on to any large target.’ He nodded slowly. ‘I see that you are already grasping the possibilities.’

Marshall asked, ‘Where do we come in?’

He did not reply directly. ‘If this invasion is to have a chance of success then the troops must get maximum support from the Navy. Until airfields are captured and proper fighter and bomber cover can be provided round the clock.’

Marshall stood up again and moved restlessly round the table. ‘This radio-controlled bomb? Would it be easy to use?’

‘A child could drop it.’ Simeon pressed his hands on the table. ‘No heavy capital ships or cruisers would be safe. They would be incapable of maintaining their sectors of
bombardment
. The army would have to hit the beaches on their own.’

Marshall paused and looked down at him. ‘So secrecy wasn’t enough after all?’

‘It never is. However, now that we know a bit about the enemy’s intentions we can do something about it. But
first
——’

The curtain jerked aside and Frenzel thrust into the wardroom, his face lined with anger. ‘Is it true, sir?’ He did not wait for an answer. ‘I’ll not answer for my department if we have to shove off again without a proper inspection! Just what the hell do they think we are?’

Marshall said, ‘I shall tell you what I think when I’ve got
my
orders, Chief.’

Frenzel looked at him dully. ‘You’ve already agreed then?’ He swung round and left the wardroom without another word.

Simeon sighed. ‘Give them an inch.’ He continued evenly, ‘I want you to lift off some agents. They’ll know, if anyone does, what the Germans are up to. If this invasion is going to work, we must be sure we know what we’ve got against us.’

‘A sea pickup?’ Marshall looked away. ‘Or one of the offshore islands?’

‘Neither. You must lift them off the Italian mainland. There’s an alert out for them. Even now, we might be too late. Either way,
we must know
!’

Marshall stood quite still, listening to a motor chugging busily from the makeshift jetty as fuel was pumped from the captured lighters. Fill her up and get her away by dawn. That was all that mattered to the men on the shore. It was so unfair. More than that, it was dangerous to push the boat beyond its limit.

He heard Simeon say quietly, ‘One of the agents is that French girl. You brought her out here, remember?’

Marshall swung round, but there was nothing in the other man’s eyes to give anything away.

‘Of course I remember.’

‘I could ask for a conventional submarine, of course. But under the circumstances, and in view of what may follow on, I think this is best.’

‘Yes. I understand.’

‘I knew you’d see it my way.’ Simeon stood up and reached for his cap. ‘There’ll be a few Intelligence chaps coming with you. Just in case.’ He did not elaborate. ‘But your decisions on the spot are what count.’

Marshall looked at him impassively. ‘My pigeon again.’

‘Would you have it any other way?’ Simeon smiled. ‘I think not.’

He added, ‘Your friend Buster is at Gibraltar. He’ll be flying out here tomorrow. If all goes well he’ll get a nice pat on the back, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘And if it doesn’t?’

‘Ah, well.’ Simeon flicked some sand from his jacket. ‘That’s something else again.’

Marshall followed him out of the wardroom and saw Warwick standing by the conning-tower hatch, his eyes drooping as he watched some seamen stowing tinned food in nets which they would then lash in spare corners of the hull.

‘Officers’ conference in the wardroom in one hour, Sub.’ Marshall watched Simeon vanish up the ladder and then walked to his cabin. He stared at the bunk, fighting back the desperate urge, the craving to lie down and let darkness sweep over him. Then he saw the small bag and felt the same chill he had experienced when Simeon had casually
mentioned
that she was somewhere on the enemy coast. Waiting for help. For him.

Later, when he returned to the wardroom, he was conscious of the heavy silence, and saw several of his men lying half asleep or stretched out on the deck where they had finished work.

The assembled officers listened to him in the same silence. Buck lolled against the bulkhead, his eyes red-rimmed and almost closed. Devereaux was little better, and young Warwick could not stop himself from yawning repeatedly. Frenzel stared at his logbook, his eyes blank and unseeing as they moved back and forth across the pencilled calculations. Only Gerrard seemed to be holding on.

When Marshall had finished Gerrard said quietly, ‘We don’t have any choice, do we, sir?’

‘No.’

Buck lurched to his feet and began to button his stained jacket. He saw then watching him and said thickly, ‘I’m going to rouse my lads and get the spare torpedoes shifted from their containers on the after casing. While we’re still tied up to something steady. They’ll come in handy, I shouldn’t wonder.’ He picked up his heavy torch and looked round the table. ‘If we
are
bloody going, we might as well make the best of it!’

Frenzel also stood up. ‘I reckon he’s right.’ He looked at Marshall and smiled. ‘Pity Commander Simeon’s not coming along for the ride. If you see what I mean, sir.’ He followed Buck through the door.

Devereaux rubbed his eyes and murmured, ‘Just tell me where, sir. I’ll find the right chart for it.’

‘I will, when I know.’

Marshall looked away, feeling the pain behind his eyes
as
one by one they left the wardroom like men walking in a trance.

Then Gerrard said simply, ‘Good bunch, sir.’

Marshall touched his arm, unable to face him. ‘Best yet, Bob. Best yet.’

As Marshall crossed to the door Able Seaman Churchill peered in and said, ‘Fresh coffee, soon anyway.’ He closed the curtain and added quietly, ‘’Ow does ’e do it, sir?’

Gerrard stared at the empty doorway, remembering Marshall’s eyes. ‘I’ll never know.’

Churchill grimaced. ‘Be an ’elp to you when you’re a C.O. of yer own sub, eh, sir?’ He hurried away to his pantry, whistling to himself.