“What about the Luftwaffe?”
“They don’t fly in this weather. Neither do our chaps, for that matter. This low-pressure system is stalled right now. I doubt it’ll move for a day or so. That will give us time to land you and get away offshore before the clouds and fog lift.”
“What about German patrol boats?”
“Plenty of those, and they will be out. Luckily, visibility is so limited that they shouldn’t be a problem. We can outrun most of them and out-gun the smaller craft. It’s the Vorpostenboot ships I don’t want to bump into in the fog.”
“Vorpostenboot?”
“Flak ships, like picketboats. They patrol at a distance from shore, trying to catch incoming aircraft and alerting the coastal defenses. They’re slow, but armed to the teeth with AA guns. Machine guns; 20mm, 37mm, and 40mm cannon. Nasty, if they spot you.”
“If they’re so slow, can’t you sink them with your torpedoes?”
“We used to have four eighteen-inch torpedo tubes, but had them removed to make room for more fuel and supplies, and assorted Joeys like you. We’ve got machine guns and 20mm Oerlikons that can give smaller boats or aircraft a good fight, but the Vorpostenboots would turn this mahogany into kindling.” He knocked on the polished wooden hull.
“Let’s stay away from them then.”
“Capital idea, Lieutenant! Trust a Yank to see straight to the heart of the matter.”
“Call me Billy, and stop putting me on, Harry.”
“Now what fun would that be, Billy?” Harry laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. He stood and bounded upstairs, into the wind and salt spray. I tried to drink my tea without spilling it all over myself. We all prefer to do what we do best.
I was getting beat up pretty badly below deck as the boat rolled, smashed headlong into waves, and dropped ten feet all at the same time. I grabbed some rain gear and headed up, trying to stay upright but not doing too well. I slammed against the ceiling, the wall, and then the deck, all within five seconds. I figured at least up top there’d be no ceiling to hit my head on, so I grabbed the handrail and pulled myself up the stairs as fast as I could. The topdeck was open unprotected from the wind, rain, and waves. Harry was at the wheel, soaked and grinning insanely.
“Welcome to the North Sea, Billy. How do you like it so far?”
He had to yell above the noise of the sea and our motors. He never moved his eyes, which were watching each wave as it broke across the bow. The boat crested a wave and slammed down as if it had been hit with a sledgehammer. The piece of deck I was standing on came up and struck me in the face. I fell back, sliding on the wet planks and spitting blood from a cut lip. It took my mind off being seasick, for a minute.
“Are we almost there yet?” I asked as a crewman helped me up.
“Still a bit of a way to go. Keep your knees flexed and try to roll with the boat.”
I made my way to the railing and flexed my knees, which was an excellent position in which to throw up breakfast. I let the water whip my face for a while and then staggered back to Harry.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Actually, yes. This is almost fun.”
Harry risked a quick glance at me, and then laughed.
An hour or so later things started to settle down. The waves were still high, but they weren’t as rough as they had been and the wind was definitely lessening. Harry began to glance up at the sky. There were some patches of faint light showing where before there had been only continuous dark clouds.
“Lookouts to your posts!” he shouted. Men with binoculars scrambled to the gun mounts.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Can you feel that?”
“What?”
“The wind direction changed. It’s coming from the west. Pushing the low-pressure system east. It could clear up faster than we planned.”
“That’s not good, right?”
“Well,” Harry said with a grimace as he turned the wheel sharply and advanced the throttle, “the good news is that we can increase our speed now that things have calmed down a bit. We’ll try to stay with the system as it moves east.”
“You left out the bad news.”
“In order to stay with the front, we have to turn east now, instead of tomorrow. It means we’ll cut north tomorrow right through the most heavily patrolled coastal areas.”
“Those V-boats you mentioned?”
“Yes. Vorpostenboots. Lucky chap, you might get a chance to see one up close!”
I was about to tell Harry it wasn’t funny when a shaft of sunlight broke out from between two gray clouds like a bright wound opening in the heavens and lit his face. He didn’t look like he was joking.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I didn’t think I had slept at all until I awoke from a dream. It was about Daphne. She was sitting at a table quietly, while Kaz and I talked. She watched us serenely, as if she knew some sweet secret that was beyond us. Kaz and I fell silent. Then I asked her, “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” Her face lost all expression. I felt a deep pit of sadness open up in my stomach and the dream ended abruptly.
I woke up with a start in my small, damp bunk and looked around for some clue as to where the hell I was. My heart was beating like a bass drum in a Saint Paddy’s Day parade. I took some deep breaths to calm down. Oh yeah, I’m on this boat in the middle of the ocean. Great. I dropped my head back on the pillow and tried to sleep. Something kept me from nodding off. I tried to think, but I was still half asleep, or half awake, I couldn’t tell. The boat had kept me up, with its rocking, all night long…
I realized everything was still. I could feel the boat moving and the deep thrumming of the engines, but the up and down wave-smashing motion was gone. The smell of diesel fuel and sweat was heavy in the cramped quarters. I stumbled out of the bunk and moved through the narrow passageway, instinctively but unnecessarily clutching the walls for support. I stopped myself and stood unaided for a second. I was still dizzy, but the boat was on the level, except for a slight slant to the deck, as the four Packard engines at the stern lifted the bow out of the water. I trudged forward, tired, wet, and worried.
A cold blast of air hit me as I emerged from below deck. Harry was still at the wheel, where I had left him when I hit the sack last night. His blond hair was blown back and his face was red from the wind. He looked straight ahead, only glancing down at the compass in front of him. The ocean was calm, completely flat as far as I could see. Which wasn’t far at all, since we were enveloped in fog. There was no horizon, just a white wall of mist that rose up all around us and seemed to curve just above the boat, like the white satin lining inside the lid of an expensive coffin. It seemed as if that I could reach up and touch it. The top of the radio mast vanished just a few feet above my head. We seemed to be moving fast, but nothing was changing-not the water, our direction, or the fog. Men were at their stations, their binoculars useless. They strained forward, trying to peer through the fog or perhaps to hear the muffled sound of a distant engine. Besides our engine noise and that of the hull cutting through the water, the only sound was the occasional hydraulic whine of a twin . 50 caliber machine gun mount being traversed, searching sky and sea for a threat that might be lurking just beyond the thin veil of fog. No one spoke a word.
I stood next to Harry. He acknowledged my presence with a quiet nod. I didn’t say anything. I had the odd feeling that I was in a church. This silence in the midst of roaring engines, our small, isolated cocoon moving across the wide, flat sea, seemed otherworldly.
“Tea, Captain. And you, too, sir.” A young crewman wearing a stained white apron offered up a tray with two thick white porcelain mugs of steaming tea.
“Thank you, Higgins,” Harry said, taking the tea without looking away from the few yards of water visible beyond the bow. I took mine and nodded thanks.