“Incredible. And you know its location?”
Erich unlocked a drawer in his desk, removed a small courier’s folder, sealed with red wax. “I have the information here. Prepared by the office of Doenitz himself. I have never visited the facility. Few people have.”
“And now we will be among the few…”
Erich removed his pocket-knife, sliced through the wax seal, and opened the small red-brown folder. “These are the coordinates and instructions to gain access to the station.”
Manny looked at the pages briefly. “Far from our current position?”
Erich allowed himself a small, ironic grin. “Oddly… no. Which makes me wonder if there is any such thing as coincidence.”
“You think we have been misled?” Manny looked uncomfortable with such a prospect.
“That may not be the correct word. It is quite possible they had intended us for a two-pronged mission all along, but feared a greater chance of a security breach with more people involved.”
Manny shook his head. “That sounds like you are rationalizing, my old friend. We are being used. Face it. Breaking radio silence is an acceptable risk when you are not the one staring down an enemy destroyer.”
Standing up, Erich gestured toward the door. “No argument there. But there is no percentage in discussing it now. We have a job to do.”
Ostermann again reinforced Erich’s decision to make him 5001’s navigator. He accepted the coordinates and orders for course changes without hesitation or comment. Within minutes he had the boat under the corrected heading. Erich was equally pleased with the conduct of the rest of control deck crew — business as usual, even for the party lapdog Bischoff.
Despite warnings from Kress, his engineer, Erich had no choice. He must get his ship away from the surface as soon as possible.
“Avoidance depth,” he said. “Then assume new heading as per Herr Ostermann.”
The crew leaned into their tasks as the soft sound of the ballast tanks filling resonated through the hull. Erich released a breath he had been unconsciously holding. Despite his efforts to display a calm demeanor, even to Manny, his instincts were telling him the deviation from the original mission was ill-advised.
And then, as if on cue, his worst fear had been confirmed.
“Captain,” said Bischoff “We have been swept by radar!”
“Inform engineering,” said Erich to his Exec. “Dive!”
“Yessir,” said Manfred, already moving.
“Bischoff! Break radio silence. Try to get off a message to Command — Under attack. Taking evasive action.”
“Aye, Captain.”
As the klaxon bleated throughout the boat, everyone on the bridge assumed their battle stations duties. Throughout the vessel, their rigorous training would be taking over.
“Ballast tanks engaged. Commencing dive,” said the helmsman.
“I have two contacts,” said Bischoff. “Aircraft. Bearing 102 degrees. ETA: four minutes.”
The enemy was practically right above them. Probably regular patrol seaplanes. Four minutes. That was clearly not enough time to reach a safe depth, thought Erich. He inwardly cringed as he resorted to his next command.
“Commence crash-dive,” he said sternly.
The deck leaned forward abruptly as the helmsman cranked the diving planes to their maximum descent angles. The new steel of the hull creaked and groaned as it was subjected to a new maneuver. Everyone grabbed on for the nearest handhold as the big boat’s screws churned violently, forcing the sub down with maximum force.
“Cans in the water!” yelled Bischoff, both hands cupping his earphones tightly to his head. His eyes looked like boiled eggs bulging from his face.
“Sixty meters… eighty…” The helmsman’s voice sounded so young to Erich, like a secondary school footballer. Odd he’d never noticed it before.
A rolling thunder vibrated through the water as the first depth charges exploded. Angled down toward the coldest depths, the U-5001 shuddered from shock waves concussing it. Four detonations from the first pass of the American PBYs rocked them.
Then, the absence of sound which followed was so eerie, it didn’t seem possible the boat could be so silent. Erich could hear the ragged breaths of each man on the bridge, and the smell of their collective sweat had thickened the air in an instant.
“One twenty…” whispered the helmsman. It sounded like a line from a prayer.
“One—”
The rest of the number was blocked out by the second wave of detonations, each sounding louder, closer, advancing on the boat like footfalls across a hard surface. Each one grabbing the hull in a fist of iron and shaking it like a toy, until the final blast burst valves and seams. Water began spraying wildly from a corner of the conning tower. Someone moved to shut it down as Bischoff yelled out something above the din.
The hull protested as if twisting in the grip of a monster.
A shrill piping emitted from the intercom tube, and Erich turned, leaned down toward it.
“Engineering here!” yelled the voice of Kress. “I don’t have enough battery! We can’t keep this much power to both screws, Captain!”
“Shut down Number Two!” said Erich without thinking about it. Despite the need for a power-dive, if the boat survived the current attack, he would need to conserve power. No telling how long he may have to run on the batteries… and they were not fully charged.
“Herr Kress!” said Erich loudly into the tubes. “Damage reports — immediately.”
“We have a breach in the aft escape hatch. Sealing access doors on both sides!”
Erich nodded to himself. He didn’t like Kress’s stopgap solution — which effectively isolated the men in the aft torpedo room from the rest of the boat — but there was no choice at this point.
“One eighty… avoidance depth…” said the helmsman.
As he waited for more information, Erich could feel the deck leveling out. The big boat was responding well. If she was hurt, it was not enough to change the way she was handling. They might make it after all. He exhaled, suddenly aware he’d been holding his breath.
“Starboard planes slow to respond, Captain,” said the helmsman.
“Can you correct?”
“Yes sir, but they are definitely stiff.”
The starboard side had been the one which absorbed the brunt of the shock waves. It would not be surprising to see such powerful force bend a mount or two. His crew would need some time on the surface to better assess damage and affect repairs, no matter how minor they might eventually be.
“Herr Fassbaden, I need—”
“Here they come again!” said Bischoff. “Cans hitting the water… but not so close this time.”
No one spoke.
The silence curled through the room like a thick fog. Erich swore he could hear the ticking of wristwatches.
Then, an eternity later, the muffled rumble of charges going off rippled through the frigid water, but reaching the U-5001 only as minor vibrations. They were far enough away to indicate the American flying boats had lost them.
Everyone released his breath in unison. Heels scraped on the deck as the crew dared to move. Someone cleared his throat.
“Maintain present depth, speed to eight knots.” Erich released his grip on the strand of pipes above his head, just then realizing he’d been holding them so tightly his knuckles had blanched.
“No more splashes…” said Bischoff, his voice just above a whisper.
“Steady as she goes. Hold course. There is a chance the Americans can call in a surface ship if it is close enough at hand. I will want you listening for screws, Herr Bischoff.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Erich nodded. The chance of a surface ship in the neighborhood was not high, but he wanted everyone on highest alert. No room for any lax attitudes now.