When entering a space that defied experience and logic, such as this one, he knew it would be easy to let your imagination loose on a catalogue of horrors. There could be a monstrous row of stalagmites, like the saw-teeth of a beast, waiting to split open the hull like a pea pod. There could be an utterly black wall behind the ice-shelf, which had only appeared to be an opening. A barrier into which they would plunge, nose-first, in several seconds. There could be an underwater tremor, which would bring the ceiling of the cavern down upon them like the sledge-hammer of a Norse god.
All these thoughts passed through him like flashes of lightning. In an instant, disaster could seize them like a failing engine in mid-stroke.
He imagined the bulkheads crumpling down and around them like wrapping paper, followed by the frigid pressure-slam of the sea, rushing over him with such speed and power he might be flensed of his skin. His men turned inside-out before the icy water filled their throats and lungs with the force of a forty-foot wave. Could there be a worse way to die?
Surely no.
Closer to the deeper darkness plunged his boat. They had entered the mouth to the cavern, slipping down its vast throat.
“Incredible,” said Manfred. “We made it…”
Erich continued to stare through the viewing port. “For the moment. But I want another set of eyes, Manny. We must be vigilant.”
“Aye, sir.” The view beyond the glass could have been a mile beyond the moon. The boat’s searchlight probed the darkness and found nothing close enough to reflect. Where were they?
“Ahead. Slip speed,” said Bruckner. “Bearing one five nine.”
No one spoke for several minutes. The sounds of the U-5001 held them in a false machine-silence. The metal beast breathed and stretched and inched forward, making the sounds they had all learned to ignore.
Manny exhaled slowly. “It looks as if we are headed beneath the whole of Greenland. Impossible, I know, but…”
Erich turned to his radio/sonar man. “Bischoff, get me some readings. I want to know how much room we have to maneuver. I cannot trust my briefing alone.”
“Aye, sir.”
Manny continued to peer into the darkness beyond the viewing port. The lance of the boat’s single light appeared feeble, almost silly, when confronting such a vast cavern. No one spoke for several minutes as new information was gathered. Erich glanced at the other crewman on the control deck, and he felt a swelling of pride to be with such men. Despite knowing virtually nothing about this part of the mission, they performed their duties without question or hesitation. Even now, as bubbling over with curiosity as they must be, they kept their mouths shut, their emotions in check. Every man performed with the utmost character and professionalism.
“Captain,” said Bischoff. “Soundings concur. We have more than ample room in all directions. But there is one oddity.…”
“Tell me,” said Erich.
“Unless my equipment is wrong, we are only one-twenty from the surface.”
“Given the details of our briefing,” said Erich in a low voice. “That is quite possible. Right, Manny?”
“If we are entering a huge air-pocket, trapped in the vault of the cavern. Certainly.”
Erich spoke to his funkmeister. “Inform me when we have a clear ascent.”
“It appears we are clear now, Captain.”
Manny looked at him. “Best way to get her to the surface?”
“We are going to experiment,” said Bruckner.
Erich outlined his idea to inch forward through the underground sea, carefully sounding the surrounding to see if the topography might offer them the assistance they needed. After briefing Bischoff and the rest of the control deck crew, Erich and Warrant Officer Ostermann studied the chart of Station One Eleven that had been appended to the sealed orders. Erich hoped he could find a natural slip — a place where the seabed rose gradually. This was his back-up in case the diving planes would not get the boat to the surface.
“Get me a status report from Kress,” he told Manny.
Signaling on the tube, Kress responded almost instantly, his voice edged with tension that all engineers seemed to possess in great quantities. Erich could imagine Kress, a spindly-thin man, with very round eyes, enhanced by the thick glasses he wore, leaning into the tube.
“Fassbaden, what in feiken is going on up there? I am getting bits and pieces, but mostly pieces.”
“This is Captain Bruckner, Herr Kress.”
“Pardon me, Captain. It is stressful down here.”
Kress was very smart, well-read and full of plans to someday be an inventor for the automobile industry. His entire family had worked for Daimler since the founding of the company, and he longed for such a career — if he could just get out of this war alive.
Erich exhaled slowly. “Things are complicated. I will brief you later.”
“My men are on edge,” said Kress. “Not knowing is one thing. But hearing the torpedoes being fired… they deserve to know if they are in danger.”
Erich grinned, but without humor. “Remind them they are in a U-boat… they are always in danger.”
“Are we making for the surface?”
Erich explained to Kress what he would need from the boat, plus his contingency plans.
Kress understood perfectly. “We should be able to handle it. I can give you five hours of battery.”
Erich knew his tactics depended on how easily their ascent could be accomplished. If he had to ground the boat on the slope of the shoreline, he might have to think about abandoning the ship. He could try to get his crew to the surface with the “D.T.”—an escape device whose real name was draeger tauchretter.
Erich had little faith in the equipment, which had been used with varying success (and much failure) by submariners. Essentially it was a “re-breather,” which converted carbon dioxide into oxygen. In theory, it would allow a man to stay alive until he could reach the surface, but all sailors knew an air supply was only part of the problem of escaping a sunken submarine. Depth and pressure and nitrogen poisoning were the other three variables, which ultimately determined whether or not survival was possible. Although every crewman had trained on the draeger, no one really believed it could save their life.
“One more thing before we start, Herr Kress—”
“Yes, Captain?”
“How is it going for the aft torpedo crew?”
Despite all that had been happening, Erich had not forgotten them.
Kress paused, then spoke softly. “Well, they are still alive. They have a limited refreshing of the air through the communication tube, but they are still cut off from the rest of the boat. Staying alive is about all they are doing.”
“Very well, Herr Kress. Stand by.”
“Awaiting your order,” said Manny.
“Five hours,” said Erich, after a pause. “That should be enough time.”
For what?
Erich smiled as he asked himself the question he knew Manfred was thinking.
Walking to the viewport, Manny idly glanced into the murky water surrounding them.
“Captain…”
Erich joined him at the port without saying a word.
“I think I see a light out there — above the surface.”
“Yes,” said Bruckner. “I see it too. Let us take that as a good sign.”
“You mean there are survivors?”
Erich nodded.
“You do not suspect a trap?”
“I have considered it all along. The urgency of the mission could mean the enemy had invaded the base. But considering our limited maneuverability, I knew there was little we could do about it. Our orders are rescue and recovery. We will do our best.” Erich knew his words had sounded close to a speech, which he abhorred.