For a moment, the U-boat dropped into a deeper silence as even the hum of the electric motors ceased. Then Kress kicked the diesels into action, and the hull rumbled under the new, louder sound.
Good, at least we will get a full charge on those batteries. Erich grabbed the lower rungs of the ladder, and clambered up quickly. As he cleared the hatch, the first thing he noticed was the sharp, ozone-like tinge to the air. The second was the ring of men who surrounded the hatch, watching the emergence of their captain with faces that could be colored by confusion or perhaps a profound sense of dread.
“Give the captain room!” said the chief gunnery officer, and the circle peeled back, allowing Erich to get his footing and stand among them in the open air. He stepped to the side to allow Manfred the leverage he needed to scissor his tall frame out of the hatch. Looking beyond the faces of the gun crew, Erich peered upward at the vaulted ceiling hundreds of meters above them.
No, it might be much higher than that. What was this place?
Directing his gaze downward, he assessed their position. As if placed upon a pane of dark, green glass, the U-5001 floated upon an inland, underground sea.
Utterly calm.
Silent.
Vast.
And warm… instead of the frigid temperatures of the North Atlantic, the air inside this space felt almost tropical in contrast. Erich shed his heavy coat and a crewman reached out to fetch it from him.
“Incredible,” was all he could say.
“And look at the size of it!” Manfred spoke in a whisper as though he’d stumbled into a church during a service.
Erich nodded in silence. The cavern’s true dimensions were not immediately calculable because he had nothing familiar to use in comparison. There was also a curious mist suspended over the water, which coalesced into a distant, pearlescent fog clinging to the most extreme boundaries of the place. It was like seeing a mountain range on the horizon, which never seems to grow closer — even though you are careening straight for it. The roof of the enclosure arched so far above their heads, and Erich knew now it could have easily been hundreds of feet above them.
And he noticed an odd aspect of the cavern’s ceiling — it appeared to be featureless, almost smooth, instead of the usual geologic grooves and stalactitic formations. As if the whole chamber had been hollowed out by a great scoop.
But that was impossible, he told himself. What he was seeing was probably an optical illusion, induced by the distance between the surface and the uppermost reaches of the cavern. His more immediate concern was the absence of the station’s personnel. Where was everybody? Being in such an enclosed area precluded any radio transmissions being picked up by the enemy, but Erich held off trying any hailing frequencies just yet.
Better to be cautious when you do not know what you are facing.
Quite simply, he could not shake the impression of something wrong here, a feeling that had suddenly overtaken him and would not soon leave him.
His intuition ran deeper than any mere fear of stumbling into the enemy. He knew now — there were no English or Americans here, waiting within the folds of fog to surprise them. Doenitz would have warned him of such a thing and he had believed this all along.
No, this was something altogether different… but he had no idea what it, as yet, might be.
Dropping his gaze again, he returned his attention to the sea of glass.
It stretched out beyond the boat’s stern for an indiscernible distance. As flat and dead as a shark’s eye. Erich had the impression that before his ship had penetrated its depths, fracturing the waveless surface, it had lain undisturbed for uncountable years.
There was no weather here. Not in terms of the sea and how the weather defines the sea. There was a timeless quality to this immense enclosure. A sense of something all-encompassing, unchanging. But there was more as well.
“Do you feel it?” he said softly.
“Feel what?” said Manfred. “I feel a lot of things right now.”
“Even though it is warm… the coldness of this place.”
“Oh… yes. Yes, that I do.” His First Officer paused, chuckled self-consciously as one might do to dispel unease. “I wondered if I was the only one.”
“No.” Erich nodded as he continued to scan their surroundings. “I sense death here, as well.”
He paused, trying to make sense of this secret base. Although totally enclosed beneath the earth, in a place that could have never known the heat or the light of the sun, there was heat… and light.
But from where?
To the starboard side, a full sixty degrees in elevation, he had fixed on the apparent source of the light, although it remained completely wrapped in the white mist, lacking even the most remote definition — a diffuse area of light, like the sun obscured by clouds.
But that was impossible, and he knew it.
There was no sun down here.
“Get me some glasses,” he said to no one in particular. Instantly several of the crew went scurrying back down the hatch in search of a pair.
In his haste, Erich had not thought to bring his binoculars, which were a constant fixture around his neck when he normally emerged from the conning tower.
But this situation had proved anything but normal.
“Here you are, Captain!” A crewman appeared in the hatch, thrusting a pair of Zeiss field glasses upward ahead of him.
Manfred grabbed them and handed them to Erich, who raised them to his face and adjusted the focus. Scanning the closest shoreline, he could see through the low-lying mist — at least partially. Scraps of clarity teased his senses and his imagination. Beyond a short swath of graveled beach, a series of jagged rocks punctuated a landscape as bleak as the path to Valhalla. Looking up to the roof of the great cavern, he was not cheered to discover a closer inspection confirmed what he’d earlier surmised — the curved surface of the interior did not look much like a natural formation. The smooth surface of the ceiling appeared to have been cauterized as if some kind of searing heat had carved out this space like lava sluicing through soft earth. He could not imagine what kind of energy would be needed to clear out such a limitless space.
“What do you see?” said Manfred.
“I… I do not know. Nothing I recognize. Nothing I have ever seen before.”
Then he directed the glasses toward the veiled source of light. But even pushed to their finest resolution, the binoculars failed to give Erich even the smallest clue as to what could be creating such a powerful illumination.
“Whatever it is, lies beyond that fog… if it is… fog,” he said.
Manfred whistled. “What else could it be?”
“We need to find the base, the men who were here. We need to know what happened here,” said Erich. “Get a few men together to go ashore.”
“Right away.”
“And get a damage report. And a work detail started.”
“I’ve already alerted Massenburg. And Kress.”
“Good.”
“What about our radio?” said Manny. “Can we use it in here to contact the base?”
“Radio silence should not be a concern in this kind of enclosure.” Erich again scanned the space. “I think it is time for Bischoff to ring them up.”
He turned to address the gun crew, dispatching everyone to regular belowdecks duties other than a single sentry whose orders were to start shooting at anything that looked hostile.
“Tell Massenburg I want our diving planes fixed and the entire hull inspected.”