Take a couple of long, slow, deep breaths, he told himself, then headed up to the bridge to make sure he and Don had everything under control.
“Okay, Chief, I’ve locked in the coordinates,” said Don. “We’ll be there in no time.”
Dex nodded, he thought about telling him what he found in the log, then figured it could wait till they got to dry land.
“You getting any weather reports?” he said as he looked up at the gray dome of sky all around them.
“Not great. Could be a storm in a few hours or it might blow over. Either way, we won’t have too many pleasure boaters around to get in our way.”
“Okay. If things look iffy, you call us in. You’re in charge up here, remember that.”
“Got ya,” said Don, who looked out across the bleak water as the silhouette of the Bay Bridge appeared out of the mist dead ahead. Turning to Dex, he spoke softly. “So, what’s it all mean? What’re we gonna do with the sub?”
Dex shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we can finish up our research about it. Feel good that we added to history a little bit. And forget about it. It’ll be a popular spot for the rest of the wreck-and-salvage guys for awhile. I don’t want anything to do with that.”
“Sounds good to me.” Don smiled and returned his attention to the thickening gray sky, which was making the water of the Chesapeake look like old dishwater.
“I’m going down and check the tri-mix in the tanks,” he said. “Give me a yell when we’re getting close.”
Don nodded as he helmed the Sea Dog farther south into the Bay.
Climbing down to the main deck, Dex opened the hatch to the dive salon. Once inside, he ran through a series of checklist stuff on their equipment — regulators, dive computers, Ikelites, collection bags. Everything looked fine. Dex grabbed the underwater videocam, and hooked it to his utility belt. Last chance, probably, to get any good images. Then he clipped on a mesh collection bag and sealed the metal slab inside it. If he was going to keep that thing close at hand, that was about as close as you could get it. Besides, it was good dive ballast. Just then Don yelled down to them: “Five minutes, guys!”
“Okay, we’ll be ready!”
Pulling on his tanks, Tommy moved toward the aft end of the crew boat, staring down into the murky water. “Just give me the word…”
Dex moved next to him, said nothing. They were both standing on the dive platform at the end of the boat, watching the bridge for Don to give them the thumbs-up as soon as he spotted the safe-line buoy.
“It’s weird,” said Tommy, still staring into the water. “After reading that stuff last night, I feel like I know so much more about those guys than the last time we went down there, you know?”
Dex nodded.
“So the three guys, they scuttled the boat right out here, right below us.” Tommy whistled. “That is so weird, huh?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” said Dex.
“Wonder what happened to them?”
“I’m thinking the same thing.”
Tommy shook his head. “Too bad. Like, we’ll never know, huh?”
Dex said nothing. He’d just seen Don give them the signal, and sure enough, there was the marker buoy on the starboard side of the Dog.
Adjusting their mics and masks, they both dropped into the Bay.
This late into spring, the water was supposed to be getting warmer, but its wintry pulse still tried to penetrate Dex’s suit as he knifed beneath its choppy surface. Tommy’s effervescent entry beside him marked the beginning of their descent — a mission they would need to conduct with great care. Visibility was surprisingly clear, especially if there were storm currents gathering, and Dex didn’t figure on much hassle.
He was right. At fifty-seven feet, he could see a darker shape against the bottom. Reacting almost simultaneously, Tommy kicked downward and eased on down to the conning tower where they’d left the hatches open. Dex checked on the sealed case of videocam, then handed it to Tommy.
“You wanna go first?” he said.
“Nah.” Dex waved him in. “I’m right behind you.”
Tommy nodded, switched on the video, and started in.
Without warning, Dex was smacked with a memory of the last time he’d been in this sub, when he’d been trying to keep Mike Bielski alive. The images of Mike’s eyes behind his faceplate still haunted Dex, and he forced it from his thoughts. No way he could allow himself the distraction.
Once inside the control deck, Dex followed his torch beam to show the way to the forward torpedo room. Checking his tool belt, he eyed the mini pry-bar, snips, and pliers he might need if they found what they were looking for. The passage was remarkably clear, and all the hatches down the line were open — because of the scuttle, no doubt. That made their progress almost effortless without the need to struggle with any sealed doors or stuck handles.
“Okay, Don,” said Dex into his mic. “We’re about halfway down the aft section. All clear so far.”
“Copy that. Just be careful.”
Despite the easy access, he and Tommy still moved slowly. Their torchlights played along the steel bulkheads, occasionally touching on an object still recognizable beneath the crust of marine growth. Shelves of canned goods, junction boxes of wires and pipes, and a fire axe caught Dex’s eye. Tommy was getting good images of everything.
As he moved along, he was again impressed by the sheer size of the vessel. Even by today’s standards, this remained a big sub. Absently, he wondered how she’d handled, and imagined her German engineering was the only reason a crew of three had been able to drive her to this final destination.
“Okay, what’s that up there?” said Tommy. “That the one we’re looking for?”
Up ahead, glowing faintly in Dex’s light, he saw the half-open door; its red paint indicating the torpedo room, was flaking off in many places.
“That’s it. And I guess I don’t have to tell you to be extra careful in there. Just in case they left any live rounds laying around,” said Dex. “You on that, Donnie? We’re almost there.”
“Gotcha. Keep me in the loop.”
“Didn’t the captain say he dumped all the torpedoes?” said Tommy.
“The captain said a lot of things.”
“What’s that?” said Don.
“Tell you later,” said Dex as he motioned Tommy to sshhh.
“Okay, why don’t you go first?”
“Sounds good to me.” Dex eased his shoulder against the hatch and exhaled slowly as he felt it move with little resistance. Once he floated past the bulkhead, the first thing he noticed was the amount of open space in the chamber — another testament to the larger size of the boat.
Torpedo racks ran the length of the room on both sides, and true to Bruckner’s log, all were empty.
“Looks clear, Tommy. Come on in.”
As his dive partner slipped past the open hatch, Dex moved close enough to inspect the doors to the torpedo tubes, and saw what he was looking for almost right away. Under the strong beam of his torch, he could see the outer edge of a metal tag on the center tube door. Scraping the faceplate clear with the edge of his pry-bar, Dex could read the engraved lettering clearly:
U-5001
Germaniawerft, Kiel
30 March 1945
The boat’s number, shipyard, city, and launch date. That locked it up, and gave that extra layer of proof to the log and the translation.
“That’s it,” he said. “U-5001. We got all the positive ID we need. Get a little closer and get some good shots.”
“Got it,” said Tommy. “You were right on the dime, Chief.”