Bruckner considered this for moment, then nodded. “Perhaps you are right,” he said. “And now, should we prepare for our trip?”
“Yeah,” said Dex, looking at Jason, who was standing at his grandfather’s side. “Is there anything he’s going to need before we leave?”
“He has a bunch of prescriptions, some clothes, I guess, right?”
Dex nodded, gestured to everybody. “Sounds good to me. Let’s get going.”
While Jason carefully helped the elder Bruckner down the stairs, into the corridor that exited Manny’s Tap Room, Dex did the same for Augie, who complained he didn’t need any help, but the whole time held onto Dex’s arm in a deathgrip. Tommy followed everyone out into the parking lot. The sun had set while they’d been inside, and the night sky burned clear and starry above them. The muted sounds of bass-driven music buffeted the back door of the bar. As Jason helped the two old guys into the spacious back seat of the Murano, Dex caught Tommy’s sleeve as he looked around in the darkness and the phalanx of cars all around them.
“Hey,” he said in a whisper. “Keep an eye out. I feel very exposed out here.”
Tommy tensed, put a hand in the pocket of his windbreaker to touch the grip of the Glock 18. “Jeez… you think—?”
“I don’t know what to think. But we have to be careful, No way to know if our big bald friend’s gotten loose or not.”
“Gotcha.” Tommy climbed into the shotgun seat looking very uncomfortable.
As Jason backed out of the parking space, Dex looked over at Bruckner. “There’s more to your story, Captain. Do you mind telling us what happened after your last entry in the log?”
“Hmmm?” Bruckner looked up from his thoughts.
“Well, basically,” said Dex. “I’m curious. How’d you get from there… to here?”
“Yes, I suppose there is more to the story.” The old guy grinned, nodded.
“He’s right, Opa,” said Jason. “I don’t think I’ve heard all this, either.”
“All right,” said Bruckner. “We have a little bit of a ride. I can tell you all the rest of my story.”
Chapter Forty
Ostermann was the last to leave the boat. “Are you certain you want to do this, Captain?”
Erich shook his hand. “A captain stays with his ship,” he said. “I will try to get her where she belongs.”
His navigator saluted, then headed for the Sturm. There had been no need to share his intentions with the rest of the crew. As Manny and Hausser watched the big cruiser glide away from them, Erich was already charting a course for the short run south to the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. They would be forced to remain on the surface because they would not have enough crew to perform even the most rudimentary diving or surfacing operations.
Erich had no choice but to gamble they would not be discovered. For the scant hour or so of daylight, a low cloud cover was in their favor if the Americans had continued recon flights along the coast despite the war’s end.
Hours later, rocked in the cradle of midnight, the U-5001 tossed gently on the surface of the Bay. They had made it. It was very dark — and the cloud cover remained heavy with the possibility of a storm. Frederich Hausser stood by an inflated rubber dinghy, tied up alongside the rear hatch. He stood at the ready to unleash it in case of an emergency. After all this planning, Erich did not want the sinking submarine to pull their life raft down with it.
Manny was not certain how close they might be to any onshore installations or homes, and for that reason he did not want to place any charges. If sounds of detonations drew attention, they would be risking capture. Erich did not want the Americans to know anything about his boat’s true mission. And so, it was necessary to scuttle the boat by hand in a fairly deep drop off in the seabed.
He and Manny opened the ballast doors, overflowing all tanks. The effect was immediate and much faster than they imagined and the brackish water rushed in the open hatches around their feet in an instant.
“Get to the aft hatch!” yelled Manny.
As they ran, Erich could feel the boat was lowering itself into the water with great speed. He knew they had little time before all open hatches were breached. When that happened, she would go down.
As he rushed headlong past his captain’s quarters, Erich paused, debating for an instant whether he had time or inclination to bring his small footlocker — containing his papers and the ship’s log. He’d previously convinced himself he would be starting over with a whole new life, but when the moment came to let everything go, he felt hesitation.
But it was short-lived. Manny ran up behind him, pushed him along, yelling like a maniac. “No time! No time!”
Erich trailed his friend as they scrambled up the ladder to the escape hatch. At that moment, the strap to Manny’s rucksack snagged on a jutting pipe. When it pulled taut, its flap opened and one of the metallic bars he carried fell away, clattering to the deck below. Erich paused, thought about trying to retrieve it, and Manny yelled something unintelligible as he grabbed his captain by the neck of his sweater and yanked him up the ladder.
Water breached the hatch; a torrent roared past Erich just as Manny pulled him clear. If he had not done that, Erich could have been trapped.
And then it happened so quick after that. He was stunned how fast the water took her down. Jumping into the dinghy, he barely had time to turn and salute his last command. The U-5001 slipped beneath the shimmering black bay and was gone.
It had been a sobering scene.
So final.
After seeing it, the three men paddled slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Without the bright, clear chart of the stars, they had no cues for direction, but they could see a pale, distant scattering of lights, which defined the shoreline and the general north-south orientation of the Bay. At that moment, Erich tried to concentrate on their position rather than think too deeply upon the enormity of what he was doing. But one thought would not leave him: he was certainly a very desperate young man.
They fought against the tide for several hours before finally reaching a muddy embankment. With no moon, the land was dark as a coalmine, and the lights they had seen from a distance had become lost in a thick tree line. Insects thrummed and Erich thought he heard the occasional rattle of a vehicle on some distant, unknown road.
“Hide the raft,” he told his small crew, and they punctured the dinghy and did a poor job of hiding it beneath some underbrush. However, it only needed to stay undiscovered until they were far enough away to never be connected to it.
Hausser had said they must work their way north, toward Baltimore, but slowly with great caution. Once in the city, they could find his uncle’s restaurant, and the hope of sanctuary. Erich felt this was a simple plan, but he was concerned about his poor English skills. Like Manny, he barely recalled any of his grammar school drills. Hausser claimed to have a decent vocabulary from his letters to his American cousins, but Erich believed in no guarantees at that point.
There were other concerns as well — they had no American money, no real sense of direction nor distance, and were very afraid people might not yet know the war had ended. What would happen, Erich mused, if they were caught and discovered to be Germans by an uninformed populace?
Manny felt it wise to head toward the sound of vehicles, which promised a road and a means of orienting themselves. They reached a paved two-lane highway just as dawn arrived, giving them a compass heading. Manny figured the road headed in a general northwest direction, which suited their purpose. However, they decided to remain in the woods and brush bordering the road, moving as best they could, but undetected during the day. The landscape was mostly peppered by farms and the occasional intersection.