Go In and Sink! (20 page)

He said, ‘Slow ahead together. Group down.’ He watched Frenzel’s hands moving across the flashing panel. ‘Periscope depth.’

When he looked again she had gone.

‘Fourteen metres, sir.’

‘Up periscope.’

He snapped down the handles and swung the periscope in a slow circle. No distinction between sea and sky. The stars were as bright on the water as they were above. He stopped and brought the lens to full power. There it was, the small fishing fleet, their lanterns flickering on the unbroken water like additional fragments from the sky. They looked about right. Some five or six miles away. It was not easy to tell at night.

‘Down periscope. Stand by to surface.’

Devereaux asked, ‘Do you want the machine-gunners, too, sir?’

‘Negative.’ He adjusted his night-glasses. ‘If we’re tumbled it’s no use hanging around.’

He crossed to the ladder, grateful for the dimmed lights as he relaxed his eyes in readiness for those first testing seconds.

‘Surface!’

It was surprisingly warm on the open bridge, and as he ran for the fore gratings he felt the breeze across his face, delicate and clean.

A hurried look round. At the distant lights where the little boats floated on their untroubled sea. On either beam. Nothing. He stooped over the voicepipe. ‘Open the fore hatch.’

He peered over the screen, watching anxiously as a lazy swell broke on to the saddle tanks leaving a trailing wake of glowing phosphorescence. But they were moving as slowly as they dared. To reduce still further would mean adding to the risk of drift. They would never make the rendezvous then.

Marshall heard boots on the casing, a swishing sound as the rubber dinghy was hauled through the big fore hatch. It was always a bad time. With the hull trimmed right up, the hatch open. Unable to dive if the worst happened.

He held his breath and then steadied his glasses on a small shadow on the water.

A lookout confirmed it. ‘Boat, sir. Starboard beam.’

He snapped, ‘Stop together.’

The shadow was moving now, the silence broken by the throaty chug of its engine.

He leaned over the screen. ‘Make the signal!’

Buck was on the casing in charge of things. He flashed his shaded torch towards the shadow, holding it low down by the dinghy.

Marshall waited. It seemed to take an age, and he could almost feel the tracer bullets which would come shrieking
out
of the darkness to rip aside their deception. Instead he saw the equally brief stab of light.

He let out his breath and called, ‘Cast off the dinghy!’ He was going to add,
as quick as you can
. But they would need no urging.

A short splash and then the small spurts of phosphorescence as the seamen got busy with their paddles. The dinghy was suddenly clear, merging with the night and with the fishing boat which had slewed round to meet them.

He could even hear the fishermen talking, caught the smell of their catch, of tarred rigging and nets. How could they be sure, he wondered? Then he recalled what Simeon had said. About using anyone who could help. Partisans and patriots, or just people who wanted to be rid of the Germans. And those who took such terrible risks merely for money.

‘Dinghy’s shoved off, sir.’

‘Good.’

He lowered his glasses and watched the sudden froth from the fisherman’s propeller. She was already swinging away, creeping back to join her consorts. As if nothing had happened.

Miles off he heard the vague drone of an aircraft, and he thought of the girl who would be landing amongst the enemy. She had spoken so calmly about it. South to Naples. That was over two hundred miles, but how many checkpoints, examinations of passes, questions to which she must have the perfect answers?

‘Dinghy’s secured, sir!’

‘Very well. Close the fore hatch.’ He moved to the voicepipe. ‘Slow ahead together.’

His mind had registered the fore hatch shutting. But he
was
still thinking about her, the immensity of her loneliness. Of his own.

He dropped over the rim of the hatch and slammed it shut.

Gerrard met his gaze. ‘Get off all right, sir?’

‘Yes.’

He looked at the open watertight door, as if expecting to see her there. Watching him.

‘Take her down to twenty metres. We’ll work clear of the fishing boats and then turn on to the new course.’

Gerrard sighed. ‘Very well, sir.’ He looked at Frenzel and gave a shrug. ‘Group up. Open main vents.’

Marshall rested his hand on the chart table, listening to the sea forcing the air from the saddle tanks.

Later, when they rose to periscope depth again there was no sign of the fishing fleet, and in the sky there was already a hint of dawn. Another day.

‘You wanted me, sir?’ Gerrard stepped into the cabin and looked down at Marshall.

‘Yes.’ Marshall sat at his small desk which was strewn with papers, as was the top of his bunk. ‘It’s time you knew a bit more of what we’re doing.’

Gerrard moved some files and squatted on the edge of the bunk. Like the rest of the crew he looked pale and strained, his chin hidden in stubble.

Since watching the three agents transferred to the fishing boat they had continued on a southerly course, skirting the Sicilian coast as close as they dared before turning north-east towards the heel of Italy. It was maddening to
see
the dazzling sunlight whenever they had crept up to periscope depth, the empty expanse of inviting sea. Like blue glass. Then, when you removed your eye from the periscope you had to turn and look at your own men, with their worn faces, their bodies starved of fresh air and the sun’s warmth.

At this moment in time the submarine was steering due north some sixty miles from the Italian coast.

Marshall touched the intelligence pack. ‘You’ll have to know what’s happening anyway, sooner or later.’ He looked at Gerrard and smiled. ‘There may not be too much time
later
.’

Gerrard nodded. ‘We’re going right into the Adriatic, I know that much.’

‘There’s a whole lot more, I’m afraid.’ Marshall cocked his head to listen. The boat was like a grave, with just the gentle purr of motors and an occasional movement from the control room. ‘From all our reports it looks as if the Germans will have to throw in the towel in North Africa any time now. The Allies will be getting ready to invade their territory for a change, and the Germans will be well aware of that, too. They will have seen the build-up of landing craft, support ships and all the rest of it, and spies will have kept them informed about shipping entering the Med.’

Gerrard said, ‘Well, you can’t very well hide it, can you?’

‘Captain Browning seems confident that the Germans believe we’re going to invade through Greece and up into the Balkans.’

‘Not what I’d do if I was the boss-man.’ Gerrard grinned. ‘However, as that isn’t likely.…’

Marshall looked at him. ‘I know. If I was a German
staff
officer I’d expect the invasion to come smack through Italy or the south of France.’ He shrugged. ‘But Browning was certain the enemy has been fooled in some way to believe in the Greece idea. A ruse, or some arranged leak of plans. We have no choice in the matter anyway.’ He pushed the file towards him. ‘Our job is to add to the general idea that we
are
invading through Greece. Intelligence reports that the enemy are moving a floating dock down the Adriatic to Bari. So on the strength of that it looks as if they’re sold on the same idea.’

Gerrard breathed out slowly. ‘The dock would be ready to repair any large units which might get damaged in our invasion, eh?’

‘Right first time. We’re going to blow it up. Make it look as if we’re doing everything we can to make it easier for our side when the big day dawns.’

Gerrard shook his head. ‘I’d have thought that one of our submarines from Alexandria could have coped. You and I have been into the Adriatic in the past. I remember we surfaced to shell the railway line along the coast, and that was further north than Bari.’

‘This has got to make a real bang.’ He leaned back in the chair, his fingers behind his head. ‘So that we appear desperately keen on our work.’

‘I see.’ Gerrard was still puzzled. ‘But if we have to show ourselves, our future prospects are a bit grim.’

‘Yes.’

He looked away. Gerrard still did not understand. Any one of their missions could be the last. Simeon had hinted as much, and the written orders filled in most of the gaps. It would be a pity, of course, but each operation was quite separate and could end in disaster or pave the way to the next one, and the one after that.

‘We’ll attack in the usual way.’ He looked up again and added calmly, ‘But if things go wrong we’ll use every bluff in the book.’

Gerrard turned over a page, his face tight with concentration. As he shifted slightly Marshall saw the small bag below the bunk. The one she had left behind. It contained very few things, but amongst them were the clothes she had been wearing when she had come aboard. And at Simeon’s dinner-party. It was six days since she had packed them in the bag, here in the cabin. Changed her identity. Prepared her mind and nerve for whatever she was required to do. Where was she? How far had she got?

Gerrard asked, ‘Can you believe all this guff about the dock?’

‘Can’t be sure.’ He pulled his mind back again. ‘The sailing time is supposed to be right. Though God knows what sort of escort they’ll have.’

‘Not much.’ Gerrard yawned hugely. ‘They’ll keep close inshore, in easy reach of air-cover at all times. That’s my guess.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s not a bad scheme, I must say. The Jerries will probably blame their Italian allies and move more naval units to the area. They might even send more troops to Yugoslavia and Greece on the strength of it.’

‘That’s the general idea.’

Like tiny parts of some huge machine. In the occupied territories bridges would be blown up, ammunition trains derailed, to tie down more and more troops who would soon be needed elsewhere. In Sicily, Browning had said. Perhaps it was as well not to consider the more personal cost. Hostages lined up and shot, Resistance men and women tortured to death by the Gestapo. He glanced at the bag again, sickened by his own thoughts.

‘How are our lads taking all this, Bob? You are closer to
them
than I am.’ He smiled gravely. ‘And no flannel. Not from you.’

Gerrard replied, ‘Better than I’d have thought. They were getting a bit jumpy after that chap was killed. But seeing those three agents go off like that.’ He sighed. ‘I think it makes them feel they ought to be doing something, too.’ He added quietly, ‘But after reading that secret file I don’t think they need worry on
that
score.’

Feet thudded on steel and Marshall heard Buck’s voice in the control room. Being relieved by Devereaux. Nothing changed. Routine.

He said, ‘We’ll be pulled out sooner or later. Even if it’s only for a rest period. I’d like to recommend that you be transferred home.’ He saw Gerrard’s face stiffen but continued, ‘You’ve done more than your share to knock this company into a team. You’re overdue for promotion anyway. A good commanding officer is valuable too, you know.’

Gerrard smiled. ‘You’re not fooling me. You’re thinking of my wife, aren’t you? Valerie knew what the job was like when she married me.’

Marshall dropped his eyes. She only thinks she knows. It’s what they all say. Like Gail.

Gerrard added, ‘Besides, there’s something else. We’ve come this far together, so why not finish what we started?’ He forced a grin. ‘The war’ll last for years and years. Plenty of time for promotion.’

‘I expect you’re right.’ He stood up, feeling his muscles protesting, the ache of dampness and strain. ‘You usually are.’

‘In that case,’ Gerrard was also standing, his head bowed under the criss-cross of pipes and wiring, ‘you won’t mind my speaking frankly?’

‘Shoot.’

‘You’ve been pushing it too much. Driving yourself into the deck.’

‘So you’re at it too, are you?’

Gerrard shrugged. ‘Someone has to tell you. Most people only see you for short periods. First class C.O., they say. Nerves of steel. God Almighty, what do they know?’ He was speaking more quickly, his voice suddenly angry. ‘I’ve seen what this game can do to people, what it’s done to you. These smug bastards ashore have no bloody idea they’re born. Submarines to them are just so many hulls full of men. Like cans of sardines!’ He controlled himself with obvious effort. ‘I’ve been with you for eighteen months. You get to know a lot about someone when you’ve been as close as we have.’

‘Have you finished?’ It was hard to shut him up. It always was.

‘Just about. I’m like the rest who depend on you, and I’d do my damndest to help in any way I can. I think you know that. So don’t carry all of it yourself. Warwick was right, you need not have risked your life to rescue him from the bridge when we both know it was his fault for not seeing that damned Liberator.’ He held up his hand. ‘Maybe if that girl had not been there too you’d have dived and left the bridge party to fend for themselves. I know some who would. But I don’t think so. I saw it all happening in
Tristram
. Watched you getting involved with every bloke in the crew. Carrying them when they should have been driven. Had we been given leave before getting another command you might have been all right, but I don’t know. You’re doing it all over again. Squeezing yourself dry.’