EPISODE TWENTY-NINE
836 Words
TWENTY-NINE
The VIIA U-415, sat submerged out of sight, two miles off the coast. It had been rocking, through a maybe a three-or four-degree arc in a fore-and-aft line when the movement ceased.
Werner glanced at the depth gauge. It had been registering hastily, but they were close enough to the surface for it to be affected by the deep-troughed waves rolling by overhead, but even so there could be no doubt that the average depths of the readings had increased.
Werner had been happy with his response to the Englishman on the radio transmitter. His time at Cambridge had not been wasted, giving him the skill to speak English without a hint of his German accent.
*
Hergen Gesetze huddled into his bucket seat, beat freezing hands against freezing shoulders, surveyed his uniform and then shut his eyes, to the issues spinning in his head.
Mũller, still standing against the starboard fuselage, lit a cigarette and eyed Gesetze. He opened his mouth to speak when it occurred to him that he had seen men in a more receptive mood. He turned away without saying anything.
In the flight-deck, now slid so impossible far forward in his seat that the back of his head rested on the back of his seat, Oberstleutnant Jan Bomken seemed to be still preoccupied with pipe, coffee, and literature. Beside him, Oberstleutnant Wenger failed to share his superiors mood of pleasurable relaxation.
In fact, his eyes shifting from the instrument panel to the opaque darkness beyond the windscreen to the recumbent figure of his superior officer who appeared to be in danger of dropping off to sleep at any moment.
Wenger sat far forward in his seat, stared for long seconds through the windscreen ahead of him then turned to Oberstleutnant Bomken.
"Drop zone coming up, Oberstleutnant."
Bomken groaned, closed his book, swung back the hinged bookrest, finished his coffee, and levered himself upright with another groan.
He slid open his side-screen and made an elaborate pretence of examining the loom of light far below, without, however, going to the lengths of exposing his face to the wind and the driving snow.
He closed the screen and then turned at Wenger, with muted admiration.
"I believe you're right. A comfort to have you along, Wenger, a great comfort."
He switched on the intercom while Wenger seemed abashed.
"Hauptsturmführer Mũller? Yes. Thirty minutes to go."
He switched off and turned again to Wenger.
"Right. South-east down and for God's sake, keep an eye out for any RAF patrols."
Mũller hung up the headphones and gazed at the seated men.
"That's it. Half an hour. Let us hope its warmer down there than it is up here."
No one had any comments to make on that.
*
We arrived back to a tense, bustling Onehouse. As we came alongside, a crowd of excited children ran beside the boat until she tied up.
When Roome's men came up the steps with their rifles, a crowd stood waiting. Roome spotted Allum, head and shoulders above everybody else, pushing towards them.
"What's the news, sir?"
Roome told him and continued.
"What about here? Everything going, okay?"
"Yes sir. Roads into the town are sealed off, and we have got patrols out in the surrounding fields. There is no way it can get in. I'd stake my life on it."
"Let's hope you don't need to."
The crowd which had been finding its voice, fell silent. Puzzled, Roome turned.
The strange craft, now a different colour, as though it would change like a chameleon, was being hoisted up. As it swung over, the police cordon pushed back the people to make room.
In the hush, as all eyes followed it, a boy's voice rang out.
"Just like the things in Flash Gordon."
With a jolt Roome and me focused on each other, Roome spoke first.
"Out of the mouths of babes...?"
Placed in the corner of Big George's quayside shed, Roome ordered a guard to be put on duty.
I ran my hands over the opaque hood and bent down once again, trying to see more of the inside.
"They must lie down at the controls, there's not enough room sitting up. If, we could just get this off..."
He tugged at the hood.
Roome grabbed my arm.
"Leave it! Let Doctor Walton do it. You might do some damage."
The way he said it implied, to us. I gave a wry grin.
"I guess you're right. Well, I am going to get something to eat, see if Joanne is accommodating. Care to join us?"
Roome shook his head.
"No, but thanks. I want to check on the latest position of the outlying people."
I looked at Roome old-fashioned.
"Careful now, you have gone without sleep for days. You'll crack up."
Roome smiled.
"You're right."
I glanced at him with caution.
"Make sure then, you do as I tell you."
Roome's face, a picture of dismay.
"Bloody hell. That will be a first. Doing as I'm told."
- Writer
