Robert Walker - Titanic 2012

Dobberhagen’s eyes turned to saucers at this. “Ahhh… I knew it!”

“Ahhh, forget about it! I’m just joking with you, Dobberhagen.” Erwin laughed, and the other man joined him in laughter. Erwin suspected the younger fellow of having been recruited by Bonekemper, the SS Officer, as another pair of eyes and ears. He could not be certain of this, but he could not be too careful. Diverting the other man’s attention to the odd crate seemed a good ploy for the moment. Making the other man laugh was not such a bad ploy either, he reasoned when he heard someone above them, fully expecting it to be Bonekemper.

“What is so humorous?” asked this someone standing on the overhead catwalk that took a man to the bridge.

Erwin and Dobberhagen looked up to see Captain Lindemann standing over them. Dusk was coming on, and the sky over Lindemann’s stark, tall, angular form was a blood-orange swirl of strange light.

The two men came to instant attention, saluting Lindemann whose features always included a slight smirk. Erwin was unsure what the curl to the captain’s lips might mean. It remained inscrutable.

“What is so humorous?” Lindemann repeated without returning either man’s salute. “I could use a good laugh.”

The captain of the Bismarck , who only answered to one man aboard, Admiral Lutjens, wanted to share a joke with Erwin and Dobberhagen. It stunned both the communications operator and the Lt. Commander in charge of Engineering. “So have you two men gone deaf and dumb? Speak!”

Dobberhagen shook beside Erwin who could feel the other man’s nerve coming unglued. Dobberhagen had prided himself in never catching the eye of either the captain or the admiral. Erwin shrugged to indicate it was nothing , and then he spoke the word, “It was nothing. Sir, just ahhh small talk, sir.”

“Ahhh… I recall that, small talk. I’ve nearly forgotten it exists. Funny the things a man gets homesick for, eh, Lt. Commander?”

Lonely at the top , Erwin imagined. “It was nothing of importance, sir.”

“Just those oranges,” blurted out Dobberhagen, a goofy grin on his face. “The ones gifted to the admiral.”

“Der Fuhrer had no prize for you, sir?” asked Erwin, instantly mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question.

“No, no, afraid not.”

An awkward silence filled the space between them like an invisible chasm unlikely ever to be breached. A flash of insight filled Hulsing. He simply knew why Lindemann was so sullen. The man had expected to be calling the shots aboard Bismarck , and at the 13 thhour, they placed the admiral of the fleet aboard, so that Captain Lindemann must clear every order, every step through the admiral, to say nothing of who would be on the bridge in the heat of battle giving the orders— calling the shots , as the Americans liked to say. Every bloody order given by Lutjens, Lindemann must repeat like a parrot to his men, his crew. Not to mention the captain had to vacate his quarters for the admiral’s comfort aboard.

The still quiet among the men was broken when Lindemann said, “I understand that you know the English mind?”

Hulsiing swallowed hard and hesitated answering.

“Well, is this true, Hulsing?”

It was the second time Lindemann had pointedly sought out Erwin’s eyes to read each nuance as if expecting some sort of coded message to pass between them. Hulsing gave out a quick laugh. “Who ever really knows the English, sir?”

“Ah, true, but you’ve been living among them. You know something of their history, their culture, their language, yes?”

“Somewhat, yes, sir.”

“We go to fight the enemy, to sink the Hood, and to take control of the North Atlantic. All of the secrets of our mission seem to be known by every sailor aboard my ship, eh?”

“Yes, I think that much is safe to say so, sir.”

“Is it also safe to say everyone on board knows which direction we’ll take to achieve these objectives?”

“Actually, sir… that is one secret the men are taking bets on.”

“And the odds?”

“The odds favor the Denmark Straits, sir!”

“Makes more sense, yes? Listen,” Lindemann continued, changing the subject, “I read your file, Commander, that you were top of your class at Oxford.”

“In engineering and communications, sir.”

Dobberhagen excused himself, saluted his captain, and slipped away. Alone now with one another, Lindemann asked Hulsing, “How did you find life in England?”

“Tolerable, sir… just tolerable.”

“I can’t imagine living anywhere but the Homeland.” Lindemann stretched to ease the pain in his back.

“I was only there to complete my studies, Captain.”

“Of course, of course.” He lit a cigarette and bent low to offer it to Hulsing, who felt he must share a smoke with the man in this instance. After lighting his own cigarette, Lindemann calmly said, “What fools they are, the British, to dare stand against us! They’ll see their entire nation wiped out, and for what, to stand on some principle, eh? It’s pitiful to see an empire crumble, don’t you think?”

“Yes sir… that they are pitiful fools, sir.”

“Churchill? This man is a buffoon and a bloody fool. They were offered friendly overtures, and if they had any sense at the top, they wouldn’t then have to be brought to their knees.”

“Understood, sir.”

“They could have been a powerful ally, but they chose to foolishly stand against us.”

“The Bismarck will teach them a lesson they won’t soon forget.”

“We will celebrate each victory, Hulsing, and when the world sees us victorious, the UK and all her allies will come ’round to our way of thinking. The superior race will rise again as in the Middle Ages, a kind of new Republic, eh? It’s only a matter of time.”

“My god, what a pounding they’ve already taken from us.”

Lindemann nodded. “The bombings by the Luftwaffe, yes… but it seems to only have made them more… more stubborn.”

Hulsing hesitated answering, carefully choosing each word before doing so. “They are a pig-headed people, sir.” He ended with a shrug. “Not like the sheep we’ve taken so far.”

But Lindemann was too quick, already speaking over him. “Your record is impressive, Hulsing. It could prove useful having a man of your abilities on board, not only engineering and communications, but a policeman as well—in the event of any sort of mishap, I mean.”

“Mishap, sir?”

“Men have been known to kill one another in close quarters. You’ve had training in interrogations, haven’t you?”

“It appears, sir, that you really have read my history, sir.”

“I like to know the background of every man serving under me.”

Hulsing nodded and took a long drag on his cigarette, saying nothing.

Lindemann crushed his half-smoked cigarette beneath his boot. “But why, Hulsing, in private life did you choose to be a detective?”

“Do you know how little work there is in Berlin for an engineer—in private life?”

“Yes, but why were you chasing criminals, lowlifes, and Jewish trash in Berlin—in the wretched ghettos and alleyways?” The captain asked snidely. “Especially with you being trained as an engineer! Plus being a fellow just educated in the new science in communications. Come to think of it, wasn’t your father a prominent man in government, before he fell under the scrutiny of the SS?”

Hulsing realized that Lindemann made it his business to know every detail of his officers backgrounds. His neck now sore from his position far below his captain, craning to speak this way, Hulsing began to rub the back of his head in nervous fashion. “Sir, there was no position in Berlin at that time for anything but as a police detective, and my father was falsely accused.”