Hammond Innes - The Trojan Horse

I nodded. It really seemed most ingenious. ‘It’s essential that they show their hand first,’ I said. ‘It will be clear proof and that’s the only way to convince the British Government.’

‘Good! Then let us get to work.’

Schmidt had done his reconnaissance work well. He could distinguish the markings on the cases, and with the aid of tools from one of the tanks we soon had a case of machine-gun and a case of two-pounder ammunition opened. The cases were bound with light metal bands and these David broke by inserting a large screwdriver and twisting. At one moment, whilst we were standing by watching him break open a case, Schmidt took my arm. ‘I am overjoyed to find you here,’ he said. ‘I cannot thank you enough.’

I laughed. ‘I should thank you,’ I said. ‘You have given me back my youth.’ My eyes were fixed on Freya. She looked tired, but that did not mar the beauty of her features. She was watching David with his broad powerful shoulders bent to the task of breaking the metal bands.

When both cases were open, Schmidt took us over to the nearest tank and we climbed in. Briefly he explained to the three of us the workings of the machine-gun and the two-pounder. As soon as he was satisfied that we knew how to work both guns in an emergency, we climbed out again and set about the task of removing the necessary quantity of ammunition on deck. David had brought two sacks with him and into each of these we dropped as much as one man could carry. Schmidt and I were to do the donkey work. David was to act as escort and effectively silence any opposition, if we were unlucky enough to meet any. It must be remembered that, though the volunteers were presumably all drugged, the crew were still awake. ‘There’s a watch on the bridge,’ Schmidt told us, as we began to climb the ladder. ‘But he should be looking in front of him.’

David led the way, with myself, then Schmidt, and Freya bringing up the rear. The trapdoor was pushed quietly back, making a square of white light. I followed David on to the fo’c’sle to find the whole ship bathed in brilliant moonlight. Involuntarily I paused. It was a wonderful sight after the darkness of the hold. The moon was almost full and hung low over the sea, so that a path of dancing light showed to the horizon. And in the midst of that silver path was the black outline of our escort. The Thirlmere herself was brilliantly lit, every object clear-cut and accentuated by the darkness of the shadow it cast. Beside the open trapdoor one of the volunteers lay dozing. It was bitterly cold after the warmth of the hold.

No one was in sight and David led the way quickly to the well deck, where we were at once swallowed up in the shadow of the high bulwarks. Schmidt had chosen one of the central tanks next to the torpedo boat. His choice, I discovered later, had been governed by its field of fire, which was excellent. It was so placed that from it we could rake the whole of the fo’c’sle and cover one entrance to the hold.

The most dangerous job, so far as discovery was concerned, was getting into the tank. This could only be done through its two small hatches. Freya went first and we spent several uncomfortable seconds as, lying flat on the moonlit surface of the tank, she pulled open one of the hatches and slipped inside. Apparently no one had seen her. She closed the hatch and opened up the driver’s protecting flap. Fortunately this was in shadow and we passed the ammunition through without fear of discovery. Then the three of us went back to the hold. This time we closed up the cases after filling the sacks with ammunition, and when we emerged on to the fo’c’sle again, we put back the trapdoor. We made the well deck without incident. But then David noticed the figure of the man on watch standing on the edge of the bridge. He was gazing in the direction of the destroyer. At length he turned and very deliberately stared the length of the ship. I felt he must see us. But he moved towards the other end of the bridge and disappeared from view behind the chart room. We hesitated a moment and then crossed the patch of moonlight into the shelter of the tanks. After passing the second load of ammunition to Freya, we climbed in through the driver’s flap, closing it behind us.

Schmidt had had the foresight to provide sandwiches. I appreciated this, for I was by now extremely hungry. The quarters were cramped and uncomfortable, though the tank had been designed to hold a crew of four. Freya was marvellous. She was suffering both physically and mentally from her long imprisonment in the munition case. Fresh from my experience of Sedel’s deed-box, I understood how she felt. She was in great need of strenuous exercise to free her cramped muscles, and she was suffering from a sense of claustrophobia.

The moonlight filtered in through the gun vents, casting thin white beams across the dark interior of the tank. Schmidt had taken up his post in the gun turret, whilst David was in the driver’s seat. Placed opposite Freya, as I was, it was not long before I noticed that she was suffering from violent shivers every now and then. It was the sense of being closed up, and at length I leaned forward and gave her arm an encouraging squeeze. She turned and I saw that her face was very pale and that she was biting her lips. She took my hand then and held it tight. It seemed to help her, for after a time her grip relaxed and she fell asleep with her head against the butt of a machine-gun.

We had divided the night up into three watches of two hours each. David took the first watch. I relieved him at four in the morning, having slept fitfully. When he woke me, I found that Freya’s hand was still in mine. Her head was bowed over the gun and her muscles were relaxed. My arm was cramped, but I dared not let go her hand for fear of waking her. Schmidt took over at six.

I woke him by tapping against his legs, which extended below the turret. The moon had set and it was very dark inside the tank, so that I had to feel for them. I was by then becoming very tired of my position. Nevertheless, I slept soundly, and the next thing I knew was that someone was shaking me. It was Freya, and as I opened my mouth to speak, she put her hand over it. It felt warm and soft against my lips. Shafts of sunlight threaded into the interior of the tank, which was now quite light. The ship was alive about us. Orders were being shouted and there was the clatter of boots on the steel deck plates.

‘It’s past nine,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘And they’ve discovered that we’re missing. They’re searching the hold.’

I sat up and looked through my gun sights. I could see the whole of the for’ard part of the ship. The grey superstructure of the bridge shone in the morning sunshine. And beyond was blue sky sweeping down to the shimmering green of the sea. There was not a cloud to be seen and the sun was already high in the sky on the port bow. The position of the sun told me that we were still headed for the Kattegat. Presumably we had not yet dropped our escort. The trapdoor to the hold was open and I saw one of the volunteers come out. He climbed the ladder to the bridge and was met by Sedel. He shouted something and Sedel cursed.

Schmidt came down from his perch in the gun turret. His unshaven chin accentuated the pallor of his face. But though he looked tired, almost ill, his eyes were as alive as ever. He had a word with David, who climbed quietly out of the driver’s seat and joined us in the body of the tank.

‘Freya, you will pass up the ammunition when required,’ Schmidt said in a low voice. ‘Mr Shiel, you will take over this gun, and Mr Kilmartin, you will stay where you are. If they begin searching these tanks before the escort is dropped, we shall have to show our hand. That will be unfortunate. But I do not think they will. It is now nine-forty-five and they are due to part from the escort at any moment. Then they will take control of the ship. The Norwegians will be taken for’ard. When I am certain that all the volunteers are either in the fo’c’sle or on the bridge, I shall open fire. I shall blow away each end of the bridge, and you will both fire a few bursts with your machine-guns in order to test the accuracy of your aim. Under no circumstances must any of the volunteers be allowed to reach the well deck alive. Our only danger is if we are taken in the rear. We shall have nothing to fear from the crew, only the volunteers. The only way they can get aft is by means of the well deck. It is your business, with the machine-guns, to see they do not leave the fo’c’sle. We have plenty of ammunition.’