William Dietrich - Ice Reich

Greta was sobbing. Bristle-Head loomed over her, waiting.

"Leave her alone." It was Drexler, the words slurred by a bleeding mouth. He stood up stiffly, humiliated. His body shook as he strove to contain his emotion.

He pointed to Hart. "I want him chained this time. Until we get to the island." The SS men nodded.

Then he pointed to Greta. "And her I want alone. Down here. With me."

They dragged the unconscious American up through the hatch and it clanged shut. She stood stiffly, trembling. Drexler turned his face a moment to spit some blood, then licked his lips as he stared at her. His chest rose and fell, his eyes wounded.

"You did it with him, didn't you?" The tone was of utter disbelief. "Did it with him right here on the goddamned boat. Right in front of seventy men. My God."

She closed her eyes, a tear sliding down. "Please don't hurt him. Hurt me, but not him."

"Hurt you?" His voice filled with wonder. "Hurt you? My God, what could I possibly do to you that would remotely approach what you've done to me? You've destroyed me. You've obliterated any scrap of pride I had left. You've buried me with shame. You've made me a laughingstock. Hurt you? What a joke!"

"I told you!" she shouted, her eyes bright and wet. "I told you and you wouldn't listen! I told you I loved him and not you! So you put the three of us together on this damned submarine like a crazy man, babbling about working together- what did you think was going to happen?"

He looked defeated. "A last measure of… civility."

Tears were running freely down both cheeks. "Don't you see? It's too late for that."

He nodded dully. "Indeed."

She waited but he made no move. "So what are you going to do, Jurgen?"

He turned back to the ladder. "Save Germany."

Hart woke slowly. He was woozy, his body sore. When he turned there was a rattle and he blearily opened his eyes. He had a manacle on his wrist, surprisingly heavy. A chain led to a stanchion supporting his bunk. The submarine was rolling, he dimly noted, its diesels drumming a steady rumble that pounded in his head. They were on the surface and moving fast.

"Well, hell." He tugged feebly on the chain, slowly remembering what had happened. It was a wonder Drexler hadn't killed him. Apparently, he really was needed.

"Wake up. You need to eat." The pilot opened his eyes again. It was a sailor who bunked near him. Jacob, his name was, holding a mug of soup. "You should stay away from women. They're bad luck."

Hart sat up painfully and sipped. The broth seemed like it was flowing directly into his veins. "My luck is due to change."

"Not on this mission, I suspect."

Hart sipped again. "We're past the destroyers? Running on the surface?"

Jacob nodded. "For now. But we had to release some fuel to make them think they scored a hit and we're rapidly burning what's left."

"I want to get out of this coffin."

"So does every man in the U-boat arm. Don't expect any sympathy from me."

Hart drained the cup.

"Good," Jacob said. "Now you go see the captain."

"I don't want to see the captain."

"That doesn't matter. He wants to see you."

The pilot lifted his manacled arm.

The sailor took out a key to unlock the chain. "The captain said to release you. If the colonel objects, he can take it up with Freiwald."

Groaning, Hart swung out of his bunk and followed Jacob to the control room. "Up there," the engineer pointed. Hart looked questioningly at the ladder. "The captain's on the conning tower. Here, take this coat and hat."

The tower well was shockingly cold after the long confinement in the submarine- cold enough to almost take his breath away. Then he inhaled deeply, sucking in clean air, and felt light-headed, almost intoxicated. It was glorious.

"Shut the damn hatch."

The pilot stood next to the captain. It was night. The U-boat was racing furiously through the swells, rocking with an easy gait as water foamed in a glittering rapid down the narrow foredeck. Hart hadn't realized how far south they'd come. The Germans were in a realm of lunar light so intense that icebergs glowed like the white mountains of the moon. The Milky Way was as palpable as a silk ribbon, stars and moon so reflective in the sea that there was an illusion they were sailing into the sky, or sailing upside down. They'd entered the Southern Ocean and he could pick out the Southern Cross. Antarctica lay somewhere ahead.

Hart pulled up his hood. Freiwald was leaning forward on the conning tower bulkhead to watch for ice while a sailor kept watch from the antiaircraft gun mount behind, too far to hear what the pair said. Out here it seemed as if they were the only people on the planet.

"We've made good time, Captain."

"These boats are incredibly swift underwater. And incredibly strong. We've just broken a depth record: that's why you're alive right now. If we had enough of them we could control the Atlantic." He shook his head. "But we don't. We in the navy knew this war was madness in 1939. Donitz told us to be prepared to fight for seven years. We'll be lucky if we last that long."

"Jacob said you fooled them with a release of an oil slick."

"Confused them at least. Our satisfaction may only be temporary. We no longer have enough fuel to get back and so I've had to radio for a milch cow- a supply submarine- to rendezvous on our homeward voyage. It was a risk to make the call. U-boat Command claims it's scientifically impossible to break our codes- and yet why are all my friends on the bottom? I prefer to stay off the radio."

"What are our chances then?"

"Perhaps you know better than I?" the captain said, searchingly.

The pilot laughed. "My chances are lousy. I make a hash of things in Antarctica even in peacetime."

"And now you're doing no better in war."

His irritated tone sobered the pilot. "Meaning?"

"I called you up here because it's time I learned what's going on between you and the Drexlers. I don't tolerate fighting on my boat. I don't like my thirteen new passengers. I don't like arrogant SS pricks pretending to command my submarine, I don't like women showing up where they don't belong, and I don't like my insubordinate American prisoner. I want to hear a reason why I shouldn't throw all three of you overboard before you cause more trouble."

"Well." Hart considered. "You can't toss me because I'm the only one who knows how to get into a mountain to fetch what Germany wants. You can't toss Greta because she's the only one who knows how to process the drug we're going to find. You could toss Jurgen. I can't see that he's any use at all."

Freiwald scowled. "Why did you go to the laboratory during the attack? You knew that wasn't your station."

"I didn't see how it mattered where I was. I have no combat duties on board."

"Dammit, answer my question! Why did you insist on seeing the woman after you were told not to?"

Hart hesitated only a second. "I'm in love with Greta, Captain. And she's in love with me. She's married to Jurgen Drexler in name only. We fell in love before the war on a prior expedition to the island we're going to. I was delayed returning to the ship, Drexler reported I was dead, and eventually he persuaded Greta to marry him. When I learned she was still alive I stole a plane, flew to Berlin, and convinced her to run away with me. As you can imagine, this has produced some tension among the three of us."

"God in heaven." Freiwald frowned. "Does the High Command know about this?"

"Of course not. If they knew the truth, Drexler would be in an asylum. But then so would half the High Command."

Freiwald threw him a sour glance but didn't dispute the point. "And you. Why do you go along with this mission? You feel no loyalty to your country, to its cause?"