Robert A. Webster - Blue Flame

The group walked up to the foot of the U-boat’s gangway and stopped in front of Hans.

“Everything set?” the man asked.

Hans snapped to attention, confirming that everything was going according to plan, with the crew detained for now in the forward compartment. The man glanced at the car parked several yards away. He again addressed the officer. “Well done, SS-Oberfüehrer. What about the other matter?” he asked. The officer then removed a photograph from his pocket and handed it to him. He stared at it for a few moments and then gave it to the woman, who, after glancing at the photo, smiled and put the picture in her handbag.

“Very well… Let’s get underway,” said the man and walked up the gangway with the woman at his side. Without turning back, they headed inside the side hatch of the conning tower.

SS-Oberfüehrer Hans Kruger was a tall, well-built man. He had a domineering presence who commanded both respect and fear. Although a commando, his real forte was far more sinister. He only took his orders from two men: his boss, SS-Gruppefüehrer Heinrich Muller, head of the feared Gestapo, and the man who had just entered the U-boat.

Hans remained on the dockside and marched over to the two escort officers.

“You served the Fatherland well. Your families will be proud of you.”

The two young officers stood erect and motionless. Hans removed his Luger from its holster, placed the barrel against the forehead of one young officer, and fired a shot between his eyes, killing him instantly. The other soldier urinated but remained motionless; his eyes squinted under the rim of his black peak cap before his end came.

Hans dragged the lifeless bodies over to the parked car one at a time, dumping them onto the back seat. He removed a container of diesel from the car’s boot and doused the flammable mix over the corpses and the car. He stood back and threw in a lit match and as the flames spread, Hans strode up the gangway into the vessel.

The U-boat became a hive of activity, as submariners came out of the hatchways and cast off the mooring lines. The Captain and several of his submariners went onto the conning tower bridge, where the Captain gave orders to the deck crew to make ready to shove off. It was a well-orchestrated routine, carried out and performed many times by this experienced and battle-hardened crew. The submariners, after completing their tasks, headed back inside the vessel. Having experienced war in all its savagery, the crew ignored the blazing Mercedes as they readied the vessel for sea.

The U-boat slewed away from the jetty, heading toward the mouth of the small port of Farge estuary. The vessel sailed out of the harbour and, like a sleek whale, eased its way into open water.

Apart from the Captain, the conning tower crew went below decks. Korvettenkapitän Karl Viktor watched as the vessel picked up speed, leaving his country in its wake. An explosion echoed from the jetty as the diesel ignited the Mercedes fuel tank, blowing it and its dead occupants to smithereens.

Captain Viktor stroked the black rubber coating of the conning bridge and listened to the battery banks whirring as they reached 17 knots. He watched the bow as the sleek vessel cut through the water, and he looked back in anger at the land and black plumes of smoke in the distance. Hearing the rumble of explosions as the Allies pounded the nearby town, he thought, ‘this is truly a magnificent vessel. With a fleet of these *Elektroboote’s we could have won the war.’

He took off his cap to let the sea breeze blow across his head and looked at the gauges.

“Seven fathoms, sir,” said the Dive Officer over the intercom.

“Very well…Prepare to dive the boat and level out at four metres,” ordered the Captain.

“Yes sir,” said the Dive Officer and repeated the order to the control crew.

“Open main vents, rig out bow planes, and set down ten degrees,” ordered the Captain.

A sudden bustle of motion signalled the crew’s compliance.

“Bow planes set, sir,” confirmed the Dive Officer.

The Captain then gave the order.

“Dive the boat!”

Sirens wailed to alert the occupants that the U-boat was submerging. With plumes of water whooshing out of the ballast tanks, the Captain left the conning tower, closed the hatch behind him, and went down into the hot, cramped control room. He realised that they were transporting human cargo along with looted treasure, but unsure of whom.

The Captain hung on to the periscope until the U-Boat levelled off at four metres and then he went to check the gauges.

Hans came into the control room, sneering, as he smelled sweat and grease in the noisy confined section, he handed the Captain a sealed envelope.

“Here are your orders!” he snapped as the Captain opened the envelope and read its contents.

“It’s signed by the Füehrer,” said Hans, glaring at the Captain, who after reading his instructions knew that his vessel would no longer have any contact with the outside world.

The war-weary commander looked at Hans and then gave orders to the control room crew.

“Helmsman, starboard 15, steer 3-5-Zero. Down planes ten degrees, make our depth 15 metres.”

The helmsman repeated the order aloud and eased forward on the helm control.

The Captain smirked as Kruger lost his balance and grabbed onto a hot metal pipe, wincing as the boat made a gentle descent. Captain Viktor went to the U-boat’s intercom and ordered all officers’ to the wardroom. He went to his chart table, took out charts of their destination, and he and Hans Kruger left the control room, passing two SS soldiers in the communications cabin removing the U-boats radio.

The Elektroboote angled down, gliding under the cold grey North Sea.

*In Appendix

Type XX’s U-boats were also known as Elektrobooteand the first submarines designed to operate entirely submerged.

Ryan rushed over, shook the Keeper’s shoulders, and looking into his glazed eyes, yelled, “Church, Church… are you okay?”

Church squinted at Ryan and then around the room. He wiped vomit from around his mouth with his hand as his faculties returned. Composing himself, but appearing unaware of his surroundings, he put his cluttered desk in order.

Ryan stood back and watched as colour returned to Church’s ashen face and he stopped trembling. When Church appeared to be back to his normal self, Ryan said, “That was a powerful one boss. Pinky and I felt it in the living room.”

Church coughed as he focused on Ryan, and with a quake in his voice, replied, “That was the worst experience and the most powerful spirit that I have ever encountered.”

Ryan frowned as he glared at the mess in the portal room, “Who was it?” he asked.

The answer never came. The door swung open and a woman in her twenties with short blonde hair entered the room carrying two mugs. She went over to Church and Ryan.

“Are you okay, Church?” Pinky asked, sounding concerned as she handed both men a mug of tea and said, “Here drink this.”

“Thanks, but I need something stronger than tea, Pinky,” said Church, his hands trembling as he took the mug.

“I know, so I put a drop of Johnny Walker in it,” Pinky replied and smiled.

“Great!” exclaimed Ryan, who after slurping his tea winced

“Duh, not for you dopey,” said Pinky and chuckled. She then saw something in the corner of the room and gasped.

Church took a drink of his beverage. He felt the whisky hitting the back of his throat and caressing his oesophagus as it eased down, giving him a warm glow. Church exhaled, picked up his notepad, glanced at it, and then replaced it on the desk. Ryan picked up the pad.