Michael Wenberg - The Last Eagle

When Eryk nodded, Stefan ordered the Eagle deeper and called another course correction.

While the captain watched silently, Stefan hollered, “Anything, Ears?”

“No, sir. No contacts,” came the response from the sound room.

Sieinski blew out his cheeks, holding onto the pipes to keep from collapsing. “Well, that’s good news,” he said with shaky voice. “Let’s run for a few hours,” he ordered gruffly, gathering himself, reasserting his position, “and then find a safer place to wait until nightfall. I don’t want to get too far off station.” Sieinski didn’t wait around. He turned and shuffled like an old man back to his bed.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Stefan said. He glanced around the control room. Minor damage. A few leaks, broken glass, cracked dials. It could have been worse, much worse. And it would have been his fault. The only fool on this boat was him; that was for sure. He clenched his right hand into a fist. Next time, he wouldn’t stay quiet, even if it meant challenging the captain directly in front of the men. No sense obeying orders that got them all killed. He would have to use all his meager skills to make sure it didn’t get that far. Unfortunately, finessing senior officers had never been one of his strong suits. He wasn’t optimistic about how he would do with Sieinski. The man was obviously coming unhinged. It couldn’t all be blamed on the blow to the head. No one really knew how a man would act under stress. Now they were about to find out, not only with Sieinski, but the rest of the crew, as well.

In a perverse way, however, Stefan knew that the attack hadn’t been a bad thing. It had gotten the crew’s attention, given them their first taste of battle. They must all do their jobs or they would die. It was that simple.

Stefan noticed the seaman at the helm who had peed himself glancing furtively in his direction. “Back in sixty seconds,” Stefan said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. The boy scrambled out of his seat, and ducked down the passageway toward the bow, trying and failing to hide the stain on front of his pants with his hands.

Squeaky grinned wickedly. His voice boomed through the control room and after the boy. “Hey, Lubomir, don’t forget to bring back a diaper.”

There was a smattering of nervous laughter. Even Stefan had to smile. They had survived. And learned something in the process. It could have been worse, much worse.

“Find us a safe place to rest this time,” Stefan said.

“Aye, aye,” Eryk intoned.

“At nightfall, we return the favor.”

“A word with you, Captain?” Ritter tapped his knuckles on the bulkhead outside Sieinski’s closet-sized quarters.

The Eagle had been quiet for an hour, cradled in a bed of silt 80 meters from the surface of the Baltic this time. Around the vessel, the various stations were manned by a skeleton crew. Everyone else resting up for the long night to come, no longer aware of the cocktail of fetid smells so thick it almost made the air visible: the stink of unwashed bodies, ripening bananas, mold, urine, smoked meats, chlorine, excrement, diesel fumes. With humidity at 100 percent, everything was damp with condensation running down the walls and sporadically dropping from the ceiling like rain in a tropical forest.

“Enter,” came the listless response.

Ritter pushed aside the curtain, stepped partially inside. On the bunk in front of him was Sieinski, laying on his side, legs pulled up to his chest. Despite the thick layer of blankets, he was shivering violently.

“Maybe I should come back?” Ritter said.

“No, no, what is it?” Sieinski said through chattering teeth. “I’ve never been rude to an invited guest and I’m not about to start.”

Ritter shrugged. “Well then. I won’t be long. I understand you are considering a run to France?”

“Where did you hear that?” Sieinski said sharply.

Ritter spread out his arms. “People talk. Hard to piss around here without someone noticing.”

Sieinski pushed out his chin. He was in no mood to argue. “What if I am?” he said through clenched teeth.

“You are captain,” Ritter said quickly. “Of course, it is your prerogative. I would not question that. After all, I am just an engineer, a technician, not a soldier. My colleagues and I wanted to make sure you had all the information you needed to make a good decision.”

“What do you mean?”

“France…. you will never make it,” Ritter said bluntly.

Sieinski pushed away the blanket with a derisive snort and sat up, grasping the edge of his bunk with both hands to hold himself steady. “Oh, please, don’t tell me about the capabilities of the vaunted Kriegsmarine . We can travel submerged for nearly 100 hours if we need to. And we have the means to protect ourselves. We can make it, I’m confident of it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ritter said softly, his eyes glittering.

“Explain?”

“The repairs to the hydraulic pumps and the rest of the systems…. I never expected them to last even this long. There is only one permanent fix. New pumps. If you attempt a journey to France, my, uh, colleagues and I are convinced that, well….” He shook his head. “Like I said. We won’t make it. There is not one possibility in 100.”

Sieinski bowed his head for a moment, his body sagged. “What does Chief K say?”

Ritter shrugged. “I think your chief is loyal to his captain, but as far as understanding the mechanics of the Eagle and the intricacies of her hydraulic system, well, that boy with the pimples, Jerzy, he is a better engineer….”

“I see,” said Sieinski wearily, his eyes dull. It was taking every effort to remain upright. It was almost impossible to concentrate on this new problem. He had thought it settled, they would patrol for a day longer, and then he would get confirmation from headquarters of the radio message he had sent earlier. With the war going so badly, heading for France was the only sensible thing to do. Sweden was another possibility. “What do you suggest?”

Ritter didn’t respond right away. Better to be casual about it, not too eager. It must seem like a new thought, an off-the-cuff suggestion. “Well, I don’t know what is best. But we do have repair facilities in Tallinn,” he said. “Modest, of course. But I expect that what the Eagle needs could be found there in short order. Yes, that’s it. Not as close as Sweden, but if you go there, your war is over. They won’t let you leave out of fear of endangering their sacred neutrality. Not to mention Sweden.” He wrinkled his nose. “If for one much prefer the attractions of Paris to those Lutheran tight asses. In Tallinn you could repair the Eagle , get rid of your American passengers and me and my men, and then be on your way to France, and continue the fight You wouldn’t need us anymore. It would only delay you a few days. No more.”

Sieinski leaned back against the bulkhead, pulled the blanket over his lap and began nodding with interest. Of course, it made sense. Perfect sense. And while there, he could see a doctor about his head and his other need. The very thought of being able to satisfy his craving for opium was almost overwhelming. Was there anything more he needed to prove to himself or his father? Of course not, he rationalized. After all, he had gone without it for three days. That was an adequate test of character, particularly given the tremendous strain he had been under. Tallinn? The real question was, Why he hadn’t he considered it earlier? Or why hadn’t one of his officers? It had become clear to him that they were holding things back from him. But that could all be addressed after a short stop in Tallinn. No need to radio for permission, either. The fleet commanders had other, more important, things to consider. This fell well under the discretion of a captain during time of war.