Michael Wenberg - The Last Eagle

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

Sieinski smiled. “You are a gentleman. Please, a cup of tea would do nicely. I am feeling a bit better. Nasty blow to the head and a bout of something else. A visit to Tallinn would also give me a chance to see a doctor and visit some family. Did you know that my mother is from Tallinn?”

Ritter smiled. “What a pleasant surprise,” he said.

“Tallinn?” Stefan exclaimed. “Why?”

Sieinski took his time replying. He sipped from his tea, smacked his lips, and then took another sip. “Tell him…” Sieinski nodded to Ritter who was crowded into the doorway with Stefan.

“The repairs we made were only temporary. It is imperative you find more permanent solutions before subjecting the Eagle to the further rigors of war. We have facilities close at hand in Tallinn to help make that happen.”

“Since when? I’ve never heard of any.”

“Then, I’m sorry to say, you are behind the times. They’ve been there since, ah, last year, I believe.” Ritter stared blankly back at Stefan, not a challenge, but not backing down either.

Stefan peered over his shoulder. “Chief, get down here.”

Chief K, who had noticed the crowd in front of the captain’s doorway and was attempting to duck into the toilet, sagged noticeably and began trudging down the passageway toward them.

“What’s the status of the repairs?” Stefan asked. “Any problems?

Chief K glanced furtively at Ritter, licked his lips, and then dropped his eyes to the floor. “Well, you see, they seem,” he drew out the last word for emphasis, “all right for now, but no guarantees that they will last.”

Stefan gave a short bark of laughter. “There are no guarantees in war or life, Chief, didn’t you know that? We could all be dead a moment from now.”

“Well, what I mean to say is… “

Time for a little push, Ritter decided. “Captain,” he interrupted, “I won’t be responsible for what may happen to this vessel when she breaks down. And she will break down, mark my words. Therefore, if you choose not to seek port and procure a permanent solution to our temporary repairs, my men and I request a life raft, if you please. We will depart the vessel immediately, and take our chances out there….”

“For chrissakes…,” Stefan bellowed, “don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t…..”

“It’s settled then,” Sieinski said calmly from his perch on his bunk. “Not that I needed your permissions. At nightfall, we surface and make best possible speed for Tallinn.”

Stefan ran his hand through his hair, bewildered by the sudden turn of events. “Estonia? Latvia is closer. It has top-notch repair facilities. I’m sure we could get what we need there. And aren’t the Estonians cozy with the Germans?”

Sieinski’s eyes narrowed. Enough. He would remember his second in command’s outbursts. It bordered on insubordination. There would be time to take care of that once they arrived in Tallinn. “Thank you, Stefan. I appreciate your advice. I really do,” he lied. “But Estonia, as you know, is a neutral country. I just verified that with headquarters. Under the circumstances, we can expect them to respect all appropriate protocols. Under international law, we will have 24 hours, I think, to get back underway, isn’t that correct?”

Stefan nodded.

“Is that enough time, chief?”

It was Chief K’s turn to nod.

“Well then, that settles that.” Sieinski chirped, looking very pleased with himself.

“I’ll notify headquarters,” Stefan said.

Sieinski waved his hand dismissively. “No need. I’ll take care of it,” he said dismissively.

Stefan eyed Sieinski. Bullshit, he was thinking. Sieinski had no intention of sending a message to headquarters.

“Anything else?

“No, sir,” Stefan said. And then he left.

“How about a tour, sailor?”

Stefan looked up from his cup of coffee and can of fruit, his eyes red with fatigue. He had been thinking about a long soak in one of those big, claw-foot tubs you find in the best hotels. Water hot enough to make you gasp. Steam rising lazily from the surface like mist from a glassy sea on a cold Arctic morning. Sieinski’s suite had probably boasted one. Stefan regretted not checking the bathroom to find out. No doubt, it would have been large enough to accommodate his bulk, and a pleasant squeeze for two. What was her name? Marie. Yes, she would be a welcome addition to any tub. He would scrub her back with a coarse scrub, and then let her return the favor. Or this woman with the broken nose who had just interrupted his peace and quiet. Stefan eyed her sharply. It wasn’t hard to imagine her in a bathtub either, not that she appeared to need one right at the moment. Stefan could see his gaze was making her uncomfortable, but he didn’t take his eyes from her. She shifted her weight, crossed her arms. Of course, washing aboard a submarine was out of the question. Fresh water was much too precious to waste on something as wasteful as a bath or shower. The same with shaving, though Stefan had noticed that Sieinski managed to get around that particular rule. Prerogatives of the captain—of this captain, anyway. How had Kate managed to make herself look so, well, wonderful? Stefan wondered. Her pale skin was freshly-scrubbed, her hair, pulled back into a ponytail, gleamed in the dim light. The shirt and pants were her own, but even they looked clean.

“What’s your secret?” he said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, how do you look so, so clean while the rest of us already look and, I imagine, smell like a bunch of Neanderthals.”

Kate gave a relieved laugh. “Oh, well, thank you. I’ve been sworn to secrecy, but I suppose I can let you know. Cooky let me use leftover water to clean up a bit. I was still picking dried blood out of my hair. It was ick. He took pity on me.”

“Ick?” Stefan said, trying the English word out loud. “You know, dirty,” Kate explained in Polish.

“Oh, yes, I can see that,” Stefan said. “Ick,” he said again. “I think I like that English word.” He took the last spoonful of fruit, held the sweet flesh in his mouth before swallowing.

“That was some interesting fireworks earlier….”

“Depth charges,” Stefan said, licking syrup from his lips. “Simple but effective. Essentially barrels stuffed with high-explosives set to detonate at specific depths. Or they can be put on timers. They are delivered either via ship or plane. If they explode close enough, they sudden compression can crush our hull like a tin can.” To demonstrate, he grabbed the empty fruit can and squeezed. He slammed the crumpled remain down on the table. It was a useful reminder.

Kate tried a wane smile. “Yes, easy to forget all that, isn’t it. We are underwater, aren’t we. Are we safe?”

Stefan shrugged. “For now. We stay here until dark, and then surface.”

“I suppose you’ll go looking for a ship or two to sink.” Kate couldn’t restrain a shudder, imagining what it would be like. “Boys like sinking things, don’t they?”

Stefan didn’t smile this time. “It has to be done,” he said simply. “Though we will not hunt tonight.” His eyes darkened with disappointment.

“Really? Why not? Isn’t that what war is all about? Kill or be killed.”

Stefan combed his beard with his fingers. “Yes, that’s about right. Politicians talk and talk and talk. I suppose it makes them feel like they are accomplishing something. In this case, however, it simply gave Hitler a chance to rearm.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“What gave you the idea that I’m fair?” Stefan stared at her a moment, and then continued. “And now the Polish people pay the price. And for the soldiers and sailors, our leaders point us in a direction. We go. In this case, our captain has ordered us to port—Tallinn.”