Griffin W.E.B. - Honor Bound 01 - Honor Bound

"I didn't know, Peter, whether or not you were a Jew-hating Nazi," Schirmer said, meeting his eyes, "but it was clear to me that you were making the Steins uncomfortable. And making things worse, the Argentineans at the table are rooting for the English in this war. He was educated in England and works for our railroad, which was designed and built by the English."

"I am not, mi Capitan, either a Nazi or a Jew-hater."

"I didn't think you would be, just to look at you, but I had no way of knowing."

"I wonder how they got out of Germany," Peter blurted, thinking aloud.

"I have no idea," Schirmer replied. "The L.M.A.E. office in Lisbon makes sure they have an entrance visa to Argentina and a paid-for ticket, and that's all we care about."

"There are a number of Germans, mi Capitan, myself and my father and many of our friends included, who loathe the Nazis and are ashamed at their treatment of Jews."

"As far as I am concerned, the subject is closed. All is well that ends well, Peter. I find you a delightful dinner companion and an even more delightful opponent at chess. You are not quite as good as I am, but you're good enough to give me a very good game."

"Our final breakfast, Peter," el Capitan Schirmer said on the morning of December 13, as they lingered over their coffee. "I shall miss your smiling face, an island of joy in this sea of sour-pusses."

The Chief Engineer snorted. "There is something wrong with a man who leaps out of bed when he doesn't have to," he said.

"You Spaniards feel that way," Schirmer said. "We of German stock regard each day as a glorious opportunity to do something constructive."

"Carajo!"—roughly, Oh shit!

"Pay no attention to him, Peter. He has been bitter since the day he discovered he is known as 'Tiny Prick' among the girls under the El Puente Pueyrred?n"—a railroad bridge in La Boca.

The Chief Engineer stood up and held out his hand to Peter.

"If I don't see you again, it's been a pleasure, Peter. I'm in the telephone book. If you have a free moment, give me a call, and I will take you to El Puente Pueyrred?n and ask the girls themselves to tell you what they call el Capitan."

Peter stood up.

"Thank you, Sir, for the privilege of your company."

As they shook hands, there was a subtle change in the ambient vibrations of the ship. The Chief Engineer cocked his head.

"Stop engines," he said. At the same instant, Peter reached the conclusion that the vibration was gone, and that meant the engines had stopped.

Schirmer nodded, and turned to Peter.

"They were on the radio this morning," he said. "They are sending people to meet you aboard the pilot boat. Maybe you should get dressed."

For the last ten days of the voyage Peter had been dressing just as the ship's officers dressed—in white shirt and shorts loaned to him by Capitan Schirmer.

"Yes, Sir. I suppose I'd better. Con su permiso?"—With your permission? (May I leave you?)

The officer's steward had his perfectly pressed and starched summer khaki uniform hanging on the door of his cabin.

I wonder how much I should tip him. He's really taken good care of me. I should have asked Schirmer. I will miss him. I will miss the whole damned thing, the steward, the good food, the officers at the table, but especially Schirmer.

When he left his cabin, he saw Schirmer standing on the flying bridge, looking down at the sea. He went to him and asked about the tip. Schirmer told him, then pointed down.

Peter turned. A good-looking launch, with a good deal of varnished wood and gleaming brass, was alongside. A ladder had been put over the side, and a tall stocky man in an ornate uniform was very carefully climbing up it. Waiting to follow him was a much thinner man in a Wehrmacht colonel's uniform. He removed his cap and dabbed at his forehead and shaved head with a handkerchief.

Those are winter uniforms. Why the hell are they wearing winter uniforms in this heat?

The Belgrano's second mate was on deck with a couple of sailors.

Probably waiting for the clown in the ornate uniform— what the hell is that, anyway?— to fall off the ladder.

"I suppose I'd better go down there," Peter said.

Schirmer nodded and grunted.

Peter went down the two ladders to the main deck. He reached the railing as the second mate helped the clown in the fancy uniform onto the deck.

Peter noticed for the first time that there was a brassard with a red swastika on the clown's left sleeve.

That makes him a Nazi.

The clown looked at Peter sternly.

The sonofabitch expects me to salute him. Fuck him. That's not a military uniform. Maybe Nazi party, probably diplomatic corps. I am a soldier; I exchange salutes with soldiers.

"Guten Morgen," Peter said politely.

The Wehrmacht Colonel came on deck a moment later.

Peter saluted, a military salute.

"Guten Morgen, Herr Oberst."

"Herr Hauptmann," the Colonel replied as he returned the salute.

The clown in the fancy uniform held out his right arm stiffly in the Nazi salute. Peter glanced up at the flying bridge. Schirmer was still leaning on the rail, watching the little ceremony. He was smiling, as if amused.

"I am Anton von Gradny-Sawz, First Secretary of the Embassy of the German Reich to the Republic of Argentina," the clown announced, "and this is Oberst Karl-Heinz Gr?ner, the Military Attach?."

"Hauptmann von Wachtstein," Peter said, "and this is Claudio Saverno, Second Officer of the Belgrano.''

"Welcome aboard the Belgrano," Saverno said in Spanish.

A third man, in mussed civilian clothing, stepped off the ladder onto the deck.

"Mi Capitan," Saverno said. "El Capitan Schirmer is on the bridge. Would you care to join him?''

"Hola, Bernardo!" Schirmer called down loudly. "Come on up!"

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" Gradny-Sawz asked.

"Claudio, may I use the mess?" Peter asked.

"Of course, Peter. I'll send the steward with coffee and whatever."

"Gracias, amigo."

Peter gestured to show the way.

"Will you follow me, please, gentlemen?"

He led them to the mess.

"I was led to believe, Herr Hauptmann," Gradny-Sawz opened the conversation, "that you have been invested with the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross. May I ask why you are not wearing it?"

"I wasn't aware this was a formal occasion."

"It is a very formal occasion, Herr Hauptmann," Oberst Gr?ner said dryly.

"And can you get into a proper uniform?" Gradny-Sawz asked.

"By proper, mein Herr, I gather you mean winter?"

"The Colonel commanding the Husares de Pueyrred?n," Colonel Gr?ner said, "was kind enough to advise me the uniform of the day for the ceremony on the dock will be the winter dress uniform."

"Jawohl, Herr Oberst."

"A squadron of the Husares, plus a military band, and a delegation of Argentine officials, military and civilian, will be on the dock," Gr?ner went on, "to accept the remains of Hauptmann Duarte from your custody. We will accompany them from the dock to the late Hauptmann Duarte's home. Here is the schedule we have been given. Do you speak Spanish?"

He handed Peter two sheets of paper stapled together.

"Jawohl, Herr Oberst," Peter repeated.

There was a vibration as the engines engaged.

"Following which," Gradny-Sawz said, "you will be taken to the Frade Guest House. Until the ceremonies are completed, you will reside there as the guest of Colonel Jorge Guillermo Frade, uncle of the late Hauptmann Frade, and former colonel commanding the Husares de Pueyrredon. I wish to speak to you about that."

"Oh?"

"It is a singular courtesy on the part of the Frade family to you. Your conduct during that period is of great importance, if you take my meaning."

In other words, I am not to get drunk and piss all over the carpet, right?