Vogel tracked down Hennsen and ordered him to catch what people he could and herd them up the track. Hennsen went off, blowing his whistle. Before long, about forty men, women, and children were pushed up Walk to the Base. Dressed in their pajamas, housecoats, and hastily pulled-on whatnots, they were a bewildered bunch. A woman dressed in a pink nightgown was carrying, for no apparent reason, an old pelican.
Hennsen saluted Vogel. “We have done our best, sir,” he said, which Vogel did not take to be encouraging. Vogel checked his watch. Over thirty minutes had elapsed since the operation had begun. It was time to end it and get back to the boat. He considered the situation and decided the beach was the best place to do the real work. There was plenty of room down there and he could spread the people out in a long line so they couldn’t be missed even by the idiots crewing the machine gun. “Take them down to the beach,” he said. “And hurry up!”
• • •
Aboard Vogel’s U-boat, Krebs heard the explosions. When he asked the stern torpedomen what had happened, they shrugged. They had never paid much attention to him. He got up and walked to the hatch and they made no move to stop him. “I am going to the toilet,” he said, and they didn’t even bother to answer. Without Vogel aboard, nobody seemed to be in charge. Krebs kept going until he reached the galley. It was empty and the galley hatch was open. He climbed up the ladder and out on deck. Onshore, the remains of what appeared to be warehouses were smoldering, and behind them, a number of houses were burning. Then he saw a group of people being herded toward the beach. He heard one of the lookouts on the tower say, “Now, we will see the end of tonight’s work.”
Krebs looked around and saw nobody watching him. He eased into the cold water and started swimming.
Demands of “Schnell, schnell!” from the Germans sent the people to the beach. Vogel fired his pistol into the air to keep them going. Things were better now, Vogel thought. He was going to bring terror to these shores. Forty dead Americans would be impressive and Berlin would be pleased. The captured townspeople were on the beach, milling about, and his men were formed up on the line of dunes above them. Hennsen reported once more. He was a man apparently without the slightest particle of imagination. “How shall we kill them, sir?” he asked.
“Line them up and mow them down, you fool,” Vogel said. When Hennsen looked blank, Vogel sighed and said, “With the machine gun.”
A woman, the one carrying the pelican, came out of the crowd. “See here,” she said, handing the pelican to someone else. “What are you doing?”
“And who are you?” Vogel asked, against his best judgment. He needed to shoot all these people and get away. But, he’d never spoken to an American and thought it would be interesting while he had the opportunity.
“I’m Queenie O’Neal. Why do you have us decent people standing out here on the beach?”
Vogel decided to show her the reason and shot her with his pistol but he was disappointed in the result. He had aimed at her chest but managed to only graze her arm. She grabbed it, then fell down. He wanted to shoot her again but was afraid he might miss her completely and be laughed at by the men. “For God’s sake, get on with it, Hennsen!” he snapped.
When the explosions erupted on the island, followed by shooting, Max was standing beside Leutnant Sizner on the tower of the U-560. The U-boat was about a mile offshore, standing by to block any ships that might try to come to the rescue. “They’re burning the town,” Max said.
“And soon they will kill all the people,” Sizner replied.
Max’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean?”
“This is an exercise in terror,” Sizner said. “Kapitän Vogel means to scare the Americans out of the war.”
“Is he insane?”
“No. He’s brilliant.” Sizner appraised Max. “Be very careful, Leutnant. Your neck may end up in the same noose as your captain’s.”
Max pondered the situation, then called through the tower hatch. “Chief, would you come up, please?”
When the Chief clambered through the hatch, Max nodded toward Sizner and said, “Leutnant Sizner and I have been discussing matters. It appears I was commissioned some weeks before him, which makes me the ranking officer on board.”
“See here,” Sizner said, “we have discussed no such thing.”
“I am therefore taking over the boat,” Max continued. “Take the Leutnant below and put him under guard. Then come back and help me. I’m going ashore.”
Josh and the other men were at work on the Maudie Jane when they heard the explosions. “The Germans are shelling the town or they’ve come ashore,” Josh said, and immediately started to think about what he could do about it.
Rex trotted in aboard Thunder. “The beach patrol has arrived,” he reported to Josh with a salute. Dosie came running and saluted, too. She had her rifle slung over her shoulder.
“You two wait here,” Josh ordered them, then went after Ready. “Get the machine gun and strap it to Thunder. Then stay with the boat and defend it.”
“Ma and Pa are at the hotel,” Ready said. “I ought to go help them.”
“That’s what I intend to do but I need to travel fast,” Josh said. “Your ankle’s all wrenched. Stay here, do like I tell you.”
Ready reluctantly went off to tie the machine gun onto Thunder’s saddle, along with ammo belts.
Josh gathered the crew and the workers around. “Rex and I will go see what’s what. The rest of you stay here and get the boat ready to go to sea.”
“I’m going with you,” Dosie said.
“No, you need to help defend the Maudie Jane.”
Dosie threw herself into his arms and kissed him with all her might. “I love you, Josh Thurlow!” Everybody around them grinned.
“I love you, too, Dosie Crossan!” he responded with a great, happy shout, then let her go, as it seemed he always did.
Josh and Rex and Thunder made their way up the beach, the leaping fires that marked Doakes and Whalebone City a terrible sight. At the lighthouse, they were met by Keeper Jack, Harro, and Willow. “I will go with you,” Harro said. “This is surely Vogel’s work. Perhaps you will need to talk to him or his men. I can translate.”
That made sense to Josh so he agreed. Willow clutched at Harro. “Let go, Willow,” he said, though gently.
“Why?”
“You want me to help Josh, don’t you?”
Willow reluctantly let him go. “Come back,” she said most plaintively.
Harro didn’t reply. He fell in beside Josh.
Keeper Jack came and put his arm around her. “Josh will take care of him, Willow honey.”
“He is Jacob. Oh, you must know it now,” she said.
“He may be,” the Keeper said, as far as he could go.
Max and two of the deck crew, carrying rifles, paddled ashore in a raft. They dodged over a line of dunes and made their way along behind them. Every few minutes, Max flashed a light toward the sea. Just offshore, the Chief directed the U-560, using the electrics, to keep up with the light. Max hadn’t gone more than a thousand yards before he spotted Vogel and his men and the people on the beach.
Max wasn’t certain of what he should do. Then a machine gun opened up and Vogel’s men fell.
The people on the beach ran. Vogel yelled at his men to fire at them but they were too busy ducking bullets. The American civilians soon disappeared into the night. The wounded woman was taken with them and the pelican, too.
Vogel started sweating. Who knew what force had come across the island with a machine gun? Perhaps it was the United States Marines. This was trouble, real trouble.
Krebs came to what was apparently the main street of the town. Some of the houses were burning. He was surprised when he saw a little man in a derby hat pondering a shed that wasn’t on fire. He was even more surprised when he saw the man pick up a burning brand, open the door to the shed, and toss it inside. The shed was soon engulfed in flames. Krebs sneaked past and disappeared into the
darkness toward the chatter of the machine gun.
Vogel was scared. He had never thought about being killed or caught during his operation. If caught, he would certainly be tried by the Americans and probably hung on any number of charges, including trying to murder civilians. There would be no prisoner-of-war camp for him, nor for the men with him. He raised his head out of the sand. “Men, we must fight our way clear or every one of us will hang.”
This was news to Vogel’s submariners and they didn’t like it. “Let’s run for it,” one of them said, just as a searchlight from the sea exposed them.
“It’s our boat!” Hennsen cried.
A voice came out of the darkness, the voice of Leutnant Max of the U-560. “No, it isn’t.”
Vogel yelled back. “Come here, Max. Help us!”
“I am not here to help you, Vogel,” Max said. “I’m here to stop you.”
“What did those Germans say?” Josh demanded of Harro.
“It’s Lieutenant Max, sir,” Harro said. “Our second-in-command. That’s my boat out there. But he seems to be on the beach. He told Captain Vogel he was going to stop him.”
“Well, if that don’t beat all,” Rex said. “Krauts fighting krauts. What next?”
Josh looked over his shoulder. The people of Whalebone City had formed a bucket brigade from the sea through Doakes, throwing water on the fires. “Rex, get over there and tell those people to keep out of sight until we get things under control.”
Rex went off at a lope.
Krebs was working his way through some sand hills when, to his amazement and joy, he heard Harro’s voice. He crawled in closer, then went running in a crouch to throw himself beside the boy. He didn’t notice for a moment the big man in khakis behind the machine gun. “Kapitän Krebs!” Harro exclaimed.
“Are you all right, Harro?”
Harro was having trouble getting his mouth to work. He didn’t know whether to speak German or English.
Josh grabbed Krebs by the shoulder and rolled him over. “What do you know? I’ve been trying to kill you for nearly two months and here you are.”
“Thurlow?”
“Yes.”
The machine gun in the dunes erupted, and a burst of sand was tossed up in front of Josh. Cursing, he fired back, determined to chop down to beach rock the sand hills that hid the Germans. It quickly proved futile. The sand simply absorbed the bullets. When the muzzle flash stopped dancing before his eyes, Josh turned to continue his talk with Krebs. It was time to establish that the German captain was a prisoner. But Krebs was gone.
And so was the boy.
Vogel grabbed Hennsen by the shoulder. “You and the machine gunners cover the rest of us while we run to the dock. Our boat will be there.”
Hennsen hesitated. He didn’t like the idea of staying behind.
“You will be given an Iron Cross and a promotion,” Vogel said. “And if you don’t follow orders, I will have you shot.”
It wasn’t much of a choice. Hennsen ordered the machine gunners to start firing. Vogel and the remaining men went sprinting across the dunes.
Josh ducked when the machine gun bullets stitched the sand in front of him. Then he saw the machine gunners lift their gun and make a run for it. This time, there was no sand hill to save them. He cut the Germans down with a short burst.
Hennsen took steady aim at the men of the U-560 clambering into the raft. They were traitors. He was truly going to earn his Iron Cross. He squeezed the trigger, nearly getting off the shot before he felt a pressure alongside his ear. A mosquito, perhaps, was his thought. He would have slapped at it except he couldn’t move his arms, nor did he much care after a moment. The pressure had been caused by a bullet entering his skull, snapped off by Rex Stewart as he came walking back from town. Hennsen fell face-down into the sand. Rex came and stood over him, then twirled his rifle around and blew on the barrel. “That was for Joe Johnston,” he said.
51
Deep water, that was their salvation. The U-560 pounded for the Stream and some room to maneuver, lookouts posted fore and aft on the ravaged tower. Harro spelled Pretch on the radio just as a signal from BdU came pouring in. Max decoded the message and carried it to Krebs.
KREBS. YOU ARE STILL RELIEVED. PROCEED IMMEDIATELY TO BASE. VOGEL. PROCEED IMMEDIATELY TO BASE. ALL OTHER BOATS AMERICAN STATION CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR CONTINUED SUCCESS. STRIKE HARD. WOUND THE ENEMY. DO NOT LET UP. BDU
“No doubt Vogel has already contacted Doenitz with his side of the affair,” Max said.
Krebs shrugged. “All he needs to do is to tell the truth and our goose is cooked. I think it’s past time I talked to the boys. Set up the internal communications and I will be right down.”
Max went below while Krebs took one last look around. The sea was completely empty. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. To another U-boat captain, the lack of targets might simply be a disappointment. To Krebs, all that emptiness meant something had changed and the enemy might be hatching a surprise. “You boys,” he said to the lookouts, “cock your ears toward the hatch and you’ll hear what I have to say. But no matter what, sing out if you see anything—and I mean anything.” The lookouts responded affirmatively and Krebs clambered down the ladder and took the microphone from Max.
“Men of the U-560,” he said. “I do not need to remind you of all that we have gone through together in the last weeks. During it all, I have been proud to be your captain. You have performed with distinction and courage and have never failed in your duty to your country nor to me.
“I, however, have failed you. Kapitän Vogel intends to bring me up on charges of treason. Likely, I will be found guilty. But at the moment, that is not my concern. My concern is that we will all return in disgrace. I cannot deny that I have put every one of you in peril. I also cannot change it. Now, as we head back across the Atlantic, I am going to ask you to vote amongst yourselves, section by section, as to whether I will remain your captain until we reach base. I will abide by your decision, whatever it is. I hope you will forgive me because I will never forgive myself for what I have done to you. Out.”
Krebs hung the microphone in its holder and waited. Before long, the Chief came up the ladder into the tower control room. “Sir,” he said, “the men say they have no need for a vote. They will stand with you.”
Krebs was honestly surprised and touched. He went below, walked through the U-560, patted the arm or the shoulder of each man, and thanked them while looking into their eyes for any sign of resentment. He saw none, except for crazy Hans, but even Hans was not resentful for the noose Krebs had fashioned for his neck. He was resentful as always for the abuse of his engines. “They will not fail us, sir,” he said of the roaring diesels.
“I wish our philosophy was half as good as your engines,” Krebs replied. “Then we might deserve to lead the human race.”
“Here’s a philosophy for you, Captain,” Hans replied tartly. “To hell with the human race.”
Krebs made his way forward, reflecting on Hans’s words. All in all, he supposed, it wasn’t a bad philosophy to have if you were a motorman. But Krebs was still a captain of a U-boat, which meant he required another philosophy, the simplest of them all: Survive.
The inhabitants of Whalebone City wished Preacher wasn’t one of the bodies going into the sand. They feared for his soul, considering that he was a preacher who had lost his faith. Dosie, seeing them all so stricken, told them it wasn’t so. “Preacher was holding his Bible when he died,” she said. “That meant he had regained his faith. Isn’t that so?”
Nobody answered Dosie because nobody was certain of the answer. Preacher went down in his wrecked-lumber coffin and the sand was shoveled over him. A driftwood cross went up along with a hastily painted sign hung by a scrap of twine. It said, simply, PREACHER.
The German sailors left behind were buried, too. Doc collected their name tags to give to the authorities should any ever arrive. His infirmary had burned and he had temporarily moved in
to the Hammerhead. The hotel had been scorched but was still open for business. Queenie’s wound had been but a scratch, although Buckets was giving her round-the-clock nursing. Purdy was back at his station on the hotel pizer, although no gulls had returned.
Doc found Keeper Jack saying a few words over the fresh German graves. “How are you, Keeper?” he asked.
“Tolerable,” Keeper Jack answered.
“And the boy?”
“Ran away. Back aboard his U-boat.” Keeper Jack shrugged. “Willow was wrong. He was just a German boy.”
Doc raised his eyebrows, then allowed them to settle into a frown. “A German boy. Is that what you think? Well, Keeper, I compared his fingerprints with Jacob’s before my records were burned.”
Keeper Jack’s eyes widened. “What did you discover, Doc?”
Doc’s frown remained in place. “Why, that he is Jacob. Willow was absolutely correct. He is your boy.”
• • •
“I’m picking up propeller sounds!” Harro cried, his hands clamped to the earpieces of the hydrophone. “A U-boat coming at us and fast! I make it near due north, two miles away.”
“It’s Vogel,” Krebs said to Max, scanning the sea with the Zeiss glasses. He had stopped the U-560’s flight momentarily to give Harro a chance to listen without the distortion of the diesels. It was what he’d expected. Vogel did not intend to let Krebs and his crew return across the Atlantic to give their side of the story. “Look north,” he said to the lookouts. “If you see a periscope, call out!” Then down the open hatch: “Harro, if you hear a torpedo launched, give the alarm!”