iron pirate (10 page)

On deck the ship seemed deserted, and only abandoned brooms and paint brushes marked the sudden alarm.

He climbed swiftly to the upper bridge, aware that the antiaircraft guns were already traversing towards the land, and men were putting on helmets and dragging belts of ammunition to the short-range weapons.

It was still a bright afternoon with just a few jagged clouds towards the open sea.

Hechler barely heard the quick reports from the officers around him but stared instead at the long stretches of camouflaged netting which hung between the masts and above the main armament. It was the same aboard the
Liibeck.
It did not hide a ship from an inquisitive aircraft, but it acted as a disguise and broke up a ship's outline.

Theil took a pair of binoculars from a messenger and then handed them back with a terse, 'Clean the lenses, damn you!'

Hechler looked across the starboard screen. The airfield was invisible from here, but there ought to be some fighters scrambled by now, he thought.

He hated being at anchor. Like lying in a trap. The bait. The ship had been at short notice for steam since his return from Kiel, but not that short. It would take an hour to slip and work out to some sea-room.

He turned his attention to the other cruiser. All her secondary armament was at full elevation, and in his mind's eye he saw Rau, watching the heavy cruiser and probably comparing the times it had taken for both ships to clear for action.

Theil muttered irritably, Come on, get those planes airborne!'

He must be thinking much the same. Too many warships had been caught in enclosed fjords and damaged beyond repair by daring hit-and-run raids.

An inland battery had opened fire and every pair of glasses scanned the clouds as the shells left their familiar dirty brown stains in the sky.

Theil exclaimed, 'I can't see a bloody thing!'

The young one-striper, Konrad Jaeger, called suddenly, 'I see it! One aircraft, sir, at red four-five!'

Hechler sensed Theil's annoyance but concentrated on the bearing until sunlight shone like a bright diamond on the plane's cockpit cover.

Another voice hissed, 'Nowhere near the thing!'

Hechler watched the shell-bursts gathering in an untidy cluster while some earlier ones broke up and drifted downwind.

Hechler had to agree with the unknown sailor. The shooting was very poor and the tiny sliver of metal in the sky did not even alter course.

It was not a bomber anyway, and seemed to be quite alone.

Bodo was described as a safe anchorage and better protected than most. It was likely that enemy agents would know of
Prinz Luitpold's
presence here, just as her departure from Vejle would be known and plotted in London. However, there was no need to invite some reckless reconnaissance plane to confirm everything.

Theil said between his teeth, 'Our Arado replacement is expected, sir,' He sounded anxious. 'I hope to hell that headquarters have ordered it to stand away.'

Hechler looked over the screen and past the nearest gun-crews as they tried to track the aircraft, their anti-flash hoods making

them look like members of some strange religious order.

The aircraft derrick was already swung out, the tackle prepared to hoist the new Arado inboard as soon as it landed in the fjord.

'Gunnery officer requests permission to use main armament, sir.'

'Negative.' Hechler knew that Kroll would shoot at anything just to exercise his men. But it was a waste of ammunition and with as much hope of hitting the reconnaissance plane as a bow and arrow, in fact the solitary aircraft was already heading away, flitting between the clouds, the shell-bursts too far away to catch it.

Theil said, 'Here they are!
At last.
Late as bloody usual!'

Two fighters streaked from the land, the echo of their engines roaring around the fjord with a throaty vibration. The sun shone on their black crosses as they tilted over and then tore towards the sea.

Hechler lowered his binoculars and glanced at Theil and the others. Theil was furious, too angry perhaps to notice the coincidence. The anti-aircraft battery had been haphazard, just as the fighter cover had been far too late to do anything.

It was as if they had been ordered to hold back. If that was so, it meant just one thing. Headquarters wanted the enemy to know they were here. It was like being in the dark. Being told only a part of von Hanke's strategy. Hechler tried to shrug it off. It was not the first time that air defences had been caught napping. He pictured the admiral in his winged collar, the dry grip of his hands. Von Hanke of all people would know each step before it was made. Just as he had known about the army division which existed only on his map. How many more divisions or battalions were represented only by coloured markers and flags? A million men lay dead from the last campaign. How many more were there now? He tried to dispel the sudden apprehension, the sense of danger.

'Aircraft at green one-one-oh, angle of sight one-oh!'

The gunnery speaker snapped into life. 'Disregard! Aircraft friendly!'

Some of the seamen grinned with nervous relief, but Hechler crossed the bridge to watch the float-plane as it left the land's protection and followed its own reflection across the flat water.

He snapped, 'I want to see that pilot as soon as he comes aboard! We may be short of a plane and the man to fly it, but by God I'll send him back double-quick unless he can explain himself!'

All the smiles were gone now. Even young Jaeger had enough experience to realise the cause of the captain's cool anger. If there had been a proper air attack, especially by carrier-borne torpedo bombers, the Arado replacement would have been right in the middle of it, and Kroll's flak gunners would have had to hold their fire or shoot it down with the attackers.

Fall out action stations.' Hechler controlled his anger.

Moments later the guardrails were thronged with men again as the new float-plane made a perfect landing and then taxied towards the anchored cruiser.

Theil dropped his glasses. 'Extra passenger, sir.' He bit his lip. it looks like the rear-admiral.'

Even as the plane glided towards the side Hechler saw Leitner grinning up at them, before removing his flying helmet to don his oak-leaved cap.

He said, 'I don't care if it's Christ Almighty. That was a damn stupid thing to do!'

Hechler was as much concerned at his own anger as he was about the admiral's unorthodox arrival. Was it because there were so many questions still unanswered? If they engaged one of the British convoys for instance. Would Rau's
Liibeck
be able to withdraw safely? That, almost more than the mission itself, had filled him with uncertainty.

Followed by Theil he hurried from the bridge and down to the catapult, where a side-party had been hastily assembled.

Leitner pulled himself up from the Arado without waiting for it to be hoisted aboard. He was flushed and excited, and could barely stop himself from laughing aloud at Hechler's grave features. Together they watched the plane being hoisted up the side, water spilling from the floats as the handling party used their guy-ropes t o sway it round. The Arado was brand-new, and bore no camouflage paint. As it came to rest on the catapult before being manhandled inboard Hechler saw the bright red stripe on the side. Like something from the Great War, he thought grimly.

Leitner stood with his arms folded, still dressed in a white flying suit, his cap at a rakish angle as he had appeared many times in the newspapers.

Hechler watched the pilot and observer climb down to the deck and then said, 'I'll see
you
later. You might have got your arse shot off!'

The pilot turned and stared at him and then pulled off the black helmet goggles.

Hechler stared as a mass of auburn hair tumbled over the other man's shoulders.

The admiral made a last effort to contain his amusement and said, 'Captain, may I introduce Erika Franke. One of the finest pilots in the Third Reich, I believe!'

She eyed him without curiosity, her lips slightly parted as she shook out her hair from her flying suit.

'Quite a welcome, Captain.' She did not offer her hand.

Hechler could feel the side-party's astonishment giving way to broad grins, and Theil's pink-faced disbelief that this had happened.

Hechler looked at the admiral. What I said still goes, sir.'

She was watching him, amused or merely bored he could not tell.

Erika Franke, of course. Her father had been an ace pilot who had died in attempting a lone flight across a desert in Africa. She had won several prizes within a year of obtaining her licence. And she had even made her name in the war when she had flown into an encircled army position in Italy to rescue one of the Fiihrer's top advisers before the whole place had been overrun.

He said, 'I am not used to -' It sounded defensive, foolish.

She turned away to watch as the two fighters came roaring back across the water.

'Evidently, Captain. We must try to change that, mustn't we?'

Leitner clapped him on the shoulder.

It will be a different war, Dieter.' He became serious again. For all of us, yes?'

The girl turned and looked at them calmly. 'I'd like to change and have a shower, if I may.' She touched her upper lip with her tongue. 'Even at the risk of getting my, er, arse shot off, eh?'

Hans Stoecker in his best uniform with a bolstered Luger at his belt stood nervously outside the wardroom. He felt on edge, unable to concentrate on anything, even the prospect of meeting Sophie again.

It was all so strange and unreal, he thought, after the patrols and bombardments., the wild elation of watching from his position high above the bridge when the main armament had fired on I he enemy.

The wardroom throbbed with music, and was packed from side to side with officers and visitors alike. Like the peacetime navy must have been, he thought, without fear of a sudden air-attack or torpedo.

With the rear-admiral's flag hoisted over the ship everyone had expected things to move swiftly, that the
Prinz
would head out to sea again.

He recalled seeing the girl pilot as she had climbed down from the catapult. Like most of the company he had read of her exploits, especially the last one when she had flown through enemy flak to lift off an important politician. Stoecker did not really like the idea of women in the firing line, but after meeting Sophie he was not certain of anything. She was not a schoolgirl any more. She was a woman, and had probably seen more results of war than he had.

Now he had two secrets to hold. One was the letter, still unopened. He had nearly destroyed it several times but something made him hold back. The other secret was what Sophie had told him.

She was ordered to a hospital in Norway. Suppose it was where they were based? They would meet again. Like that last time when they had kissed and clutched each other, hearts pounding while they had tasted a new and delicate love.

A curtain swirled back and Leutnant zur See Konrad Jaeger stepped over the coaming. He took a pistol from the rack and clipped it around his waist.

He grimaced as a great burst of laughter came from beyond him.

'Time for rounds, Stoecker. Others have all the luck.'

It would take all of an hour to go round the flats and messes, to check padlocks and magazine and to sign all the log-sheets. By the time they had finished some of the guests would have left.

Stoecker nodded to a boatswain's mate and messenger who were waiting to accompany the young officer on his rounds. There was a faint smell of schnapps in the damp air, and he hoped laeger had not noticed it. He was a good officer, for a one-striper that was. But he'd come down on Stoecker if he found someone had been drinking on watch.

Jaeger was not aware of the acting petty officer's wary glance. He was thinking of the wardroom party, the first one he had ever attended in a real combat warship. The
Prinz
was famous; you couid see the excitement, even awe, on the faces of the guests, and especially the women. The admiral must have a lot of influence even in that direction, he decided. There were lots of women aboard, and most appeared to be German except for the wives of some local officials.

Preceded by the boatswain's mate, Jaeger and his little party climbed to the cooler air of the quarterdeck, where Korvetten-kapitan Froebe was waiting by the accommodation ladder to welcome guests below the shaded police lights.

It was a rare sight, and Jaeger paused to watch as two women in long, colourful dresses with some officers from the airfield stood by the guardrails, their hair moving in the evening breeze, their eyes exploring the ship.

Jaeger thought of the young girl he had met in the wardroom. It was unlikely he would get a look-in there, he thought. Hampe, the torpedo officer and a well-known womaniser, had been watching them, waiting for rounds to be called. For him to leave.

A figure moved from the shadows and Jaeger called his men to attention.

The captain touched his cap and smiled. 'Hard luck, Jaeger, but rank has its privileges, you see.'

Jaeger grinned. He could recall standing like a ramrod at attention for minutes on end in his last ship, where he had completed his training. That captain had been a tyrant, a bully you would never want to speak to even if it had been allowed.

Hechler was so different. Did he never have any worries or doubts?

Hechler saw the youngster's glance in spite of the gloom. He had also noticed the faint tang of schnapps. That would be the boatswain's mate. His mother and sister had just been reported killed in an air raid. He would let it pass. Hechler strode on, half-dreading the party and Leitner's exuberance.
This
time, he would say nothing.

Theil was waiting to meet him outside the wardroom and Hechler asked, ‘All going well?'

Theil nodded. 'Like old times.'

Hechler stepped into the wardroom and moved through the packed figures. It was hard to see this place as it usually was, or used as a sickbay for wounded troops brought offshore from the I ighting.