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sions to fade away. On the surface there was still no evidence of a
defeated enemy.
Asdic, how s it look?
Asdic to captain. Four echoes, all stationary, can t make it
out.
We ve got him! Robert was jubilant. He broke up into four
pieces. That s the end of him.
Hah! the captain barked in contempt. He would have fooled
you. If he s broken up in four pieces, there would be an oil slick
big enough to get the environmentalists on our back. What has
happened is that this sly fox fired a cluster of S.B.T.s he s
ducked off and left us holding an empty bag."
What are S.B.T.s, sir?
They re Submarine Bubble Targets, the captain explained
readily. They re some chemical pills, the Germans call them
Kobold. They reflect our Asdic and allow him to escape.
Now he s gone? Robert was disappointed.
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U-859
Only temporarily. He escaped while we were throwing our
depth charges at his dummies. We ve lost him for a while but
only for a while. When I get him next time I ll get even with him, I
swear. I ll teach that bastard to waste my ammunition. Each of
those charges costs a fortune.
Frowning in disappointment, he fished a cigar out of his
pocket and started chewing on it. A series of commands sent the
ship searching in ever widening circles toward the west of the
waters around Admiral McCain s purple line, which had been cop-
ied from the chart on the tracking room table to the chart on
Dauntless.
We ll get him soon, boy, the captain addressed Robert opti-
mistically. His battery won t last much past evening, and when he
comes up our radar will catch him. He can t possibly get through.
Yes, sir.
Now, run along, Lieutenant. Join the crew on the depth
charges. Familiarize yourself with the procedure, then relieve the
officer on duty. Soon you will see more action from the quarter
deck again.
Aye, aye, sir!
Robert saluted and left the bridge. On the way to the quarter-
deck he donned his duffle coat, his oilskin and life jacket as
prescribed by regulations.
Out in the open it was icy cold. The wind cut into his unpro-
tected face like a cold knife. He decided then that his place should
be up on the bridge. Uncle Hux had to see to it that he became a
commander in a hurry. When they had sunk those U-boats he
would have a long talk with Uncle Hux.
His stinging eyes searched the many still-unknown faces of the
depth charge operators. He headed toward the loudest voice. It was
Ernie Wallis, who looked at him through watery eyes. His face lit
up when he recognized Robert.
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Arthur Baudzus
Hi, Bob, he greeted him. This weather is murder. We must
be near the North Pole. I prayed to God to send me an offsider, so I
can turn in and warm my frozen bones for a change, and there you
are. Who says there is no merciful God in heaven?
Well, I don t know yet.
Come, I ll show you and then you ll know, Ernie interrupted
Robert s doubts. First, we have to line up more of these babies for
the next attack.
Ernie went on explaining the operation of the throwers.
* * *
After the boat had left Norwegian waters off the coast at Ber-
gen, Kapitänleutnant Henning was on the alert. For this trip, he had
planned no heroic deeds. He just wanted to worm his way through
the bottle-neck without being detected by the enemy. They would
be away for many months, but this next week would be crucial, as
they sneaked on their way past the notorious graveyard of the Rose
Garden.
The boat made slow progress, traveling submerged most of the
time. They surfaced only at night, when the depleted batteries
needed charging. It was agonizing trying to flee this dangerous
area, yet being unable to run. This feeling was truly the stuff night-
mares were made of, running in a frenzy, yet being nailed to the
ground.
On the fourth day, Henning met with a stroke of good luck.
Thick fog had descended upon them, and visibility was down to
zero. He decided that this was a good opportunity to gain some
mileage and run hell for leather. He would make the best of it
while his good fortune lasted. Little merchant traffic was expected
in these waters, except the odd blockading destroyer, and they
operated radar. The U-boat would get plenty of warning when their
Naxos detected the radar signals and they could dive in time to
avert disaster.
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U-859
So now the boat was running full speed ahead, with Henning
standing on the bridge, staring into white emptiness.
He had left the lookouts below, for there was nothing to be
seen out here. That way he could crash-dive faster if an emergency
arose. Besides him, only the Naxos operator was on the bridge,
slowly turning his antenna, searching the air for enemy radar sig-
nals.
Down in the boat, the crew was on alarm alert, ready to crash
dive, should the necessity arise.
All this was a calculated risk, but the captain felt it was worth
while. At a speed of 20 knots he was making good time, and his
batteries were fully charged. He realized that the boat was highly
vulnerable. With the roar of his own diesels, his hydrophone was
useless, but he could be heard from miles away by a lurking, lis-
tening enemy.
The boat itself had radar on board, but it was an inferior, long
wave type and its efficiency would be reduced by the thick fog. It
was no match for the enemy s long range, penetrating detectors,
and in this weather was only useful for preventing collision. He
had only his Naxos to warn him of impending danger.
The bottom line was that every added day in the bottleneck of
the Rose Garden was a deadly threat. The faster he could put this
area behind him, the better were his chances of survival. A faint
smile lit Henning s face, with its week-old stubble. How times had
changed. He had arrived at the stage where he no longer measured
the success of his patrol in enemy tonnage sunk, but in surviving
days, or miles run without being killed.
In front of him, the open Atlantic beckoned like a paradise. In
those open spaces it was still dangerous, but there were more
chances to hide and lose oneself. There, it would be easier to sur-
vive. Impatiently, his eyes drilled into the fog ahead. He felt like
taking oars and helping the boat speed along in order to survive.
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Arthur Baudzus
And survive he would that he was determined of. The fiery
enthusiasm for the Navy of his younger years had waned. Wild
slogans like, Dying for your country and the Führer, did not
impress him any more. He had sworn to get home again, and to
take no unnecessary risks.
Right now the hair on the back of his neck was standing up on
edge. Something did not feel the way it should.
They had traveled for three hours now at top speed. At more
than 20 knots, the sleek bow cut through the waves like it had in
the training ground in the Baltic Sea. This tranquil air gave him an
eerie feeling, like being on another planet. His eyes tried to pene-
trate the silent, white wall ahead. He had the premonition that
some disaster was about to crush in on him.
This was the blockade area! Then where was the enemy? Why
had had he not heard a single bleep of enemy radar? Past experi-
ence had taught him that his opponents were not stupid.
Valenski, you sure your Naxos is in working order? Henning
addressed the other man on the bridge.
Yes, sir, I checked it when I came on duty.
Then check again.
Aye, aye, sir.
From his pocket, Valenski produced an instrument like a torch.
It emitted weak signals on the enemy s radar frequency. He waved
that in front of his antenna and listened to his headphones.
It works perfectly, sir, he reported, and put his testing instru-
ment away, then continued twisting his antenna.
Puzzled, Henning shook his head. The boat proceeded on its
track with the captain staring straight ahead, seeing nothing. His
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