Crush Depth (7 page)

On
Voortrekker,
in the Indian Ocean

“S
CHNAPPS
, G
UNTHER
?”

Jan ter Horst poured Van Gelder a glass before he could refuse. Van Gelder didn’t feel like drinking. He was exhausted from hours of supervising damage-control repairs throughout the ship. The air was breathable now without respirator masks, but it smelled bad. Van Gelder heard men go by outside ter Horst’s closed cabin door, carrying tools and spare parts. Van Gelder knew the crew was still recovering, mentally and physically, from their thorough atomic depth charging by planes from the USS
Reagan
.

Ter Horst had said it would take a lucky shot to sink
Voortrekker.
But Van Gelder thought it was only luck that let
Voortrekker
survive.

On second thought, maybe I could use a drink.

This was the first time in a great while that ter Horst had summoned Van Gelder to a special private meeting, and Van Gelder was nervous. They sat with ter Horst’s fold-down desk between them.

Did he see my hesitation, my qualms, during the attack on Diego Garcia?…Or worse, did he sense my vicarious sadism, watching the warheads blow, and he wants to reclaim all such emotion as
his
exclusive right?

What ter Horst did say was completely unexpected.

“Thank you for backstopping me before, Number One, with the men, in the control room.”

“Sir?”

“When I told you to
relax,
while our missiles were in the air and our antenna dish was up. It had the exact opposite effect from what I intended, of course. It just made the men more nervous, and it undermined your authority as first officer. But what you said then settled everyone down quite nicely. You handled it well.”

Van Gelder thought it safest to just let ter Horst go on.
He could be leading me onto very dangerous ground….

“With all the work in dry dock, and the tribunal on the nuclear sabotage at Umhlanga Rocks, I feel you and I have grown apart, Gunther, outside our official duties.”

Van Gelder hesitated. “I know you’ve been very busy, Captain.”

“As have you. As have you. The best proof of that was our successful attack today. Our ship and crew are responding well, thanks to your efforts.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Sir?”
That question can be taken several ways.

“Do you know why you’re my first officer?”

Oh…uh-oh.
“I was proud to be selected.” Which was safe to say, and true.

This time ter Horst let the silence linger, forcing Van Gelder to speak. Ter Horst sipped from his schnapps. He looked over the rim of the glass at Van Gelder expectantly.

“I don’t know much about the process by which you made the choice, Captain. I could only speculate.”

“A number of men wanted the job. Some pulled strings, lobbied hard, tried to curry my favor.
Those
men disappointed me.
You,
in contrast, stayed modest and discrete. Yet your record caught my eye. It told me things your own words never could. About
you,
your experience, your character, your abilities.”

“Again, thank you, sir.”

“There’s another reason, Gunther. You and I are different in many ways. But this is good. We complement one another ideally…. Yes, I know I love the theatrical, the grand gesture if you will. It’s my nature, these things, and I know that in some ways I’m less than perfect.”

“Sir, your combat success speaks for itself.”

“
Our
combat success, Gunther.
Our
combat success. It wasn’t lost on me that during our battle with USS
Challenger,
you made important contributions.”

“Sir, I—”

“No, please, let me finish. Once or twice then, you even saw something vital a split second before I did, at times when a split second meant the margin between life and death. You saved the ship, and I’ll never forget that.”

“I only did my duty, sir.”
Yes, it was that plus a healthy, practical desire to not get killed.

“All true heroes will say they only did their duty, Gunther. All true heroes will say they were only helping their shipmates survive…. That’s why I want you to know, I put you in for a decoration, before we left dry dock.”

“I—”

“No, please. You deserve it. I expect it will be approved.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re probably wondering by now why we’re having this little chat?”

Van Gelder nodded.

“More schnapps?”

“A little more, please.”

Ter Horst poured. He lifted his shot glass dramatically, then quaffed it in one gulp. Van Gelder felt he’d better do the same. The strong liquor felt good going down. It did help lift Van Gelder’s mood.

“Where we’re heading next, Gunther, and what we have to do there, may well have a decisive effect on the war.”

Again Van Gelder let ter Horst continue.

“You and I must work as one, going forward. What we do
will be very risky and dangerous. I can’t afford to brook any misunderstandings between us, any frictions, even unconscious ones.”

Suddenly Van Gelder felt wary. “I didn’t think there was friction, Captain.”
Was this the trap ter Horst had set and sprung?

But ter Horst waved his hand dismissively. “No, no. That’s not what I meant. We naval officers aren’t paid to be poets or philosophers. But I sense there’s more of the philosopher in you than in me. I sense you’re sometimes troubled about the rightness of our cause, I mean the need for the brutality, the mass destruction, the execution of traitors and spies.”

“Captain, I—”

“No, no.
Please
let me finish. This is not a criticism session. I’m not accusing you of any weakness, or—or of
backsliding,
God forbid.” Backsliding—a euphemism, Van Gelder knew, for cowardice and ideological doubt—was punishable by the noose. “I’m just trying to be a realist, about you and about me and about this war.”

Van Gelder was surprised now, and concerned. He’d never seen ter Horst this open and confiding, even at times in the past—at parties or dinners ashore—when he’d had plenty to drink. Could this be because ter Horst himself was worried about the difficulty of
Voortrekker
’s next task? Did he feel the need to talk, to have an audience, so as to reassure
himself,
because he now faced something overwhelming?

Ter Horst hiccupped, then said, “Excuse me.

“I’m not a man to know fear easily,” ter Horst went on. “I sometimes think I have some kind of character disorder. A fear
deficit,
you know?”

“Sir, the crew admire your bravery.”

“Well, some men come alive in battle and forget there’s such a thing as fear. I suppose I’m one of
them.
Others feel the naked vulnerability in combat all too vividly. Yet they carry on, they do their duty. I think these latter men are the ones with the
true
courage…. I believe you’re one of these
latter type of men, Gunther. A man who feels his fear as a personal enemy from deep inside, and yet who slays that enemy time and again so he can go on and slay the true enemy, the external foe.”

“Er, thank you, Captain.”
How many times have I thanked him now? What’s he trying to get me to do?

“I try to know myself, Gunther. A captain must. But I think of you as the more self-aware, the more sensitive of the two of us.”

“I think you’re probably right, sir.”

“I’ve never lied to you, have I?”

How am I supposed to answer that?
“Not that I know of, Captain.”

“I pride myself that I’ve never lied to anyone. Oh, I withhold information, for security, but that’s a captain’s privilege.”

“I understand.”

“I seek to dupe the enemy, of course, but that’s valid strategy.”

“Of course.”

“Those lies aren’t sins. Killing in battle isn’t a sin. I like to think that I’ve never committed a serious sin. I say my prayers each night with a clear conscience.”

“Er, yes, sir.” Van Gelder knew that ter Horst, like many Boers, was religiously devout—Van Gelder himself believed in God, but wasn’t big on organized worship.

“So as I was saying, Gunther, I want to address—allay—any concerns you may have, before the next steps in our journey together.”

“How so?” Van Gelder felt intoxication coming on from the schnapps, and he tried to be very careful now.

“Discipline and training are your job. What I want you to do is meet with the officers and men in small groups, over the next day. But first, get some rest, a good eight hours’ rest. The schnapps will help.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” It
would
be nice to get a decent night’s sleep for once.

“Keep each gathering brief. Speak no more than fifteen minutes, say, and allow time for questions and open discussion.”

“On what subject, sir?”

“On why we’re fighting, on why our cause is just, on how well the war is going, and on where we’re voyaging next.”

“Where
are
we going next, Captain?”

“In due time. Let me take these points in order. You’ll remember what I say? You don’t want to take some notes?”

“I have a good memory, Captain.” A first officer needed one. “I’ll write things down if it becomes necessary….”

Ter Horst drew a deep breath. “We and the Germans are together fighting a police action, Gunther, against American imperialism, against outside interference in our proud national destinies, and against Anglo-American military-political atrocities of the last century or more.”

“You mean the forced end to apartheid,” Van Gelder stated. “The abuses of the Versailles Treaty after World War I.”

Ter Horst nodded. “Stripping Germany bare. Destroying her economy, and her self-esteem. Doing it again after World War II, especially in the East, under Soviet occupation for fifty years…. The Boer War, putting our forefathers’ wives and children in concentration camps, where thousands died of typhus.”

“But we fired the first shots,
this
time, in
this
war, sir.”

Ter Horst shook his head vehemently. “It’s all one long connected war, Gunther, going back decades and decades. Don’t you see? This is just the latest battle. The Americans, the British,
they
fired the first shots, long ago. Militarily, politically,
they’re
culpable for all that followed, and for all that follows now. They’re culpable morally too.”

“But the Germans nuked Warsaw and Tripoli.”

“And the U.S. nuked Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Don’t you see the duality, the
justice
of it, the revenge here on a global scale? Many readings of international law say
all
nuclear weapons are illegal.
Who
invented them? Who
used them
first?”

“I see your point, Captain.”

“And take the collapse of apartheid. That system
worked
for us, for
all
South Africa. The Bantus, the coloreds, they had a proper place in our society, and a proper, safe place in which to work and live. The communist so-called Front Line States to our north made trouble along the border, sure, but we fought them back. We held the line against the Reds as much as America ever did, with their botch-up in Vietnam. We held it
better,
until the Berlin Wall came down! Then the Americans hit us with trade embargoes, sanctions. They claim we’re violating human rights. So apartheid falls, and starting in 1994 our country becomes a democracy. And what do we get, from this
democracy?
” Ter Horst said the word like it was obscene. “Open borders, and an inrush of AIDS decimating our black population. An open economy, freedom for all, and violent crime
skyrockets.
Internal terrorism, tribal strife, they explode all out of control! Look at the statistics, Gunther. Years and years of statistics. The statistics don’t lie.”

“No, sir, they don’t.” Van Gelder felt himself being won over. He felt himself relaxing, his inner concerns being salved.

Watch out, my friend. Is this burgeoning peace of mind because of ter Horst’s hard logic, or because of your own fatigue and the schnapps? Is ter Horst an inspiring leader, or is he just a manipulative, seducing bastard?

“It’s the enemy who lies, Number One. It’s the enemy who practices hypocrisy on a monumental scale. What the Brits have done to the Irish. What the U.S. did to their Native Americans, what the North did to the South in their bloody War Between the States…The joint NATO task force we and the Germans attacked at the outset of this latest conflict was a legitimate military target, Gunther. Diego Garcia was a legitimate military target. The Americans and British and the others we killed are the fools, for not thinking of the risks when they joined up, when they donned the uniform in what they thought was peacetime. There
has
been no peacetime, Gunther, not in a hundred, two hundred
years! Only lulls between battles, and the Anglo-Americans choose to call each battle a separate war.
Now
do you see?”

“I think so, sir.” Ter Horst had made some very telling points.

“Good. Good. It’s all very simple, really, when you look at it the right way. The world has a
new
policeman, fighting against corruption, decadence, social chaos, and pandemic disease. Fighting
for
national self-determination, order, truth. That new policeman is us, Gunther, the Berlin-Boer Axis.”

Ter Horst offered Van Gelder more schnapps. This time Van Gelder declined, and ter Horst put away the bottle. It was from Germany, and tasted very good. Van Gelder decided to see if the schnapps had made ter Horst loosen up at all.

“The last part of the briefings I’m to conduct, Captain? Our next destination?”

“We’re going to deal the Americans the knockout blow…. The Axis doesn’t intend to occupy them. You know that’s never been our goal. Containment, diminishment, reduction to a second-rate vassal nation, those are our plans for America…. At the rate they’re going, German forces in the North Atlantic should have the British starved out soon. And Russia remains firm in her thinly disguised support for us, providing conventional arms, and raw materials and fuels, in exchange for gold and diamonds.”