Night Sky (10 page)

David hesitated, then said quickly, ‘It would also be revolutionary for a second reason – though I must tell you immediately that I am almost alone in this belief.’

Doenitz nodded and David went on, ‘I believe that a valve could be developed to give enormous power on short waves. This would mean that the device would be small
and
immensely powerful. It would give the most incredible definition …’

He was not explaining it properly. These men wanted to know what it meant in practical terms. He searched for the right words. ‘It would
pick out
each individual object in a group of objects, almost like a photograph. This device here –’ he indicated the cabinet in the chart room – ‘is useful only for seeing objects against the
sky
, so to speak – for things standing out against a blank background, like an aircraft in the sky or a ship on the horizon. Even then it would be of limited use in a plane because when it is angled down to the land or the sea it cannot pick out individual targets. It gets too many echoes back from the sea or the land for the user to distinguish individual towns or buildings or ships out of the blur.’

David paused to make sure he had been understood. The two men nodded and he went on, ‘Now a shortwave device … well, it could see like – like a pair of eyes. From the air it could look
downwards
and read the land like a map. It could pick out individual towns, rivers, lakes, and roads; it could identify individual bombing targets; it could see small objects floating on the surface of the sea; it could see a submarine sitting on the water.
Nothing
would be hidden from it.’

Doenitz stared at David in alarm. ‘If this is true, it is … very important. But you say that there is doubt about this. You say some people believe such a device would be
less
efficient?’

David spoke carefully. ‘There is a school of thought which believes it is impossible to develop the power. But personally I do not. I believe the necessary valve
can
be developed.’

‘If there is the slightest chance of it, then—’ Doenitz pursed his lips and looked out to sea.

‘Of course I would have to do a lot of work on it. And I would need official support …’

Doenitz looked at him sharply. ‘I have no say in scientific policy. However … I shall do what I can.’

David nodded and wondered how much longer he could survive without being sick again. He gave himself a minute, certainly no more. It had been all right while he’d been talking.

Doenitz fixed his dark, penetrating stare on to David and said, ‘So a submarine would be particularly vulnerable to a shortwave device?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do we know if anybody else is working on it? The British, for instance?’

‘I’m not sure. I can only say that, as a scientist, I have read nothing – I have heard nothing – to indicate that they have the secret.’

‘If they did …’

David thought quickly. ‘If they did then we could produce a warning device, a detector, to tell a vessel that radar was being operated against them.’

Doenitz’s eyes lit up. ‘Ah, so there
is
a defence.’

‘Yes,’ David agreed. ‘But we can only develop a detector when we have developed our own technology. No technology, no detector.’ David was forced to be brief; he had only a few seconds left.

‘I understand. Thank you.’ Doenitz inclined his head and for a moment David thought he would continue. But he turned and walked away.

David threw himself across the rail and heaved miserably. Though his stomach was empty, the convulsions went on for several minutes. When he finally looked round the two naval officers had gone.

David laid his head on his arm and closed his eyes. He no longer cared what he looked like; nor did he mind if people were laughing at him. He just wanted to die.

After several minutes he looked up. There was no sign of land. It seemed to him that they were still heading out to sea.

Hilf mir Gott!
It was an expression his father often used. His father – dead, and thank God for that. He had been Jewish and proud of it.

‘Freymann! Freymann!’

Without bothering to look up David knew it was Schmidt.

‘Freymann, I am appalled!’ The voice was angry, hissing like a snake. David waved a hand of acknowledgement. Nothing would make him raise his head again.

‘I absolutely forbid you to speak to anyone else during this trip. You are absolutely not to be trusted. How dare you! How dare you give people the idea that we don’t know what we’re doing!’ The voice spluttered for a moment, then continued, ‘Your lunatic ideas! They are dangerous and stupid and … I will speak to you later. In the meantime keep away, just
keep away
!’

David waved a hand again. Schmidt’s order suited him perfectly: no more talking and no more questions to answer. If no-one was going to believe him, there was no point anyway.

He was beginning to think Ellen was right: he should never have come.

Doenitz excused himself from a discussion on the use of radar in surface warfare and left the chart room. He chose to go out to the starboard side of the ship so as to avoid the scientist, Freymann, who was still wedged firmly against the port rail.

Doenitz walked slowly towards the afterdeck and wondered if there had been any truth in what the odd little man had said. The fellow had been so enthusiastic, so
sure
, that Doenitz had almost been convinced. But then he had talked to Schmidt and Schmidt had been adamant that Freymann was talking nonsense. In fact he had been so vehement Doenitz suspected that there was a great deal of animosity between the two men. Personal differences should not be allowed to interfere with people’s judgement. Doenitz never allowed such things to happen among his men. Nor did he let himself be swayed by personal feelings. One’s duty was to serve, and to serve to the utmost of one’s ability.

But these scientists were different. They seemed to be incapable of working as a team. Still, Doenitz thought, one has to learn to live with these people, irksome though they may be, if one is to benefit from their extraordinary inventions.

He considered whether to bring up the subject of Freymann’s theory with the Grand Admiral. But no, he decided, it would not be necessary. Schmidt had promised Doenitz that the theory would be investigated, and finally and conclusively proved or disproved either way.

Besides, Doenitz had more important things to worry about. For years Germany’s strength had been severely curtailed by the humiliating Versailles Treaty, but now at last the Anglo-German Naval Agreement had been signed and Germany was allowed to build a navy again.

It was a race against time.

German U-boat development had never really stopped – it had been carried out secretly in Holland since 1922 – but it would be years, perhaps as many as ten years, before the Kriegsmarine – and particularly the U-boat Arm – would be powerful enough to take on the Royal Navy.

There was a tremendous amount of work to do. It wasn’t just a question of building vessels but of development and training …

Doenitz had paused at the after rail, but now he turned and started to pace back along the deck. He looked up and saw the figure of Fischer waiting patiently a few yards away. The U-boat Arm needed more men like Fischer, men who served with skill, optimism and enthusiasm.

He beckoned the younger man over and the two of them fell into step. Doenitz said, ‘It has been an interesting day, hasn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir. Most fascinating. This device will obviously be very useful to us.’

‘We will see. I don’t always believe everything that these things are meant to do. When we’ve had a chance to try it
on exercise
, then I will believe it!’

‘Will we have a fleet exercise soon?’

‘In the spring, I expect. And then we will be able to display our tactics for the first time. It is very important that we show the High Command the effectiveness of the wolf pack. They must understand that our success depends on numbers.’

Fischer nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, sir. I see. Greater numbers …’ He looked at his new commanding officer with gratitude. ‘Thank you for telling me. It makes me realise how important our training programme will be this winter.’

Doenitz nodded. His policy was always to tell his junior officers as much as possible. Above all else he valued trust and loyalty, and he believed that they grew not from aloofness, but from mutual openness and understanding of each other’s problems. He intended to be fully involved in the day-to-day activities of his men. Whenever possible he would meet boats when they returned from exercise, he would attend debriefings, he would hear about operational problems first-hand. He did not intend to lose touch with his men, ever.

There were certain things they could not be told, of course. It would be wrong to talk about the power struggles between the Navy and the Luftwaffe, which Goering, as Hitler’s favourite, was already winning; it would be wrong too to say how worrying Hitler’s ideas about warfare were. Hitler had made a friendly gesture to Britain it was true, and that was the wisest thing to have done, but Doenitz wondered if Hitler appreciated that a war, if it came, would inevitably be fought against Britain. And the only way to beat Britain was to choke off her supplies, to sink all her merchant shipping, to make her slowly but surely starve.

For that they needed U-boats and lots of them.

Doenitz said, ‘Yes, we have much to do this winter. As soon as the flotilla is up to strength, we will work up our tactics.’ He looked towards Pelzerhaken which was coming up ahead as the
Welle
made for the shelter of the harbour once more. ‘The wolf pack will revolutionise warfare at sea. Think of the number of ships that can be sunk by a group of U-boats hunting together; it will be three to four times the total that all U-boats could achieve on their own. Also, I believe that such tactics will take our enemies by surprise.’

Fischer frowned. He was wholeheartedly behind his new captain and just as anxious to prove that these new tactics would work. But he, like everyone else, had heard about the new British invention, Asdic, which used sound waves to detect submarines underwater. The British seemed to think their invention would mean the end of the submarine as an offensive weapon. Tentatively he asked, ‘What about Asdic? The British are boasting about it. They seem very confident in it.’

Doenitz stopped and looked at Fischer. ‘But it’s only effective against
submerged
boats. When we attack, it will be at night on the
surface
. They will have no defence against that. Of course, after an attack they will come after us and then, once we are dived, they will use it against us. But even so, we only have their word for its effectiveness. It’s like this radar here; I will believe it when I see it!’

The captain started pacing the deck again and Fischer had to stride out to keep up with him. Doenitz said with emphasis, ‘In fact, Asdic has done us a good turn. It has made the British complacent. You know they have fewer submarines than the French? They think submarines will not be important. Well, if war comes, we will prove them wrong.’

‘What about the small DT device the scientist was talking about? Will we be getting some for our boats?’

Doenitz shook his head. ‘Apparently the little man suffers from over-optimism. He was talking about a really small device, but it seems this will not be possible. If we are lucky we will get something that might just fit into a U-boat. Even then I will want its effectiveness proved.’

Doenitz clasped his hands behind his back and wished the
Welle
would hurry back to her berth. He wanted to return to Kiel as soon as possible. There was so much to do and so little time to do it in.

Fischer went on, ‘And the British – they don’t have the DT device?’

‘No, they don’t.’ Doenitz almost added: at least that’s what we’re told. Schmidt had better be right about that, otherwise – well, the consequences hardly bore thinking about.

‘That’s the main thing anyway,’ Fischer said with a smile. ‘At least we’ll be free to make surprise attacks on the surface.’

‘Yes.’ And if we don’t have that, thought Doenitz, we don’t have anything. If, by any dreadful chance, the little scientist was right, if a device could be made to pick out a submarine on the surface in any weather, on the thickest of nights, then his wolf pack strategy would be in ruins.

His boats and his men would be desperately vulnerable.

Like sitting ducks.

The Hamburg–Berlin express lumbered slowly into Lehrter Bahnhof. The squeal of brakes and the hiss of escaping steam woke David up. He stretched his arms and nudged Hans, still snoring in the seat beside him. ‘We’re here.’

It was late, almost ten o’clock. David couldn’t remember what time the last train to Hennigsdorf left, probably about eleven. He should have plenty of time to get to Stettiner Bahnhof and catch it.

Hans was looking at his watch and cursing. ‘I must rush. My train leaves in half an hour!’

David followed him on to the platform and said, ‘You go ahead. I’m going to see if I can get something to eat.’

Hans laughed. ‘What, more?’ Then waved and strode off.

David went into the station buffet and ordered brat-wurst, sauerkraut, black bread and beer. He was amazed at how hungry he was, even after the substantial dinner he had eaten on the train. One good thing about seasickness – the
only
good thing – was that you felt marvellous afterwards.

Ellen said he ate too much, and she was right. But there would be nothing hot waiting for him when he got home; Ellen liked to eat early and have the kitchen tidied by the time she went to bed at ten.

She was a good wife, Ellen, but she did like her sleep. David had long since realised that she couldn’t function without at least nine hours a night. He never disturbed her when he came in late and he always woke her in the mornings with a cup of lemon tea. On Sundays he did not wake her at all, and she often slept until ten or eleven. Then he would take Cecile for a walk, and they would have long talks about how trees grew, and why steam drove trains and what made lightning strike church steeples. She was a bright child and David was immensely proud of her. Her science reports were very good and David secretly hoped she might be a physicist or perhaps a biologist. He never said as much to Ellen, who thought science not only dull but extremely unsuitable for a girl.