The Sea Eagles

The Sea Eagles

Steve Kingston

First published by Sea Lion Press, 2017.

This is a work of fiction. While ‘real-world’ characters may appear, the nature of the divergent story means any depictions herein are fictionalised and in no way an indication of real events. Above all, characterisations have been developed with the primary aim of telling a compelling story.

Prologue

It was an exciting day for Boola the Space Bat. Mummy and Daddy had finally allowed her to go probability-surfing by herself. It was quite unfair the way they had made her wait – all her friends had started ages (like, weeks) ago. She rode the probability tides of the eleventh dimension (the easiest one – Daddy had insisted that she start there) until she spotted a particularly pretty potential crossover. It really was very sparkly. She contemplated it for a moment, and decided it would be her first. She liked sailors as much as the next bat.

Some of her friends had done ISOTs and they said it was easy. They were right. With a tiny burst of energy (tiny for a space bat, anyway; some onlookers might say it was the equivalent of several centuries’ worth of energy output for an advanced civilisation, or possibly several) the thing was done. The blue ripple (she thought it was a nice teal shade) pleased her aesthetic sense; it was as culturally characteristic to the space bats as cherry blossom for the Japanese. Then she took a turn into the ninth dimension for a while, admiring the million-year dance of galaxies in the Virgo supercluster, before heading home. Daddy would be very pleased with her.

Part One: Worse Things Happen At Sea

Chapter 1

The stars shone down brightly upon Martin Taube where he stood watch aboard the Seeadler. This was the sort of moment that made all the hassles of Navy life (not that those were the worst) worthwhile: a good dinner, the ship cutting through the calm water at thirty knots (and not even straining the engines), a mild, clear summer night with the lanterns of heaven winking…

He was a tall man, fair-haired with strong hints of grey, receding slightly. Against his natural inclination, he had trained himself to stand straight and keep his shoulders back, and so he stood now. His blue-grey eyes sorted well with the element of his chosen profession. Underneath his Bundesmarine uniform he had more scars than you would expect, but never showed them.

He allowed himself only a moment of reverie before focussing again on the task at hand. He was to take the ship to a point in the North Sea to the south of Helgoland where, appropriately enough, the tug Helgoland would be waiting; a routine night-time rendezvous exercise, some practice for his new navigation officer, Gerd Prillwitz, and the new radar operator.

‘Pfennig for your thoughts, Commander,’ said Prillwitz, coming onto the bridge. ‘We intercept in two minutes.’ Prillwitz was a younger man who resembled his chief in many ways, though his mouth and eyes betrayed a man much more given to laughter.

‘I was just thinking about everything the country has been through these last few months. I never allowed myself to hope that it would all end so easily.’

‘We have done well to get this far,’ said Prillwitz. ‘I expect the politicians will louse it all up again.’

‘A pox on all of them,’ said Taube. He glanced down at the chart.

‘One minute,’ said Prillwitz.

‘Very good, Lieutenant,’ said Taube.

For a moment, less than a second, there was a blue light that seemed to surround them, stretching to the horizon.

‘What was that?’ asked Prillwitz.

Taube had blinked, and missed it. ‘What do you mean?’

A technician came to the lieutenant’s side and murmured something. Prillwitz gave him a strange look, and departed from the bridge.

In the distance Taube could see the Helgoland’s signal light blinking. That was odd; they were not supposed to signal. It looked to him as though the tug were making a signal to some other ship to the south-east.

*

Below decks on the Helgoland, the off-duty members of the crew were gathered around a table, playing Skat and – as usual – enjoying a little light mockery of Jurgen, the short and slightly pudgy youth whose job it was to clean the cables. This was all fair enough, since Jurgen took it all in good part and gave as good as he got.

‘Give me another. Now Jurgen, is it true you fell off a bus last time you were in Hamburg?’ asked Peter Braun. If Helgoland had not been a tug, Braun would have been an Obergefreiter, but as it was he was officially a civilian, like the rest of the crew. He was younger than he looked, aged – as he himself would have admitted – by too much loose living, from too early an age, in the seedier quarters of Hamburg.

‘Drunk as usual?’ put in Ulrich Stahl, who was perched on the edge of a bench. ‘You must have had a whole litre for once.’ Stahl was a small man, bald, hard-eyed, not as clever as he thought he was.

The joke was hugely amusing to the rest of them, though you had to know Jurgen to know why.

‘You’ll drink too much and end up in the drink one day,’ said Jurgen. ‘Trip over a guard-rail, you will.’ He was wearing a t-shirt that sported the legend ‘Ich trinke viel Bier’.

‘Wash my socks,’ said Stahl. Again, you had to be there to understand why this was amusing.

‘You’ll all be my flunkies when they make me an Admiral,’ Jurgen retorted, getting to his feet and saluting the room in general.

At that moment, the tug juddered violently, once, twice, and threw him to the floor. Braun recognised what had happened; the tug had suddenly gone full astern to lose speed, followed by a sharp turn to port and then full ahead.

‘Have they gone crazy up there?’ shouted Stahl. The whole group, six or seven men, hurried up to the deck.

In the distance to the south-east they could see a signal lamp winking. For a moment Braun thought it looked almost cheerful, until he made out what it was saying and his blood froze.

UNIDENTIFIED SHIP, HALT AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED. THIS IS A FINAL WARNING. WE FIRE IN THIRTY SECONDS.

‘What the hell?’ he said.

‘What was that?’ asked Stahl, who could not read Morse.

‘Get into cover, now! They’ve gone crazy!’ shouted Braun, and they scattered. He hid behind a crane and with incredulity watched as there was a bright orange-red flash followed by the sounds of explosions in the water.

‘Taube’s gone crazy!’ yelled Stahl, who was crouched next to him.

‘No,’ he shouted, ‘wrong sort of gunfire.’ The rest of his explanation was drowned out by the noise of more shells falling, nearer this time.

Helgoland was heading away from her assailant at top speed, but that was only sixteen knots. She began to zig-zag, but it was dreadfully inadequate. The whole ship pitched as a shell struck the water just astern, and then shuddered as another fell just to port. Even without orders the men were racing to prepare the boats; it was clear that soon they must be hit.

The activity quelled Peter’s fear for a minute, but then he glanced toward their attacker and saw something new that made his stomach sink even further than before, more than he had thought possible. On the water were the phosphorescent tracks of torpedoes.

*

For a moment after seeing the gunfire begin, Taube had been able to do nothing but stare. Then his training took over, and he ordered a change of course.

‘Alle Waffen bereit! Dies ist keine Ubung!’ shouted Oskar Falk, his XO. Then his training too took hold. He took a deep breath and passed on his next orders in a much calmer voice.

‘All stations report readiness.’

Prillwitz was back on the bridge, standing next to Stabsgefreiter Willi Prunst, the radar operator. ‘Sir, two contacts bearing oh-four-five. The nearer one is Helgoland, range five thousand metres, doing sixteen knots, course two-seven five. The other is unidentified. About the same size as the tug but moving at twice the speed, range seven thousand, course one-eight-zero.’

To Taube it was as though maps of old battles appeared before his eyes, and he knew in one instant both what was happening and that it could not be happening. The latter thought he suppressed, as they had taught him at Flensburg. Look at what is happening and do not think it is not. Act upon the situation as it is and not your desire for what it might be. The sea does not care what you want and neither does the enemy.

The range was entirely comfortable for Seeadler’s guns. He spoke quietly. ‘Falk, target the unidentified ship and fire for effect.’

Falk passed on the order smoothly, and within seconds came the bark of the ship’s radar-controlled, automatic 76mm guns. Seconds later the shells began to arrive on target. Unlike those fired at Helgoland, they began to hit home almost from the start.

It was already too late for the Helgoland.

‘Sir, the Helgoland is no longer visible on radar.’

‘Head for her last position. Prepare boats.’

His mind had already discounted the enemy ship. He had seen the flashes of its guns and knew (from the size of the flashes) that they were not heavy, 12cm at most and probably not even that, and (from their rate of fire) that they were manual-loaders. Again the maps of old battles sprang up before his mind’s eye. They had been firing for several minutes at the tug before it vanished: it followed that the enemy guns were not radar-controlled either. Therefore the enemy was hopelessly outmatched and would soon cease to be a threat, even without using his Exocets. He had no hesitation ordering the searchlight switched on as they arrived at Helgoland’s last position.

There was only one boat in the water, and it was not full.

‘Stop all and recover survivors.’ Quickly, efficiently, the crew of the patrol boat pulled in the stunned men. To the east, the enemy ship, now very visible, was stopped, no longer firing, and burning in a dozen places. He ordered the guns to cease fire.

*

Peter Braun got to his feet aboard the Seeadler. The rest of the tug survivors – no more than ten – had collapsed onto the deck and were sitting, or in some cases lying, still stunned. Braun was looking with desperation for other men in the water, but seeing none. Bootsman Herbert Koenig gently placed a blanket over his shoulders. Braun had not noticed that he had been shivering.

‘They put a torpedo into us. A torpedo? What the hell is going on? Who are those swine?’

Koenig shook his head, and shrugged, then turned to aid the rest of the survivors.

As if in answer, the Seeadler started up again and slowly headed for the burning ship, searchlights probing. They could see it was bigger than they were, though not big enough to be a corvette. On the foredeck Matrose Harry Katz had started a book on what it would turn out to be. Russians were favourite, though Hauptgefreiter Gustav Heye took a chance on Americans at 10-1. As it turned out, Harry had to return everyone’s stakes.

In a few minutes they were close enough for the lights to reveal the flag, which still flew. For all of them it was bad; for most it was like a nightmare. One or two hurried to the rail, and not from sea-sickness. On a garish red field they beheld the abhorred symbol of the dead past visible in the present, the Hakenkreuz. They all saw it, before a fortuitous gust of wind carried the flames over it and it was burned away. Every man on the ship was silent, except for the Commander and XO giving curt orders. The boat turned to port, slow ahead.

The lights found the object of their search: the name-plate. It was a tribute to the men and to their training as sailors of the Bundesmarine that they did not allow the shock of what they saw, on top of everything else, to interfere with the performance of their duties.

The name of the burning ship was Seeadler.

The patrol boat turned away at that point, as though in an existential refusal. It was just as well; the fires that had been raging through the upper works finally reached the torpedo store. The explosion, at uncomfortably close range, was enough to shake the BM boat heavily and knock Taube off his feet, along with many others of the crew. Stupid, he thought. I waited too long.

‘Sir, no sign of any survivors in the water.’ That was Falk again. ‘Awaiting orders, sir.’

Taube picked himself up. ‘Let’s get out of here. Course two-four-five, full ahead.’

Falk passed the order on, then turned back to him. ‘I quite agree we must get out of here, sir. The question is: where is here?’

Prillwitz spoke up. ‘We have no signal from navigation satellites. We cannot detect any air activity. Normally there would be some, even at this time of night.’

‘You saw that burning ship. How well do you know your naval history?’ said Taube.

‘Seeadler. We are not the first ship of that name. There was a cruiser, and a Raubvogel class torpedo boat during the…’ Falk hesitated, his dark eyes blinking as though trying to unsee what he had seen.

‘So the question, my friend, is when is here.’ He looked at a calendar, took it down, and casually tossed it out of the door.

Chapter 2

‘When are we?’ Within a few minutes the question was all over the ship. It was a matter of acute concern to the officers, however. A blind flight away from the destruction they had witnessed and caused was only going to get them so far.

‘We must assume that we are, in fact, in the Nazi period. I think all of us must agree we cannot risk returning to base,’ said Taube. ‘My God, imagine what might happen if the Nazis got hold of Exocets.’

‘Scuttle us, drown us all, rather than that,’ said Falk, somewhat shrilly. ‘It might come to that. We just sank one of their craft. They will be out for blood.’

‘I think that is what we would call their default option,’ said Prillwitz. ‘We must keep the ship out of their hands at all costs. We must expect air attacks at daylight. We will still be within range.’

‘Options, Falk.’

‘We could run for Norway, or Holland,’ said the XO. ‘But we do not know just when we are – they might be occupied.’

‘The old Seeadler sank in 1942,’ said Taube. ‘So before that. Maybe… No, we cannot take the risk.’

‘Sir, we only have one choice.’

‘You are right,’ said Taube. ‘And really, when one thinks on it, it is the best choice. We must not only deny the ship to the Nazis, we must give it to their enemies, their most dangerous enemy. Prillwitz, set a course for England.’

Prunst turned away from his screen. ‘Permission to speak, sir.’

‘Granted.’

‘Aren’t they going to shoot at us too?’

*

In Wilhelmshaven, orders were going out. As day broke, a dozen Kriegsmarine ships were at sea searching the waters south of Helgoland. Whatever else had happened, it was clear that something had sunk a German warship and got away. That would not stand, that must not be the last word. But the searching ships found little except a few pathetic scraps of wreckage from the Seeadler. A little to the west, however, they found something else. A single half-dead survivor clinging to a piece of wreckage. The crew of the Jaguar got him aboard and warmed him up enough for him to talk. The commander asked him who he was.

‘Eh?’

‘I said, who are you? Are you German?’

‘I am German,’ he muttered. ‘My name is Jurgen Rolf.’

*

As day broke the Seeadler was making full speed westwards, perhaps fifty kilometres north-west of Borkum. Once they were north of the Waddenzee, Taube planned to turn south-westwards and head for the nearest port on the English coast, probably Great Yarmouth. The Kriegsmarine had nothing that could catch them; the only danger from that quarter was if anything were already out there in ambush. Aircraft, though, were a different matter. It was a fine June day, with not a cloud from horizon to horizon. He could have wished for the grey Nordsee to behave more like itself.

Prillwitz was red-eyed with tiredness, and Taube realised he must look the same by this time. ‘Status?’

‘Numerous small contacts to the north, stationary, close together, I interpret these as fishing boats. Otherwise all clear. Wait… contact ahead, bearing 222, range twenty thousand. Small, corvette size. Speed ten knots, course 010. No… damn it, more contacts. Aircraft. At least four – no, six – bearing 080, range thirty thousand, speed one-thirty, on intercept course. Height… two thousand.’

Inwardly Taube cursed the clear sky. He had had little choice, but the course he was following was obvious, as obvious to them (he preferred not to think who they were too much) as to him.

‘All weapons ready.’

‘Sir, aircraft still approaching, range twenty thousand. Speed one fifty. Correction, one eighty.’ Accelerating, then: they had seen the Seeadler. From what he remembered, the Luftwaffe used three-plane bomber flights; this was probably a Staffel of bombers, probably mediums. Not a dedicated anti-shipping unit, given their profile, so their chances of hitting him were small at this speed. Nevertheless, he gave orders to zig-zag and improve the odds still further.

‘Sir! Contact ahead has changed course and speed, making thirty knots on intercept course.’

Beautiful; this was a truly beautiful bit of Navy-Air Force cooperation, even if partly accidental. He felt a twinge of perverse pride; if only NATO could communicate that well! But by accelerating to full speed, that surface contact had betrayed itself.

‘Falk! Firing solution on surface contact.’

‘Target acquired. Missile ready.’ Falk was once again all business, emotion felt but not shown, the way it should be.

‘Los!’

The Exocet burst from its launcher and headed for the target at a thousand kilometres per hour. The crew of the Kriegsmarine torpedo boat Iltis did not even process what they were seeing – a torpedo-like object flying through the air quicker than the eye could follow – until the missile struck and detonated, blowing the bows off. Within moments, the craft was sinking, and her commander, bewildered by this blow from a clear sky, but with the right priorities, ordered abandon ship.

None of this deterred the aircraft coming in from the east, if indeed they saw it. What must have shocked them was that, as they began their attack run, the patrol boat’s two radar-controlled guns began to fire at them with a speed and accuracy that none of them could have imagined, firing shells that were instant destruction for any aircraft. Two of the bombers suffered fatal hits and fell in moments. Then the deadly fire halted.

‘What happened?’ asked Taube.

‘System crash,’ said Falk, exhaustion and fear showing in his voice. ‘Of all the times… well reboot the thing!’ he shouted, adding some Hamburger imprecations towards the Navy’s software provider.

The planes were now dark seagulls boring in directly toward them in a tight group. Their flying was impressive, as was their courage.

‘Firing!’ Falk shouted. The guns restarted, and two more bombers fell, one disintegrating as its bombs detonated. Then the other two released their cargo. Seeadler heeled sharply to dodge, but the attack had been pressed home very close, almost mast-height it seemed. Several things happened in a couple of seconds.

First, the guns claimed another victim, the shell hacking the tail off the penultimate bomber as it levelled off just above the water. The bomber spun wildly and crashed. At the same instant came her posthumous revenge, as her bombs went off in the water, one of them very close to the boat’s side. For the third or fourth time in as many hours any crewman standing up was thrown off his feet. The guns went silent.

‘Pull yourselves together! Get him!’ growled Taube.

The last bomber – Taube recognised it as a Heinkel – had pulled up and was speeding away, but not nearly quick enough to escape. Three shells crashed into it and it joined the others as wreckage on the sea.

‘We’re still alive!’ said Prunst. ‘Did I say that out loud?’

‘Falk, report,’ barked Taube.

Falk listened to his intercom intently. ‘Reporting casualties… seven injured. No fatalities. Ammunition jam in rear gun. Damn it, flooding in rear compartments. How bad? Ah.’ He turned to Taube. ‘Serious flooding aft, sir. Pumps are working. We must slow down.’

‘Half ahead,’ he called out. ‘Course 250.’

‘Contact ahead lost, sir.’ That was Prunst.

‘Keep us well clear of them.’ It went against the grain, but survival took priority over rescue. He doubted he had capacity for a shipful of Nazis.

‘We are starting to list, sir. No sharp turns to starboard. I propose counter-flooding – maybe not immediately, but soon.’

‘Execute counter-flooding at your discretion, Number One. Prillwitz, are we clear to turn south-west?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Then do so. Head for Great Yarmouth at half speed, and watch the sky.’

*

Hans-Otto Furst was a man of ill disposition, and being got out of bed at five a.m. and finding that his car had broken down again (was that the fourth time this month?), so having to walk a mile to the Navy offices overlooking the Jade estuary, had made matters measurably worse. He strongly suspected the Navy cadet who greeted him of disrespectful attitudes. The naval officer waiting inside similarly appeared to masking his feelings with strong taciturnity.

‘We found this,’ he said, ‘the prisoner was on some wreckage nearby.’

This was a fragment of flag, still wet. Furst seethed just looking at it.

‘And this was on him,’ said the Navy man. ‘A photograph.’ It was in colour – evidently this fellow had had money to spend. The picture was of the prisoner with a female. Moisture had blurred some detail, but it was clear enough to make out a female of distinctly non-Aryan appearance, and the Eiffel Tower in the background. Furst smiled thinly. The puzzle was not so difficult after all. The main question was whether this was just Reds at work or if the damned French were in it too. Of course the Jews would be at the bottom of it all – of course, always – but they hid their traces; it would take work to get that far. One step at a time.

‘Wake the prisoner.’

They did so, and left Furst alone with him in the cell. The prisoner looked at him blankly. ‘So, prisoner,’ he said quietly. ‘You can do this the hard way, or the harder way.’ Then he kicked him for a minute or two. ‘That was just to illustrate. Now, prisoner, just what did you think you were doing? Bringing your Scheissbanner of your Scheissrepublik back, eh? We cleaned out your kind. Reds, dirty traitors. You’ll wish you hadn’t tried to be clever.’ With that, Furst dropped the fragment of flag, black-red-gold, onto the floor, and stamped on it. ‘Your Jew-friends won’t help you now. Now, prisoner Rolf, if that’s your real name, we are going to become much better acquainted.’

*

As the patrol boat made its way across the Dogger Bank, Taube could feel its pain as though he were suffering himself. Even working flat out, the pumps were not keeping pace with the flooding, and counter-flooding was only just keeping the list within control. Still, Seeadler was a fine craft, and despite the drag she was still making headway. As the day drew on they saw no other vessels, though they occasionally detected some on radar; Taube could not risk asking for help, though. No way of telling if they might be Ger- hostile. No more aircraft appeared. Perhaps the course change had foxed them, or perhaps the Luftwaffe were in shock that six planes had just vanished.

Their radio was not working well – proximity to a large explosion had seen to that – but they managed to pick up a Dutch radio station during the morning, broadcasting about the excellent value, high quality and easy credit that could be obtained from Ivens & Sons furniture store in Groningen. That was somewhat reassuring. At midday they picked up the BBC.

‘…the friendly game resulted in victory for the Royal Navy team by sixteen points to eleven. In other sporting news, in Paris, the Italian team has won the World Football Cup, scoring four goals to two against the Hungarian team…’

‘June 1938!’ shouted Heye and Katz, simultaneously.

‘We have moved more than fifty years into the past, and we appear to have started the war early,’ said Taube. ‘But we are on the right side this time.’

‘Perhaps we could make for Holland after all,’ suggested Prillwitz.

‘Too risky,’ said Falk. ‘I want a sea between us and the Nazis. The Dutch cannot resist – they might even hand us over.’

‘That is right,’ said Taube. ‘The English can make much better use of our technology, our information. We must stick to the plan.’

‘We don’t get to find out if we win Italia 90?’ someone asked.

Everyone went thoughtfully about their duties. Falk checked the repairs that had been made to the damage; they looked adequate, but he knew too much about ships and the sea to be fully reassured. They slowed again in the afternoon, but mercifully clouds began to appear. Prillwitz permitted himself to unbend a little.

‘Perhaps we will make it after all, sir,’ he said.

Taube did not trust himself to speak at that point, and just nodded.

Herbert Koenig was not on duty, but was putting his first-aid training to use tending to the Helgoland survivors, some of whom were wounded. Peter Braun had a long, jagged cut on one leg which Koenig bandaged. Harry Katz was not running a book at this time; he sensed it would get few takers. He allowed himself to wonder which odds he would have offered. Even money they would make it, 5-1 sunk by U-boat, bar running aground on a sandbank. Willi Prunst, nineteen years old, longed more than anything for sleep, but watched his radar screen until his eyes swam and Prillwitz gently urged him to rest. Gustav Heye found and fixed the fault with the aft gun. Then he went off duty to read the latest FAZ and Bild. Finding these dull, he picked up a copy of Warships Monthly.

Meanwhile, a little to the west, the crew of an Avro Anson of 16 Group, Coastal Command, was about to have the oddest experience of their lives hitherto.

This was a routine flight for F/O Archie Keene and his crew of three; their second flight of the day, in fact, testing the new starboard engine of their ‘Annie’. Their first flight had been a circuit over land; now they were to try a flight over water, north-east out of Bircham Newton then down the coast to Lowestoft. Barry Watson, his navigator, had brought a camera along, and scanned the coast with it hopefully.

‘What are you expecting to take with that thing?’ asked Keene. ‘It’s Norfolk, not the South Seas.’

‘You never know, skipper,’ came the reply on the intercom.

‘Never mind, just tell me when we need our next change of course.’

‘Ship to starboard,’ said the gunner, Walter Exton. ‘Coaster.’

Keene took them lower to take a look: it was the Tees Ranger, headed for London. Not the first time they had seen her on this run, in fact. Some of the ship’s crew gathered at the rail to plane-spot, and Keene took the plane down low, two hundred feet, to give them a good look before climbing again. At two thousand feet Exton’s voice came again.

‘Like Piccadilly Circus this evening,’ he said. ‘There’s another ship eastwards.’

‘That’ll be the Yarmouth ferry,’ said Watson.

‘Not unless they’ve put guns on it,’ said Exton. ‘Looks like a corvette.’

‘Shouldn’t be any about,’ said Keene. ‘Let’s have a look.’ Down they went again.

It was just then that the much-abused pumps aboard the Seeadler failed.

*

Seeadler’s radar was offline, but they had spotted the Anson and watched it approach. They had taken precautions; an improvised White Ensign flew at their stern above the flag of the Bundesmarine. Now the plane flew past them on the port side, signalling with a lamp. Fortunately there were several aboard, including Falk, who spoke English well, and Morse code, of course, had not changed.

‘What ship?’ came the query.

‘Patrol boat Seeadler out of Wilhelmshaven. We need assistance.’

At that point the bridge crew noticed that the list was becoming noticeable.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Taube.

‘Our running repairs have failed. Pumps have broken down, sir,’ called out Falk. ‘Too many compartments flooded.’ He was too tired to curse by now.

‘Increase counter-flooding, slow ahead,’ said Taube, but in his heart he knew the game was up.

The Anson signalled: ‘I will assist’ and flew off westwards. Seeadler began to list more alarmingly, there was a profound shudder, and a sort of tearing noise from below.

‘Stop all. Prepare rafts.’

‘Yes sir,’ replied Falk sadly. They had lost the bet, but it was no time for regrets.

Taube simply nodded, and Falk gave the order to abandon ship. He watched with no small pride as his crew assembled in good order, lifejackets on. Westwards the smoke of a ship appeared on the horizon. That was a comfort.

They lowered the life-rafts, and got the Helgoland survivors and their own wounded in as comfortably as possible. Taube, the last to leave, gave a last look at his command, and then they were pulling away, toward the Tees Ranger. He and Falk, and the men, watched until the Seeadler began her last journey, and saluted.

Chapter 3

London, a grimy yard in Docklands, Wednesday June 22nd 1938

Sergeant Arthur Cole: Glad to get that lot of charmers off our hands finally. It’s been pillar to post ever since they turned up.

Mr. John Smith: Have you had much to do with them?

AC: Have I had… I’ll tell you, Sunny Jim, you wouldn’t talk like that if you’d been around here just lately. They’ve been from the Port police to us and back again, in and out of three different ‘ostels, and who does all the blooming paperwork? Muggins ‘ere. We find them a nice ship ‘eading ‘ome, and they pipe up saying they don’t want to get on a ship going to ‘Amburg, and when the guv’nor told them the Consul was coming they were like blooming scalded cats, all of them.

JS: Really?

AC: Scalded cats, I said. Blooming odd, never seen an ‘Un get that het up, even in the War, and I saw a few of the beggars then, I can tell you. So muggins ‘ere has to tell the Consul they won’t see him, and ‘e’s ‘ad ‘is trip for nothing. So that went down like a lead balloon an’ ‘e takes my number.

JS: So then they start saying they’ve got a story for us.

AC: That’s right, they go all, ve haff ze military intelligence and we’re all standing about like pork. Never seen the like. Anyway, we pass the word. Maybe they’ve got old ‘Itler’s secret plans for something, flying battleships I shouldn’t wonder. There’s a lot of daft stories going around.

JS: Such as?

AC: Well the lads on that ship they came in on, the one as picked them up, some of them saw the boat they were on, before it sank. Queer-looking beggar it was by all accounts. All sorts of contraptions on it.

JS: Is the ship still here? Did you get any names?

AC: No, they cleared off, but you can find them easy enough. The old Tees Ranger it was. A right rust-bucket if you ask me, been up and down to Newcastle since I was a nipper.

JS: Here they are now. Let’s get them on the bus. Thank you, sergeant, you’ve been most helpful. I must stress that this affair should be kept absolutely secret.

AC: Right you are. Don’t know how we’ll do that, what with all the dodgy characters we get around ‘ere.

JS: You’re right, I suppose. I don’t like the look of that chap over there.

AC: ‘Ere, I wan’ a word wi’ you!

*

Friday June 24th 1938, Zossen

Oberst Albrecht Schreiber: This report from Hamburg. Can you make any sense of it?

Oberst Johann Wolbe: Surely. Red infiltrators – agitators or saboteurs, probably – trying to get in and cause trouble; a way of getting back at us for the Austrian business, probably French or British-backed. Perhaps they thought they could get the fleet to mutiny again. A feeble business, all round, it is no trouble for us.

AS: They caused a lot of trouble for the Navy.

JW: Ach, nothing of the kind, it’s plain enough. Two different ships go to investigate the fools and end up sinking each other by mistake, and shooting down some planes into the bargain. It’s just what you would expect of the Navy, and the Air Force too. Look, nothing to waste time thinking about, it changes nothing. We have a war to plan, in case you’d forgotten.

AS: I know it. If only we had a proper army to fight it with. We go back a long way, Johann. You remember what we had in the good old days. That was a real army, by God.

JW: The Fuhrer has given us an army again.

AS: You sound as though you are trying to convince yourself.

JW: It’s a damn sight better than Versailles left us with! Just a few infantry divisions! You don’t want to go back to that, do you?

AS: Not before Hell freezes over. But for taking on fortresses, and the French tanks… Our tanks can’t stand up to harsh language. You’ve seen the figures. We don’t have nearly enough field-pieces or heavies. You do remember what the Tommies’ artillery was like, don’t you?

JW: Ach… The French aren’t so tough as you think. They have Socialists in charge.

AS: With respect, Johann, you didn’t fight at Verdun. I did. The French looked soft before 1914, but they had some real sword-swallowers.

JW: We were always better.

AS: Better, yes, but they had all the materiel from America. Fighting spirit can only do so much. Now my boy is a platoon leader. He will do his duty and then some. Can you really say we have given him what he needs? And all the other good lads like him? I’m not talking about city-boy bed-wetters; we have some good lads, as good as we were, true as Krupp steel. But asking them to fight without enough materiel, it is… undignified, too much like the Russians.

JW: We just need a bit more time, that’s all. You’ll see. It will be all right.

AS: Maybe. I still think-

JW: Don’t say it.

AS: Well, you already know who I want in charge.

*

An office in Hamburg, Tuesday June 28th 1938

Hans-Otto Furst: Agent Furst reporting as ordered, sir.

Karl Scharf: You may sit. Now, why am I getting stupid memos from the Navy about that Red agent they fished up?

HOF: That pansy Traub wants him, the devil knows what for. He’s not going to get anything we haven’t. I have no intention of handing the prisoner over to the Abwehr. They are a bunch of limp-wristed fools.

KS: So. So, still the same story?

HOF: We worked him over a bit, gave him the usual treatment. The Reds must be desperate to send a mental defective on one of their little expeditions. I almost felt sorry for the little idiot – but that’s the Reds for you, what do they care, he’s no loss to them. Maybe one of the others was a nancy-boy and fancied him. But yes, the same story about coming from the future.

KS: Too many Hollywood-Jew movies in his head. No trace of a Jurgen Rolf in the files, then?

HOF: A few, but they are accounted for. That still leaves us this Traub problem.

KS: They bring people or problems to me, I make them go away. They’re setting up a new holiday-camp in Austria, Mauthausen. Send him there, and I will present our regrets to the Navy that he is unfortunately no longer in our custody. If any of those sailor-boys want to go down there, they’re welcome.

HOF: I like it, sir. Anyway, speaking of holidays, where are you going this year?

KS: Hilde and the children want the Baltic. I expect that’s where we’ll end up. I’d better get on with it, they’ll be booked up.

HOF: I’m sure they’ll find you room, sir.

*

Saturday July 2nd 1938, Cabinet Office, Whitehall

Duff Cooper, First Lord of the Admiralty: This had better be good.

Mr. John Smith: Good, I hesitate to say. Exceptional? Yes, sir. The boss told me to bring this to you as Naval, though I think it could equally well go straight to the top.

DC: Not backward about things, are you?

JS: Sir, if you had had the fortnight I’ve had, you would be a bit on edge.

DC: Very well, I’ll read it. (glances around) Is Briefing Room B any less dingy?

MOST SECRET * EYES ONLY

Report on foreign personnel rescued by Tees Ranger AKA the ‘Taube group’/‘The Sea Eagles’

SUMMARY

•         All of the 49 sailors rescued claim German nationality but disavow all connection with the current Germany. They have unanimously and consistently refused all consular contact or contact with Germans from outside their group. Their reaction to suggestions of repatriation is similar unanimous rejection.

•         A large minority speak English to various degrees. Their leader, Mr. Taube, has a limited grasp of English, but has indicated that Mr. Falk, who is fluent, may speak on his behalf in all matters. His story has been corroborated in all significant respects by the other English-speakers among the group. Interviews with the monoglot German-speakers have proceeded more slowly but we have not identified any variation in their accounts either. All concur that they and their vessel originated from the year 1990.

•         Foreign intelligence sources report unusual activity at Wilhelmshaven around 20th June. Rumours talk of at least one German Navy vessel being lost at sea to unknown causes. This is consistent with the Taube group’s account of events.

•         We have advised the Foreign Office to make no enquiries to the German Government concerning these matters.

•         Various items of testimony from other sources are consistent with the Taube group’s account. The crew of the coaster Tees Ranger describe the vessel they found in a sinking condition as a coastal military craft of roughly torpedo-boat size with two visible gun turrets and unusual apparatus aloft. A similar description was given by the RAF air crew who witnessed the sinking. Their photographs are enclosed in annex A. This design of vessel corresponds to no known class of German Navy vessel; the mariners and air crew did not recognise any of the ship silhouettes offered.

•         Several of the men have a remarkable level of knowledge concerning the work being undertaken by the Air Ministry into direction-finding using radio waves. This work is currently secret, but they claim it has become public knowledge in their own time, and that applications are widely exploited. It is possible their knowledge arises from German Intelligence, though their degree of knowledge of names and other details makes this, in the opinion of our analysts, unlikely. They make bold claims for the possible future developments of these methods, and have volunteered to assist Mr. Watson-Watt and his team. We have taken this under advisement.

•         The personal effects upon the persons of the Taube group include a number of printed books and journals. All of these are of a uniformly high technical quality, though some are of degraded moral character. Our technical advisers have all stated that the quality of printing, especially in respect of the colour photographs, in these items is beyond any present-day mass-circulation print capabilities in any country. A description of some of these is included in annex B. The various journals are all dated June 1990.

•         Other effects upon the persons of the men included electrical devices of small size but remarkable capabilities. Again, our technical experts have all stated that these are beyond any present-day capabilities and appear to represent several decades of further technical developments. A detailed description may be found in annex C. The bearer of this report has an example of one of the advanced components from one of these devices.

•         The Tees Ranger did not recover any of the lifeboats. As we believe these might contain useful information we have conducted an air and sea search for these, but they have not been found. The Tees Ranger crew observed, however, that the boats appeared to be of an advanced design, superior in some features to those commonly in use.

•         Therefore, though the conclusion may appear to be far-fetched, the opinion of the under-signed is that HMG should give provisional credence to the claims of the Taube group, pending further evidence. Should their claims be borne out the potential advantages to the national interest would appear to be incalculable. The Taube group (provisional code-name: the Sea Eagles) have therefore been moved to a secure location and are held incommunicado in the best conditions possible.

•         A minority of the analysts and experts who have investigated this affair are of the opinion that we should not exclude the possibility that this is a sophisticated psychological warfare operation. Those who advance this possibility are, however, unable to account for the technical aspects of the evidence.

•         The most urgent recommendation of this report is that the RN should immediately but discreetly use any capabilities they possess in order to investigate the wreck of the Seeadler which lies off the Norfolk coast. A detailed location report including map is given in annex D.

**** END OF REPORT****

DC: What the Dickens?

JS: Sir, that is the seventh time you’ve said that.

DC: I would think this was a joke, if old Vernon ever made jokes. Very well, I will advise Lord Chatfield accordingly; he will know what to do. What’s that little thing you’ve got there?

JS: The boffins insisted that this be sent along with the report, sir. It got them very excited. These Germans called it a transistor.

*

Thursday July 14th 1938, Coverley Park, Buckinghamshire

Oskar Falk: We all just need to be patient, Peter.

Peter Braun: I’ve been patient, Oskar. We all have. But I’ve told my story ten different times to ten different English idiots. My God, they know how to sneer. Why can’t they tell us what is going on and when they will let us out? We have done nothing wrong.

OF: Peter, no, we haven’t. But you know, this is hardly the first time I’ve been cooped up. We all expect it in the Navy. Have a cigarette?

PB: I hate these pitiful English things. I’m not in the Navy.

OF: But we are all conscripted, in a way. Think, Peter, why are we here?

PB: I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Oskar, you never used to be like this at school. It’s as though you are… thinking.

OF: Captain Cross called it an ‘Act of God’. What if that is literally true? I’ve been praying a lot, Peter.

PB: Not something I do, myself.

OF: There is a beautiful chapel here, you should have a look at it some time. Anyway, I was in there the other day, and I was thinking things over, and feeling sorry for myself. Then I heard. It was like a voice, but not a voice, maybe a message. By the prayers of many you are here. That’s all. Very subtle, and not at all what I expected, but then I felt better.

PB: Hm. Maybe I’ll end up getting religion. This place is crazy enough, no drink and no women.

OF: You were drinking the other day, I saw you.

PB: That was Cross trying one of his games – trying to get us drunk and admit we’re all actually from the Gestapo. So we played a little game with him and told him we’re actually space aliens.

OF: Ah. You are developing the English sense of humour. Their plan is succeeding.

Martin Taube: Apologies for breaking up the conference, gentlemen. Oskar, you’re needed. Pack an overnight bag.

OF: Are we getting out of here?

MT: Just us two, just for one night, it seems. But if we make a good impression, perhaps they’ll decide we’re not crazy, or maybe that we’re crazy enough to be English.

*

Saturday July 16th 1938, the Admiralty, London

Neville Chamberlain, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom: I have given a lot of thought to what you said this morning, Mr. Falk. It seems that we are dealing with an Act of God. I do not hesitate to say that I have also prayed.

Oskar Falk: As have I, sir. A great deal, actually.

Martin Taube: I also.

Lord Halifax, Foreign Secretary: I think many of us have these last weeks. If I may say so, I think some of those prayers have been answered. Gentlemen, you have not seen it, but the latest report from the Navy on their investigation has removed my remaining doubts.

NC: For me also.

MT: They found my vessel?

NC: I appreciate this is a matter of some moment to you. A remarkable vessel, so the Navy say. The sea is not very deep where it lies, and they were able to recover some items which apparently put the matter beyond doubt. Regrettably one of our vessels suffered an accident with some loss of life. We have suspended salvage operations for the time being.

MT: I understand, sir. Excuse me for a moment, gentlemen. (leaves)

NC: That is a fine man.

OF: Yes, sir, and a good man.

NC: Mr. Falk, I think I would like you to talk me through the history again. Perhaps with more detail, if you can remember it.

OF: We have been pooling our knowledge. Most of us have some understanding of the events of this period, but it is before we were born. We did not carry any history books or the like aboard; for some reason time travel was not in the Federal Navy manuals, so we were not prepared for it. Anything that is clear and definite in the memories of at least four of us we are taking as established fact. When I say something we are not sure of, I will make that clear.

LH: Admirable. It is always good to set out one’s methods, in the good old German way.

OF: The Nazis are going to continue their diplomatic offensive against the Czechs. There will be a war crisis in September and then you will make a deal with the bad man which gives him the Sudetenland in exchange for a promise of peace. That deal will be very popular, but the Nazis will break it within months. They will occupy the rest of Bohemia next spring.

LH: I want to be quite clear on this. They will expand to non-German territories, without any provocation?

OF: Yes.

LH: Then we have been played for fools. All that business about re-uniting the German people – that is all so much tripe. It is mere aggression.

OF: You must understand that they are utterly treacherous and shameless. They are gangsters, Al Capone with an air force. The German people are not yet completely behind them, but easy diplomatic success will make them so. The German people do not want war, but they do want victories, and the Munich deal-

NC: That is the deal I am to make?

OF: Yes. That deal gives the Nazis enormous credit with the people. It also gives them control of the Czech war industry, which is priceless to them. Your beliefs about the strength of the German armed forces at this time are quite wrong. They are not as strong as you fear. I cannot give you precise figures, you understand. This is one of the things we are not sure about, but some of us recall that you believe the Luftwaffe, for instance, has several thousand more planes than it actually has. Your first big victory in the war as we know it came in the air.

NC: Our air force has said they can defend the country, but the public are very afraid of bombing. So are we, to be frank. To know that the air force commanders are right is a great load off our minds.

OF: I am glad to know we are helping.

NC: You have already told us information that transforms the situation. I think we can agree on that.

LH: Agreed.

OF: There is much more. They will not stop at Czechoslovakia – they cannot. It is in their nature to push without limit. Next will be a pact with Russia, and invasion of Poland.

NC: It is hard to credit an alliance with Russia.

LH: Perhaps we should see it as two Chicago gangsters dividing things up between them. I can believe it, actually. They are both utterly anti- Christian; it is Satan allying with Beelzebub.

NC: Anyway, that means war. A war, as I understand it, that drags the whole world in, kills millions, and ruins the Empire.

LH: And a vast expansion of  Russian power. Everything we have seen before, only worse. Everything we have been trying to prevent.

OF: I have given much thought to this. All men re-enact their youth, or seek to. They try to avoid the errors of the past.

NC: And make new ones. We have been trying to prevent the Great War from recurring, and we only make the war even bigger.

OF: And we Germans – we sought to break out of our encirclement, re-run 1914, only this time we capture Paris. Then we discovered that we had merely escaped into a bigger jail. So instead of 1918 we had something much worse. We had 1945, which in our time we call Stunde Null. I do not think I need to translate.

LH: I think we must understand that this is more than an ordinary set of diplomatic developments. You are talking about apocalyptic events. I discern the signs of the times. This is an Act of God and we are tools in His hand. This is the future reaching into the past to set right a sin of incalculable consequences. It is not too much to say that it is like a second, smaller Redemption. I am not worthy, but I will seek to do what I can.

OF: And we are not to act only for our own countries only. This is for the world.

NC: I do not wish to be selfish, you understand. I ask because I must know what I must do now. You say my Government falls after the war begins and Mr. Churchill replaces me. What becomes of me afterwards?

OF: Sir, I am afraid none of us can remember.

*

END OF PART ONE

Part Two: My Days of Not Taking You Seriously

Chapter 4

Tuesday July 26th 1938, the War Office, London

Reginald Walmsley: Another one? Are you sure this isn’t a duplicate?

Richard Pyne-Trumphorn: Yes, this is different to the last one, look, BT4/39/7a. Not 6a, 7a. Believe me, Margo doesn’t make that kind of error.

RW: It’s a bit early in the year for this much, don’t you think? That’s a year’s supply.

RPT: Ours not to reason why, ours but to make sure it goes into the right pigeonhole.

RW: But 6a, that’s spending half the year’s budget in two months. Did it go past the Committee?

RPT: They haven’t met yet. I say, do you think someone is expecting the balloon to go up?

RW: Oh, they’ll work it out. Surely we’ve learned something from last time. Those Germans at the club last year were splendid chaps. Such good English, such good riders. None of them wanted anything bad to happen.

RPT: Trust the numbers, don’t look at the words. That’s what old Bungo used to say.

RW: Pity about that watermelon.

RPT: These numbers I’m looking at are telling me that the Royal Artillery chaps are expecting something more than a live-fire exercise, something more like the Second Somme.

RW: Well… look at the big picture. No conscription yet. Nothing more than the usual Army and Navy manoeuvres. Air Ministry is still on Scheme L, Eden and Churchill still in the wilderness.

Julius Tutt: (enters) I say chaps, look at this! Just went out for a snifter, picked up the Standard. Have a look at the headlines. (sits heavily)

RPT: (reads) ‘Cabinet changes announced. Mr. Eden to return to Govt. as Lord President. Mr. Churchill to be Home Secretary.’ What! ‘Government suspends Non-Intervention Committee.’

JT: (snores)

RW: What the Dickens? (reads) ‘Air Ministry announces revision to Scheme L. 200 additional fighters required.’ Do they have the funding?

JT: (stirs) Contingency. (snores)

RPT: ‘Admiralty delays latest battleships. Newcastle & Glasgow MPs protest.’ Why would they do that if things are up the spout?

RW: Don’t you see? The last two KGVs won’t be ready for years. They’re clearing the decks, they expect trouble much sooner. Well, forget everything I said earlier.

RPT: The country won’t like this.

JT: (wakes) You know chaps, I might go out and buy a gun.

*

10 Downing St, Monday August 1st

Hugh O’Neill, chair of the 1922 Committee: There is a lot of discontent, Prime Minister. Nothing too open yet, but it could turn bad quickly.

Neville Chamberlain: We are working to make our policy clear to them. I appreciate your concerns, I share many of them. You know that I am a man of peace, as is Halifax.

HON: The Committee do not like having Churchill and Eden back in the Cabinet. They think it raises  German suspicions. I tend to agree that this is not a time to be too provocative.

NC: I value the views of the Committee, Sir Hugh. But they do not have the same access to all the same sources of intelligence that are available to the Cabinet. The Cabinet is united on our policy.

HON: The French do not seem to have the same intelligence, however. We are risking a great deal, Prime Minister. Certainly no-one in Ulster sees any necessity for such a forward position in Continental affairs. Neither do the French, it would seem. It is a peculiar position where we seem more concerned about the Rhine than they do.

NC: We are holding talks with the French Premier shortly, Sir Hugh. We are confident that we will be able to convey our point of view and that there will be no breach between us.

HON: I am sure that you are well aware, Prime Minister, that many of us think also that a war would be playing into Stalin’s hands. An expansion of Bolshevism in the East would also raise the prestige of our own Communists.

NC: Our view of the situation now is that the best way to maintain the cordon sanitaire against Russia is to sustain the buffer states of Eastern Europe. We intend to uphold their independence against all enemies, and we believe we have the means to do so. We are not worried about our domestic trouble-makers.

HON: Some of our members have expressed the view that there is a real opening for a diplomatic resolution, if we could enlist the Italians into a common front. There have also been a lot of questions about the need for a fact-finding mission in the Sudetenland itself. I believe Lord Runciman would be available.

NC: The facts of the Sudeten case are less important than the setting. If the Germans would be reasonable we can use our influence to obtain a favourable settlement for the Sudeten minority, but we will not negotiate under the threat of war. As for the Italians, our view is that they are just as likely to cause trouble as to help.

HON: This is a change, Prime Minister.

NC: It is, but you must understand that the intelligence we have received recently leaves no room for doubt about our policy. The decisive moment is coming. The only question is, Sir Hugh, will the backbenchers stay loyal?

HON: We are not Socialists, Prime Minister. We will stand by you.

*

Extract from ‘The World Turned Upside Down: a short history of Germany, 1918-1939’ by Hubert Robertson

…Admiral Canaris, General Ludwig Beck and the Zossen group were alarmed by these developments, believing that Hitler was about to start a war that Germany could not win, potentially with effects as disastrous, or worse, as those of 1918. They therefore determined to send an agent to London. Their chosen man was Ewald von Kleist-Schmenzin, who went to London in August 1938.

In some ways he was a good choice. He had been an opponent of Nazism even before 1933. As a conservative and a Christian, he supported a constitutional monarchy as the best political solution for Germany. However, under the Weimar Republic he had supported the nationalist and anti-semitic German National People's Party (DNVP, the same party as Carl Goerdeler). This created a risk, but the plotters had no-one else with better credentials. His mission was to make the British decision-makers aware of the resistance to Hitler by a faction that was reliably anti-Communist and therefore posed no risk of an alliance between Germany and the USSR.

His initial contact was with Winston Churchill, who at this point was Home Secretary and therefore had ready access to the Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary. He believed that as the British were now seen to be willing to use force to support Czechoslovakia, the opposition in Germany would have the support that it needed among Germany's High Command to move against Hitler. However, he and his fellow-plotters wished to be certain that the British would not climb down at the last minute. Churchill understood the significance of this mission, and sent von Kleist-Schmenzin to Chamberlain. Although realising that von Kleist-Schmenzin and men like him, as nationalists, were far from ideal democrats, the Prime Minister was not slow to see the possibilities…

*

The Foreign Office, Whitehall, Monday August 15th

John Smith: You wished to discuss the Sea Eagle situation, sir.

Lord Halifax: I do. I take it the DG has made you aware of the proposal from this German fellow.

JS: Yes, sir. Herr von Kleist-Schmenzin – we are referring to him as agent 'Pericles' at the moment, sir.

LH: The fellow claims he represents an anti-Nazi faction in Germany with friends in high places. Now, we have put him in contact with Herr Taube, and Pericles has now asked him to return to Germany and help them carry out a putsch, as