Flowers and shrubs abounded, along with stately palms.
You could only see such details in the daytime. The whole city was encased in darkness, except for a few dim lights glowing here and there. He turned and looked toward the beachside, which was almost entirely blacked out. Ben laughed at the absurdity of this. He wished he could tell someone. Hank was right. He might not see too well through those thick glasses, but he saw better than most of the leaders in this country on the issue. Not a single soul in America was in danger from the air. Every air raid warning, every air raid precaution that took place was a complete waste of time. The German Luftwaffe could barely keep its planes across the English Channel for an hour before they ran out of fuel. Ben doubted they would ever come up with a plane that could fly across the Atlantic.
The danger for America was from the sea.
Since the day Hitler declared war on the US in December, German U-boats had sunk several hundred Allied ships along the East Coast and in the Gulf of Mexico, many within sight of the shoreline. He’d been back in the US for nearly two months but hadn’t read a thing about this in the newspapers. Why were American officials hiding this danger from the public?
He recalled what Barb had said in the diner that afternoon. She was so happy with herself, climbing her watchtower on the beach several days a week to keep an eye out for the enemy. She would never see anything but American planes, and she’d certainly never see a U-boat during the day.
As he stood there leaning against the rail of the Broadway Bridge, he remembered standing one night along the railing of U-boat 176, next to the deck gun, two days before his mission was set to begin. He’d come up to catch some fresh air. Two German sailors scanned the waters between the boat and the shoreline, hoping to spot the silhouette of an Allied cargo vessel sailing north. Liberty ships, they called them.
The trick was to patrol coastal waters just outside the shipping lanes. U-boats cruised slowly and quietly, parallel to seaside towns. Surprisingly, many towns left their lights on at night. When Allied ships passed between them, the city lights provided a perfect backdrop, allowing German spotters to easily see the outline of a ship, even though the ship itself had turned off its lights.
That night, Ben had witnessed this very thing. Both sailors had simultaneously spotted the Allied ship and sounded the alarm. The U-boat instantly shifted to battle stations. “Sorry, sir. You must go below now,” Ben was told.
“Right, good luck,” he said as he climbed down the ladder.
Good luck? Had he really said that? He’d wished somehow he could warn the Americans on that doomed freighter. But he was helpless.
He quickly dodged around the sailors hurrying to ready the torpedoes below as he made his way to his quarters. He and his team of three other men, all highly trained agents with the German Abwehr, were mere spectators on this vessel, confined to quarters whenever the U-boat went into battle.
Battle, he thought. This was no battle. It was a slaughter. Like firing a high-powered rifle at a lumbering cow grazing in a field. These Liberty ships never had a chance, nor any means to defend themselves. The first sign of danger American merchantmen received was the massive explosion erupting in the center of their boat, often splitting it in two.
Ben sat below in the crowded officers’ bunk with his partner, Jurgen Kiep, a true believer.
“It’s so exciting, don’t you think?” Jurgen said. “I wish we could watch it from up there.” He pointed topside.
“I got a glimpse of the ship’s silhouette,” Ben said, “before they sent me down.”
“Well, that ship is going to be sent down,” Jurgen said, pointing to the floor. “Any minute now.”
Ben smiled and nodded, instantly regretting his feigned enthusiasm. He’d been forced to live this charade for almost six years, pretending to
You could only see such details in the daytime. The whole city was encased in darkness, except for a few dim lights glowing here and there. He turned and looked toward the beachside, which was almost entirely blacked out. Ben laughed at the absurdity of this. He wished he could tell someone. Hank was right. He might not see too well through those thick glasses, but he saw better than most of the leaders in this country on the issue. Not a single soul in America was in danger from the air. Every air raid warning, every air raid precaution that took place was a complete waste of time. The German Luftwaffe could barely keep its planes across the English Channel for an hour before they ran out of fuel. Ben doubted they would ever come up with a plane that could fly across the Atlantic.
The danger for America was from the sea.
Since the day Hitler declared war on the US in December, German U-boats had sunk several hundred Allied ships along the East Coast and in the Gulf of Mexico, many within sight of the shoreline. He’d been back in the US for nearly two months but hadn’t read a thing about this in the newspapers. Why were American officials hiding this danger from the public?
He recalled what Barb had said in the diner that afternoon. She was so happy with herself, climbing her watchtower on the beach several days a week to keep an eye out for the enemy. She would never see anything but American planes, and she’d certainly never see a U-boat during the day.
As he stood there leaning against the rail of the Broadway Bridge, he remembered standing one night along the railing of U-boat 176, next to the deck gun, two days before his mission was set to begin. He’d come up to catch some fresh air. Two German sailors scanned the waters between the boat and the shoreline, hoping to spot the silhouette of an Allied cargo vessel sailing north. Liberty ships, they called them.
The trick was to patrol coastal waters just outside the shipping lanes. U-boats cruised slowly and quietly, parallel to seaside towns. Surprisingly, many towns left their lights on at night. When Allied ships passed between them, the city lights provided a perfect backdrop, allowing German spotters to easily see the outline of a ship, even though the ship itself had turned off its lights.
That night, Ben had witnessed this very thing. Both sailors had simultaneously spotted the Allied ship and sounded the alarm. The U-boat instantly shifted to battle stations. “Sorry, sir. You must go below now,” Ben was told.
“Right, good luck,” he said as he climbed down the ladder.
Good luck? Had he really said that? He’d wished somehow he could warn the Americans on that doomed freighter. But he was helpless.
He quickly dodged around the sailors hurrying to ready the torpedoes below as he made his way to his quarters. He and his team of three other men, all highly trained agents with the German Abwehr, were mere spectators on this vessel, confined to quarters whenever the U-boat went into battle.
Battle, he thought. This was no battle. It was a slaughter. Like firing a high-powered rifle at a lumbering cow grazing in a field. These Liberty ships never had a chance, nor any means to defend themselves. The first sign of danger American merchantmen received was the massive explosion erupting in the center of their boat, often splitting it in two.
Ben sat below in the crowded officers’ bunk with his partner, Jurgen Kiep, a true believer.
“It’s so exciting, don’t you think?” Jurgen said. “I wish we could watch it from up there.” He pointed topside.
“I got a glimpse of the ship’s silhouette,” Ben said, “before they sent me down.”
“Well, that ship is going to be sent down,” Jurgen said, pointing to the floor. “Any minute now.”
Ben smiled and nodded, instantly regretting his feigned enthusiasm. He’d been forced to live this charade for almost six years, pretending to
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