The Land God Made in Anger. John Davis Gordon

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СКАЧАТЬ frowned. ‘Why? I do not mind telling you about submarines, Herr McQuade, but I cannot give out personal information without good reason.’

      McQuade sighed apologetically. ‘I’m sorry.’ He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out the identification tag of Horst Kohler. He said, ‘I found this. I’d like to find out about this man. So I can return this tag to his family.’

      Bredow stretched out his hand. ‘Where did you find it?’

      McQuade said: ‘In London. In a stall that sells war memorabilia. That is what made me think of writing a story.’

      Bredow turned it over and over.

      ‘If you like, I will return it to his family,’ he said. ‘Otherwise I would like to buy it for my museum, please.’

      ‘You can have it if the family don’t want it. But I would like to deliver it to them personally.’ He added, ‘For my story.’

      Bredow nodded slowly, fingering the tag.

      ‘Very well.’ He went into the office beyond and returned with two files. He stood at his desk, and riffled through pages, muttering ‘Kohler, Kohler …’ His finger stopped. ‘Yes, Kohler, Horst. The only Horst Kohler. Seeoffizier. Joined in 1940 … His U-boat was number 1093.’

      McQuade’s heart leapt. Herr Bredow then opened the other file and was riffling through the pages. ‘And U-boat 1093 was … It is one of the missing ones.’

      Bredow sat down and looked across the desk at him pensively. McQuade concealed his elation. ‘Do your files say where U-boat 1093 was last seen?’

      Bredow glanced at his file. ‘Yes. Near Flensberg, 1st May, 1945. She had just returned from a mission. But there is no record of her going back to sea.’ He sat back and frowned at the ceiling.

      Oh yes! McQuade said, ‘If she had received orders to go back to sea, would there definitely be a record of that today?’

      Bredow sighed. ‘Not necessarily. This was right at the end of the war. Germany was in chaos. Hitler had committed suicide. Bombs, fires, tanks overrunning Berlin, street-by-street battles. Admiral Dönitz had taken over the government and he had just moved his headquarters near Flensberg.’

      It all fitted. ‘And what day did the war end?’

      ‘The 10th of May.’

      ‘Ten days later. So there was still time for the U-boat to receive orders to put to sea.’

      ‘This is not so remarkable,’ Bredow said pensively. ‘The submarine went back to sea, obviously, but no record exists because of the chaos. It was sunk, in the British Channel most likely, at that stage. Kohler’s body is washed ashore, somebody finds it and takes the tag as a souvenir. Forty years later it shows up in a shop in London.’

      ‘Maybe the submarine wasn’t sunk by the Allies, but hit a rock or a sandbank. How easy is it for that to happen?’

      ‘Unlikely. A submarine likes deep water. The asdic shows the commander the rocks – even a shoal of fish.’

      ‘But currents and the weather could confuse him? Make him lost for a while. There was no sat-nav in those days. So the submarine had to surface to enable the navigator to see the sun and use his sextant. Well, if the sky was overcast for days he’d have to dead-reckon and that could put him miles out with a strong current? Suddenly, bang – he hits a sandbank.’

      Herr Bredow nodded. ‘It is possible.’

      ‘If he does bang into a sandbank, or rocks, how does he get off?’

      ‘Usually he would reverse. To pull himself off.’

      ‘And if he reversed into more rocks behind? And damaged his rudders?’

      ‘Then he’s in big trouble.’

      ‘He would have to abandon ship?’

      ‘Possibly. He would try other things first.’

      McQuade took a deep breath. ‘Is Horst Kohler’s wife listed in your file?’

      Bredow shook his head. ‘No. That is not unusual. If she’s still alive and drawing a war pension.’

      ‘So I’ll have to find out from the pension office in Berlin?’

      ‘Yes.’

      McQuade felt he was getting places. He wanted to get going. ‘Last question, Herr Bredow.’ He pulled out the submarine brochure he had bought in Laboe. He opened it at the diagram of the submarine. ‘A naval officer explained the Abandon Ship procedure for German submarines to me. How the submarine is partially flooded by opening valves, until the pressure inside is the same as the sea pressure outside. The conning tower hatches are then opened and the escape tube fills with water. The crew swims up it, and rises to the surface. Now I presume a diver could subsequently re-enter the submarine by the same route, but in the reverse direction?’

      ‘Correct.’

      ‘Is there a better way?’

      ‘Only if he cuts a hole in the side. Or, if a torpedo port is open and the tube is empty.’ He added: ‘Submariners have been known to escape that way.’

      That didn’t apply to his submarine because he had seen the torpedo ports were closed. ‘But all the crew would be able to escape up the normal escape tube, if the submarine was wrecked in less than fifty metres of water?’

      Bredow nodded. ‘All will escape.’

       So why did only two men escape from that submarine off the Skeleton Coast?

18

      It was dark when his train got back to Kiel. He bought a ticket to Berlin, then went to the station buffet and drank a bottle of wine while he chomped through a plateful of pig’s knuckles and sauerkraut. He got on the train. He could not afford a couchette and bumped his way down the corridors looking for a half-empty compartment. A large, glamorous blonde of about forty gave him the eye outside her empty couchette compartment, but he was too tired to try to get laid in German. He found an empty second-class compartment, spread his bag and jacket around to make the place look heavily occupied, and switched off the lights.

      He awoke to his compartment door clashing back. He sat up groggily, in harsh electric light. A man was lying on the seat opposite him. At the door stood a fierce young man in green uniform. He snapped in German, ‘Your passport!’

      ‘But I’ve already shown my passport …’

      The official barked, ‘Passport!’

      McQuade pulled it out. The man snatched it. The other man murmured in English: ‘We are now passing through communist East Germany …’

      The official glared at the passport as if McQuade had made it himself, compared him closely with the photograph, then, his lips tight, he stamped it and thrust it back. The door slammed СКАЧАТЬ