THE LONE WOLF (2025 Edition) by Michel Poulin - HTML preview

CHAPTER 16 – RUNNING THE GAUNTLET

 

11:12 (Panama Time)

Tuesday, June 23, 1942

Balboa Harbor, Gulf of Panama

Pacific Ocean

‘’Okay, what’s next, Ronaldo?’’

The Panamean official consulted the list on his clipboard before answering in his accented English the master of the small U.S. Coast Guard armed tugboat.

‘’We have the JOHN F. DICKSON, an American bulk carrier transporting a load of ammonium nitrate destined for Texas City. It arrived in the harbor about one hour ago, coming from Valparaiso.’’

‘’Ammonium nitrate? That’s quite dangerous as cargo goes, no?’’

‘’Indeed! It is used to produce fertilizers and explosives. You don’t want your men to smoke while inspecting that ship, Chief Petty Officer Camden.’’

‘’Right! I will pass the word.’’

The American Coast Guard then used his binoculars to locate the bulk carrier among the dozen or so ships waiting in the harbor to transit the canal locks today. The JOHN F. DICKSON was fairly easy to spot, being nearly the biggest ship present in the harbor. Giving orders to his helmsman, Camden made him approach and then go side-by-side with the big cargo ship, with one of his sailors then tying up a line between the tugboat and the side access ladder, which had been lowered already. Armed with his customary Colt 1911 pistol and followed by three of his sailors armed with either Colt pistols or Springfield 1903 bolt-action rifles, he then climbed the steel ladder just behind the Panamean official. They were met on the open deck of the bulk carrier by a merchant navy officer wearing a captain’s cap and a set of cotton shirt and trousers. Two men in civilian clothes, presumably crewmembers of the ship, were leaning against the side railings near the access ladder, apparently taking in the fresh air and Sun. The captain then surprised the Panamean official by speaking to him in fairly good Spanish.

289

‘’Welcome aboard the JOHN F. DICKSON, sir! I am Captain Rolph Anderson. You are here to verify my cargo manifest and to collect the toll for passing the locks, I presume?’’

‘’I am! Ronaldo Campeon, of the Panama Canal Administration. Your Spanish is quite good, I must say, Captain.’’

Ulrich von Wittgenstein smiled at the compliment.

‘’I have been plying the seas between Spain, the Caribbean Sea and South America for a few years already. You won’t get nice women in ports if you can’t speak with them, right?’’

Both men then laughed briefly at that joke before ‘Captain Anderson’ handed a clipboard to Campeon.

‘’Here is my cargo manifest, along with the ship’s ownership papers, customs declaration form and sailing permit, Mister Campeon.’’

Ronaldo studied quickly the papers attached on the clipboard, finding them apparently in order.

‘’You have 3,210 tons of ammonium nitrate aboard? That would be enough for a nice bang if you ever caught fire.’’

‘’True! But those nitrates will make nice bangs once turned into explosives and then thrown at the Japanese or the Germans. By the way, we heard on the radio that our navy has won a great victory near Midway Island at the start of this month. Do you know more about this?’’

‘’Uh, let me ask CPO Camden here.’’

Campeon then turned to face Camden, switching to English.

‘’Do you know much about the naval battle recently won at Midway, Mister Camden? Captain Anderson heard a radio report about it and wishes to know more about it.’’

Camden nodded his head, understanding the ship’s captain’s curiosity: the official radio news about the Battle of Midway, while claiming a great naval victory for the USA, had been rather short on specifics and many in the United States undoubtedly wanted to learn more. He then spoke to ‘Anderson’ in English.

‘’It was indeed a great victory for us, Captain. Four Japanese aircraft carriers were sunk off Midway, against the loss of the carrier YORKTOWN. The Japanese fleet trying to capture Midway was then forced to withdraw and we are now in control of the whole Central Pacific area.’’

290

‘’But, that’s fantastic!’’ exclaimed Wittgenstein, a false grin on his face. ‘’Did they say how the battle was won?’’

‘’Uh, they didn’t give the details, except that all four Japanese carriers were sunk by airstrikes. By the way, you have a noticeable accent, Captain.’’

‘’I am a first-generation Danish immigrant.’’ explained Wittgenstein, who actually could speak a good Danish. ‘’And what about on the Atlantic side? Are those damn German submarines still active along our East Coast?’’

Camden sighed at that question: he had lost a few good friends to German submarines during the last months.

‘’Unfortunately, yes! Thankfully, German submarine activity in the Caribbean Sea is presently nearly non-existent, so you should be able to safely arrive in Texas City without trouble.’’

‘’A good thing to know, with all that ammonium nitrate aboard.’’ said ‘Anderson’. ‘’Well, let’s move to the bridge, where I will be able to pay the locks’ toll to Mister Campeon.’’

‘’If you don’t mind, Captain Anderson, me and my men will do a quick inspection tour of your ship: just routine stuff, you know.’’

‘’Go right ahead, CPO Camden. My two men here will be happy to guide you around the ship. Gunnar, James, please help these gentlemen around the ship!’’ The two ‘crewmen’ leaning against the railings straightened up and came to the group near the top of the access ladder.

‘’Yes, Captain?’’

‘’Those gentlemen wish to inspect our ship. Just accompany them and direct them to whatever part of the ship they want to see.’’

‘’Sir!’’ replied simply the tallest of the sailors, giving a lax salute to ‘Anderson’ before looking at Camden.

‘’Where to?’’

‘’We will start by the cargo holds. I will split my team in two.’’

‘’Understood!’’ replied ‘Gunnar’. ‘’Follow me!’’

Followed by one of his sailors armed with a rifle, Camden let Gunnar, a big young man with blond hair and Nordic features, show him the way to one of the large cargo holds occupying most of the volume in the ship’s hull. There was little inspecting to be done there, as the hold was positively filled with big bags bearing inscriptions, with

291

‘AMMONIUM NITRATE’ and ‘PRODUCT OF CHILE’ painted in big letters on the bags. The thick paper bags were in turn tied down on wooden pallets piled on top of each other, with at least forty big bags per pallets. Since finding anything hidden among those bags would have needed the unloading of the whole cargo, Camden only looked perfunctorily at the top of the piles before speaking to Gunnar.

‘’That will do for this hold, mister. Lead us now to the crew quarters.’’ Gunnar seemed to hesitate very slightly then before he nodded his head and gave a short reply.

‘’No problem! This way!’’

With Gunnar in the lead, the group climbed out of the cargo hold and walked down the weather deck, to then enter the superstructure block situated two-thirds of the way aft. Going down one level via a steep ladder, the group finally entered a large compartment filled with double bunk beds, personal effects lockers and a few tables and chairs. Six men were present in the compartment, four of them apparently asleep in their bunks and two others reading books while sitting on chairs near open portholes that gave some extra light and fresh air. The place had the looks typical of other crew quarters Camden had visited countless times and nothing raised his suspicions at first.

‘’United States Coast Guard inspection! Could you please get out of your bunks for a moment?’’

The sleeping men did so slowly and reluctantly at first, which was quite normal when considering that a typical merchant seaman worked long hours and had too little time to rest or relax, except when in port. Directing his armed sailor to look inside the personal lockers, Camden first inspected the bunks, finding nothing hidden under the mattresses. He next went to one of the bulging duffel bags stored under the bunks and, finding it curiously heavy, started opening it. Camden stiffened at once when his eyes fell on the muzzle of some kind of rifle packed in the duffel bag he had just opened. Next to the rifle was a steel helmet with the unmistakable shape of a German Army Stalhelm. Twisting his head around in a flash while his right hand went for his holstered pistol, the Coast Guard man had only time to see the muzzle of a silencer-equipped pistol pointed at his head before that muzzle erupted in a flash. Eternal darkness then fell on him. The armed American sailor had no more chances to defend himself than his superior, being shot in the head a mere half second after Camden. Franz Stein looked coldly at the two dead Americans now sprawled on the deck of the compartment, a bit pissed at that unwelcome but unavoidable outcome: if the Americans had been less diligent in

292

their search, they would have walked off the ship alive. Now, the team from the U-800 had no choice but to go for Plan ‘B’ before the American forts defending the canal entrances could be alerted or became suspicious about the JOHN F. DICKSON. Stein looked next at Herman Weiss, the other Brandenburg soldier present in the compartment with him and ‘Gunnar’, aka Michel Drücker.

‘’We now have to eliminate every other American presently on board before they could alert the canal defenses. Come with us! Maschinen Obergefreiter Brock, go to the bridge and alert our officers about this…discreetly!’’

As the German mechanic hurried on his way to the bridge, Stein, Weiss and Drücker, hiding back their silenced pistols under their vests, left the crew quarters and went up to the open deck. Looking around and seeing no Americans, save for the handful of men left aboard the tugboat, Stein went back inside, this time heading for the engine room, aft and below of the bridge superstructure block. As they were negotiating the last rung of ladders leading down to the engine room, the trio nearly collided with two armed American sailors who were just exiting the engine room with Gefreiter Otto Lang. Politely stepping out of the way first and letting them pass, the three soldiers then drew out their guns and shot dead both Americans from point-blank range. Stein made a forced smile as the poor Lang, shaken by those sudden executions, looked at the now dead Americans.

‘’We had no choice: another pair of Americans had found our hidden weapons. We are now following Plan ‘B’. Do you know how many Americans boarded the ship?’’

‘’Only four of them did, Unteroffizier. I saw a minimum of three more Americans who stayed aboard the tugboat that accosted us.’’

‘’Then, all the Americans that were aboard are now dead. Excellent! Now, we will have to take out discreetly the rest of the crew of that tugboat.’’

‘’Uh, I may have an idea about this, Unteroffizier, especially if we have to go to Plan ‘B’.’’ said Michel Drücker. Stein, who knew how intelligent and imaginative his young obergefreiter was, smiled to him in response.

‘’Go on, Drücker.’’

12:27 (Panama Time)

Fort Grant, Naos Island, Bay of Panama

293

U.S. Army Lieutenant Richard Prendergast was the senior officer present in the command center of Fort Grant, the installation that controlled the coastal artillery guns defending the approaches to the Panama Canal on the Pacific side: all the other officers were at the officers’ mess for lunch. A lookout report was thus transmitted by telephone to Prendergast when it arrived via the telephone switchboard of the command center.

‘’Lieutenant Prendergast speaking! What do you have?’’

‘’Sir, this is Corporal Greenglass, in the main fire control tower. One of the ships waiting to pass through the canal locks is now jumping ahead of the queue. It is led by a Coast Guard tugboat.’’

That left Prendergast nonplussed for a moment as he debated mentally if this was worth his time: while the Panama Canal coastal defenses were the responsibility of the U.S. Army, the Navy and Coast Guard were in charge of controlling the ships waiting to pass through the locks. As for the locks themselves, Panamean workers operated them. This three-tiered arrangement made for a disjointed and uncoordinated chain of command made worse by the fierce traditional rivalry between the Army and the Navy. In this case, if the Coast Guard had decided that this merchant ship could jump the queue of waiting ships, then the Army had no business disputing that decision. On the other hand, Prendergast remembered the warnings issued nearly two months ago about a possible attack against the Panama Canal by a German submarine. He thus decided to lean over the side of caution and spoke in a firm voice in his telephone receiver.

‘’Signal that tugboat by lamp and ask it the reason for making that ship jump the line. What ship is it anyway?’’

‘’The JOHN F. DICKSON, sir. It is an American-flagged bulk carrier and the day’s list of transits says that it has arrived from Valparaiso, Chile, with a load of ammonium nitrate destined for Texas City.’’

‘’Alright, send that message and ring me back at once when you will get an answer. Where exactly is that bulk carrier now?’’

‘’It is now entering Balboa harbor, sir, with the Coast Guard tugboat in the lead. Some of the waiting ships are clearly displeased by this and are blowing their horns.’’

‘’Not our problem! I will be waiting for the tugboat’s response, Corporal.’’ Prendergast then put down his receiver and went to the detailed map of the Panama Canal and of its approaches laid on top of a table and covered by a transparent plastic sheet. From the entrance of the Balboa harbor, there was a distance of over eight miles before a ship arrived at the Miraflores Locks, the first locks of the canal on the Pacific

294

side. There should thus be plenty of time to assess that bulk carrier before it arrived at the first lock gate.

Prendergast’s telephone rang again some seven minutes later. The young lieutenant grabbed the receiver at once.

‘’Lieutenant Prendergast, Fort Grant’s command center!’’

‘’This is Corporal Greenglass, sir: I finally got a response by lamp from the tugboat.’’

‘’Well, it sure took its sweet time to answer us. What did the tugboat say?’’

‘’That the JOHN F. DICKSON is transporting a high priority cargo urgently needed in the States, sir.’’

Prendergast pondered that information for a short moment: that sounded like a legitimate enough reason to make that ship jump the line, especially in view of what that bulk carrier transported. The destruction of the main Navy ammunition depot in Boston last March had been a truly painful blow and had left the Navy scrambling to replace the thousands of tons of ordnance lost in the Boston blast. That in turn meant the need to produce lots of new explosives in a hurry and ammonium nitrate was one of the principal components for producing military grade explosives.

‘’Alright, we will let that ship jump the line, Corporal. Call me if some other ship tries to interfere with that bulk carrier. I will advise the Miraflores Locks’ operators that the order of transits has changed.’’

Putting down his receiver for a moment, the young officer then called the control room of the Miraflores Locks and passed the information about the JOHN F. DICKSON to the Panamean engineer in charge of the locks. Prendergast then went to get himself a cup of coffee.

He was still sipping on his coffee when his telephone rang again some twelve minutes later, making him pick up the receiver.

‘’Lieutenant Prendergast, Fort Grant!’’

‘’Sir, this is Corporal Greenglass again. I am sorry to bother you with this but something funny is happening.’’

‘’About what, Corporal?’’

295

‘’About that Coast Guard tugboat, sir. The Harbor Master, where the Coast Guard has its command center, has tried repeatedly to signal the tugboat by lamp, but the crew of the tugboat has not responded yet.’’

‘’That sounds like a Coast Guard problem to me, Corporal, and not an Army problem. If these squids can’t talk to each other properly, then that is up to them to deal with it. Where is that tugboat and the bulk carrier now?’’

‘’They are now less than a mile from the first lock gate, sir. It is a bit too distant to see properly, even with binoculars, but a dozen armed men just transferred from the cargo ship to the tugboat, with the tugboat alongside the ship.’’

‘’That is probably an armed inspection party from the tugboat returning to their vessel after having inspected that bulk carrier. Up to now, this sounds quite kosher to me, Corporal. Forget about that bulk carrier and tugboat and resume your watch of the other ships approaching the harbor. Look especially for that damn German submarine that we were told to watch for over two months ago.’’

‘’Uh, could it really come this far from Germany, sir? As far as we know, no German submarine has the range to get to here and then return to Europe.’’

‘’Quite true, Corporal, but the Navy was talking about that submarine as if it was some magical sea monster. Just keep your eyes open, Corporal.’’

‘’Will do, sir!’’

Prendergast then put down his receiver, satisfied that this bulk carrier business was apparently resolved.

12:42 (Panama Time)

Bulk carrier JOHN F. DICKSON

Miraflores Locks, Panama Canal

Ulrich von Wittgenstein felt both excitement and anxiety as he piloted the big bulk carrier, making it enter slowly the first set of locks. Right now, there was only himself, Hugo Margraff and Wolfgang Brock left aboard the JOHN F. DICKSON. All the other German sailors and soldiers had transferred to the captured American tugboat, which was now coming alongside the quay situated just outside of the first lock, its stern turned towards the locks in order to be able to leave as quickly as possible when the time came. The trick now would be to manage to immobilize the bulk carrier inside the first lock, then to evacuate it in time to take enough distance from it before its deadly cargo exploded.

296

Then, they would still have to deal with the response from the American forts protecting the canal. All in all, he would consider himself damn lucky if he managed to stay alive and free through this day. As for Hugo Margraff, he was presently inside the central hold, ready to set the fuse to the charge hidden among the bags of ammonium nitrate, while Wolfgang Brock was in the engine room, ready to shut down the engines on Wittgenstein’s command.

Another four minutes and the bulk carrier was fully inside the first lock, with the thick steel entrance gates closing up. Once they would be closed, the lock operators would start pumping water inside the lock, to raise the ship by some eight meters before it could enter the next lock, to be raised again in order to be able to sail out onto the Miraflores Lake. Now was the time to act! Grabbing the bridge’s ship telephone, Ulrich called the engine room, getting an answer from Brock within seconds.

‘’Engine room!’’

‘’This is Wittgenstein. Shut down the engines, then sabotage them before climbing to the open deck to evacuate the ship. You have three minutes.’’

‘’Understood, Herr Leutnant!’’

Ulrich then spoke into the handheld radio he had kept nearby.

‘’Hugo, this is Ulrich. We are now inside the first lock and Brock is going to take out our engines. Set the fuse to your charge and then come out on the open deck to evacuate the ship.’’

‘’Will do!’’ was the terse answer on the radio. Now knowing that their mission had attained its critical moment, Ulrich grabbed his handheld radio and his silenced pistol before exiting the bridge and climbing down the steel ladder leading to the open deck.

Down in the engine room, Wolfgang Brock shut down both of the big diesel engines of the bulk carrier, then went to the sea cock valve of the compartment, turning it quickly to the fully opened position. Sea water then started gushing out of the valve and onto the deck. Next, Brock went to the two small explosive charges that had been placed on the two big diesel engines by one of the Brandenburg soldiers before he had evacuated the ship. Lighting their short fuses, Brock then ran to the exit ladder, climbing towards the open deck in a hurry: those short fuses would burn out and initiate their respective two kilo charges of TNT in only two minutes. Their blasts would be more than

297

enough to severely damage the diesel engines and prevent anyone from using them to take the ship out of the locks.

In the central cargo hold, Hugo Margraff set the timer to his main explosive charge to fifteen minutes before covering the charge and timer, laid inside a pile of ammonium nitrate bags, with two heavy bags. He next ran to another part of the pile of bags and lit the slow fuse of a secondary charge meant to detonate the ammonium nitrate in case the timer of the main charge failed. With the minutes now counting down, Hugo climbed out of the hold in one mighty hurry. He found both Wolfgang Brock and Ulrich von Wittgenstein waiting for him on the open deck, both wearing their Kriegsmarine sea uniforms. Hugo himself was now in full Heer combat attire, complete with MKb 42(H) assault rifle and steel helmet. They had debated this for a long time aboard the U-800, with the final consensus that, if they were about to be captured or shot in the canal area, they would be dressed as German soldiers and sailors. Two muffled explosions suddenly shook the ship from the inside, making Brock grin devilishly.

‘’The engines are now out. Good luck to the Americans to move this ship out quickly now.’’

‘’Well, I believe that it is time to get the hell out of Dodge, gentlemen, as the Americans would say.’’ replied Hugo. ‘’We now have less than thirteen minutes before this volcano erupts.’’

Brock and Wittgenstein didn’t argue with him and ran to the starboard side access ladder, then climbed it down at a near run to get to the level of the edge of the lock basin. A number of Panamean workers watched them jump from the ladder and onto the concrete of the lock’s side, utterly confused by that scene. As the three Germans ran for all their worth towards the quay outside the first lock, where the tugboat was waiting, two American soldiers on sentry duty in front of the entrance to the control building of the locks belatedly reacted, starting to take their rifles off their shoulders to aim them while one of them shouted an order.

‘’HALT, OR I SHOOT!’’

Hugo Margraff’s answer to that was to suddenly brake and turn around, his assault rifle pointed. A short burst from his MKb 42(H) toppled the American soldiers before they could fire their own rifles. With the Panamean workers now dispersing in panic, Hugo resumed his run, quickly reducing the gap between him and his two German comrades. The trio arrived at the quay three minutes later and literally jumped aboard the waiting

298

tugboat, with Ulrich then yelling an order to the sailor manning the wheel inside the small bridge.

‘’GET US OUT OF HERE AT MAXIMUM SPEED!’’

The sailor didn’t need to be told twice and pushed his engine throttles all the way forward. The tugboat soon attained its top speed of eleven knots while racing down the channel linking the locks and the open sea. As Ulrich von Wittgenstein ran to the radio set of the tugboat to send a coded message to the U-800, Hugo Margraff pointed the three-inch gun mount on the forward deck and the 20mm cannon on the aft deck to the sailors and soldiers around him.

‘’MAN THOSE PIECES, BUT DON’T POINT OR FIRE THEM UNLESS I SAY SO!’’

With the men scrambling to obey him, Hugo went to join Ulrich in the small superstructure of the tugboat. The latter looked up at him from the radio operator’s station after maybe two minutes.

‘’The U-800 now knows that we positioned and set the bulk carrier inside a lock. I also told it that we are fleeing in a captured tugboat. It acknowledged my message and replied that it would try its best to meet us as close to the harbor as possible.’’

‘’But, it could risk being sunk then by the American coastal guns.’’ The second-in-command of the U-800 then gave him a resolute look.

‘’Hauptmann, Korvettenkapitän Kretschmer never abandons his crewmembers. We will either all survive today or we will all die together.’’

In Fort Grant’s command center, the telephone rang again, to the annoyance of Lieutenant Prendergast, who was trying to eat quickly a sandwich while at his post. Picking up the receiver and announcing himself, he heard an excited voice that spoke Spanish at an infernal rate.

‘’Woah, mister! Speak English and slow down, please! First, who are you?’’ After a short delay, his interlocutor managed to speak at a reasonable speed and in a poor, strongly accented English.

‘’This is the gate locks control. My name is Fernando Martinez. Your soldiers here were shot.’’

‘’Shot?’’ said Prendergast, jumping out of his chair. ‘’By whom? How?’’

‘’A man shot them. He came from the ship now inside the locks.’’

‘’That man came from the JOHN F. DICKSON? Was he American?’’

299

‘’I don’t think so, sir.’’

‘’And where is that shooter now?’’

‘’He ran away with two other men.’’

Prendergast swore mentally at the obviously limited English of the Panamean man: at this rate, it was going to take many minutes before learning what the hell was going on.

‘’And where did these men run away?’’

‘’Uh, I am not sure, sir. I went to help your soldiers. I can ask around.’’

‘’Please do, quickly! I will hold the line open.’’

As Prendergast sat back, with the receiver still against his right ear, he saw that the operators inside the command center were all looking at him questioningly, with the most senior NCO present finally asking him a question.

‘’Should we put our gun batteries on top alert, sir?’’

‘’For one shooter on foot? Don’t you think that this would be quite excessive, Master Sergeant Horowitz?’’

‘’What if he tries to escape by boat, sir?’’

Prendergast had to recognize that his master sergeant could be right and nodded his head.

‘’Alright, have our three-inch gun battery go to action stations, but leave our bigger batteries at their present state.’’

‘’Yes sir!’’

Four minutes later, and with Prendergast about to run out of patience, the Panamean lock operator finally came back on the line, his English as bad as before.

‘’This is Fernando Martinez again, sir. It was one soldier. He shot your soldiers, then ran away with two other men. They ra…’’

The Panamean’s voice was then buried by an ear-busting roar that was cut halfway through when the line with the locks went dead. Prendergast stiffened in his chair and started nearly shouting in his receiver.

‘’Hello! Hello! Mister Martinez, are you there? Hello!’’

Eighteen seconds later, the whole concrete bunker containing the command center shook hard as the shockwave of a formidable explosion hit it, deafening temporarily its occupants. Now fearing the worst, Prendergast let drop his telephone receiver and ran to a nearby corkscrew steel stairwell leading up to an observation bunker. Going to an observation slit on the side where the Miraflores Locks were, the young officer was

300

about to raise his binoculars to his eyes to look at the locks but froze in shock instead: a titanic mushroom-shaped cloud of smoke and flames was rising over where the Miraflores Locks had been, while a tidal wave from the destroyed locks was coming down the entrance channel.

‘’My god! The JOHN F. DICKSON: it just blew up inside the Miraflores Locks!’’ He then raised his binoculars to see in what state the locks were after that huge explosion. The smoke and dust were however too thick to allow him to see the locks themselves. While he was trying to see the locks, he nearly missed the Coast Guard tugboat that was just then passing off Naos Island. Catching it by a corner of one eye, Prendergast then examined it with his binoculars, his suspicions about the tugboat now renewed. That was when the tidal wave from the explosion caught up with the tugboat, hitting its stern and nearly swamping it but also giving it as well a marked boost in speed towards the open sea. He was about to order his three-inch guns to aim at the tugboat when the telephone in his bunker rang, to be picked up at once by a signaler.

‘’Fire Control Bunker One, Fort Grant, sir!... Yes, he is here! One moment, sir.’’ The signaler then turned his head towards Prendergast while raising the telephone receiver.

‘’Sir, the Coast Guard command center is asking to speak to the officer in charge.’’

Containing his frustration at this interruption, Prendergast went to the telephone and took the receiver from the signaler.

‘’Lieutenant Prendergast, Duty Watch Officer in Fort Grant.’’

‘’Lieutenant, this is Lieutenant Commander Blaine, from the Coast Guard command center. What the hell happened at the Miraflores Locks?’’

‘’We don’t have much details yet, sir, but apparently the JOHN F. DICKSON, an American-flagged bulk carrier heading towards Texas City with a load of ammonium nitrate, blew up while inside the first lock at Miraflores. We also spotted one of your tugboats which led the JOHN F. DICKSON up to the locks, making it jump the queue. It is acting quite suspiciously in my opinion, sir, and is now speeding towards the open sea.’’

‘’And how would you know if a tugboat’s actions are truly suspicious, instead of being routine navy maneuvers, Lieutenant?’’ spat back Blaine, angering Prendergast: this was truly a stupid moment to fuel the old Army-Navy feud.

301

‘’Sir, with all due respect, it was YOUR tugboat which led that cargo ship up to the locks and that ship has now exploded inside the locks and probably destroyed them. Now, can you confirm to me that you still have control of this tugboat, or should I consider it as a hostile craft and order my guns to fire at it, sir?’’ The Coast Guard senior officer was silent for a moment, probably thinking about the blame game and buck passing that would follow this disaster. However, his old antagonism towards the Army apparently won over and he replied in a harsh voice.

‘’I will be damned if I let Army gunners shoot at one of my boats, Lieutenant! I will instead have one of our fast patrol craft intercept and inspect this tugboat. In the meantime, hold your fire! Am I clear, Lieutenant?’’

‘’Sir, I will hold my fire at this time, but my commander will be the one to call you back. Goodbye, sir!’’

Prendergast nearly broke the telephone receiver when he slammed it down.

On the fleeing tugboat, which had made quite a lot of progress towards the open sea, thanks to the tidal wave from the explosion that had pushed them, both Hugo Margraff and Ulrich von Wittgenstein were wondering why the Americans were not firing at them yet. They were in plain sight of the American coastal guns and any straight-thinking officer should have found their conduct suspicious, to say the least. They had actually started their plan of action while expecting less than a thirty percent chance of coming out of it alive and free. Now, it looked like they could possibly all get out of this intact.

‘’Are these Americans slow or simply dumb, Ulrich?’’

‘’I don’t know, Hugo: you spent more time with them than me. What do you think?’’

‘’Maybe they can’t gather the resolve to shoot at one of their own boats?’’

‘’After the damage we just caused? A simple tugboat should be mere peanuts to them. Maybe their commanding officer doesn’t want to take a decision until he finishes his lunch.’’

The Germans all laughed at that, something that helped relieve some of the stress of their situation. Scanning the waters in the direction of the open sea, Ulrich von Wittgenstein suddenly felt his heart jump in his chest: a mere two kilometers away, he could now see the tip of a periscope above the waves. There was also a message being flashed by lamp from the periscope’s lens!

302

‘’Am going to partially emerge when you will be aside me. Hurry!’’ read aloud Ulrich, who then grinned at Hugo Margraff. ‘’The U-800 is waiting for us ahead. Two more kilometers and we will be out of this hot soup.’’

‘’Good old Kapitän Kretschmer: always there when we need him.’’ replied Hugo, feeling relief wash over him. The seventeen Germans aboard the captured tugboat then anxiously waited, wishing that their boat could go faster.

Four minutes later, with no guns having fired at them yet and with the Germans wondering what the Americans were doing, one sailor acting as a lookout shouted a warning while pointing aft.

‘’FAST BOAT APPROACHING AT FIVE O’CLOCK, DISTANCE: ONE KILOMETER!’’

A quick glance with his binoculars told Wittgenstein that the incoming craft was armed and full of men.

‘’That’s a boarding party if I ever saw one, men! Twenty-millimeter cannon, fire at will on that approaching boat!’’

The sailor manning the aft automatic cannon was actually a qualified anti-aircraft gunner with combat experience and proceeded to prove it, firing short, well aimed bursts at the speed boat. Bracketed with the first salvoes, the American boat soon was hit by a number of 20mm shells which caused a carnage onboard and stopped it dead in the water. As the Germans cheered while watching the speed boat sink, a puff of smoke from the shores of Flamenco Island, the nearest of the islands fortified by the Americans, announced more trouble.

‘’INCOMING! KEEP YOUR HEADS DOWN! HELM, START ZIGZAG COURSE!’’

That shell, a medium caliber one judging from the noise it made while passing overhead, missed the tugboat by a fairly wide margin. However, the shell that followed proved much closer.

‘’THEY ARE GOING TO FIND THE CORRECT RANGE SOON.’’ shouted Ulrich, making Hugo jump into action.

‘’THEN, LET’S RETURN THEM THE FAVOR! THREE INCH GUN, FIRE AT WILL AT THAT COASTAL GUN BATTERY!’’

With the Germans fighting to stay alive long enough to be rescued by the U-800, the forward deck gun started pumping out 76mm shells at a rate of nearly twenty rounds per

303

minute. As his gunners were firing their piece, Hugo had an idea when he saw that their supply of ammunition included a few white phosphorous incendiary rounds.

‘’LOADERS, LOAD WHITE PHOSPHOROUS SHELLS! LET’S PUT A SMOKE SCREEN BETWEEN US AND THOSE GUNS!’’

The two sailors acting as loaders obeyed him at once, with the characteristic white smoke clouds of white phosphorous shells soon bursting along the shoreline of Flamenco Island. That smoke soon had a telling effect, with the American gunfire losing both accuracy and rate of fire. By now, Ulrich von Wittgenstein could see the periscope of the U-800 barely fifty meters ahead.

‘’HELM, SLOW DOWN AND STEER TO PASS JUST TO PORT OF THE PERISCOPE, THEN COME TO A FULL STOP.’’

‘’AYE, HERR LEUTNANT!’’

With the tugboat coasting on idle, they soon came level with the periscope of the U-800. The water suddenly started to bubble up, with the periscope rising in the air. A few seconds later, the top of the conning tower of the U-800 broke through the surface and rose a few meters before stopping its ascension. The port access door of the submarine’s covered bridge was thrown open as an American shell passed uncomfortably close overhead. Ulrich grinned on seeing that no less than Otto Kretschmer was now standing in the door, a rope in his hands.

‘’I’M GOING TO THROW A LINE TO YOU! GRAB IT AND USE IT TO GET YOUR MEN TO THE SIDE ACCESS LADDER OF THE CONNING TOWER.’’

‘’GO AHEAD, HERR KAPITÄN! HAUPTMANN MARGRAFF, KEEP UP THE COVERING FIRE WHILE OUR MEN TRANSFER TO THE U-800.’’

‘’WILL DO!’’

With Margraff and his team of gunners pumping out shells as if there was no tomorrow, the German sailors on the tugboat started getting on the U-800, using the loosely held rope to swing themselves against the steel rungs welded to the side of the conning tower, then climbing the ladder up to the covered bridge and disappearing inside the submarine. Soon, only Ulrich and Margraff’s gun crew were left on the tugboat. Ulrich was about to shout to Hugo to get his men on the submarine when a shell hit the tugboat at the level of the stern and exploded. Covering his head with his arms for a second or two, Ulrich then shouted as loudly as he could.

‘’MARGRAFF, GET YOUR MEN ON THE U-800, NOW!’’

304

To his relief, Hugo did send his gunners towards the rope tied to the railings of the tugboat. However, the Brandenburg officer then stayed with his gun, alternatively loading, aiming and firing it. Exasperated, Ulrich ran down from the small bridge of the tugboat and patted Hugo’s left shoulder.

‘’TIME TO GO, HUGO! COME ON!’’

Hugo didn’t reply at once, taking the time to fire a last shell before jumping out of the aimer’s seat.

‘’Alright, I’m coming!’’

Both men ran to the rope from the U-800 but were bowled over on the deck when another shell hit the tugboat, exploding amidships near the waterline. Hugo got up in a flash and vigorously grabbed Ulrich, helping him get up on his feet.

‘’Come on, you Kriegsmarine squid! Put a move on it!’’

Ulrich was nearly thrown by Hugo towards the conning tower of the U-800 and banged his face against the steel plates of the submarine, but managed to climb quickly the ladder, to be finally grabbed and lifted onto the covered bridge by Otto Kretschmer, who patted his shoulder while smiling to him.

‘’Happy to see you back aboard, Ulrich. Get inside and prepare the submarine for an emergency dive.’’

‘’But, Margraff…’’

‘’He is already climbing up the ladder. Now, get down to the control room!’’ Ulrich didn’t insist and went through the heavy hatch on one side of the forward observation dome that gave access to the inside of the submarine. Otto then looked back at Hugo Margraff, who was about to get to the level of the covered bridge. A third shell then hit the tugboat and exploded, its blast wave throwing Otto backward in the covered bridge. With his ears ringing hard, he got back up and went to the port side door. Looking down, he saw Hugo Margraff, hanging by one hand from a rung and with blood smearing his right shoulder. Not wasting time asking question, Otto grabbed the handle of the access door to secure himself, then bent down, reaching with his right hand and grabbing the shoulder straps of Hugo’s web gear. Otto was quite a strong man and proved it then by pulling up the commando officer with a single arm, with Hugo helping him as best he could while grimacing with pain. Both men were finally inside the covered bridge, with Otto nearly shoving Hugo through the hatch of the observation dome while shouting to his sailors inside.

‘’I NEED HELP FOR ONE WOUNDED MAN COMING DOWN!’’

305

He didn’t wait for Hugo to start going down the internal ladder, instead running to the port access door and closing it. He then entered himself the observation dome and closed shut the heavy armored hatch before shouting downward.

‘’DIVE! DIVE! DIVE!’’

He had to wait for Hugo Margraff getting down to the next level and being carried out of the way before he could slide down the ladder, landing on the level of the control room. He could already feel his submarine go down but he knew that this game was not over yet: the waters around the Pacific entrance to the Panama Canal were quite shallow and he would need to make an underwater sprint before he could get to much deeper and safer waters. Running inside the control room, he saw that Ulrich von Wittgenstein was standing at the search periscope.

‘’MAKE DEPTH 25 METER! RETRACT PERISCOPE! ELECTRIC MOTORS FULL AHEAD! TAKE HEADING 170 DEGREES!’’

As his sailors obeyed his orders, Otto sat down for a moment, the flow of adrenaline in his veins starting to subside. He then looked up and smiled to Ulrich.

‘’Well, that was one close call if I ever saw one. On the other hand, we sure felt the bang when the JOHN F. DICKSON blew up. Was it inside the locks when it blew up?’’

‘’It was, Herr Kapitän. I am sure that both sides of the locks are now destroyed, in view of the power of the explosion.’’

Ulrich’s expression then became grave and he lowered the volume of his voice.

‘’How is Hauptmann Margraff, Herr Kapitän?’’

‘’I am not sure. He was bleeding but conscious when I pulled him in and I saw men carry him away towards the infirmary. As soon as we are safely out of here, we will go see how he is making out.’’

Both men then stayed silent, thinking about how much worse this could have ended up.

16:47 (Panama Time)

Miraflores Locks, Panama Canal

Major General Henry Rockwell, Commander of the Panama Canal Zone, stood silently on the edge of the huge, water-filled crater that now sat across what had been the first set of locks on the Pacific side of the canal. The first western-side lock was mostly gone, erased by the new crater. The thick concrete median wall that had

306

separated the parallel sets of locks had been partially blown away or cracked right open along a goodly length, rendering the eastern-side first lock impossible to use. The thick, huge steel lock gates of the western-side lock had been blown off their hinges by the force of the explosion, which had been fully transmitted by the water that had been inside the lock at the time. The adjacent control building and pump house had been obliterated by the titanic blast and didn’t exist anymore, for all intents and purposes. A few large, distorted pieces of metal lying around the devastated area was all that was left of the JOHN F. DICKSON.

‘’It took over a decade of hard work to build this canal. Today, it took only a few minutes to turn it into a giant, useless drainage ditch!’’

Turning around, he angrily faced the small group of senior officers waiting at attention behind him. Among them were the commanders of Fort Amador and Fort Grant, plus the Navy representative.

‘’Do you have any idea of the damage that your negligence has caused, gentlemen? DO YOU? Our ships carrying vital war supplies will now have to do the grand tour down and around Cape Horn, adding over 10,000 nautical miles and more than a month of sailing to their trip. Our warships will also have to go around Cape Horn now, making it impossible for us to quickly reinforce our Pacific Fleet with units from the Atlantic. WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK THE REACTION TO THIS WILL BE IN WASHINGTON? I WANT TO KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED, AND I WANT TO KNOW IT FAST!’’

What Rockwell didn’t say or even realized then, as his mind was on the effects of this on his own career, was that this disaster had just dealt a deadly blow to the national economy of the Republic of Panama.

19:08 (Panama Time)

Infirmary of the U-800

Hugo Margraff woke up slowly in a bed, his mind fogged up by the residual morphine in his bloodstream and his eyes unfocused at first. His throat was also parched. A sharp pain in his back made him moan when he tried to raise his head. That moan attracted to him Doctor Konrad List, who gently held him down.

‘’Easy there, Hauptmann Margraff. You were hit by a piece of shrapnel in your right shoulder blade and your right arm will have to be immobilized for a couple of weeks,

307

at the least. I already operated on you and extracted that piece of shrapnel. Thankfully, it missed your vital organs and blood vessels and you should be up and running in a month or two. I will just ask you to stay in bed for the moment and move as little as you can.’’

‘’My men...are they all alright?’’

‘’They are, Hauptmann. You were the only one to be wounded. The U-800 is also safely out of the Gulf of Panama and is on its way to Japan. In a month or so, you will be able to have a few nice geisha girls take care of you.’’ Those last words made Hugo smile as he imagined that scene. He however became serious again and looked at the naval surgeon.

‘’Can my men visit me now, Doctor? I would like to talk to them.’’

‘’Hum, alright, but keep the talking to the minimum. You did lose quite a lot of blood. Let me examine you first.’’

List took a few minutes to take his temperature and vital signs and to check the large bandage across his back, then went to his telephone, placing a couple of calls before working on cleaning his surgical instruments.

His first visit was by his six men, who had to press against each other to fit in the small space by the side of Hugo’s medical bunk. Having gotten a firm request from Doctor List not to tire Hugo too much or make him talk a lot, the Brandenburg soldiers didn’t say much themselves but gave him a chocolate bar, hiding it for him under his pillow.

‘’In case Doctor List puts you on some sort of diet.’’ whispered Franz Stein in a conspiratorial tone, making Hugo grin.

‘’Thanks! I do love chocolate.’’

‘’And I’m sure that you also love this, Herr Hauptmann.’’ added Otto Lang, handing him a small, pocket-sized bottle. ‘’Schnapps, the best one distilled in my village in Saxony.’’

‘’Now you are talking!’’ said Hugo, who quickly hid the precious bottle before looking with a serious expression at his second-in-command. ‘’Does Kapitän

Kretschmer have plans to attack the Americans while on his way to Japan, Franz?’’

‘’We don’t know yet, Hauptmann. The captain has called for a meeting of all the officers in one hour, to discuss that precise subject. He asked me to represent you at that meeting and I intend afterwards to report to you what was said there.’’

308

‘’Good! Make sure that the captain knows that we are ready to conduct more land raids or boarding operations if a good occasion shows itself.’’

‘’I will pass the word, Hauptmann. Well, we better leave before Doctor List throws us out of the infirmary. Take it easy, Hauptmann.’’

‘’I will! Thank you again for coming to visit me, men. You are the best soldiers an officer could hope to command.’’

In unison, the six soldiers responded by coming to attention and giving him a military salute, to which Hugo replied by saluting slowly with his left arm. His men then walked out of the infirmary, leaving him alone with Doctor List. The latter soon left the infirmary as well to go get a cup of coffee at the galley. Hugo used that chance to grab his new bottle of schnapps and take a couple of good pulls from it. He grimaced as the strong alcohol burned its way down his throat.

‘’Aah! That’s what I call real schnapps!’’

15:06 (Hawaii Time) / 20:06 (Panama Time)

U.S. Pacific Fleet Headquarters

Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

Admiral Chester Nimitz, out of a sudden fit of rage, nearly threw away the message he had just read. Despite all the huge expenditures made over the decades to fortify and defend the Panama Canal, German saboteurs had still managed to infiltrate the Panama Zone and destroy a number of the locks. Now, much of his fleet’s supply lifeline would suffer serious delays and would cost a lot more in fuel and transportation time. Forcing himself to calm down, Nimitz then thought about how those Germans had managed to get to the locks. As an ex-submariner himself, he had to concede a grudging admiration for the daring and resourcefulness of the men of the U-800. If only half of his submarine commanders could be as daring and devious as this Otto Kretschmer! On the other hand, while this was obviously impossible, he wished that he could inspect first hand that U-800. The little intelligence available about it painted it as a formidable machine of war and a true nautical marvel. Getting up from behind his work desk, Nimitz went to the big map of the Pacific pinned on one wall of his office and studied it, trying to analyze the effects the disaster in Panama would have on the whole Pacific campaign and on his fleet. One thing was pretty sure in his mind, considering the past exploits of the U-800: Otto Kretschmer was not going to be content with simply

309

sailing to Japan after striking Panama. The big question now was what the U-800 would do to his fleet, not what it could do. A fleet-wide warning message concerning the U-800 was definitely in order.