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Post by crushedhat on Sept 17, 2020 2:16:11 GMT
Joint posting with silentwolf and crushedhat
16 March, 1940
Gestapo agent Manfred Goertner turns up the collar of his trench coat and pulls his hat down low to cover his face, seemingly unaware that his efforts to hide his identity while technically effective, also broadcast that that is exactly what he is trying to do. Relying on his small stature to keep him from standing out, Goertner spends his day tailing ‘The Subject,’ also known as KptLt Tobias Hopf. Anytime the U-Boat Kommander does something not fitting with Goertner’s concept of ‘normal behavior,’ Manfred reaches into his trench coat and pulls out a small notebook and pencil. Wetting the lead of the pencil on his tongue, Manfred jots down the time, place, and nature of the ‘aberrant behavior.’
Despite his best efforts, Goertner finds little enough to note, Hopf spending the bulk of the day at the shipyard apparently overseeing repairs to his U-Boat. The only people Hopf appears to interact with are members of his crew, or employees of the shipyard. Pulling out the notebook and wetting the pencil Goertner makes a note to look into the backgrounds of the people working at the shipyard.
By day’s end, Goertner’s body is paying the price of a day spent standing in the relative open in mid-March. He consoles himself with the thought that it is a small inconvenience in the game of catching a spy. He reflects on how it appears Hopf is not a spy, silently respecting the latter’s mastery of his craft. Looking up from his writing, Manfred finds himself almost face-to-face with ‘The Subject’ as Hopf leaves for the day. Quickly putting the notebook and pencil away, Goertner resumes the hunt, thankful for the opportunity to move cold-stiffened muscles.
With the March wind whipping the tails of his overcoat and forcing him to place one hand on his hat lest it be blown away, KptLt Tobias Hopf makes his way down the quickly darkening street. Something more than the air temperature sends a chill through his body. Stopping, Tobias looks back the way he has just come. The fading light makes it difficult to see clearly but he thinks he sees someone dart into a nearby doorway. The individual looked vaguely familiar, Tobias suddenly recalling the small man waiting by the gate to the shipyard ad he left.
Wanting to be ready for action should it prove necessary, Tobias shrugs his shoulders and swings his arms across his body as though seeking to warm himself. In actuality he is making sure his overcoat will not impede the use of his fists should he need them. Satisfied that he has done what he can to be prepared, Tobias continues on. Down the street Manfred Goertner steps out of the doorway, congratulating himself on not being seen.
Reaching his destination, Hopf descends a set of stairs to a doorway with a garish sign on it. Taking one last look back, he enters.
The close heat after the outer cold is like a refreshing slap in the face and Tobias forgets all about his possible assailant. The air in the club is heavy with smoke. Combined with the dim lighting, it makes it darker in here than it was on the late evening street outside. The multiple conversations taking place are drowned out by the sounds of the jazz combo playing in the corner. While the official Party line is that jazz is decadent, Tobias likes it and sees its vilification as a symptom of the Nazi’s fanaticism.
Making his way to an empty table, Tobias sheds his overcoat draping it across the back of a chair before plopping down into it. As he does so Hopf signals for the waitress.
The woman at the bar watches Hopf from the moment he enters, his uniform making him stand out among the other patrons. Picking up her purse, coat, and drink, she heads toward his table.
“May I?” she asks in accented German though Tobias can’t place it. Her eyes indicate the chair opposite Tobias, who seems surprised to have a visitor, especially one so attractive. Before he can respond she drops her coat onto an adjacent empty seat and sits. “Don’t see many of your kind in here. The uniform,” she adds seeing Tobias confused expression. “Luftwaffe?”
“Kreigsmarine,” Tobias quickly corrects her. “I command a U-Boat.” There is pride in his voice and a hint of bravado, leading Tobias to the realization that he is seeking to impress this woman. The moment of self-discovery makes him feel foolish. Seeking to regain his equilibrium as well as shift the focus off himself, Tobias continues, “Tobias Hopf.”
“Claire. Claire Wilson,” she takes the bait, extending her hand to shake.
“You’re not German,” Tobias seeks to keep Claire talking.
She laughs, a pleasant sound. “American. Is it that obvious?”
“The accent,” Tobias explains. “And what are you doing in Germany Fraulein, I assume it’s Fraulein, Wilson?”
Tobias finds himself feeling a little lighter when she answers “Yes. It’s Fraulein. But please call me Claire. I’m a journalist. I’m here doing a series on Germany’s economic recovery.”
“Yes. It is quite an achievement,” Tobias states with pride; something the Nazis got right he thinks to himself.
“You seem to have a strong opinion on the subject. Perhaps I can interview you?” She smiles invitingly.
Before Tobias can answer the waitress arrives. Planning to decline the interview, Tobias instead finds himself saying, “If we’re going to be talking awhile you probably want another drink?”
Claire again smiles and then gives the waitress her order. Tobias does likewise, adding, “Put the Fraulein’s drink on my tab.”
“A gentleman,” Claire says with a hint of surprise once the waitress is gone. “I haven’t met many of them in Germany.” Tobias doesn’t know whether to be offended on behalf of his nation, or pleased that he has impressed her.
Reaching for her purse, Claire pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “My journalistic ethics won’t let me be beholden to a source. The least I can do is offer you one of these,” she says as she shakes two out of the pack,, holding one out to Tobias.
Pulling out his lighter, Tobias reaches across the table to light the cigarette now placed between Claire’s lips. As he does so she leans in and slides her chair forward. Beneath the table he can feel her foot touch his. Whether on purpose or accidental is unclear, though the way she boldly holds his gaze leads him to think the former.
Across the bar, Manfred Goertner pulls out his notepad and pencil. Wetting the tip on his tongue, he begins to write.
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Post by crushedhat on Sept 27, 2020 4:04:53 GMT
Joint post by silentwolf and crushedhat
25 April 1940, U-Boat Docks, Wilhelmshaven
KptLt Tobias Hop fakes his way through the crowd on the pier. Even though there is no one to meet him, he is happy that his crew’s loved ones are there to see them safely returned. In will only serve to improve morale.
Suddenly Tobias finds his way forward blocked. Looking up, his initial annoyance fades away at the sight of Claire Wilson, the American he met at the jazz club during his last stay n port. “This is an unexpected surprise” he says though a smile that makes him feel schoolboy foolish.
“A pleasant one, I hope,” Claire smiles back. Then, extending her arms and the bouquet filling them she adds, “I understand this is the custom.” She tries not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of a man over four weeks unwashed.
As Tobias accepts the flowers Claire adds, “After you’ve taken are of whatever official duties you need to perform, and gotten cleaned up,” her eyes take in Tobias’ beard, something he wasn’t sporting the last time they met, “Perhaps we can meet for dinner. My numbers in the flowers.” Claire needlessly points to the bouquet now in Tobias’ hands. Starting to lean forward Claire checks herself or perhaps it is Tobias’ aroma that does so. In either event she settles back down on her heels. It being her turn to smile sheepishly, Claire turns and walks quickly off the pier Tobias’ eyes following her all the way.
Hopf’s eyes aren’t the only ones following Claire. From his vantage point along the seawall, Gestapo agent Manfred Goertner hurriedly jots down some notes.
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Post by crushedhat on Sept 29, 2020 21:07:14 GMT
Joint post by silentwolf and crushedhat
27 April 1940, early afternoon, Wilhelmshaven
“I was wondering if you were going to call.”
KptLt Tobias Hopf feels his pulse quicken ever so slightly at the sound of the female voice on the other end of the line. “The needs of the Service come first,” he intones the line hoping he doesn’t sound too officious.
“Of course,” Claire Wilson agrees. “The problems of getting involved with a man in uniform, I suppose.”
’Getting involved?’ Tobias thinks he’d hardly call a second date, first really as their original meeting wasn’t an arranged event, ‘getting involved.’ Still he feels no desire to correct her. “I’ve made dinner reservations – “ he starts.
“A bit presumptuous,” Claire teasingly interrupts, laughing when Tobias verbally stumbles. Adopting a pseudo formal tone, Claire asks, “And when should I be ready, Herr Kapitan?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” Tobias replies, his eagerness to see her again overruling his impulse to be offended by her light-hearted mockery of military formality. “Fraulein – “
Again she interrupts him. “Claire, please. Unless you insist I call you Kapitan, or whatever it is?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven, Claire.” Tobias is thankful that she can’t see what he is sure is a foolish grin on his face. About to hang up, Claire’s voice stops him.
“Would you like my address? It may make it easier to pick me up?”
Clearing his throat to hide the oversight, Tobias agrees. Now armed with that vital piece of information he hangs up the phone.
In another room Manfred Goertner of the Gestapo hangs up his phone as well, hurriedly jotting down the gist of the overheard conversation. “Inform Hauptsturmfuhrer Schmidt where I will be tonight,” he tells the technician who set up the wiretap. Getting up, Goertner grabs his coat and heads out the door.
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Post by crushedhat on Oct 3, 2020 23:24:37 GMT
27 April 1940, evening, Wilhelmshaven
Joint post by silentwolf and crushedhat
Claire Wilson’s sudden intake of breath and her wide-eyed appearance tell KptLt Tobias Hopf that his attempt to impress her has succeeded. The American continues to rubberneck, albeit discretely, as the maître de shows them to their table. Stepping in quickly, Tobais displaces the maître de in holding Claire’s chair for her.
“Tobias,” Claire begins, her tone a mixture of awe and admonishment, “It looks so expensive.”
“It’s only money,” Tobias counters, silently cringing at the thought of what the evening is going to cost. He consoles himself with the thought that he really has nothing else to spend it on. In that spirit, he orders and expensive bottle of wine while they wait for their dinner.
Encouraged by the wine, Claire loosens up, as does Tobias. Talking about her project, Tobias is impressed by Claire’s knowledge of the intricacies of the German economy, it clearly exceeding his own. Still, it isn’t exactly the kind of thing Tobias was hoping for, his hopes rising when Claire switches to, “But enough shop talk. Tell me about yourself.” She leans in across the table, her eyes bright with interest.
Felling himself blush under her attention, Tobias instead says, “Not much to tell really. But, as you once accused me of being a gentleman, ladies first.”
“Hoisted by my own petard,” Claire laughs. Sitting back, she says, “Like you said, not much to tell. I’m a born and raised farm girl from Kansas. A regular Dorothy.” Seeing Tobias look, she clarifies, “The Wizard of Oz? The movie?”
When Tobias shakes his head indicating no knowledge of what she is saying, Claire sighs. “I guess somethings don’t translate across cultures. Refilling their glasses, she hands Tobias his. Leaning forward again, she raises hers in a toast. “To those things that do.” Under the table Tobias can feel Clair’s foot caressing his calf.
“To those that do,” Tobias repeats, hoping his face is flushing as visibly as he feels it is. Just then, the band starts up again.
“Ask me to dance,” Claire says,, putting down her glass and, not waiting for his response, taking Tobias’ hand and leading them to the dance floor.
Easily flowing into Tobias’ lead, Claire makes it seem as though he is a far more accomplished dancer than he is. She lets her head rest on his chest, the perfume form her hair directly under his nose,, a few errant strands tickling it. When Tobias pulls his head back to avoid sneezing, Claire looks up at him. Smiling mischievously she rises up on her toes and kisses him. While it is not a deep or particularly passionate kiss, Tobias feels the heat; not only on his lips, but where their bodies press against each other in a dancers’ embrace.
“Sorry, that was way to forward of me,” Claire apologizes as she rests back onto her feet. Still, she doesn’t look away.
“No…Not at all,” Tobias stutters.
“Let’s dance,” Claire offers by way of passing the awkward moment. And dance they do, until the band is finished for the night.
Walking along the empty late night, early morning actually, street, Claire loops her arm through Tobias’ and leans her head against his shoulder. “I had a wonderful evening,” she says ever so softly.
Turning his head to reply, Tobias catches movement down the street behind them. “What is it?” Claire asks, feeling him tense up.
“Could be nothing,” Tobias answers without much conviction. “But just in case…” he waves down a passing taxi. Ignoring her protests at leaving him alone to face whatever the threat may be, but at the same time acknowledging his gallantry with an appreciative smile, Claire says, “Call me. So I know You’re alright.” Tobias nods his acquiescence before closing the cab door and sending the driver on his way. He then turns and heads back down the street.
Gestapo Agent Manfred Goertner watches as the subject puts his lady friend in a cab and then heads in Goertner’s direction. Deciding the time is right to play his trump card, Goertner steps out of the shadows to meet Hopf.
As they draw closer, Tobias recognizes the man in the trench coat and overly large hat as the same man he has ran into at the shipyards a month ago, and who has been his shadow on other occasions. Feeling a mixture of dread and anger, Tobias demands, “Who are you! And why are you following me?”
“Gestapo.” By the look on the subject’s face, Manfred can tell the single word is having the desired effect.
“But…” Tobias struggles with the news. “Why is the Gestapo following me?”
“WE,” Goertner deliberately uses the collective term, “Have reason to believe you may be a security risk.”
“Me? I’m a loyal officer and a supporter of The Party,” Tobias counters, wondering how he could be suspect.
“A supporter,” Goertner ripostes, “But not a member. And, you would not be the first to be turned by a pretty face.” Manfred looks past Tobias as though watching the now departed cab.
“Claire? A spy? Don’t be ridiculous.” Despite Tobias’ protest, Goertner can see the seed of doubt has been planted. “Besides, she’s an American. They’re not in this war.”
“Yet,” Manfred reminds Tobias. “But they are overly friendly with the British.
“Charles Lindbergh supports Germany.” Tobias seeks to dissuade the Gestapo man. “The first man o fly solo across the Ocean,” he clarifies when the name doesn’t seem to register in a replay of Claire’s earlier reference to Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz.
“Be that as it may.” Goertner has the sense he is being judged for not knowing the name, and found wanting. “You had best watch yourself. And immediately report if your lady friend shows any interest in things military.”
“And if I don’t?” Tobias regrets the words as soon as they are out of his mouth, realizing they can be interpreted as unpatriotic.
“Let us just say that you have your own problems.” With that, Goertner turns and walks away, audibly whistling a jazz tune.
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Post by crushedhat on Oct 17, 2020 16:57:01 GMT
Wilhelmshaven June 1940
Joint post by silentwolf and crushedhat
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to call again. A shame, really, after the wonderful evening we had last time. Except for the way you bundled e off at the end.” There is a pleasant lilt to Claire Wilson’s voice. “And then I remembered you had to go back out on patrol. But you’re back now.”
Silently KptLt Tobias Hopf admits that he almost didn’t call the American back after his confrontation with Gestapo agent Manfred Goertner. But, he found he enjoyed her company, and he wasn’t going to let some Gestapo goon tell him what to do. Still the seed of suspicion that Goertner planted has hi wondering how Claire knew he was on patrol.
Before Tobias can seek to satisfy his curiosity Claire says, ”I would’ve been there welcome you home, but I had a deadline for a story.”
“I hope you don’t have a deadline for tonight,” Tobias probes, realizing he should have checked before paying a small fortune for opera tickets. “Gestapo can’t object to Wagner,” he reflects.
“If you’re asking me out, I’m free,” Claire eagerly responds. “what’re we doing tonight?”
“Wagner,” Tobias replies, hoping the answer will impress her.
“I’ve never been to the opera.” There is a pause and then with a note of concern in her voice, “I’ve got to get something appropriate to wear. Do I have time?”
“I’ll pick you up at seven. But I’ sure whatever you wear…”
“Seven,” Claire interrupts/confirms. Still holding the receiver, Tobias blushes as he thinks he hears Claire blow a kiss over the phone before hanging up.
Late evening
Claire has her arm looped through Tobias’, her head resting on his upper arm as they stroll down the street after the opera.
“It was more than I expected” Claire enthuses, her reaction bringing a pleased smile to Tobias’ lips.
“What were you expecting?” he probes.
“Something more…staid, I guess. I mean it was all Teutonic enough,” she hurriedly adds lest she offend Tobias’ ethnic pride. “But it was also so….passionate. I wasn’t expecting that.” Claire lifts her head from Tobias’ arm to smile up at him.
“And that surprises you? We Germans can be quite passionate,” Tobias rises to the bait.
“Is that a threat, or a promise?” Claire teases. “I hope the latter.” She smiles then quickly rests her head back on Tobias’ arm as his face colors.
The two continue on in silence, Tobias aware of the warmth of Claire’s presence and the scent of her perfume, distinct from the summer blossoms lining the street. Caught up as he is, Tobias doesn’t notice their shadow. Gestapo agent Manfred Goertner follows the couple, convinced his diligence will not go unrewarded.
Arriving at Claire’s hotel, Tobias reluctantly disengages her arm. “Unfortunately, the evening has come to an end. All too soon,” he adds, congratulating himself on being so gallant, but also not wanting it to be so.
As if reading Tobias’ mind, Claire offers, “It doesn’t have to be. You could come up to my room…” she lets her words trail off into a smile and an expression full of promise. Not giving Tobias the opportunity to turn her down, Claire takes his hand and leads him inside.
Goertner enters the hotel lobby just in time to see the elevator doors closing on the American and the Kreigsmarine officer. Manfred checks the impulse to immediately demand Wilson’s room number from the desk clerk. Can always get that later, he tells himself. Instead, he asks the young woman, “Is there another way up to the rooms?” producing his Gestapo ID to encourage cooperation.
The desk clerk’s face pales as she nods and points to a door in the corner. “The stairs. In case of fire.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. Taking a paper from the counter, Goertner selects a chair from which he can observe both the stair door and the elevator. Sitting, he unfolds the paper and pretends to read, resigned to a long night’s watch.
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Post by crushedhat on Nov 15, 2020 19:19:32 GMT
Joint posting by silentwolf and crushedhat
2 Dec 1940, La Rochelle
Having checked in on the work on his U-Boat, KKpt Tobias Hopf leaves the docks and heads toward the town of La Rochelle. His mind on a cold drink and a warm meal, he is surprised when a familiar female voice calls out his name. Looking up, Tobias sees the American, Claire Wilson smiling back at him.
“Surprised to see me?” Claire asks as she steps up beside Tobias, looping her arm though his as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I must admit, I was surprised when you didn’t return from your last patrol. But then I learned you have been relocated.” Tobias thinks her catches a note of reproach in her voice. “It took calling in most of my favors to find out where you’d been posted. And the rest of them to get the necessary travel authorizations. But that’s alright. I’m here now. That is alright, isn’t it?” Claire stops to look into Tobias’ eyes.
For his part, Tobias feels a mixture of emotions. He cannot deny a certain stirring at the warmth of Claire’s touch as he recalls their last night together. At the same time, his eyes reflexively scan beyond her for signs of Manfred Geortner. Not seeing the Gestapo agent, Tobias relaxes slightly. “I’m sorry…” he begins to apologize.
“Pshaw,” Claire waves away his apology. “What matters is that I found you.” Not waiting for an invitation, nor giving Tobias a chance to dismiss her, Claire rises up on her toes and kisses him. If Tobias were considering disengaging himself, such thoughts quickly evaporate as he wraps his arms around her, pulling Claire in close and returning the kiss.
Breaking the kiss, Claire asks, “Where are you taking me for dinner?” her smile dispelling the last of Tobias’ reserve.
**
The café is off the beaten path. Not fancy, but small, meaning intimate. Despite the small size, Tobias and Claire have a modicum of privacy, the other patrons studiously avoiding the man in the German naval uniform. They quickly realize that their disapproving looks at Claire are fruitless as her accent clearly indicates she is not French.
“I’m surprised you followed me here?’ Tobias probes, his earlier doubts about Claire’s true purpose returning.
Claire laughs, drawing hostile glances from the other patrons. “Have you forgotten our last night together?” At the same time, her foot rubs along Tobias’ calf under the table.
His face reddening, both with prides and desire, Tobias reaches across the table for Claire’s hand. “It needn’t be our ‘last time,’” he finds himself saying, his earlier doubts about Claire pushed aside by other feelings.
Squeezing Tobias’ hand, Claire smiles and says, “I was hoping you’d say that.” Disengaging her hand, Claire signals the waiter for the check. “Your place?”
**
Entering his current quarters, Tobias helps Claire out of her coat. Her nearness, and the scent of her hair remind him of why, despite the complications with the Gestapo, Tobias continued his relationship with the American. “Make yourself at home,” he tells her as he hangs up his own coat. Heading for the bathroom, he informs Claire, “I’ll be a couple of minutes.”
Quickly freshening up, Tobias emerges. His sudden appearance causes Claire to start in surprise, dropping something in the process. Tobias sees it is his personal journal.
A few quick steps and he is upon her, grabbing her wrist roughly as he accuses, “So, they were right!”
“Tobias. Please. You’re hurting me,” Claire pleads as she tries to free her arm. “It’s not how it looks.”
“No? Then tells me how it is.”
“You…you never talk about it. But I want to know all about you. What you do.” Claire uses her free hand to stroke Tobias’ cheek as she looks imploring up into his eyes. “Can you blame me? I love you.” She starts to rise up to kiss him.
“Leave.” Tobias tells her as he takes a step back.
“Tobias –“
“Leave,” he repeats.
“If you really want me to,” Claire accedes. “But you’ll have to let go of my wrist.”
Not realizing he is still holding her, Tobias lets go, throwing her hand aside. He watches warily as Claire retrieves her coat. She seems deliberately slow in putting it on, as though giving him the chance to change his mind. When he doesn’t, she quietly askes, “Will I see you again?” Receiving no answer, she exits.
Once Claire is gone, Tobias curses himself for a fool, though it is unclear whether because he trusted her, or because he let her go.
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Post by crushedhat on Dec 3, 2020 3:24:29 GMT
Joint post between silentwolf and crushedhat.
Feb 1941, a café in La Rochelle
“Hey, stranger,” a familiarly accented voice intrudes on KKpt Tobias Hopf’s brooding over the results of his most recent combat patrol, or more correctly, lack thereof.
Looking up from the meal he has hardly touched, Tobias sees the American, Claire Wilson. The sight stirs a mixture of emotions as he recalls the nature of their parting, as well as the times they spent together before that falling out. Part of him wonders if he should have reported his suspicions while another part of him is now glad that he did not.
“Mind if I join you?” Claire asks. The question is clearly for form’s sake as she takes a seat without waiting for a response. “Glad to see you made, again.”
Claire’s sentiment appears to be genuine. Still, recalling his earlier suspicions Tobais responds, “Why wouldn’t I? Or did you think…” he catches himself before reveling other U-Boat losses while at the same time wondering how Claire would know of any.
“There’s a war going on. People die. Even civilians.” Claire shudders as she says the last. Clarifying she adds, “All the bombing. On both sides. It’s needless and cruel. But, it also reminds us of how fleeting life can be.”
Reaching across the table Claire places her hand on Tobias’. “I’ve missed you.”
Tobias does not remove his hand, answering back, “I’ve missed you as well.” To his surprise, Tobias finds he really means it, despite his misgivings about Claire’s true line of work. Then, withdrawing his hand he accuses, “America will soon be in this war. And from what I’ve read about them providing the Tommies with destroyers to try to sink my U-Boat, it won’t be on the Reich’s side.”
“True, there are the hawks,” Claire acknowledges. Then, trying to smooth things over, “But Lindbergh has quite a following as well. To keep America out of the war and seek accommodation with Germany,” she clarifies.
"Between possible death or ending up on opposite sides, we should make the most of the time we have now.” Claire recaptures Tobias’ hand. Indicating the half-eaten meal on Tobias’ plate Claire offers, “If you’re done with that, I have an idea how we can pass the afternoon.” She squeezes his hand and smile invitingly.
With his free hand, Tobias pulls some bills out his pocket. Tossing them onto the table he rises, lifting Claire with him. She leans against his arm as though it were the most natural thing for her to do, ignoring the accusing glares of the French patrons.
Noticing the locals’ reaction, Tobias needlessly points out, “Doesn’t look like the French are very enamored of your being with me.”
“I’m not here for them,” Claire counters. “Take me home.”
Needing no further prompting, Tobias leads Claire out of the café and turns toward the hotel serving as his quarters.
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Post by crushedhat on Dec 15, 2020 20:13:20 GMT
Joint post between silentwolf and crushedhat
25 March 1941, La Rochelle
KKpt Tobias Hopf turns his collar up against the rising wind blowing across the harbor as U-47 slowly approaches the pier. His own thoughts compete with the storm-threatening skies to see which is darker. Another less than stellar patrol, only one target, and not a particularly big one at that.
“Think we’ll beat the storm, Herr Kapitan?” his 2WO, LtzS Ingolf Schulte intrudes upon Hopf’s thoughts. Schulte indicates the crowd on the pier, comprised of a small band and the crew’s ‘women;’ predominantly French girls as few of the men moved their families with them.
Turning his attention to the small crowd, Tobias thinks he recognizes one that stands out from the others. Despite his earlier dark mood and the quickly blackening skies a smile forms on Tobias’ lips as in his mind he announces, “Claire!” To his 2WO, Tobias says, “Let’s see if we can’t beat that storm.”
“Aye, Kapitan,” Schulte acknowledges the order. Leaning forward to the speaking tube to the engine room he orders to increase the revolutions.
The Engineer’s efforts notwithstanding, the storm wins the race. Lightening briefly illuminates the scene before the clouds open up to pour down rain upon the quickly dispersing crowd. Tobias notes with some comfort that Claire Wilson is among the few hardy souls who remain. Almost before the mooring lines are secured Hopf is off the boat, making his way to Claire.
“Kapitan?” another female voice interrupts Tobias’ progress. He recognizes the speaker as Helferin Gertrude Stein, the XO’s Jill-of-all-Trades. While Tobias admits that, objectively speaking, Gertrude is physically more attractive than Claire, it is the latter he is eager to see. Stein’s next words dash any hope of that happening soon. “Kommodore Aus den Berken is awaiting your report.”
Looking over the Helferin’s shoulder, Tobias can see Claire’s face. She smiles warmly then, taking in the scene, silently mouths, “Call me,” before turning to surrender Tobias to his official duties.
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Post by crushedhat on Dec 18, 2020 1:41:40 GMT
Joint post between silentwolf and crushedhat
12 April 1941, La Rochelle
It is not difficult for Claire Wilson to identify KKpt Tobias Hopf among the diners at their appointed rendezvous. Even out of uniform his German manner causes him to stand out among the local patrons. Noting the expression on his face as she approaches, Claire wonders if the other patrons’ obvious hostility is the cause of his scowl.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” she asks as Claire takes the seat opposite Tobias.
“Explain this,” he practically barks, shoving a newspaper across the table at her.
It’s a German language paper, rather than French. The front page stories are about an American Ship attacking a U-Boat and the US beginning patrols of the North Atlantic, ostensibly to protect neutral shipping.
Seeing that Claire is finished reading, Tobias accuses, “Still think America won’t fight Germany?”
“I’m sure there was some misunderstanding,” Claire protests. “I’m not your enemy.” She reaches across the table, but Tobias withdraws his hand before she can take it. “Tobias? Please?” Claire cajoles.
Unconvinced, Tobias glares at the woman seated across from him. Resenting her for her country while at the same time wanting her. “The Americans have chosen.”
“As have I. Will you blame me for what others do?”
“The Americans,” Tobias states firmly. “And you are American.”
“Should I then blame you every time a German soldier hassles me over my papers?” Claire argues.
“They are bothering you?” Tobias’ anger is rapidly pushed aside by concern for Claire’s safety. “Who?”
“The men in the black uniforms. The SS, I believe.”
“They have visited you?” Tobias’ concern is tempered by caution at Claire’s mention of the SS. I will go with you, to your place.” As he says it, Tobias realizes he’s never been in Claire’s apartment.
“No!” The vehemence of Claire’s response surprises Tobais, raising his suspicions anew. Then Claire explains. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. “That little man, the one in the trench coat with the large hat that we saw in Wilhelmshaven? I think I seen him Standing on the corner. Watching.”
“Geortner,” Tobias recalls the Gestapo agent’s name. “What does he want?” he asks himself.
“Besides, the place is a mess and I know how you Germans feel about disorder. Don’t want to scare you off now.” Claire smiles at Tobais. “Give me a few days to clean it up and then I’ll have you in. For now, can’t we just enjoy the time we have together?”
She reaches again for Tobias’ hand. Reacting to the sincerity in Claire’s voice, this time he lets her take it, squeezing hers in turn. “Let’s go,” he suggests.
As the two exit the café, arm in arm, a small man in a large hat pulled low to hide his face reaches into his trench coat and pulls out a notebook.
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Post by crushedhat on Mar 2, 2021 18:01:32 GMT
The following is a joint post between silentwolf and crushedhat.
Jan 1942
KKpt Tobias Hopf is feeling quiet pleased with life as he makes his way to the apartment he currently calls home when in La Rochelle. “I guess good things do come in threes,” he muses. “My request for a North American patrol has been granted. I’ve not lost my touch,” the last referring to the way the Kommodore’s attractiove4 assistant was clearly flirting with him. ‘And, I’ve managed to exact some measure of revenge on the old man for sending the Gestapo after me.” Caught up his reverie, Tobias doesn’t notice another person approaching until a familiar voice intrudes on his thoughts.
“Tobias.” Claire Wilson tugs on his sleeve. It is now Tobias’ turn to be annoyed. He had been avoiding the American ever since Germany declared war in early December. Still, he cannot completely deny the attraction she seems to have for him.
An attraction made stronger by her appeal to his sense of chivalry as Claire says, “I need help. That horrid man from the Gestapo is after me. I can’t go back to my place and I’ve no one else to turn to.”
Tobias grabs Claire, being rougher than he intended, as he pulls her into a nearby doorway. He then quickly scans the street to see if anyone was following her. Though it was not his intent, Claire takes the opportunity to wrap her arms around him and, rising up on her toes, kisses him. Any though Tobias had of abandoning Claire disappears in the heat flowing form her lips.
Taking Claire’s hand, more gently this time, Tobias pulls her back into the street. “Come on,” he hurries her.
Arriving at his apartment, Tobias again checks the street before hurriedly ushering Claire inside. Closing and locking the door behind them, Tobias question why he is taking such a risk. Then, as he turns Claire is in his arms and kissing him again and all thoughts other than being with her are pushed aside.
About an hour later, lying in bed while Claire is in the bathroom, Tobias’ heart skips a beat when there is a knock at his door. As whoever it is knocks again, more insistently, Tobias reaches over and pulls a pistol form the nightstand drawer. At the same time, Claire emerges from the bathroom, a look of dread on her face. Motioning Claire back into the bathroom, Tobias gets to his feet and makes his way to the door.
Opening the door so that his hand with the pistol is concealed behind it, Tobias finds himself facing Goertner. The Gestapo man takes one look at Tobias’ state of being semi-dressed and a cruel smile forms on his thin lips. “As I suspected,” is all the Gestapo man says.
“Suspected?” Tobias feigns ignorance of the agent’s meaning. “That I’d be in my room?” Noting that Goertner is trying to see past him, Tobias steps aside, quickly slipping his pistol behind his back as Goertner pushes his way in.
“In your room, yes,” Goertner smiles. Then, stepping over to the bed he picks up an item of woman’s lingerie, “But not alone. Where is the American?” Goertner demands.
“Right here, Herr Goertner.”
Both men turn to see Claire standing in the bathroom doorway. Their eyes go wide, not at her state of dress, or lack thereof, but at the pistol in her hand. Claire is holding it like someone who knows how to use it.
“You’ll pay for this,” Goertner hisses at Tobias as the Gestapo agent rushes Claire.
Thinking about it later, Tobias still can’t ell if he reacted out of fear for Claire’s life, or his own. In any event, he brings the barrel of his own pistol down hard on the Nazi’s head. Goertner crumbles to the floor.
Stepping over Goertner, Claire moves to collect her things and starts dressing. “What about him?” Tobias asks, still not sure what to make of the situation, or his role in it.
“If you’re lucky, he’s dead and won’t be able to report you,” Claire states matter-of-factly.
“Dead?” Tobias bends down to check for a pulse. Finding none, he pales at the realization that he is involved in the death of an agent of the Reich, and most probably in collaborating with an enemy spy.
Slowly standing, Tobias turns his gun on Claire. “Teel me the truth, Claire, if that even is your name. Who do you work for?”
Claire sighs. The kind of sigh a mother emits when dealing with a difficult child. “Does that really matter right now. You have three choices, Tobias. You can shoot me. But then you’ll have to explain why, as well as the dead Gestapo agent in your room. You could turn me in, but that leaves the same outcomes with the addition that I might well implicate you under torture. Or…” Now fully dressed, Claire walks up to Tobias. Putting her hand over his pistol, she gently pushes it down. “…I can come back later and help you dispose of the body. In exchange for you’re helping me disappear.”
Shifting her hand from his pistol to his cheek, Claire tells Tobias, “I really do love you.” She then turns her back to him and exits.
Watching her go, Tobias wonders if Claire really will return to help with Goertner’s body. He finds himself yearning for the relative safety of a U-Boat at sea.
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Post by crushedhat on Mar 4, 2021 3:49:54 GMT
Joint post by silentwolf and crushedhat
It is some time after Claire Wilson’s departure before KKpt Tobias Hopf is able to calm down enough to begin getting dressed. To the extent possible, he avoids looking in the direction of Goertner’s body. Halfway through the process, Tobias stops. Deciding that doing what must next in the uniform of a KKpt may draw too much attention, Tobias starts over, this time opting for civilian attire. Finished, he sits on the bed and waits.
Shortly after nightfall, and long after Tobias has already concluded he has been abandoned to his fate, a knock at the door causes him to jump. As Tobias readies his pistol, Claire’s voice calls from the other side of the door, “Tobias?”
Ready to shoot if Claire is not alone, Tobias throws open the door. With a mixture of relief and dread, he sees she is alone.
Claire quickly steps into the room, closing the door behind her. Seeing Goernter’s body lying where he fell she chides Tobias. “You could have at least gotten him ready.”
“Ready? For what?”
“Never mind.” Claire’s manner is all business. Grabbing one of Goertner’s arms, Claire throws it over her shoulder as she tells Tobias, “Put on a coat. It’s cold out. Then gab his other arm. If anyone gets too curious we’ll tell them out friend had too much to drink.”
“What…What are we going to do with him?” Despite the dire situation Tobias feels miffed. He’s accustomed to giving the orders rather than receiving them.
“I’ve got a car. We’ll get him there, then take a drive down the coast,” Claire explains. Only in passing does Tobias wonder how Claire came into possession of a car. To Tobias’ great relief, there are no curious to encounter between his apartment and the car.
The drive is conducted in silence, other than Claire several times repeating, “I meant what I said earlier. I do love you.”
Announcing, “This looks like an isolated enough point,” Claire pulls the car off the road, coming to a stop near a precipice. Not bothering to talk, the two bring Goertner’s body to the cliff edge. Once it is over and into the sea below, Tobias asks, “Now what?”
“It’s not that much farther to the Spanish border and you don’t have to be back for a few days. You can pull rank or whatever with the boarder guards. Then I disappear,” Claire explains.
Concern over his role in Goernter’s death being exposed, and aware that Claire is the only one who can tie him to it, Tobias considers pushing her over the cliff after the dead Gestapo agent. Then he recalls her repeated professions of love, they all sounding sincere.
“What?” Claire’s voice intrudes on Tobias thoughts.
“Nothing.” Tobias shakes his head as if doing so will clear the murderous thoughts out. “Just get back in the car.” A minute later and they are motoring south toward the Spanish frontier.
Dawn is breaking by the time they arrive at the border checkpoint. While Claire waits, trying not to display her nervousness, Tobias deals with the guards. The fact that it is shift change, with the guards going off duty eager to be free and those coming on in no hurry to begin a day of assumed drudgery, means that no one is too interested in grilling Tobias, especially when he shows his Kriegsmarine ID. A few minutes later, they are safely in Spain.
Reaching the nearest town, Tobias stops the car. Looking over at Claire he tells her, “You can get out here.”
Claire reaches out to rest a hand on Tobias’ arm. “I meant what I said about loving you. Come with me.”
“I…I can’t.” Already, Tobias is feeling the pangs of guilt over helping what he is now sure is an enemy agent. At the same time he cannot deny the feelings he has toward Claire. Claire’s next move catches Tobias completely by surprise. She leans over and kisses him, at the Same time pressing something into his palm. Breaking the kiss, Tobias can see tears in Claire’s eyes.
“When this is all over, you can find me there.” Claire’s eyes flicker briefly toward the paper in Tobias’ hand. Then she is out of the car and disappears around the corner.
Tobias unfolds the paper. Written on it is an address in the USA. Jamming the paper into his coat pocket, Tobias puts the car in gear and turns it back to the life he knows.
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Post by crushedhat on Mar 9, 2021 1:45:26 GMT
Late Jan 1942, La Rochelle
Joint post by silentwolf and crushedhat
KKpt Tobias Hopf enter the café and stops, his attention captured by an attractive blonde seated by herself. Recognizing the woman, Tobias approaches. “Fraulein Stein,” Tobias announces his presence. “It is a sin that such an attractive woman should have to dine alone.”
Helferfin Gertrude Stein, personal assistant to the XO of 15th U-Boat Flotilla smiles up at Tobias. “I’m just waiting on someone.” About to excuse himself, Tobias is stopped short by Gertrude’s, “But I see no harm in your keeping me company until he arrives.” Tobias notices her eyeing his Knight’s Cross.
“It would be ungallant of me to deny a lady her request.” Tobias pulls out a chair and sits facing Gertrude. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Tobias ventures initiating a relationship when he is cut short by Gertrude waving past him at someone.
Turning her attention back to Tobias, Gertrude apologizes, “I’m sorry. You were saying?”
Before Tobias can answer, an older, miffed sounding male voice says, “KKpt Hopf. I’m surprised to see you here. I’d think you’d be busy preparing for sea.”
“That’s right!” Gertrude chimes in. “It must be so exciting.” She graces Tobias with a smile.
“Yes.” Kommodore Lukas Aus den Birken sounds irked. “I’m sure it is. KKpt?” The XO indicates the seat Tobias occupies with a look that clearly says he views thew younger officer as an interloper. The thought that he is causing some measure of discomfort to the man who sicced the Gestapo on him and cost him Claire Wilson gives Tobias a measure of satisfaction.
Rising, Tobias leans over and reaches for Gertrude’s hand, which she obligingly extends. Making a show of kissing it, Tobias then stands and, suppressing a smug grin, takes his leave of the XO. Coming to attention, Tobias simply says, “Kommodore.”
As Tobias turns to leave, Gertrude calls after him, “I hope we’ll meet again, Herr KKpt.” Then, after flashing him what Tobias is sure is an invitation, she turns her attention to the XO. Tobias is accompanied by the pleasant sound of her laughter as he exits back onto the street.
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Post by dbwhip on Mar 13, 2021 14:26:16 GMT
Das Gun
Setting Early December 1941, La Rochelle France.
Chief Petty Officer Mitt and Gunners Mate Petty Officer Strasser of U-100 Barrakuda are ashore walking to a cafe a few blocks south of the Flotilla basin. It is 15 December. Germany declared war on the United States on 11 December after the Japanese Pearl Harbor attack.
“Here’s my thought” said Strasser, “someone buggered the schnauzer on 557 and the Bosun is covering for him. Has to be. The boat had just finished a work up cruise right? So all systems good right? And first day out on way to Kiel they flood and get stuck on the bottom. Later they find a wrench in a valve…sabotage they say. I don't buy it. Nobody could get that close unnoticed and sure as shootin if it was a yard ape, they would find him. Nope, I’m thinkin someone was asleep at their dive station and missed the valve timing.”
Mitt was surprised by the conversation, “The Furor declares war on the United States and you are talking about 557’s bad luck? Where are your priorities?
“First off, I’d be careful with your little jokes, if I was you. This town is crawling with Gestapo ‘for our own good’ so a little more respect please. And what’s war with America to a lowly Petty Officer? I cant work harder and it wont add to the number of cruises we make. My twelve hour shifts are still twelve hours. Nope, 557 put me on double shifts not Pearl Harbor. So, speaking of double shifts I got an idea that I need your help with. And don't cringe like that, I already done the hard part, I just need you to sell it to the Skipper.”
“How is begging something from the Kommandant the easy part?”
“Well I came up with the idea right? Thats the hardest part of anything, stands to reason.”
They entered the Cafe “Fisherfreund” nee “Filet de Chalutier” and known to the Boat crews as “Flotillas Flotsam.” Standing at the small bar Wolfgang continued.
“Here’s my thought, my gun crew are being used as yard apes doing no doubt important work but not much related to their ratings. I want to dismount our 8.8 and mount it somewhere so’s we can shoot at practice targets. I am thinking that breakwater just north of the entrance channel. That way we fire away from traffic coming and going.”
“There is no way the Port Kommandant is going to allow us to put our gun on his breakwater Wolf, just no way…I have seen the guy, strictly by the book.”
“Again, this is why the idea man has the tough part. You will note that at no point did I mention asking the Port Captain’s permission. All we need is the Skipper’s ok. Once we are up and shootin you think those yard dogs are going to mess with a verruckt sub crew?”
“And how do we keep the gun from jumping around like a bug on a stove?”
"Easy, we put down some heavy shoring timber, which I just happen to know about, and drive spikes into the rocks. Sure the gun will jump around a bit but the boat deck is not exactly sitting still…it will be good practice.”
“Hmmm, and we can set up a platform at the height and distance of the tower bridge for me to call the shots…has potential.”
“Hadn't thought about a range tower but your right, that will make it more realistic.”
Just then the bartender approached “orders Kammaraden?” He was a big, older man with the build and look of a lifelong fisherman. One of the reasons Mitt liked this gastshaus was Henri the barman. He could be trusted as much as any Frenchman could be trusted. First he was a man of the sea and politics took a long second to life at sea. And second, because he hated the Brits. His son, a battleship sailor was badly wounded at el-Kebir on the Dunkerque. He had no love for Germans but he hated the Brits.
“Two Lager’s Henri and some schnitzel.”
“Very funny Chief Petty Officer, very funny every time. Two pints of wine it is.”
“So, Wolf, I am on-board for this practice range. I will talk to Leutnant Sussman in the morning. Prosit!”
The next morning Mitt approached the 2WO first thing. Sussman had only one question, did the Port Captain approve this activity? Mitt had the gift of CPO’s in every navy ever created.
“Herr Leutenant, we have ascertained the Port Captains views on this effort, sir.”
Sussman thought it over a bit and agreed to speak to the Captain. By Mid-watch, Sussman found Mitt in the aft battery compartment checking electrolytes. “Mitt, the Captain has approved your project and applauds your initiative. Further, he authorizes you to to expend all the ammunition currently on-board, this will allow us to stow new shells for our next cruise. Carry on.”
Mitt finished his battery check and hunted down his gunners mate.
“We are approved Wolf. Notify your crew and plan to pull the gun starting first thing tomorrow.”
“Very well Chief, as luck and faith would have it, we started the platform work today. We will pull the gun tomorrow before the Skipper can change his mind…should be able to mount it on the range in another day or so.”
“Well grab the ammunition we have on board as well, the Kommandant has granted us its use as well.”
“That was right generous of him. I knew he was a gunner at heart, but just between you and me, I have also located some ‘training munitions’ just lying around in the munitions bunker. It will however, cost you your smokes ration.”
So, it came to pass that CPO Mitt and Petty Officer Strasser set up the Barrakuda’s deck gun training range. By the end of December, it had come to the attention of the Port Captain and there-in is another tale.
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Post by dbwhip on Mar 15, 2021 14:43:13 GMT
Late December, 1941
So, it came to pass that CPO Mitt and Petty Officer Strasser set up the Barrakuda’s deck gun training range. By the end of December, it had come to the attention of the Port Captain and there-in is another tale...
For the first week after the deck gun had been mounted, Strasser had the crew practice what he called “dry fire.”
“Gentlemen, and I know you are gentlemen because I have smelled your eau de cologne on board, we need to be able to load and fire this beauty in our sleep, in the dark, soaked to the skin and rolling like a drunk. And the only way to get there is to do it over and over and over, so thats what we are going to do.”
To the relief of all, he was satisfied at the end of the week and started live fire the next Monday. By Wednesday morning we had a visit from the port staff in the form of Fahnrich Botrich. After failing to get our attention, he climbed my “bridge” tower and confronted me. “Ober-matt, this must stop immediately, per order of Port Kommandant Stressor!”
I saluted the youngster and replied just as Strasser fired, “Fahnrich, I apologize but I have… ‘SHORT AND RIGHT TWENTY!’… orders from my Captain to train these men, you must take this up with him.” Botrich looked dismayed. “Stressor is very angry Ober-matt , I heard he is going to take this up with the Flotilla Kommandant at tomorrows staff meeting…you might warn your Captain. Me, I wont get between the big dogs, but I think it an excellent idea. And…you might enlist one of the harbor lighter crews to tow targets out for you…you know how bored they get…but you did not hear that from me!”
That was Wednesday, on Thursday, mid-morning a smiling Fahnrich Botrich appeared in a motor launch on the leeward side of the jetty, and called up. Ober-matt, I have some empty barrels that need disposal, where do you want them?” And so we had another conspirator.
Later at the Fisher, we got his story. It seems the Port Captain was so angry at Botrich’s failure to stop our shooting, he was punished by assignment to Lighter duty. It was no doubt temporary but he took the opportunity to make some mischief himself. The Quartermaster had a yard full of junk destined for a garbage scow or burn pit. He was only too happy to see some of it disappear with no effort on his part.
And on Friday, we got a visit from a grim looking Leutnant. He did not approach closely, he did not say a word. He watched from the jetty for perhaps and hour. Strasser said he was wearing a Flotilla Staff aiguillette.
Come Monday, we were interrupted by a group of NCO’s that turned out to be engineers. The Port Komandant sent them out to inspect our mounting job. They took measurements and range sightings and left. Before leaving, the Petty Officer in charge took Strasser aside and filled him in. The Flotilla commander had pointed out the error of the Port Captain’s ways and convinced him to not only accept the firing range but to inspect it for soundness. The Flotilla Commander himself appointed one of his staff as Gunnery Training Officer with orders to establish a schedule for crews in layup. Barrakuda was to get a replacement gun.
Surprisingly, Strasser was not happy. “I will be damned if my crew has to wait in line to use OUR idea for gunnery training. We need to find another spot for our next call at home port. And I am not giving up that 88, we got her worked in sweet about now. We will swap barrels with the new gun and put her back on the boat good as new.”
All through January Barrakuda's three man gun crew with Mitt calling the shot fall, fired at every opportunity. As February's patrol date neared they were gunners not just in name but in fact. "Mitt", said Strasser as we drank wine on our last "beer call" at Fisher's, "that Fahnrich talking about garbage scows has set me thinking." I rolled my eyes, "Good Lord protect us from Strasser and his ideas!"
Nothing more was said about it and we sailed the following morning.
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Post by dbwhip on Mar 24, 2021 11:15:44 GMT
Early June 1942, La Rochelle France.
…Surprisingly, Strasser was not happy. “I will be damned if my crew has to wait in line to use OUR idea for gunnery training. We need to find another spot for our next call at home port. And I am not giving up that 88, we got her worked in sweet about now. We will swap barrels with the new gun and put her back on the boat good as new.”
February's cruise was mediocre for the boat but an excellent one for the gun crew. Three ships sunk by gunfire. One, a spectacular explosion after one hit. The exec is calling Strasser “Single Shot Strasser.”
After a hot shower and shave, Strasser and I headed over to the Fisher to un-jangle the jangling nerves of a cruise. It was the same for both of us. You just don't realize how much you are living on adrenaline until you come ashore. It takes me a day or so to get normal so I don't see the point of the food and beer binges others go on right away. Me, I like to enjoy my food and beer and I cant do that when I am pinging from adrenaline.
So, we were shooting the breeze, Strasser grousing about red tape to get range time, when Henri brings us another round. “Say, Henri” says Strasser, know anyone with a boat for sale?” Out of the blue just like that.
“What kind of boat? Plenty of trawlers laid up.”
“Nothing fancy, something with about a 15’ deck width on the bow, narrower the beam the better”
“Sure n most local trawlers fit that range, how much you have to spend?”
Being more baffled by Strasser’s thought process than usual I chimed in. “What in the world are you babbling about Strasser? What do you want a boat for after a month in that crap the Atlantic calls weather? And what princess do you have stashed away that is going to pay for it? Are you serious?”
“Well, money is a problem sure, but I was thinking, we mount our deck gun on it so we don't have to wait in line at the range. A narrow beam trawler with that weight on deck will roll good as a type VII. If we can hit targets from that we can hit anything!”
Henri looked at us from the bar for awhile as we went over the technical “what ifs” of mounting a deck gun on a 1925 fishing trawler. Finally he came back over and coughed. “Gentlemen, if you are serious, perhaps we could work something out."
Strasser’s eye flashed a piratical fin: “You are going to suggests that we take over the boat and you and your friends use it while we are on a war cruise. You will no doubt use it for its intended role of fishing. And while making an honest living at sea, you will no doubt occasionally come across your brother fishermen from perfidious Albion who might be interested in trading say French wine and Brandy for English beer and Whiskey…strictly for personal use, of course, is it not so?
Henri, looked about nervously but smiled. “You have an evil mind Petty Officer Strasser. I admit to no such activity other than the fishing, and whatever bounty the sea may provide of course.”
I was intrigued by the boldness of both of them, but a cold spike of fear shot up my spine. As Strasser had said more than once, the Gestapo was all over town. But I was also intrigued. Adrenaline, I was finding, is addictive. Strasser saw my thoughtful expression.
“Henri, another round. Walt, lets talk about this. It can work. We get the clearances from the harbor master for target practice, when Barrakuda sails, the gun comes with us so no problem there. Once our trawler is recognized as one with “good” Frenchies on board, no one will bother them as they come and go on legit fishing. Someone like Henri will have to come with us as pilot when we fire, so the patrols will get to know him…This can work. We keep it low key. As long as we don't get greedy we wont draw attention from the Gestapo, the Polizei or the big league smugglers. And of course, when the gun is on-board we make it clear to our French partners we are strictly legit. Just a nice innocent occasional beer run while we ourselves are on a cruise, no sweat!
This will work!
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