2026, June 5th 1915, Above Cromarty Firth
Sublieutenant Dan Connor stood at the foot of the walk to his parents
house. The setting sun silhouetted his boyhood home. As he stood, the
memories flooded back. Running with Davin through the hedges. Stolen moments
with Laura, carefully hidden from view. Fresh baked cookies from Lady
Catherine next door. As he turned the bend, he half expected to see the
unruly brown hair, mischievous blue eyes, and unabashed smile of his best
friend. They always raced back from school. Somehow, he always managed
to beat me, and waited by the hedges. I never figured out how he managed
to be so darned fast! Yet, Dan knew that his friend would not be waiting
for him. This was war, and his friend wasn't fast enough to make the run
from Scapa. I hope he's all right.
Dan stopped at the last turn before the house. His parents' bushy hedges
hid him from view. He carefully dropped the heavy bag to the ground and
tried to make himself presentable. He tightened his tie and brushed off
the dust from the road. The bandages on his burns didn't give him any
trouble tightening the tie; but they picked up the dust of the road. As
he watched the dust stick to the bandages, a shiver ran up his spine.
Now I'll have to change them. I don't want to end up like William Bellman!
His parents saw him through an upstairs window as he tried to clean up.
While it was too far away for them to make out his face, they knew it
was their son. Dan had forgotten that, while the hedge would hide a six-year-old
boy quite well, it could not hide a sixteen-year-old one, however short
he was. It hadn't been able to hide him since he was twelve. His parents
flashed a knowing grin Let him keep his illusions. The boy will loose
them soon enough. As he finished trying to brush the dust from his
uniform, Charlotte and Alan Connor made their way downstairs to greet
their son.
He stepped out from behind the hedge and began to limp up the walk. His
ankle hadn't had near enough time for him to walk without one. Well,
don't I look like the dashing naval officer? Limping and bandaged, covered
in dust. I probably need to shave too. I don't want my parents to see
me like this! He didn't realize, as so many had, how much he had been
blessed. His face and ears had been shielded from the cordite flash; had
they not been, he certainly would be less handsome today. His brown hair
was more ruly than usual, and his blue eyes still carried that sparkle.
He was finally at the door. He put his heavy bag down on the flagstone
step and knocked. As soon as he knocked, the door opened. How are they
always able to do that? Even when I was just a little kid, they were always
one step ahead of me. The letter of admission to Dartmouth had arrived
the very day Dan announced that he was going to join the Navy with his
best friend. They always seemed to know when I was having a bad day,
and they ALWAYS knew when I did something wrong! His parents stood
at the foot of the massive central staircase. Family portraits hung along
the wall up the stairs. At the top was a familiar picture. A similar one
hung next door. Dan craned his head and tried to soak in all of the splendor.
Everything shined. His parents were not rich; while they had enough to
live on, it was nothing like the wealth of the Herrick earldoms. Yet they
had put hours and pounds into getting the house ready for their son's
return. How did they know? I only learned this morning.
Their son was the only missing piece. He was a bruised and battered boy.
He was covered in dust from head to toe. His uniform, despite his best
efforts to straighten it, had mussed itself again. His bandages were readily
apparent to his shocked parents. They were not ready for the scale of
his injuries. His mother lost composure and ran to him. She took her son
in her hands and hugged him for all he was worth. Thank God you are
all right. Thank you God! As she squeezed, Charlotte Connor's arms
rubbed against her son's burns. Pain shot up the nerves of his arms and
into his brain. He tried to hold it all in; he succeeded, for the most
part. Only a small gasp of pain left his lips, and the grimace creased
his young features for just a second. But that was enough. His mother
instantly dropped her embrace and moved back. Oh no. What happened
to him? The pain slowly receded, and the blessed nothingness returned.
His agony gone, Dan Connor slumped on the floor, exhausted. His father,
a taller and stronger man, gingerly took his son in his arms and carried
him upstairs.
2032, Upstairs Bedroom, Above Cromarty Firth
Dan's eyes opened and scanned the room. As they looked around the room,
they stopped at familiar objects. Toys Uncle George had brought for him
from far away places. The books that he loved to read: brave young men
chasing after buried treasure and fighting dread pirates. Then it came
to more recent and less pleasant possessions. The rolls of gauze for his
burns. The harsh antiseptics to keep them clean. The few vials of morphine
and strict instructions for their use. A bowl of water and a sponge. All
essential to his full recovery, and all tinged with sadness. The memories
of that fateful hit surged back. He managed to keep them from his thoughts
when he was awake. At night, it was a different story.
He quickly peeled off his dusty uniform coat and trousers. That gave him
access to his dusty gauze bandages. He gritted his teeth and peeled the
first corner. The tape clung to the hair of his arm. The now familiar
twinges of pain began. When he started peeling the gauze, the twinges
became full scale salvos. The oozings from his burns had congealed and
bound his bandages to his skin. He finally screamed as he peeled the last
bit of the first bandage from his left hand.
His scream brought Charlotte Connor racing back into the room. There,
she saw the full horror of her son's injuries. His burned and charred
skin was readily obvious to her gaze. Yet it was her son's eyes that were
the worst. Here, pain welled like rivulets as stars crossed and it grew
hazier. Doctor Browne's instructions had been specific: the burns must
be kept clean, whatever the pain it cost Dan. Maternal instincts warred
within her; her need to comfort and spare her son this pain fought her
need to get him well again. The need to keep him well won. She brought
the bowl of water to the bed and began to carefully clean the dust from
his wounds. Dan managed to keep from crying out as antiseptics followed.
The skin burned and agony fought to make itself known. Yet it was blocked
by bigger pains. Dan's mind floated back to the day he got those burns.
He shook the last vestige of the terrible morphine dreams from his
head. He pushed his way up, careful to use the palm of his left hand and
the back of his right. He was soon sitting up. He saw two youthful corpsmen
standing at the foot of his berth. They could see that he was awake; they
just upped the volume of the conversation.
"He's one of the burn patients?"
"Yep, another William Bellman."
The two corpsmen shared a mischievous grin.
"Who's William Bellman?" He managed to creak.
"You never heard of William Bellman? What kind of sailor are you?" The
first corpsman almost shouted to him.
The second gave him a sly grin. "Why, he's just like you. We, me 'n my
mate here, saw him when we worked the hospital at Sheerness. He was a
seaman on Bulwark and he was in the foretop the night she blew
up."
Connor's eyes grew wider as he listened. The morphine was still slowing
down his mental faculties. Both corpsmen passed a malicious look. Then
the second man took up the story.
"Bellman was blown clear by the blast and he landed in the water. We fished
him out and took him to the dispensary. He was in pretty good shape for
a poor bloke who got himself blown sky high and dropped in cold water.
All that was wrong with him were two burns. They were just like yours,
kid."
"Like mine?" Trepidation crept into his voice and face.
We've got him hooked"Yep, Just like yours. We did the best we could
for 'im, poor bloke. Weren't near 'nuff."
"Why?" He shivered and his stomach felt like molten lead.
"Cause they got infected, and then his hands started to rot away. Just
melted clear down to the bone. We couldn'na do a thing for him. He was
howling and screaming like a banshee. Eventually, they took the hands
off 'im. Was too late. Infection got into his blood, an . . . well, we
should'na told 'im this one, should we?"
"Naw Jim."
"Don't worry, sailor. I'm sure you'll be just . . . fine."
Dan shivered as he replayed the memory behind his eyes. He sniffed one
or twice, and a tear welled in his eye. I will not cry. I will not.
But the fear was too much for his battered psyche. It burns so bad.
I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I'm so scared. Please, I don't
want to die. Charlotte finished fixing the last bandage to her son's
arm just as he finally lost his composure. She wrapped him in a tender
embrace and held him as he cried.
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
2121, SMS U-14, Off Peterhead, Scotland
Hammerle woke with a fit as his XO woke him. "Sir, it's after sunset."
Now? I just went to sleep! "Very well. Are there any surface contacts
around?"
"No, sir."
"Surface the boat, Heinz. Ready to go fishing?"
"Ja"
"Sher Gut. So am I"
Both the Captain and the XO grabbed their oilcoat slickers and went aft
to control.
"Diving officer, surface the ship."
"Ja." The new leutnant squeaked. "Blow all ballast tanks. Surface the
ship, 10° angle on the bow planes."
"Ja, herr leutnant." The chief planesman was a crusty old sailor. The
relaxed discipline Very relaxed in our case did not suit well with
him.
U-14 shuddered and took a slight up angle as she rose from the
depths. Soon, her bow broke the surface in a huge white splash and she
settled as the rest of the boat followed. Hammerle was used to it. His
new leutnant was not. He grabbed a rung of the periscope to avoid falling.
"Double lookout on the bridge. Get a man or two forward to watch for mines.
And Heinz . . . ."
"Ja?"
"Oil the new leutnant or get a cat to catch that mouse." Hammerle climbed
to U-14's bridge to the sound of hearty laughs and the slight sounds
of an embarrassed youngster.
"Don't worry, young Erwin." The XO whispered to him. "This your first
deployment aboard our little boat. You will get the hang of it, and after
your first night at Haus Des Fischers, you will be respected." And
you will have a wicked hangover. But, some things are best not mentioned.
Up on the Bridge, Hammerle settled his cap on his head and raised his
binoculars. Three men shared the bridge with him. His XO stood behind
him, watching astern. In the tiny remaining space, two men in the grimy
coveralls of the submarine service watched for the destroyers and armed
trawlers that prowled at night.
Further forward, two more seamen were also watching the dark seas. They
were looking for the more insidious threats to their home and well being:
mines. Cromarty's mouth was strewn with them. They had to be very quick
and very careful. Unless they wanted the Pour Le Merite posthumously.
"Heintz, Hard a starboard. Bring her to west by north a quarter north.
Make turns for five knots."
"Ja." Plank shouted his orders down the hatch. "Leutnant, hard a starboard,
west by north a quarter north. Turns for five knots."
As U-14 began to accelerate and turn, Hammerle put his feet on
the top of the hatch, leaned back, and went to sleep again.
2206, HMS Hawk, Off Peterhead, Scotland
Sublieutenant Brian Fiske paced around the bridge as Hawk surged
ahead. Surged? More like plodded. All the ships in the navy and I get
stuck on this floating rustbucket. HMS Hawk? Try His Majesty's
floating garbage scow. When all of my friends are on the dreadnoughts,
fighting the Germans, I get to ferry some decrepit admirals garbage back
and forth. Some old fossil of a reservist can conn this hunk of junk.
What a worthless war. Where's the action and the glory?
"Sir!" It was one of the lookouts disposed on the wings of Hawk's
minute bridge..
"What?" Fiske snapped.
"Ship to starboard sir! Looks like a submarine!"
Fiske ran to the port bridge wing. A submarine! About time! He
grabbed the binoculars from the young sailor and trained them on the dark
sea beyond. He saw a dark humpback, barely discernible from the waves
and cliffs behind her. "It is a submarine! Chief! Beat to Quarters! Call
the captain to the conn!" Fiske's voice rose as he issued his orders.
"Helm, hard a starboard. All ahead flank!"
Hawk accelerated to flank as fast as her old reciprocating engines
would let her.
2206, SMS U-14, course 285
"Sir. We've been spotted!" Panic showed in the young sailor's voice.
So much for quietly slipping in. "Don't worry, she has to catch
us still! All ahead flank! Helm to port, come to northwest by north a
quarter west." Now would be a good time to have one of the new deck
guns. She's too small to waste one of my precious torpedoes on! "Jurgens
and Schwinn! Keep a close watch for mines now. It wouldn't do to lure
our prey onto one too quickly! Not until after we get a chance to plunder
her."
"Ja, herr Oberleutnant!" They retuned to their deathly serious jobs with
a grin.
2207, HMS Hawk, course 000
"She's turning away sir."
"Bully! Pursue!"
"What's all this?" Lieutenant H. J. Ferguson entered the bridge. It was
clear from his tousled hair and sleepy grin that he had been wakened from
a deep sleep. "What's the meaning of this?"
"Submarine to starboard, sir!" Fiske breathlessly reported, excitement
oozing out of him "They are running, we are pursuing. The range is closing
sir!"
"Very well, Mr. Fiske. Open fire!"
A crack broke the night's stillness as Hawk's three inch rifle
opened fire.
2207, SMS U-14, course 322
Hawk's first shell was a very good shot. It flew over U-14's
bow like a roaring freight train. Jurgens and Schwinn threw themselves
flat on the deck as the shell passed overhead. When it landed in the ocean
a hundred yards beyond her, the fuse decided to detonate. An enormous
plume of water rose as the heat of a sun consumed it.
"Sir, shouldn't we dive?" Plank looked concerned; an unusual situation
for the hell-for-leather executive officer.
"Nein. We are much faster on the surface then submerged. Besides, they
have shown no ability to catch us yet!"
U-14's paraffin engines ran at top speed. They shook as they strove
to drive U-14 through the water as fast as they could. The strain
combined with their age were not inductive to proper operation. In accordance
with Murphy's Law, they chose this moment to sputter.
U-14 slowed as she lost power and Hawk gained vital range.
2209, HMS Hawk, course 000
The range had closed even further in the two minutes since U-14's
loss of power. However, Hawk's salvos were still long. The range
was down to a few thousand yards.
"Helm, come about to northwest by north a quarter west. All ahead flank."
"Come about to northwest by north a quarter west. All ahead flank. Aye
sir."
Hawk's thirty-third salvo split the stillness of the night.
2209, SMS U-14, course 322
This shell came in arcing and with a wicked spin; to the gods of battle
it looked like this shell too would miss. Yet it maintained its path and
landed three feet astern of Jurgens and Schwinn. The night lit up as a
plume of high explosives reached up to heaven. Jurgens and Schwinn vanished
in the fireball. The force punctured the deck and wasted its energy against
the pressure hull. When the light subsided, Jurgens lay on the deck like
a toy a child rejected. Schwinn's head lay next to Jurgens. The rest of
Schwinn was never found. Yet that was the least damage the shell did.
Hammerle had been looking directly ahead, searching for the point to dive
when the shell hit. While he was completely unharmed, the light burned
into his eyes. For the next minute, all Hammerle could see was the blinding
white light. It would be crucial minutes before his night vision returned.
"Hard a port! Come to Northeast by east a quarter east." The last time
he had seen Hawk she looked to be further away than she was. Hammerle
had finally made his mistake.
2209, Study, Above Cromarty Firth
Captain Lord Robert Herrick sat at his desk, Tommy asleep in his lap.
He had let the boy play captain at his desk, chasing German from the sea
till the boy was exhausted. I should probably put him to bed soon.
But I'll let him sleep a little longer. Besides it's good to spend any
time with him, even if he is asleep. Lord knows I am not at home as often
as I would like. I missed most of Davin's growing up and almost all of
Grant's. Theresa too. I have to make it up to them whenever I am home.
The bright flash and thunder interrupted his thoughts. Herrick shifted
his son's position and moved to the window. The voice from his shoulder
startled him.
"Daddy! What's that?"
"What's what?"
"The noise Daddy!"
"Oh, don't worry. It's just thunder." It is nothing of the kind. I
know exactly what it is. But it is not time to tell him. He gets to remain
innocent for quite a long time. Herrick looked at the clock on the
mantle. "It's well past your bedtime, isn't it, young man?" The mock seriousness
returned to his words.
Tommy sorrowfully nodded. "But I don't wanna go to bed. I wanna stay with
you Daddy."
"I know. But even Captains need their sleep." He yawned for his son. "I
need you to go to bed so I can. Come on, I'll give you a piggy back ride."
"Yay!" All thoughts of protest gone from his head, Tommy hopped on his
father's back. As he carried Tommy up the stairs, Herrick couldn't help
but think. The war has come to our own doorsteps. How long before it
takes part of my family?
2209, HMS Hawk, course 322
Cheers broke out as the light boiled from U-14's bow. "A hit sir!"
The starboard lookout called to Sub-Lieutenant Fiske.
"Bully!"
On the bridge, Lieutenant Ferguson was no less enthusiastic. "Helm, hard
a port! Come to due North! He's made his mistake and he's ours now!"
The range between Hawk and U-14 was close enough that the
trawler's machine guns would now reach. A constant chatter joined the
larger bark as they systematically swept the submarine's decks.
2210, SMS U-14, course 058
Hammerle and Plank ducked as soon as the first machine gun rounds bounced
off the decks. The port lookout was not so lucky. He stood transfixed,
mesmerized by the ricocheting .303inch bullets. Plank managed to pull
him below the bridge railing right before one of Hawk's gunners
put fifteen rounds through the space the lookout occupied a mere moment
ago.
"Now shall we dive, mein kapitan?"
"Good idea, Heintz. Besides, this trawler is too small. We'd have to throw
it back anyway!" Stupid me! I should never have turned away. My fishermen
will pay for my mistake. Two already have.
"Diving officer, dive the boat. 20° down angle on the planes!" Hammerle
shouted as he followed Plank down the hatch. The lookouts jumped down
after him and sealed the hatch.
White water billowed from her bow and stern as the enormous water pressure
forced the air out of U-14's ballast tanks. At that very moment,
her electric engines kicked in and U-14 surged forward with a new
burst of speed.
2210, HMS Hawk, course 000
"Sir, she's diving!" The starboard lookout called to Lieutenant Ferguson.
"It doesn't matter. All hands, brace for collision! Cease fire!"
"Brace for collision, Aye sir!" Fiske repeated. "All guns cease fire!"
The night grew silent as Hawk's gunners fired their last round.
She bore in on the rapidly diving submarine like an avenging angel, her
bow a blunt instrument to sunder the pressure hull and put down another
wolf for good. The range closed to feet, then inches, as Hawk slashed
through the water. Ferguson and Fiske were rocked by the shock as Hawk
slid over U-14, but they did not fall.
"Sir!"
It was the starboard lookout. Ferguson rushed out to the starboard bridge
wing. The lookout pointed down to the sea. There floated the shattered
body of Karl Jurgens. He clung to the surface for a second or two before
dipping below the surface to join many sailors of both navies at the bottom.
###
by Rob Herrick
