Death's Wake by DG Barford

Author:DG Barford [Barford, DG]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

Reinhold Rosenberg had called another meeting of the Office of Civilian Defense. The assembly included the mayor, local police, and armed forces personnel. They gathered in City Hall, a place more accustomed to debates about fishing quotas than discussions of air raids and U-boats.

Matt, representing the Coast Guard, took his seat among them, his uniform pressed but his patience worn thin by the hours they would spend cloaked in cigarette smoke and paranoia. As the meeting unfolded, theories ricocheted off the walls like errant bullets—tales of enemy spies signaled by flashing porch lights and coded messages hidden in the personal ads of newspapers.

Commander Stenson’s voice was grave as he recounted the Navy’s grim litany: over a dozen vessels lost off the Cape to U-boats, the seething waters claiming sailors and supplies alike.

Beside him, Colonel Mead spoke with grim assurance, his words painting a picture of cannons bristling and ready, awaiting the command to unleash hellfire upon any surface ship that attacked their shores. Rumors of the Army Air Corp’s long-range bombers offered a slender thread of hope.

Matt’s turn at the podium was brief, a mere five minutes of stark truths. His words were a litany of scarcity: patrols stretched thin, boats and shore patrol scouring the coastline for any enemy activity. Each sentence did little to assuage the further unease within the anxious assembly.

Following him, the police chief’s report on blackout violations and bomb shelter preparations drew a chorus of concern from the gathered citizens. Complaints of the blackout choking commerce contrasted with reluctant praise for local security efforts.

The open podium for members of the community was always interesting. One man, Wilbur Scruggs, continued to complain that his frequent U-boat sightings weren’t being taken seriously by the military. Matt shook his head remembering the conversation with this man about his alleged sightings that had more to do with his alcohol intake than with any real threat.

Then came Mildred Smith, the community’s matriarchal busybody, her presence commanding silence as she approached the lectern. With calculated movements, she aligned her floral dress and tamed an errant strand of hair, her every action meant to create anticipation in the room.

“Members of the Office of Civilian Defense,” she began, each word deliberate, “I come before you during this dark time to present to you the most damning evidence of a German spy ring right in our midst.” She paused from reading and looked around the room to make sure everyone was on the edge of their seats. “We have reports of this spy ring radioing commercial freighter locations to German submarines. We have eyewitness accounts of German mini-subs resupplying at her docks.” Mildred paused here and waited to let that set in.

The gathering absorbed her words, the graphic description sounding more like a spy novel than a local threat. Silence reigned until Reinhold, his voice cutting through the rustling murmurs, demanded, “Mrs. Smith, these are serious allegations. Who is this person?”

Mildred Smith’s gaze swept the room. She savored their rapt attention before her lips parted.

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