Grey Wolf, Grey Sea by E. B. Gasaway

Author:E. B. Gasaway
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 1970-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

On May 1, U-124 steamed into Lorient at the end of her longest and most successful war cruise. Twelve small flags, each bearing the tonnage of a merchantman she had sunk, floated gaily in the spring breeze alongside the commander's pennant. A crowd of people lined the quay, the band was playing, and girls stood, their arms loaded with flowers to present to the returning heroes. To one side stood the Big Lion, aloof and silent, but with unmistakable pride flashing in his ice-blue eyes.

German fortunes were running high, and the arrival of the victorious U-boat was a further cause for celebration. Greece had surrendered to Germany a week before, and Rommel, in a breath-taking drive, had outrun his supplies to halt at the Egyptian border. The slender grey boat at the pier seemed symbolic of the hard-fighting and victorious German forces everywhere.

Schulz stood with his officers on the U-boat's bridge, savoring the moment of triumph. Within minutes they would be tied up at the dock, and he could relax, relieved for a while of the awesome responsibility of command of a ship in wartime. He could well smile with satisfaction. He had brought his boat and crew safely home after more than two months in enemy waters, 12 ships with some 57,626 tons under their belt. The fighting was over for awhile; it was time now for flowers and medals, honors, and a well-earned rest.

The admiral's aide came aboard as soon as the lines were made fast. As he and Schulz exchanged salutes, his horrified glance fell on the home-made Knight's Cross around the commander's neck, and he said with undisguised disapproval, "Get that thing off immediately! The admiral's coming on board to give you the real one!"

Schulz silently removed the medal, and if he perhaps considered the one from his crew the "real" one, he at least refrained from saying so.

U-124's crew stood at proud attention through the brief ceremony as "Uncle Karl" presented their commander with the Knight's Cross to the Iron Cross, and cheered him when Schulz dismissed them, his eyes shining, the black and silver cross gleaming at his throat.

So now the old man was officially an ace, the crew noted with satisfaction. As far as they were concerned, he had been an ace for a long time, and they were pleased by the official recognition. He was a good commander, concerned with the welfare of his crew, performing his own job always competently, often brilliantly.

They had sometimes heard other crews say contemptuously of their own skippers that "he has a sore throat," an infrequent but not unknown malady among U-boat commanders that could only be relieved by prompt application of the black and white ribbon of the Knight's Cross around the neck.

For Schulz there remained only one hurdle, and it was at hand as he stepped aside for the admiral to precede him into the little wardroom. It was time now to tell the admiral that he, a trusted U-boat commander wearing a

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