Chapter 2 U-Boat

The submarine entering the harbor was not much shorter than the one Colonel Bach and his men had boarded, but its hull was noticeably narrower, like the difference between a bamboo pole and a log. The disparity in space and facilities inside the submarine was imaginable. However, Lynn didn't have the qualifications to be picky now; he should be grateful that he and his soldiers could board at all.

Before the submarine even docked, Ziegenek pulled out a handwritten list from his pocket and began reading out the unit numbers listed on it. Mottchig, playing the role of a "loudspeaker," promptly repeated, "Second Assault Squad, Seventh Team," "Third Special Operations Combat Group," "Karl Motte Combat Platoon," and so on. These sounded like names of irregular units, with each group having seven or eight more soldiers than the others. Finally, Ziegenek read out "Galgo No. 11 Night Combat Special Forces," to which Lynn quickly responded, "Here," and then beckoned Woffrum and the others to come over. As the soldiers gathered around, the escort fleet accompanying the Aryan Ark plan had all withdrawn from the dock, leaving only the German soldiers who had been previously deployed for patrol and defense missions.

Mottchig counted the number of people once and turned to report to Ziegenek, "Twenty-nine people!"

Ziegenek glanced over the list one last time, quickly folded it and put it in his pocket, then said in a low voice, "This submarine can accommodate them all!"

Seeing the submarine approaching the dock, with officers and crew members already in position on board, after getting permission from the lieutenant, Mottchig shouted towards the armored command vehicle, "Hans!"

Coming down from the vehicle was the communication officer Lynn had seen earlier on Mottchig's vehicle, carrying an MP40 and a black briefcase. As he ran closer, he immediately reported to Ziegenek, "Sir, just received a telegram. The troops coming to take over the equipment were hit by enemy air raids on the way and may be half an hour late. Our transmitter and telephone..."

Ziegenek turned to look towards the armored vehicle, its open rear facing their direction. He then took the submachine gun off the officer's shoulder, stepped forward, cocked the gun, held it slightly lower than shoulder height, aimed sideways, and then fired continuously at the armored vehicle. Most of the bullets accurately hit the carriage, causing paper debris to fly inside. He didn't stop firing until the magazine was empty, then he lowered the gun and turned back, tossing the submachine gun back to the officer. The series of actions were forceful, and of course, considering the accuracy of the submachine gun's shooting, the technical performance was quite good as well.

Without waiting for the sailors on the submarine to throw the ropes over, Mottchig shouted to the submarine commander standing on the conning tower, "Thirty-two people in total!" at the same time making corresponding hand gestures.

On the oval-sectioned barrel-shaped command tower, there were two submarine officers wearing black waterproof coats, one holding a large pair of binoculars looking towards the western horizon, the other facing the bow, with a black pipe in his mouth, his beard neatly shaved, making him look relatively young. He made no movement or verbal response to Mottchig's numbers, as if everything was already known. However, the ordinary sailors seemed busy and vigilant, with some already manning the single-barrel machine gun located at the back of the command tower, pointing the muzzle towards the west where enemy aircraft were most likely to appear, while others were preparing ropes and gangplanks for boarding.

As the submarine approached the shore, Mottchig jumped onto it. He quickly walked to the area below the conning tower and spoke looking up to the submarine captain with the pipe. Under normal circumstances, SS officers of the same rank would not show such "respect" to naval officers.

From a distance, Lynn couldn't hear what the submarine captain with the pipe said to Mottchig, but his voice wasn't loud, and his demeanor wasn't arrogant, which made him seem rather unnervingly indifferent. Immediately after, Captain Mottchig turned around, shouting to his colleagues waiting anxiously by the dock, "Board, in order!"

Since joining the army, German soldiers had been instilled with strict discipline. Even without witnessing Ziegenek's earlier shooting, there was no chaos or crowding in the queue waiting to board. They respectfully made way for the SS lieutenant, waiting for him to calmly walk over the gangway onto the submarine, then boarded in groups according to the unit numbers called out earlier—Lynn and his soldiers were last in line.

With the arrival of the Waffen-SS soldiers, the submarine, resembling an oversized canoe, visibly rocked up and down. Lynn deliberately avoided looking at the gradually rising waterline, instead observing the authentic "WWII German submarine" with a change of mindset. Its appearance was consistent with historical image data: a narrow and flat deck with deck guns and anti-aircraft machine guns, the command tower located in the middle and towards the rear, with a large Arabic numeral "396" painted in white on the side, and a conspicuous cylindrical pipe extending from below the deck, a common "ventilation pipe" seen on late-war German submarines.

After boarding, Lieutenant Zierenke did not go into the hull or communicate with his naval counterparts in the conning tower. Instead, he walked to the bow of the submarine. With a melancholic expression, he gazed at the distant hills, looking like a wanderer about to leave his homeland, silently pouring out boundless longing.

"This trip seems to be far from simple, not just to Kiel or Denmark!" Lynn thought. When the soldiers in front had boarded one by one, he endured the pain in his legs and was helped by Woffrum to climb aboard the submarine. However, a problem arose—when the naval captain with the pipe saw several soldiers, including Lynn and Bruhl, carrying night vision equipment, he asked Mottchig to lighten the load. Captain Mottchig, feeling very embarrassed, explained that these night vision devices were expensive and couldn't be discarded casually per orders from higher-ups.

Lynn originally thought the stern-faced submarine captain would be displeased, but to his surprise, he nodded and ordered through the intercom in the conning tower, "Abandon all excess items, leave only sixty people's worth of food and fresh water for a week!"

Sixty people's worth, one week—this number greatly aroused Lynn's curiosity. Considering the Waffen-SS officers and soldiers boarding, the total number on the submarine would not exceed 60. Counting backwards, there were less than thirty crew members on board. As for "one week," with the general cruising speed of German submarines during World War II, sailing for seven days would cover a maximum of 1500 nautical miles, just enough to reach the North Atlantic from here. Could the destination be the cold Arctic Circle?

Descending through the hatch next to the bow gun, Lynn gritted his teeth against the pain in his legs and shoulders, feeling beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. The interior of the submarine was not as oily as he had imagined, but the roaring noise from the diesel engines was deafening, and the space was incredibly cramped. Passing through bulkheads, if someone was coming towards him, both had to press against the walls to squeeze by, and the doors between compartments were even smaller, requiring them to stoop and bend to pass through. Looking at the equally cramped crew quarters, accommodating even one more person required careful planning, yet suddenly, thirty-two people had crowded in!

"23... 24..." A naval petty officer wearing a black ship-shaped cap counted with his fingers. Lynn was the 24th to enter the submarine's interior. The petty officer estimated for a moment, then pointed towards the stern, saying, "There's no space up front, go towards the rear, to the torpedo compartment!"

As Lynn turned around, Woflrum had already taken off his night vision gear and, seeing Lynn soaked in sweat, the old soldier didn't hesitate to bend down and say, "Come, I'll carry you!"

Walking on level ground ahead wasn't much, but descending through the vertical passage of the submarine was excruciating for Lynn's injured legs. He felt sure his wounds were bleeding again, perhaps even reopening the stitches. But with the submarine's narrow confines and Woflrum also carrying two rifles and a heavy battery box, Lynn clenched his teeth and shook his head, "It's okay, I'll manage!"

Compassion mingled with helplessness as Woflrum led the way, and even Noah, who followed behind, wanted to assist Lynn, but his offer was politely declined.