The Prize Rules Ch. 06

We are a small nation, sir. That means that a lot of us must do more than one thing in the defence of our country. When I am not here bothering people like you for details about old ships, I am also often a despatch rider for my country. The job gets me into the free air and I get to see things with my own eyes. I was trained for that task in England.

Before that, I was trained in naval matters – also in England, since it fit with my background. That is another of the reasons why I was sent there.

Since I came back home, I have seen that unimportant little Trinidad and Tobago now have some shore emplacements to watch from. We even have a little coastal artillery, you know.

Let me tell you something. Your country knows and understands the threat that it faces. Most of mine does not. Those batteries and emplacements were put there against the wishes of my superior, for he does not see the need for the expense.

He also does not see the need for us to have a destroyer – even one which is offered to us in exchange for leases on land where your country can put airbases. That is why you are to give us an old Coast Guard patrol boat in it's place.

Like you, I do as I am ordered to do, and I don't have to like it either.

But since I know that the Caribbean Sea has islands which produce oil and bauxite and many other things which might need to be kept out of German hands, I also have enough of a mind behind my eyes to know that no surface fleet of theirs would ever come to take those things.

The German Navy has no desire to steal those materials from anyone, Mr. Harris. They only desire to see to it that the Allied Powers are denied the possession and use of those materials as well as the ships which carry them."

She shook her head slowly, "So Lieutenant Harris, they would send their U-boats - sooner or later - to make certain that America and Britain could not have those things.

I'm sorry if you think that I have been sent here to make your job more difficult. I assure you that it is not so. I am here to guide our new – old coastal patrol boat to it's new home once we are in Trinidadian waters, and we are on the same side in this war, so please forgive me if I wave away some of the smoke that I see shrouding things.

I have spent months in the shipyards of the Royal Navy where the war is a much more immediate thing than it is here, so I know and understand most of the terminology and what I do not understand, I am not shy at all to ask about.

You sound confident enough about the subject of sub-chasing with a ship such as this one to indicate to me that you've never been a party to an action like that. I can almost guarantee that this ship could not undertake such an attack on a healthy U-Boat with a good chance of success singlehandedly.

It all depends on the commander of the submarine and how much he wishes to risk exposure while he plays with you like a cat who toys with a mouse.

Or how badly he wants to kill this boat before it can radio his position.

If you put yourself in the shoes of a man who has come from a third of the way around the world to follow his orders, you might see that the decision could be a very easily-made one indeed.

If the situation only gave them both an even chance, I very much doubt that this ship would survive such an encounter – which is why I was against us taking a ship such as this one, speaking purely personally.

Not when we were offered a destroyer in the first place.

If the U-boat commander decided that he did not want to play but that somehow you had detected his presence and he wished to have you out of his hair, he could send a torpedo which is likely every bit as fast as an American one – and that is more than three times faster than this ship can manage at best.

If it were to happen that you somehow forced the submarine to the surface singlehandedly," she smiled a little innocently just before she abandoned the pretence and peered at him coldly, "you actually presume that you might win in a shootout with a boat whose own deck gun is most often one which can answer you with shells larger than FOUR inches?

Do you think that their gun crews are any slower than your own?

They have to be faster, because they do not have any plates of armour to hide behind such as I see out there. Every shot counts for them – especially the first two or three.

A U-boat is a narrow thing compared to most surface ships, much thinner in the water than this one as seen from the front. That is their preferred angle of attack on the surface – at full speed, firing all the way in.

Should I now ask how many hits it would take from a gun like that to cause the commander of THIS boat to surrender?

There is a reason why they are known as wolves Lieutenant Harris, and other than for propaganda purposes, it's not out of their being shy in any way. It is also a reputation which was earned in many cases."

Eden sighed, the choice of boat hadn't been up to her; it had fallen to Robert to do something stupid. To turn down a destroyer in favour of something such as this, she thought.

Eden was pleased that what they were getting was as well looked after as it was, and she did like it, seeing that it would have served well as what it had been made to do originally.

She was actually trying to keep herself from falling a little in love with the boat. While the final preparations were being made over the course of the previous day, she'd often watched from the wharf just to look at the cutter's lines. It was actually difficult not to like the ship.

But this was wartime and she couldn't find much patience in herself for people who just couldn't or wouldn't see that the war could at some point be brought all the way out here.

She looked over, "I'm deadly serious. We actually turned down a destroyer which was offered for this. I know the difference, sir. I like this ship very much personally, but not for fighting a war with when we could have had a proper warship in it's place. How many men will there be in the crew?"

"Two officers and twelve men, Ma'am," he replied, still a little shocked over her and her frank knowledge, "We're just a ferry crew to get her there and then be on our way."

"I would guess that you expect no trouble then," she said, "since I know that the normal complement for an Active-class cutter is three officers and seventeen men."

She looked down and drew a breath. When she looked up, her expression had softened and she tried to offer a bit of a smile.

"I'm sorry for being a bit of witch to you. I really don't mean to be. I am just furious over what was done. If nothing happens and we finally win this war, I'm sure that this ship will serve us very well for the rest of her working life.

I am not afraid of work, so if there is something which you are short of hands for, please think of me and I'll do my best to pitch in." She turned to go then, seeing that he was a little busy and feeling stupid to have let her personal feelings come out at all.

"One thing, Ma'am," he said, still scanning her blouse for any sign of military rank which he might recognise, "Why are you wearing that?"

She looked from his face down to the holster there on her belt, "This is what I wear every day in the service of Trinidad," she said with a shrug as she looked back at him before she began to smile.

"You'd best tell your men that I am not the Chinese cook."

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1945 The Caribbean Sea

"What are you doing?" Katryn asked as she came out of the shower late on the morning of their last full day at sea. She was trying to be a big girl as she struggled a bit to manage a large towel by herself. A fair bit of it dragged on the floor behind her.

Mòlì chuckled a little as she shook her head to herself, "Oh, nothing much. Just wondering how this works.

Once I turn on the shower for you and adjust it so that it's cool the way that you like it on a hot day, you never want to come out again every time. But today when I was even hoping a little that you'd take a long one, here you come. I thought that I'd have a little time for this, but ... "

She kept working, using a small mirror and a pair of cosmetic scissors, "I've been wanting to do this for a while, but I couldn't find a few minutes for it and to do it late at night while you're asleep was just not worth the bother of getting up and doing it."

She sighed a little tiredly, though she wasn't really tired at all, "Now I'll have to answer your questions about this too, I guess." She looked up and smiled a little, "This is something that you'll have to do one day too so ask away."

The girl shook her head. She'd already seen that 'grownup ladies' have hair there. It was the new issue that she was concerned over. "I'll have to? Why?"

Mòlì stopped, just about done anyway, "Yes," she nodded as she lowered one leg to put her foot on the floor and she hugged her other knee for a moment, "One day, you'll be grown up and unless you want to look like you're hiding a bear in your underwear..."

Katryn laughed then, "How much are you cutting off, Mama? I remember that it wasn't like that before we left, when we were in the bath."

Mòlì shrugged as she brushed the loose hair away a little carefully to gather it up, "It depends on what you like, I guess, Katryn.

Some ladies never bother with it. I'm not like that. I guess that I like to be a little closer to the way I was when I was a kid. Like when this looked more like yours. Anyway, it comes with the ... "she motioned to indicate her hips and her breasts.

"But don't bother yourself about it. You've got lots of time to be a little girl yet. This happens to girls around about twelve or so and it happens to everybody – just a part of growing up.

You'll get used to the idea and by then, you'll be pestering me wanting to know just when – exactly – you can expect these changes in you. I'll try hard not to laugh, since that's up to your body and not what you might want."

She smiled, "Or maybe I'll tell you that you can expect them at three o'clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday– but I won't say which one."

She had a thought then and she groaned, "Oh no ..."

"What is it?" the little girl asked.

"I've just thought of something," her mother said, "When this begins happening for you – even before that ... I've just realized that you'll have even MORE questions for me!"

She jumped up then and grabbed the girl and the two of them landed on the bed looking at each other as they laughed.

"Do you want my best advice?" Mòlì asked as she smiled down and kissed the girl's nose, "Don't grow up at all, Katryn. It's SO much easier for us both that way."

"I wonder what I'll look like," the girl said.

The woman laughed again, "Oh, that's an easy one. You'll be beautiful. Girls don't just change into women and turn into someone else entirely. You'll still be the same person, only ... the same person all grown up, that's all."

"Oma told me the day before we left that I'll be tall," the girl said, "She said that she could already see it in me. I looked in the mirror, but I couldn't see what she saw. She said that I'll be tall and pretty like ... my ..."

Mòlì hugged the girl a little tightly and she said in a whisper, "Try not to think about it that way. Try to think of her as someone who loved you so very much, only she never had the chance to get very far in the job that I'm doing for her. If you start to cry, it's alright Katryn, but I might cry too then."

The girl began to sniffle a little anyway, though she was getting better at controlling herself. "I don't even know what she looked like," the little girl sobbed against her mother's shoulder.

"I never met her," Mòlì said as she held Katryn, "but I did see a few pictures of her once. Actually more than once, now that I remember.

Your father and I knew each other a long time ago, before he met your mother. Then we didn't see each other for years and years. When I saw him again, he looked like another person to me because he wore a short beard at the time. I was upset and I didn't know if I even liked him then.

I guess that I didn't like him over something that I thought that he'd done.

And then I found out that he had married since I'd last seen him. That was alright, I wasn't there to be taken to dinner. I really wanted to walk away. Only there was nowhere to walk away to.

He was very busy sometimes and I had some time to myself and I found pictures of her. I stared at them for a long time. To a person like me and where I come from, I'd never seen someone like your mother. In the meantime, since then, I've seen a lot of people like her and your father."

She smiled as she kissed Katryn's face, "Your mother was what they call an uncommon beauty.

Your Oma was right. She was very tall, much taller than I am – and I am considered a little tall for a woman back home. One picture showed her in high heels and she was maybe only a centimeter or two shorter than your father in them.

And something else that your Oma was right about; she was very beautiful.

You know the color of your Tante Anneliese's hair, that golden blonde? Well hers was even lighter with a kind of different blonde in it. I had to take your father's word for it because the pictures didn't show color, but that's what he told me, though I could see that it was very long. Her eyes were a light, grayish blue and –"

"But my eyes are brown," Katryn said in protest.

Mòlì sighed, "A child is always a little of both of her parents – some are very much like one and little of the other. Some are a sort of split right down the middle, and sometimes a little bit of a relative far back comes through. You should forget about eye color. Look at me. I don't look anything like my own father.

But your mother was beautiful beyond doubt," she smiled, "so I know that you will be, too. Do you want to know how lovely she was? People would PAY her MONEY to let them take her picture, can you imagine that?

Say a dressmaker wanted pictures of his work. Well a dress looks best on a woman and not hanging up. The dressmaker would want his clothing shown off on the best person for it – and that was your mother, and that was AFTER having her little baby girl, Katryn.

So I can tell you just by looking at you and knowing the little that I know. You are not blonde, little one, but you are already so beautiful now – right now.

And blonde is only a hair color. There are many beautiful women who are not blonde."

"I know," the girl whispered, as she began to feel a little better and reached to touch that face above her, "You are one like that."

The woman blinked for a second, and then she took Katryn's hand and kissed it. The girl looked up and with a little stretch, she kissed her. "I love you, Mama. You always make me feel better."

"Well that's good," Mòlì said, "and I love you too, very much. Sometimes, I could just sit and stare at you while you sleep, and I can't get over my luck to have a girl like you for a daughter.

"Of course," she said as she rolled her eyes, "there are the other times when I could just ..."

The girl looked up as she watched her mother rise up a little and bring her face very slowly near her neck. She could feel her mother's soft breath on her throat then and she wondered ...

"I mean, ... when I ... want ... to ..."

She suddenly clamped her lips over the side of the girl's neck then and she blew the loudest raspberry that she could.

Katryn screeched and flailed in her ticklish reaction and the bed was a wreck in less than a minute.

By the two minute mark, it was over, with both of them laughing together and out of breath once more.

She didn't say it, but Katryn loved having a mother who was so much fun.

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17 February, 1942, the Caribbean Sea

Hans-Joachim stood in the control room looking around and thinking that he hadn't seen his command trainee in a little while. Since he guessed that the pleasant possibility that he'd thrown himself overboard was more than likely out of the question, he began to look for him.

He was passing the ladder to the conning tower when he stopped to look up and listen for a moment to some shouting. Then he climbed up slowly.

They were creeping along the eastern shore of Tobago, out far enough so that the diesels wouldn't attract too much attention as he charged the batteries. As well - just as a precaution - he'd doubled the watch up there where Bucher was being his usual pain in the ass by chewing out the men on watch for some imagined uniform infraction. Ullmann was slowly growing tired of it.

"What are you doing?" he asked Bucher finally as he climbed up, "Are you insane or only suicidal?

I want men up here who actually use their eyes, not somebody who poses at it as though there is the possibility of a press photographer springing on deck to take his picture.

In case you slept through your training, we don't have that wonderful radar in the U-boat Service. On the surface and especially in enemy waters, a U-boat's security and safety depends on the eyes of the deck watch and I don't give a shit over their uniforms, since at sea, there IS no uniform which must be worn on a U-boat of the Kriegsmarine. We save that for when we're in port, to make the boys in the surface fleet happy.

Bucher turned, "What do you mean?"

Ullmann's face showed his scorn plainly, "I mean, that there are 53 men on this boat, and only one of them is still in a complete uniform – while we are here in the tropics - still with only North Atlantic gear to wear. You stink like a cesspool and you parade around as though you are still in the Corvette Navy, Bucher."

He leaned in so that he couldn't be heard by the others, "They're not here for you to knock them down a peg. They're here to look around for aircraft and surface ships and periscopes in the water. And in case you have forgotten the briefing, there is at least one British submarine out here somewhere with us. For myself, I would say that there are more than that."

"They said that there was only one," Bucher began to protest, but Ullman shut him down right away.

"There is no British boat with the range that we have," Hans-Joachim said, as levelly as he could while thinking strongly that this man was an idiot, "Use your head for a moment.

If you were going to send out Type VII boats to stay a while and look for enemy submarines – as an example – how do you think that you might overcome their lack of range, if they were supposed to be here for an extended period of time?"

"I would position a milkcow freighter for them to get fuel from and to replace any expended torpedoes," Wilhelm said.

"Right," Ullmann nodded, "Very sharp, Wilhelm. But for all that trouble and expense, why send a milkcow to service only one boat when you could service ten just as easily and from the same freighter?"

He watched as the wheels in Bucher's head clicked over agonizingly slowly.

"Ah", he smiled, "Now you're getting it. Sometimes what they don't say is just as important. Besides, they're not always as perfect as they would have you believe."

"Why not tell us that?" Bucher asked, "Surely we have a right to know that if it is a threat."

Ullmann shook his head a little sadly, "The crew on this boat are all volunteers – just as they are on any U-boat. You might join the navy, or you might have been conscripted. But no matter how you came to be in the navy, in order to get onto a U-boat in any non-commissioned capacity, you have to volunteer for it.

But there are eleven boats in on this little hike, aren't there? Five of them are Italian. Do you think that their crews are all volunteers as well?"

"I do not care about the Italians," Bucher said with his opinion showing clearly on his features, "They are a poor –"