The Miracle of the Ellington
"Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light." Helen Keller
Chapter 1: A Watery Grave
"I say we throw them out!" The seaman was a burly fellow, his face grimed with smoke and burns. "We're two men over capacity already. There's not enough room in the boat for prisoners, sir!" The sarcasm with which he laced the title wasn't lost on the officer he was addressing.
"No," the ensign said quietly, not looking up from his unconscious captain's side. He was trying to staunch the blood from a wound that was far beyond his capacity to deal with in any situation, much less in a crowded lifeboat on the open sea. His blistered hands shook, the only indication he wasn't immune to the horrors of the recent battle and their current predicament. "You," he addressed a sailor who looked almost as young as he was, "monitor his pulse and let me know if it changes. I'm afraid we're losing him."
The young man nodded, swallowing hard, watching the ensign with frightened eyes.
"Is the motor working yet?" the ensign asked, his voice harsh with smoke damage from the fire that had engulfed the destroyer Ellington. His expression remained unchanged when the men working on it shook their heads. "Keep rowing, then. If you spot any survivors in the water, haul them in!"
One of the prisoners held in the bottom of the boat made an abrupt movement and the burly seaman backhanded him. The three crewmen from the U-boat erupted in a stream of furious German.
"Shut up!" The seaman slapped another, heedless of the man's wounds.
"Stop it!" The ensign glared at him, tired eyes blazing. "Does anyone speak German?"
"I do," the cook's mate volunteered hesitantly.
"Bauer, is it? What are they saying?"
"They're saying McMann here is an ass," Bauer said.
"Why, I oughta…" The burly man drew his arm back again.
"Besides that," the ensign snapped. "Why did that one move?" He pointed to the youngest German matrosen, who was watching him with an expression of barely contained fury.
"He said his father is a doctor. He was willing to help but now he says we can go to hell for all he cares."
"And he can feed the damn sharks for all I care!" McMann snarled.
"Let go of him."
"Sir? You're going to let one of them at the captain?"
"Unless you have a better idea, yes." He turned to Bauer. "Tell him I'd appreciate any help he can give the wounded."
Bauer translated while the ensign studied the face of the prisoner lying at his feet. Their eyes met, light and dark, as they sized each other up. After a moment, the German grunted and pulled his arms free from the restraining hands. He crawled to the wounded officer's side and set to work, ignoring the Americans surrounding him.
"Danke," the ensign murmured. He turned to McMann. "A word with you." He motioned the seaman aside. "I respect your loyalty to Captain Harris. You've served with him a long time, but until he regains consciousness I'm in command." The steely gaze he fixed on McMann belied his youth. "I don't care if you're ten years older than I am and have served ten years longer. If you continue to argue with me in front of the men, I'll have you out of service so fast your head will spin!"
"Your rich daddy will see to it, I guess."
The ensign's eyes narrowed. "You don't have to like me, McMann. All that matters is that you follow orders. There's a good chance none of us are going to get out of this." Unconsciously, he cradled his wounded hands close to his body, wrapping his arms across his chest.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?" The ensign nodded curtly. "It's like this: you're as green as they come. Maybe you've got a name to live up to and it's eating up your insides or maybe you've got more pride than common sense—I don't know. All I know is that I don't want to die because of rookie mistakes."
"You won't," the ensign said dismissively, his gaze straying to the German who was absorbed with treating their stricken captain.
McMann restrained the overpowering urge to shake the arrogant boy, burned or not, officer or not. "The boat is overloaded, we've got three prisoners taking up space, and you're still trying to pick up survivors!"
"We'll pick up anyone we find alive. We'll take turns in the water if we have to."
"Take turns in the water?" McMann stared at him incredulously. "With the sharks?"
"You have a pistol, don't you?"
"You're… that's crazy, sir!"
"No." The ensign looked up at the taller man wearily. In the gray light before dawn the crewman could see every terrible moment of the previous night etched on his face. "It's a desperate measure in a desperate situation, not one I'd pick if I were given a choice. What's the alternative? Do you expect me to row past men in the water if they're still alive?"
"Sir," the crewman said, this time without irony, "you've got to toughen up or you'll never make it home." He felt a pang of pity at the bald anguish in the ensign's eyes. He'd seen that look, that loss of innocence, so many times since the war began. Usually the ones who wore that expression died, victims of their hopeless idealism. Doubtless the ensign would, too, taking most of them with him. He sighed. "Alright, sir. I won't say any more, but I think before this is over you'll regret being so stubborn."
X X X
"Why the long face, Angie?" Lee Crane asked as he breezed into her office at the Nelson Institute for Marine Research.
"I have to pick up Dr. Schaffner at the airport in an hour."
"What's the problem? I thought you liked him." Crane perched on the edge of her desk, studying her closely. There were dark smudges under her eyes and her smile, when she glanced up at him, was forced.
"I do. He's a sweet man. The last time he visited he brought me a beautiful box of chocolates from Cologne."
"That was over six months ago," Crane mused. "That's a long time for the admiral and Schaffner to go without seeing each other. Harry should be pleased."
"I thought he would be." Angie clicked the end of her ballpoint pen nervously.
"He's not? What's going on?" Crane glanced at the closed door of Nelson's office. "Is he in?"
"No." Angie shifted, then looked up at Crane with a determined expression. "Ride with me and I'll tell you on the way to the airport. I've been debating whether I should say anything or not, but I have to. You have a right to know anything that might endanger Seaview!"
They didn't speak again until they were on the open road. Angie sped along, driving faster than usual, her eyes locked in front of her. "I hate it that I'm talking to you about this," she said. "I feel like I'm betraying the admiral, like I've been spying on him, prying…"
"I need to know if something's wrong," Lee said quietly. "I owe the crew that much, and if Harry needs help… well, he shouldn't have to ask."
"You're right," she said. "Of course, you're right." She drew a deep breath. "I don't think he's been sleeping well. The light's on in his office at all hours." Angie glanced at Lee. "There's a doctor he's been seeing…"
"He's ill?" Crane's stomach churned.
"No. No, I don't think so. It's a psychiatrist in private practice, not linked to the Navy in any way. The admiral never told me who he was. I looked him up myself after the third visit."
"Harry's going to a psychiatrist?" Lee shook his head. "I can't imagine him doing that voluntarily."
"I know," Angie said bleakly. "It doesn't seem like him at all. He's out of sorts— distracted, short-tempered. It's as if," she cocked her head, thinking hard, "some decision is weighing on him."
Lee frowned. "Do you think he's fit for the mission?"
Angie hesitated. "I don't know. I was hoping having Dr. Schaffner along would cheer him up, but when I reminded the admiral this morning that he was arriving, he didn't seem happy about it at all. He left without saying a word and never came back. That was hours ago."
"Have they had an argument, some professional disagreement?"
"No, I don't think so. Kurt was fine when I spoke with him yesterday. He told me he's found two wonderful new wines to bring to the admiral for his opinion."
"I'll have to ask Harry what's going on," Lee said.
"No! No, please don't. He'll be furious with me." Angie spared him a pleading glance. "Just keep an eye on him. Maybe he'll be better once he's back on Seaview and you're at sea."
X X X
Lee stood beside the admiral and Dr. Schaffner at the plotting table in the control room, watching them confer. Their heads were bent close to each other, light and dark, as Schaffner read off coordinates and Nelson added them to the charts. They worked with the same amicable professionalism that always marked their research together, and Crane was having a hard time reconciling Angie's concerns with the evidence of his own eyes.
The admiral looked tired, but was entirely gracious and in control of their mission to examine a region of the North Atlantic where four ships had gone down in half as many months. Suspecting poor weather conditions or a seismic anomaly, the Navy had sent Seaview to investigate. Since Dr. Schaffner had been compiling data on the area for several years, the West German government had loaned him to Seaview for the mission.
Nelson looked up at Crane. "We should reach the coordinates where the last ship sank at 10:00. Kurt and I will take the FS-1 out and examine the wreckage."
"Be careful. Remember, the flying sub is much more vulnerable than Seaview to turbulence and changes in the currents. Come back right away if the situation starts to deteriorate. You'll be hard to retrieve at this depth if you lose power."
"The weather in this part of the ocean can be very strange, that's certain," Schaffner said. "Once when I was here many years ago, a storm blew up so quickly we didn't even see it coming. The sea churned for a few moments like—how do you say it?—an eggbeater was in the water."
"You didn't sink, though?"
"No," Schaffner shook his head, "but a man drowned. I was sorry for that."
"Maybe whatever weather anomaly plagues these waters restricts itself to the surface layers," Crane said. "We may not feel a thing even if the water above is unstable."
"Perhaps," Nelson said, sounding unconvinced. He clapped Lee and Schaffner on the shoulders with what seemed to Crane like forced cheer. "Let's have a cup of coffee before we go, shall we? I feel the need for a little fortification."
X X X
"Dammit, why haven't we been picked up yet?" McMann demanded. It was mid-morning and the summer sun had been up for hours. "How many planes have flown over? They must have radioed our position. What the hell are they waiting for?"
"Maybe there's a U-boat in the area," the ensign said quietly.
"Hey, you!" McMann grabbed the German who had patched up the captain, digging his fingers into the man's arms. "Bauer, ask him!"
The matrosen's answer was clear even to those who didn't speak German. McMann drew his fist back and pounded it into his prisoner's face. The ensign watched, a muscle jumping in his jaw, as the German slumped in the bottom of the boat.
"Ask him again," McMann said.
The German's eyes flashed in fear and anger between McMann and the ensign. Then he gave the same answer. McMann went after him, but the ensign touched his arm lightly. "That's enough," he said. "It doesn't matter. We sank his U-boat and know it went to the bottom. Even if there's another nearby, what can we do about it?"
"Sir!" One of the crewmen gave a cry. "Two bodies to starboard!"
They rowed close enough to see one of the men in the water struggling to swim towards them. "Get in nearer," the ensign ordered. "Throw him a line." He ignored McMann shaking his head at the thought of adding yet another person to the crowded boat as he watched the man flailing desperately. The men in the boat cheered the survivor on and the ensign leaned further and further over the side, reaching for his hands.
They were caught unprepared when the sea suddenly rose beneath them, lifting the lifeboat high into the air, then dropping it precipitously. McMann's voice boomed out over the cries of fear and pain. "Man overboard!"
The ensign had been thrown well clear of the boat and now was fighting his way back. The wind picked up quickly, beating the tops of the waves into foam. Despite the ferocity of the sudden squall, McMann thought the ensign stood a good chance of making it until he saw him grab the life jacket of the sailor they'd been trying to rescue. McMann groaned, wishing the young officer had even one drop of good sense and knew when to give up.
The ensign pulled the unconscious sailor through the water, seemingly oblivious to the pain of his damaged hands. Several times he went under, but each time was buoyed up by his life jacket. When he got close enough, he pushed the still body towards the lifeboat. "Take him!" They could barely hear the exhausted order as they grasped the sailor and hauled him aboard.
"Sir, here's my hand!" McMann leaned out, reaching for the ensign. "You can do it! You're one hell of a swimmer!" He thought he saw a faint smile break across the young man's tired face, but then a massive wave hit, drenching them all. When McMann shook the water from his eyes, the ensign was nowhere to be seen. The sea had swallowed him completely. "Damn," McMann swore, feeling water fill his eyes again. "Damn crazy boy!"
X X X
"We're encountering some turbulence." Nelson's voice over the radio was calm and matter-of-fact.
"I hear you, FS-1," Crane replied. "We feel it, too. Suggest you come back." The Seaview rocked, then righted itself.
"Will do." Nelson's voice crackled. The flying sub shook as a stronger disturbance flipped it almost ninety degrees. "We've got a short," Nelson said, "I'm giving the controls to Kurt while I make repairs."
"You need to get back here!" Lee's held onto the radio tightly as the deck rolled beneath his feet. "Can you make it?"
There were several moments of silence, then Lee heard Dr. Schaffner's panicked voice. "Seaview! Captain Crane!"
"We read you. What is it?"
"Harry's gone!"
"Please repeat. I didn't understand you."
"When I looked over at the circuit board to see how Harry was doing, no one was there!"
"Did he fall? Is there a breach in the hull?" Lee gripped the radio so tightly his fingers ached.
"Nein, nein." Schaffner said, slipping out of English in his distress.
"Skipper!" Kowalski's voice broke in. "Sonar's showing a body on the surface!"
Crane blanched. "If he came up from that depth…"
"It's not possible, I tell you," Schaffner said. "The flying sub isn't taking on water. I'd know if it were!"
"Can you get to the surface?"
"Ja, I'm on my way."
"Chip," Crane said, "we need to surface."
"What about the turbulence?"
"It's better now. We'll risk it."
When Seaview reached the surface, the ocean was as smooth and still as a sheet of ice. Crane emerged onto the sail in time to see Schaffner standing on the FS-1, dragging a body out of the water. Lee released a heavy breath when he saw it wasn't the admiral. The man was young, dressed in a WWII-era naval uniform and a flame-scorched life vest. Schaffner laid him out on his back and examined him closely. "I don't believe this!" His face was pale as he looked up at Crane. "Captain, you must come here!"
"Is he alive? Why in the world is he dressed like that?" Frowning, Lee climbed down to the deck of the Seaview and jumped to the FS-1, catching Schaffner's outstretched hand as he leaped across.
"Captain," Schaffner's voice was shaking, "I know this man!"
He glanced at the captain and was surprised to see Crane's face frozen in a mask of horrified disbelief. "I know him, too!" Lee's hand shot out, grabbing the identification tags around the young man's neck. He read in a shaky voice, "Nelson, Harriman." His eyes flicked over the service number, blood type, and religious affiliation, and he fell to his knees beside the still body. "This is impossible," he whispered, but he knew the unconscious man's features well, painfully young as they were. Then the blue eyes slitted open and any lingering doubts were dispelled. Lee released the tags and laid a gentle hand on the stricken man's shoulder. "Rest easy, ensign," he said, trying to find his voice. "You're among friends."
Nelson only shook his head weakly. "No, you're lying." His gaze rested on Schaffner. "German. I heard him speaking."
Schaffner looked at Crane hopelessly. "I'm sorry… I didn't think…"
"Stop—don't say anything else," Lee said. "We have to think this through." He watched in dismay as Nelson took in his first view of Seaview. Beyond the exhaustion, his eyes radiated fear and wonder. "Get a blindfold on him," Crane snapped. "Now!"
He restrained Nelson as gently as possible while Schaffner disappeared into the FS-1. The ensign's body was shaking, whether from exhaustion, cold, pain, or fear, Lee couldn't say. His mind was reeling and his heart aching. He couldn't even begin to understand what was happening, but at least the admiral was alive, even if this young man wasn't the admiral he knew.
He felt a pang of sympathy as Schaffner came back up with a cloth and bound Nelson's eyes. He hated to imagine what his friend was thinking, what terrors he had recently endured and what fears and suspicions were gripping him now. Most of all, Lee hated his own inability to comfort him. Still, he couldn't stop himself from trying. "Ensign," he said quietly, "I swear you will not be harmed. We're taking you aboard our vessel to treat your wounds. We are friends and will care for you with respect. Do you believe me?"
A muscle jumped in Nelson's throat, but he made no reply. He turned his face away and Lee understood as well as if he'd answered. Sighing dejectedly, he allowed Schaffner to tie Harry's wrists together, then he lifted him easily and carried him across the deck towards Seaview and what should have been home.
