We Were Soldiers
150. U-2540
The hospital's waiting room wasn't large to begin with, but filled with Commandos, it was positively cramped. Steve would've sent them all back to the Strand if he'd thought they'd actually listen to his order.
Every head lifted as the pairs of footsteps echoed down the corridor. When he saw Peggy behind Michael and Ruben, his heart beat a little quicker. Odd that it did that when his mind automatically felt calmer when she was around. It was a wonderful dichotomy that he had no time to dwell on further right now.
"Where is she? Where is my granddaughter? Let me speak to her!" said Ruben. His unseeing eyes roved the room as if he really could see.
"She's okay, Mr Moens," Steve assured him. "You can't speak to her because the doctors gave her a sedative after she'd given her statement to the police, to help her sleep better. They're going to keep her in here until morning for observation, but they say it looked a lot worse than it was."
"What happened?" asked Michael. "Peggy said you'd found Antje bleeding, but she couldn't tell us any more."
After Antje had walked into the Fiddle covered in blood, Steve had immediately sent Freddie to find Peggy, with instructions to bring Michael and Ruben to the hospital. He'd then sent Monty to the nearest police station, whilst Lizzie, Bucky and Morita tended to Antje's injury, and the rest of the Commandos flagged down a couple of taxis. The treatment room was small with two doctors, a nurse, seven Commandos and two police officers inside it, so everyone but Steve and the police had been banished to the waiting room.
"Antje said that she wanted to go for a walk," he relayed to them.
"She told me she would be walking in the orchard!" Ruben wailed. "Why would she lie?"
"She started walking in the orchard," Steve agreed, "but then decided to walk a little further. She wanted to see more of London, so she set off on the road. But she hadn't realised how far it really was on foot. After walking for an hour she reached the city, but was lost, so she wandered around for a while and tried to search for one of the places she knew. She recognised a jewelry shop, and would've stopped inside to call home, but it was already closed by that time."
He took a deep breath. When he'd told this next part to the Commandos, he'd had to order them not to go out and try to 'make things right'. Even now they weren't convinced by his assurance that the police could handle it.
"As she left the front of the shop, she was approached by a cutpurse," he continued. "He'd seen her fine dress and thought she was a lady of means. He had a knife, and threatened her to give him her purse. All she had in her purse were a few trinkets and a small sewing kit, nothing of value to him, but things that she liked personally. So, she refused, and he tried to grab it. She fought him, there was a struggle, and she was cut on the lower arm. The man fled immediately, and Antje tried to stop the bleeding with pressure from her hand as she kept walking. She must've been in shock at this point, because she couldn't tell the police what she was thinking, and could only mumble in Dutch. Somehow she found her way through several alleys to the Fiddle, and she collapsed inside. Again, shock."
"If you want us to go out and find this guy," said Dugan, punching his hand with his fist in a very meaningful way, "just say the word."
"Please let the police handle this," Michael said quickly. "It's their job. If Antje has given them a description of the man who stabbed her, the police will likely already have some idea of who it might be. Interference will only hamper their investigations and cause legal difficulties if there is ever a trial."
"Michael's right," Peggy spoke up. "You can't obey orders but ignore the law. There are procedures for this sort of thing. As angry as it makes you—and I know it does, because it makes me angry too—you can't take the law into your own hands."
"Antje did give a description to the police," Steve agreed. "They're looking into it as we speak."
"Cap won't tell us what the description is," Dugan sulked.
"He's a smart man." Peggy smiled her approval at him as she spoke.
"How bad is her arm?" Ruben asked. "She is not vain, but she does love to wear dresses. Will she have yet another scar to worry about? She has too many already, for one so young. Why life scars her and not me in her place, I do not know. She does not deserve it."
"It's not too bad," Steve said. "She has a few stitches. The knife missed any major veins; if she'd known to raise her arm above her head when she was hurt, there would not have been anywhere near as much blood loss. But she didn't know, and she probably wandered for ten minutes before finding us. If she hadn't wandered through the alleys, she probably would've been found by a member of the public sooner, so it was mostly a combination of these things that made her injury look quite horrific at first."
"I will remain here with her until the morning," said Ruben. He raised his chin defiantly, as if expecting having to fight for that right.
"I'll stay as well," Michael spoke up quickly.
"I'll return to the house and prepare her room for her return," Peggy said. "If I don't oversee things there, mother will put every pillow in the house on her bed, and the poor girl will likely drown in them."
"And we'll all get out of your hair," Steve agreed. "It sounds like you've got this from here."
"Thank you," said Ruben. He reached out to take Steve's hand and shake it. "All of you. You have helped my daughter yet again. I cannot thank you enough for taking care of her when she was hurt. I shall be having strong words with the fool girl about wandering away from the house at night. She is too innocent, sometimes, and big cities are not always safe."
"Yes, thank you all," Michael echoed. His face had a harrowed look about it, one Steve hadn't seen since they'd found him in that work camp. "Peggy, first thing in the morning, will you ring the florist and have them fill her room with flowers? Make sure it's asters and lilies; those are her favourites. Oh, and ring Thorntons and have them send over a couple of boxes of chocolate-covered honeycomb. And—"
"I'll see to everything," Peggy assured him. "Don't worry."
"Come on team, let's make some space." Steve shooed them all out of the waiting room, then down the corridor, and finally out into the warm summer evening. The sun had fully set while they'd been waiting, and the twinkling stars shone overhead in joyous mockery of the night's events.
"Really wish we could give the police a hand," Dugan sulked again. "Any man who would threaten a woman with a knife deserves a serious ass-whoopin', in my book."
"It really is best to leave them to get on with things," Monty said. "I bet by tomorrow, they have a line-up of suspects ready and waiting."
"It's been a long night, guys," Steve told them. "Let's get back the Strand and get some rest."
Nobody complained this time. It was late, and this was technically the most adventure they'd seen in days. As they filed towards the taxi rank, he spotted his best friend hanging back, an unusually gloomy frown on his face.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Nothing important," Bucky replied.
"C'mon, you've barely said a word all evening, and now you look like you've just been told the sun isn't gonna come up tomorrow."
"Like I said, it's nothing. Nothing important, anyway. Not in the grand scheme of things. Priorities, and all that…"
"Stop waffling and lay it on me already."
"Fine." Bucky kicked at a loose stone with the toe of his boot, sending it scuttling across the pavement. "I had a royal flush."
"What?"
"My hand. In the poker game. It was a royal flush, and I never got to play it."
A small weight lifted off of Steve's chest. For a brief moment, he'd been worried that something truly important had been playing on his friend's mind. Something like seeing Antje injured might've caused him to have a change of heart. His best friend and his girl's brother both chasing after the same woman… either way that ended, someone important to him would've ended up hurt.
"Cheer up, pal," he offered, clapping Bucky on the shoulder. "By the sounds of it, we're going to be spending a lot of days sober from now on. I'm sure you'll get a second chance at that hand soon enough."
: - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - : - - - — — — - - - :
BANG BANG BANG.
"Buck, wake up! We have a mission! Bucky, can you hear me?"
"No," he croaked, as the sound of Steve's stupidly large fist pounding on his door dragged him from a deep, dreamless sleep. "I can't hear you. I'm asleep."
"Well wake up. We need to be at Whitehall in a half-hour. Phillips sent a messenger with two cars, which means this is top priority."
As the sound of Steve's footsteps down the corridor faded away, Bucky rolled over and glanced at his bedside clock. Two in the morning. He groaned loudly. It had been almost midnight when the team returned from the hospital. No wonder his brain felt all fuzzy; he'd barely slept any. Phillips was a cruel, cruel man at times.
After hastily dressing he grabbed a satchel, filled it with ration bars, clean socks, shorts and a change of uniform, and made his way out of his room and down the stairwell. At the reception desk, he stopped. Wells was working a couple of night shifts, but they'd agreed to meet up in the Drum on his next free night. It wasn't really fair to be a no-show, but he didn't know where Wells was staying, which meant he couldn't send a note.
Mr Chipperton wasn't around at this hour, so Bucky vaulted quietly over the desk and rifled in the top drawer for some paper and envelopes. He wrote on a clean sheet of paper, "Wells, had to go on a mission with no notice, might not be back before we are supposed to catch up again." And, remembering what had happened to Antje, he ended it with "Be careful!" and underlined it three times to really make it stand out. Then he put it into an enveloped, licked it closed, and wrote Sergeant D. Wells on the front. On a second piece of paper he wrote "Gladys, please give this note to Sergeant Wells. Thanks, I owe you one. Sergeant Barnes." This and the first envelope he folded into a second envelope and wrote GLADYS on the front. On the next piece of paper he wrote, "Mr Chipperton, please could you ask one of the boys who run messages to deliver this envelope to Gladys in the Kettle & Drum. I enclose payment for his services." He folded that letter, plus the envelope with the letter and envelope inside, into a new envelope, and dropped a couple of coins in before sealing it and writing Mr Chipperton on the front. It was a stupidly convoluted way to send a letter, but hopefully it would work.
Dugan hurried down the stairs, pulling his jacket over his broad shoulders as he descended. He took one look at Bucky poised behind the desk and shook his head. "Mission now, practice concierge skills later. I'll even let you carry my bags for me, if you like."
Bucky merely flipped him the Vs.
A cruel man Phillips might be, but he was also an efficient one. The two SSR cars waiting to carry the team to HQ pulled away from the hotel as soon as the team climbed inside. This must be important, if Phillips had woken them at this time. Maybe that mission to Holland was on the cards after all. It would be good to take a shot or two at Hydra. Get a lead on Schmidt.
Whitehall seemed unusually busy when the cars pulled up to a stop. It wasn't out of the ordinary for a daytime, but why were so many military bigwigs out at this hour of the night? Unless… had something gone wrong with Overlord? All the intel that had reached Bucky's ears suggested the Normandy operation was going well, with the Allies gaining ground inch by inch accompanied by the Resistance, and the Nazis being slowly but surely pushed back towards the German border.
They didn't have to wait long for an answer. Phillips was poised at the ready in the Big Room, a fresh pot of coffee on the table in front of him. Steve smiled when he saw it, then scratched his nose to try and hide the smile behind his hand.
"Men," Phillips said, "please take a seat. This will be a quick briefing, but I want it to be as thorough as possible. Agent Carter has already informed me of what happened with Miss Moens a few hours ago, and I've granted her a day of compassionate leave, so you'll be liaising directly with me on this one." He turned over his cork board to reveal several photographs of the ocean—and something in it. Something metallic. "Approximately two hours ago, a German U-boat surfaced just off the coast of East Anglia. Three armoured patrol ships were sent out to deal with it, as the nearest war ship was too distant to recall. However, upon reaching the U-boat, they found something odd."
"It's upside down," said Steve. He was already tipping his head sideways as he studied the pictures on the board.
"Yes. As you know, newer models of U-boats only surface to replenish their air supplies and batteries; unlike earlier models, they are capable of sustained travel whilst submerged, and many of them are faster now at submerged travel than they are when moving at the surface."
"Any ideas about how it ended up upside down?" asked Monty. "I must admit, I didn't even know they could go upside down."
"Neither did we," Phillips agreed. Was it Bucky's imagination, or did his craggy face actually betray some level of excitement over this? "Usually they only list when they're damaged and have taken on water, but we've never known one to go entirely upside down before. Their buoyancy systems are supposed to prevent it from happening. Now, we've been able to identify this one as the U-2540, an XXI-type U-boat that utilises updated designs and modern construction materials along with superior weaponry. Technical specs—as much as we know, anyway—are contained in the dossiers in front of you.
"One of the frigates sent to intercept the submarine tried to establish contact, but there was no reply. So, we're looking at two potential scenarios. Either the crew of the U-2540 is dead, as a result of either battle damage or technical malfunction, or there is no crew on board and the Nazis were attempting some sort of long-range automated pilot system, which would make this vessel highly experimental."
Bucky looked over the picture of the upside down U-boat in his dossier. The hull was all shiny and new. "I'm not seeing any battle damage. Have any of the fleet reported a skirmish with a U-boat?"
"No," Phillips said. "Which makes the other options more likely. Technical malfunction, or unmanned vessel. Either way, this is a rare opportunity for us to get a good look at the newest model of a functioning U-boat. I have a dozen Navy officers clamouring at me to tow the thing in to harbour so they can start poking around inside it. Officers who I suspect have poor knowledge of ancient Greek history."
"I was thinking the same thing, Colonel," Steve nodded. From anyone else, that might've been brown-nosing. But Steve was just being honest. "It may not be horse-shaped, but it could still be a trap."
"Which is why we're sending in our best team to check it thoroughly before we even think about moving it."
"But it is upside down," said Jacques. "The door is underneath. In the water, non?"
"Hope you can hold your breath, Frenchie," Dugan chuckled.
"No breath-holding will be required," Phillips assured them. "You'll be fully kitted out with oxygen rebreathers, which will allow you to swim down to the entrance hatch. Ordinarily the pressure of the sea would prevent the hatch from being opened, but as various media channels are intent on reminding me, Captain America is strong. I'm sure it will be no issue for you to open, Rogers."
Steve nodded. "Right."
"Your mission is to investigate the submarine. Capture or subdue any enemy forces which may be present. It would be great if you could get the damn thing the right way up. Even better if you can start up the engines—assuming they can be started—to get it moving under its own steam so we can pilot it in to a harbour, rather than having to drag it. But if it's not possible to start it or flip it, then just sweep every corridor and room for booby-traps. I want to makes sure this thing isn't another Trojan Horse that might bite us on the ass further down the line."
"What about our weapons?" asked Jones. "I'm not sure how dry our guns are gonna be after we've swum down there."
"Son, that submarine right there is a pressurised canister of breathable gases submerged in a body of water. One stray bullet could sink the whole thing, and take all of you with it. The guns stay home, but you can take as many knives as you want."
"Sir," Bucky spoke up, "is this U-boat the reason why Whitehall's so active right now?"
"That's right. It's not every day we spot one before they attack, and we've never had the opportunity to capture the newest model before. This could give us valuable insight into recent advancements in German subaquatic warfare, so do everything within your power to make that U-boat safe."
Steve stood and saluted, and the rest of the team followed suit. "Don't worry sir, you can count on us."
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Boat travel by night wasn't fun. Hearing more than you could see, feeling each roll of the waves, never knowing how far you were from a rocky outcrop… It wasn't so bad for the big ships which could only sail in deep water, but boats like the one Bucky and the rest of the team found themselves on… they were just one misstep away from a watery grave. No wonder Jacques clung to his bucket like it was the only thing keeping him alive. This bucket was made of wood, so if the boat sank, it might very well save his life.
"This is very complex," said Steve. Brow furrowed heroically, he was studying what little information Phillips had been able to provide them on the technical operations of the type XXI U-boat. "So many dials and levers."
"They were designed by smarter men than us, Cap," said Dugan. He pounded his left palm with his right fist. "And if I ever meet those smarter men, I'm gonna make them sorry for designing something so complicated."
"It definitely won't help matters that we'll be trying to do it all upside down," Monty pointed out. "Maybe we should make uprighting the submarine our priority."
"According to these schematics," said Steve, pointing to his dossier schematic, "the control room is located here, and the engine room is all the way over here. We could split into two teams. One sweeping towards the control room, the other sweeping to the engine room. Then the team in the engine room can check the engines."
"Checking for what exactly?" Jones asked.
"You know." Steve gestured vaguely. "That they're there. Not on fire. That sort of thing."
"That sounds like my kind of job," Bucky spoke up quickly. "I'm practically an expert on checking that things are present and not on fire."
"Great. Bucky, Morita, Dernier to check the engine room, the rest of us to try and figure out the controls."
"Surely it won't take four of us to do that, Cap," said Dugan. "How 'bout Jonesy and I sweep the rest of the sub and look for clues?"
"Clues?"
"Yeah, you know what clues are. Hints. Tips. Poorly hidden secrets."
"Alcohol?" Bucky grinned.
"No, Barnes, German alcohol tastes like shit, or so I've been informed. I'm thinking more along the lines of intel, maps, charts; hell, even letters home from the crew… if there is one… stating their destination."
"Well, I suppose it won't take four of us in the control room," Steve agreed. "Fine. Monty and I will take a look at the technical stuff while you gather intel."
About twenty minutes after leaving dock, the little boat came into view of one of the larger frigates. The crew lowered a rope ladder, and one by one, the Commandos climbed up it. On the frigate's deck, they were met by a young man in a Royal Navy uniform who saluted them once they'd all climbed aboard.
"Captain Rogers, welcome aboard the HMS Foley. I'm Sub-Lieutenant Albert Kessler, here to brief you and your team on the use of the oxygen rebreathers and get you kitted out with wetsuits in preparation for your dive."
Steve saluted, then shook the man's hand. "Thank you for your assistance, Sub-Lieutenant. I wish we were learning how to do this under better circumstances. Can you tell me how far away we are from the U-boat right now?"
"Look over port, and you can see for yourself," he replied.
As one, the team shuffled over to the port rail and looked out into the night. The moon was a thin crescent too small to cast any true light, but several beams were being directed out from the Foley's upper deck, illuminating something long and metallic no more than two hundred metres away from the ship. Dugan let out a whistle while Jacques said, "It is much bigger than I was expecting."
"Still no communication from them?" Steve asked.
"None," Kessler confirmed. "We've pinged the entire area with ASDIC… what you call SONAR… and we're certain this is the only submarine in the area, so if it's a trap, it's not one that's going to be sprung from the outside." He gestured at the deck of his ship, and the other two nearby. "Even if it was, I wouldn't want you to worry; the Foley has sunk a U-boat before. We've some experience there. However, there are two things you need to know before you head over there."
"Just two?" Bucky asked. "That's a novelty; usually our missions come with a whole bunch of caveats."
"First of all," Kessler said, "you have six hours to get down there, figure out what's going on, and send somebody to report back. If after six hours we've had no contact from you, we'll assume the worst and will drop depth charges to sink the sub. Second, we hope you can get the engines working so this thing can be righted and piloted to port under its own steam. You can start the engines, however, if you make any movement towards the shore without reporting to us first, we'll assume that the sub is on an attack run and will—"
"Let me guess; drop depth charges?" Steve butted in.
"That's right. I'd recommend that you take a good look around but then send someone back ASAP to report whatever it is you find. Once we've got the O-K that your team hasn't been captured or compromised, it'll take that six-hour window off the table and allow you more time to do whatever you need to do down there."
"Understood." Steve took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. Bucky hoped they'd have a wet suit big enough for him. "Alright, show us the ropes."
Author's note: I remember cliff-hangers... they're those things I used to do all the time. Then I kind of forgot about them. But now they're back, yay! Hope you enjoyed Date Night as much as Steve did. I'll now take a little break from publishing chapters, but you can come back on Sunday for the start of the U-2540 arc. I don't want to hype it up too much but it's the most fun I've had writing a bunch of chapters since the early pre-Krausberg days with the 107th, and I can't wait to share it with you all!