Sea of Shadows eBook - Navy Thriller.com

20 JEFF EDWARDS
Type 212B submarine seemed especially menacing: a sleek, dark-skinned
predator floating low in the water. It was a false impression; both
machines were dangerous. The quietest, most capable diesel submarine
ever built, paired with one of the most sophisticated and lethal undersea
weapons that modern military science could devise.
The morning sun found its way through a hole in the clouds, and
Gröeler squinted slightly. The skin around his eyes was crosshatched with
heavy crow’s feet. Not laugh lines, but rather a cumulative network of
wrinkles caused by thousands of hours spent peering through periscopes
and attack-scopes.
He was a short, solidly built man, with ice-blue eyes that moved
quickly and missed very little. Behind his back, the men called him das
Armkreuz—the spider. Under another circumstance, the nickname might
have been disparaging. But Gröeler knew that his crew considered it a
compliment. It signified their respect for his skill as a hunter. He moved
quietly, worked meticulously, and killed quickly.
He rummaged in the pocket of his gray Deutsche Marine coveralls for a
cigarette. Smoking was forbidden at the ammunition piers, but he was in
command here. It was his submarine, they were his torpedoes, and the
gray-coveralled crewmen working down on the deck were his to
command. He lit the cigarette with a slender butane lighter made of good
German steel. He drew a lung full of smoke. It was a stupid rule anyway.
The plasticized-hexite explosive used in the torpedoes was incredibly
stable. Without a precisely measured electrical charge from an arming
mechanism, it was just so much harmless chemical modeling clay. With
the proper initiating charge … well, that was a different matter. But ten
cartons of smoldering cigarettes and a hundred butane lighters couldn’t
hope to set one of those weapons off.
He took another hit off the cigarette, exhaling fiercely through his
nostrils. Still, it was good to have such rules. They gave the men
direction: road signs for separating acceptable behavior from unacceptable
behavior. And it was good for the men to see their kapitan breaking such
rules. They needed to be reminded that his was the final word on all
subjects. As commanding officer of the wolfpack, his orders were not
subject to question. He, and he alone, would decide when to follow
regulations and when to break them.
He looked at his watch. They would finish with the torpedoes shortly,
and then they could begin loading the missiles. It was obvious that his
crew would finish ahead of schedule. He stepped away from the railing,
executed a precise turn to the right, and began walking with a crisp,
deliberate stride.