Kapitänleutnant Wilhelm von Dattenberg had just spotted the first light from the shore when SS-Brigadeführer Manfred von Deitzberg climbed awkwardly up through the hatch to the conning tower.
It was dark, there was wind from the direction of the beach, and there was a cold drizzle. Von Dattenberg and the signalman standing beside
him were wearing oilcloth hooded jackets. Von Deitzberg was in civilian clothing, including a top coat and a homburg hat.
“Send, Zero Seven,” von Dattenberg ordered his signalman.
“Zero Seven, aye aye, sir,” the signalman replied, tapping the key of the signal lamp.
“Well?” von Deitzberg asked.
Von Dattenberg ignored the question.
“Shore sends, Nine Nine sir,” the signalman reported.
“Send, One Five,” von Dattenberg ordered.
“One Five, aye, sir.”
“We have established contact with the beach,” von Dattenberg said to von Deitzberg. “I have just sent them code for ‘Commencing disembarkment.’”
He picked up a telephone handset.
“Open two and five. Put boats on deck and inflate. I want a line on every man on deck.”
“What happens now?” von Deitzberg asked, his tone implying that whatever that was, he reserved the right to correct anything of which he did not approve.
“I have ordered the rubber boats to be brought onto the deck,” von Dattenberg said. “There are, in all, four of them. They will be inflated and put over the side. Two trips to the beach will be necessary, presuming nothing goes wrong.
“How the boats will be loaded is up to you, Herr Brigadeführer, by which I mean it is your decision whether you want to be put ashore first, or whether you would rather wait until some of your men are ashore. Each boat will carry six men, two of whom will be my sailors.
“We are approximately a thousand meters offshore. I estimate it will take fifteen minutes to row ashore, and probably ten for the boats to return here.”
“Why the difference?”
“Coming back to the ship, the rubber boats will be lighter and the wind will be behind them.”
“Why can’t you go closer to the beach?”
“We would run aground, Herr Brigadeführer,” von Dattenberg said simply.
Von Deitzberg was quiet for a moment, then he said, “I think it would be best to put the SS men ashore first. I will go with the special shipment when we know all is well on the beach.”
“Whatever you wish, Herr Brigadeführer,” von Dattenberg said, then picked up the telephone again.
“Send the SS men to the deck, put a line on each of them, and load them into the rubber boats as soon as possible.”
“What is that? ‘Put a line on each of them’?” von Deitzberg asked. “You’ve said that before.”
“That’s a safety measure, Herr Brigadeführer. In case they fall into the water.”
“There’s a risk of that?”
“Yes, there is. The hull is curved and slippery.”
And if God is in his heaven, you arrogant SS sonofabitch, you will take a bath.
[SEVEN]