The Hunt

less than three weeks old.”

“Next it’s France and then we drive the British back across the channel, eh, mein Fuhrer?”

The mere mention of the English Channel gnawed at Hitler’s stomach. He stared at the narrow strip of water separating Europe from Great Britain. Although he never talked about it, the Channel was his greatest threat. He did not believe he had the resources yet to invade England.

“Never underestimate your enemy, Willie,” he said, waving his finger at Vierhaus. He strolled around his desk, his fists tight at his sides. “The British are tough. Proud. Dogged. They are exploiters. They are a psychological force embracing the entire world. And they are protected by a great navy and a very courageous air service.”

“Supplied by the Americans,” Vierhaus added.

“Exactly,” Hitler said. “You understand what I am driving at, eh, Willie?”

“Yes, mein Fuhrer.”

“How fast can you activate Siebenundzwanzig?”

“I am ready to order the U-boat south, mein Fuhrer.”

“Who is in command?”

“Captain Fritz Leiger.”

“Ah!” Hitler said with raised eyebrows. “The U-17. And Siebenundzwanzig?”

“We are in touch with him through the newspaper ads. We can activate him immediately.”

Hitler eyed Vierhaus with suspicion.

“You anticipated my decision, Willie?”

“Not exactly, mein Fuhrer,” Vierhaus said, not wishing to bruise Hitler’s fragile ego. “With the war in Europe, I am afraid Leiger may change his plans. Go someplace else. This may be our last opportunity.”

Hitler smiled. He put his hands behind his back, slapping the back of one in the palm of the other. “Of course you realize Operation Gespenst will force an open confrontation with the Americans.”

“They are supplying the British anyway. All they need is an excuse to get into it. They have just approved eighty-five million dollars for new aircraft, most of which we suspect will go to the Allies. Now is the time, men Fuhrer. The longer we can delay the Americans, the better.”

“Of course, of course, I agree. We have nothing to lose anyway. When will the U-boat be in position?”

“It should take three weeks.”

“And when do you plan to carry out the mission?”

“The third week in November. On their Thanksgiving holiday. The timing could not be better.”

Hitler smiled. He went back behind his desk, patting his hand rapidly on it and then nodded.

“Gut, Willie. You have done an excellent job and so has Siebenundzwanzig. Activate him immediately. He has waited long enough. And so have we.”

The conning tower cut the smooth surface of the sea like a knife and a moment later the U-boat silently surfaced. The captain rapidly climbed the ladder up through the narrow con and, opening the hatch, stepped out into a cool September breeze.

Two other officers followed. Below him, two gunners emerged from the deck hatch to man the 8.8-centimeter gun. Nobody made a sound.

The captain peered through his glasses, scanning the black sea ahead of them, keening his ears. In the silence, he heard the deep rumble of engines, barely audible. He strained his eyes. Dimly in the dark, ships began to take shape. He counted them, aware that a hundred yards to his starboard, a second U-boat, the U-22, had surfaced.

“Small convoy,” the captain whispered. “I make six ships. No escort yet.”

“Shall I signal?” the mate whispered.

“Not yet

Like many of Germany’s U-boat commanders, Fritz Leiger was not a Nazi. A career navy man, he was a militarist with little interest in politics. But like most German military officers, he resented the Versailles treaty for the damage it had done to Germany’s pride and economy, so he favored the war against the British and French. He was a short, heavyset Austrian with a thick mustache and a stoic personality. He knew the dangers of U-boat service as well as the stress his crew would suffer before the war was over, so he cultivated few friends among his men. Although he was a fair and compassionate skipper, he felt he could not afford the luxury of comradeship.

In this first month of World War II, there were fifty-two Unterseeboote operating in the North Atlantic, type VIIC U-boats with a crew of forty-four men, a single deck gun, two antiaircraft cannons and five torpedo tubes. Leiger had been one of the first of the U-boat commanders. He had helped to develop the wolf- pack strategy, shadowing convoys and summoning other U- boats which would then launch nighttime surface attacks on British ships carrying aircraft and armaments from America to Great Britain. In twenty-eight days of war, the wolf packs had sunk nineteen British ships. Leiger’s sleek, gray shark, the U-17, had accounted for four of these, including the passenger ship Athenia, which had gone down with 1,400 crew and passengers, twenty-eight of them Americans.

Leiger suddenly stopped scanning the darkness and leaned forward. Refocusing his binoculars, he saw what a submariner fears most, the bubbling white water spraying off the bow of a British destroyer as it circled wide in front of the convoy and straightened out. The U-17 was directly in its path.

“Destroyer!” he yelled down into the con. “Prepare to dive.”

The warning horn blasted as Leiger and the bosun leaped through the hatchway and dropped down the narrow