The War That Came Early: West and East by Harry Turtledove Read Free Book Online Page A

the door—neither brownshirts nor British bombs had broken this one. Yes, he was watching her. She had to ask herself how she felt about being watched. What would she do if he asked her to go walking in the botanical gardens, or throughthe park just south of them that held the zoo? (Those were the most exciting dates Jews could have these days. Even movie theaters were off-limits. Sarah didn’t look especially Jewish, but Isidor did. The ticket seller would surely ask for his ID, and trouble would follow right away.)
    A baker’s son? In ordinary times, she would have laughed at the idea. These days, weren’t all Jews equal in misery? And—a coldly pragmatic part of her mind whispered—if anybody kept food on the table, wouldn’t a baker? The things you had to think about! She was glad when the door swung shut behind her.

Chapter 3
    U p atop the U-30’s conning tower, Lieutenant Josef Lemp imagined he could see forever. No land was in sight. Ireland lay off to the north, Cornwall to the east, but neither showed above the horizon. Gray-blue sky came down to meet green-blue sea in a perfect circle all around the boat. The eye couldn’t judge how wide that circle was. Why
not
believe it stretched to infinity and beyond?
    Why not? Only one reason: you’d get killed in a hurry if you did. Three petty officers on the conning tower with Lemp constantly scanned air and sea with Zeiss binoculars. The U-30 had almost circumnavigated the British Isles to reach this position. As far as the Royal Navy and the RAF were concerned, she made an unwelcome interloper. They had ways of letting her know it, too.
    But the U-boat needed to be here. Convoys from the USA and Canada and Argentina came through these waters. Without the supplies they carried, England and her war effort would starve. And British troopships ferried Tommies and RAF pilots and the planes they flew to France. Sinkthem before they got there, and they wouldn’t give
Landsers
and
Luftwaffe
flyers grief.
    One of the petty officers’ field glasses jerked. He’d spotted something up in the sky. Lemp got ready to bawl the order that would send everybody on the tower diving down the hatch and the U-30 diving deep into the sea. Then the binoculars steadied. The petty officer let out a sheepish chuckle. “Only a petrel,” he said.
    “That’s all right, Rolf,” Lemp said. “Better to jump at a bird than to miss an airplane.”
    Rolf nodded. “You bet, Skipper.”
    The surface navy was all spit and polish and formality. There was no room for that kind of crap aboard U-boats. The men who sailed in them laughed at it. They were a raffish lot, given to beards and dirty uniforms and speaking their minds. But when the time came to buckle down to business, nobody was more dangerous.
    Lemp had his own binoculars on a strap around his neck. The conning tower also carried a massive pair on a metal pylon, for times when a skipper needed to trade field of view for magnification.
    Rolf stiffened again, this time like a dog coming to the point. “Smoke!”
    “Where away?” Lemp asked, grabbing for his field glasses.
    “Bearing about 270,” the petty officer answered. “You can make it out just above the horizon.”
    Back and forth, back and forth. Moving the binoculars that way was second nature for Lemp. And sure as hell, there was the smudge. “Well, let’s see what we’ve got,” he said, excitement tingling through him. “Go below, boys,” Down the hatch they went, shoes clanging on iron rungs. Lemp, the last man there, dogged the hatch. “Take us to
Schnorkel
depth,” he ordered as he descended.
    The U-30 slid below the surface—but not far below. The tube mounted atop the submarine let the diesels keep breathing even so. Lemp was not enamored of the gadget, which didn’t always work as advertised. The shipfitters back in Kiel wouldn’t have installed the Dutch-invented device on his boat if he’d been in good odor with the powers that be. After sinking an