Phantom U-Boat

By Frank Hibbs

The mysterious existence called life after death that lurks waiting beyond the reef that all humankind must eventually cross sometimes may encroach onto the mortal shores that humans inhabit and adjust events that weak mortals have misused. Tales told by sailors seems to indicate that strange eerie powers cross this reef in reverse and make adjustments that are beyond the power of mortal humans to change. The legends told by seafaring men are filled with such mysterious tales such as the legend of the Flying Dutchman and others. The battle of the North Atlantic was a generator of such events and is the stage for this tale about restless ghosts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 13, 2007
• ISBN: 9781462830404

Frank Hibbs

Frank Hibbs was born and raised in Sevier County in southwestern Arkansas, the son of a lumberjack. Drafted in 1944 he served with the Army in WWII as an infantryman with 3rd Army in the ETO. Reenlisting he became a B-29 Flight Engineer in the Air Force and few 21 combat missions in the Korean War. He ended his 21-year service in the military with the Strategic Air Command flying b-36's and C-124's. Married with two children he worked thirty years as an electronic technician in industry and retired in 1992. After retirement he began painting and writing all types of fiction.

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Copyright © 2007 by Frank Hibbs.

ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4257-8371-6

eBook 9781462830404

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER ONE

The mysterious existence called life after death that lurks waiting beyond the reef that all humankind must eventually cross sometimes may encroach onto the mortal shores that humans inhabit and adjust events that weak mortals have misused. War is the most traumatic of human endeavors and is often seized by some weak mortals as an excuse to follow their baser instincts to practice extreme cruelty during these events. History seems to indicate that strange eerie powers cross this reef in reverse and make adjustments that are beyond the power of mortal humans to change. The legends told by seafaring men are filled with such mysterious tales such as the legend of the Flying Dutchman and others.

On the cold blue grey North Atlantic Ocean and the North Sea where Germany launched its unrestricted submarine warfare, the Kregs Marine’s deadly U-Boat fleet dealt its heaviest and cruelest blows to allied shipping. The tattered ghosts of this U-Boat battle may still ride on the winter gales, grey rolling waves and cold sleety skies screaming for justice. This tale begins long after this battle was over on a foggy evening in a German port that launched many U-Boat sailors into that maelstrom. Many, many of these men never came home alive to Bremehaven from what was named, The Battle of the North Atlantic.

Chris Parker first mate of the good ship Emma Lee out of Charleston made sure the watch was set, roughly reminded the mate on duty the captain was ashore and left the bridge. The mate, still stinging from Parkers last growled criticisms coldly watched the first mate descended the gangplank, hoping he would stumble and break his neck.

Parker safely reached the new concrete dock that moored the ship and strode briskly into the cold foggy darkness. Dressed in a heavy pea jacket with the collar turned up and his hard-billed peaked cap cocked at a jaunty angle, he strode boldly away from the ship. Chris was fleeing the boredom of an evening in his cabin reading a mystery novel he was having a hard time getting into. He had decided impulsively to abandon the novel and treat himself to a good meal at the Golden Seahorse restaurant.

A clean-shaven, brown haired man less than six feet in height, Chris’s muscular build made him seem larger. His decades long career as a first mate was unblemished by any professional failures as a ships officer. His management of the ships operation was efficient and flawless but his autocratic methods rubbed most seamen he sailed with the wrong way. A man who allowed no resistance to his authority, Chris was roundly disliked as first mate by both junior officers and the able-bodied seamen manning the ships on which he sailed. He was extra hard on men with an independent nature who performed their duties at sea in a non-standard manner.

A cold damp foggy evening that caused him to shiver met Chris Parker as he left the ships gangplank despite the heavy jacket he wore. A half moon peeked dimly out of the fog-obscured sky and occasionally disappeared behind the heavier, drifting banks of fog. He felt strangely uneasy as though something was following him when he began to walk on the concrete dock toward the street it abutted. He abruptly halted to listen for footsteps on the concrete dock but heard nothing lurking in the swirling fog. He shivered again while the fog swirled around him like persistent, wraithlike ghosts and the thought entered his mind to call off his outing into this weirdly foggy evening. Abruptly his stubborn side kicked in and he continued his walk toward his destination, the Golden sea Horse cafe.

He knew the street named Weserstrasse led to the bistro named The Golden Seahorse he had dined at on several occasions before. When he reached the street that fronted the dock and began walking on the sidewalk the eerie feeling of unease continued to overwhelm him. Chris was again tempted to return to the ship and proceed no further into the eerily foggy evening. He resolutely shook off the uneasy feeling and continued along the street, his footsteps seeming muffled by the fog as he strode along. The deep mournful sound of a ships foghorn sounded somewhere out in the harbor causing Chris to adjust his coat collar closer around his cold ears.

Damn, this is a night made for spooks, he muttered aloud to no one in particular.

Chris cast uneasy glances into the dark shadowy alleys to his right and left. The street lamps he passed were fuzzy and dim from the thick fog swirling around them creating yellowish halos of diffused light. The deep, dark, and mysterious shadows in the alleys between the buildings leading away from the street boded no good for anyone carelessly wandering into them. The ships foghorn sounded its mournful warning again and Chris responded by picking up the pace he was walking.

Passing only an occasional lone pedestrian picking his way through the soupy fog Chris strode warily through the darkness. He was relieved to see the neon sign above the front entrance of his destination flickering dimly ahead in the fog. The light of the neon sign soon pierced the mist enough to reveal the gleaming image of an oversize, gilded seahorse.

The Golden Seahorse food and drink establishment had the likeness of a seahorse outlined by glowing neon gas tubes hanging suspended above the entry door. The timed flickering of the light beckoned to sailors of the sea by day and night to come and patronize the restaurant. A lower placed blue neon display advertised a popular brand of German beer spilling endlessly from a frosty stein. Most of the plate glass windows and the glass entrance door Chris passed were wet with condensed moisture from the foggy night cloaking Weserstrasse Street

A famed place to feast and drink the Golden Sea horse was noted among sailors who sail the Atlantic Ocean freighting goods between the great nations of the world. This fame, passed by word of mouth, averred that the beer was the best tasting, the food the most palatable and the waitresses the prettiest and most efficient in all of Bremehaven. Also noted by most men of the sea was the very handy availability of the pretty ladies of the night sitting at the bar. These pretty women were always willing to entertain a lonely sailor in her nearby rooms for a reasonable price.

The lettering on the large plate glass windows of the restaurant invited all to enter and enjoy the fine drinks and German cuisine served within. The window also afforded a partial, condensed moisture distorted view of a long bar with a pretty cashier at one end in charge if a cash register. Dimly seen further back in the bistro, tables topped with colorful cloths in one standard pattern and design seemed to invite a customer to sit and eat. Tantalizing scents with a bouquet of appetizing food odors wafted into the street causing pedestrians to pause, tempted by the aromas of appetizing foods before they drifted away on the sea breeze.

Chris pushed through the double glass doors into the bistro, smiled at the pretty cashier and walked past the bar into the dining area. The colorful spread, sparsely occupied tables attended by a few hardy souls willing to brave the fogy night for a meal or a drink added color to the otherwise bland room. Those diners presently sitting at the dining room tables were deeply engrossed with feasting on the food prepared by the kitchen located further back in the building.

Chris spied two ships officer colleagues he knew from another cargo ship sitting and eating at one of the tables. Sitting with them was a man he had never seen before wearing a hard-billed oil stained cap. Chris waved to his acquaintances who quickly invited him to sit at the table with the trio. He quickly removed his heavy jacket, hung it on the back of an empty chair, and sat down at the table.

This is a hell of a foggy night to be out looking for a beer, eh? Chris remarked.

You got that right Chris, its damn foggy and spooky outside, that half moon that pops out sometimes makes it spookier than usual, his friend answered and slapped his arm laughing.

His friend, named Bob Waverly, introduced him to the unknown man at the table with a wave of his hand. Chris Parker, meet chief engineer Otto Kruger we met and had a couple of beers with at the bar earlier. He is about to relate to us a tale that he says will explain the uncanny, spooky sounds created around the masts; and rigging of a ship during a strong winter blow in the North Atlantic, Waverly enthused.

If I am not intruding . . . , Chris ventured.

Waverly chuckled, Come on, sit down, Chris, and hang on to your nerves, this sea tale may be a good one. A ghost story with just the right fit for a spooky evening in Bremehaven with nothing else to do.

Glad to make your acquaintance Herr Kruger, Chris greeted the man as he shook his hand. The crew of the Emma Lee can tell you something weird was in good voice in a bad blow from out of the North West two weeks ago, Chris chuckled.

Yea the old North Atlantic