Ghosts from the North

By Cleighton MacGregor

An Islander archeological team on a routine dive off the coast of New Jersey dies from an explosion while surveying an eighty-year-old WWII submarine wreck. Shelly Islander, head of the dive team and wife of the founder of the Islander Foundation, is one of the casualties, and her husband, John, searches for answers. In his search, John determines that the explosion that killed the team was deliberate and that a mystery ship had been keeping watch on the dive. John recruits' members of the salvage crew and his wife's staff, whom she affectionately referred to as the girls, as they chase the mystery ship until it disappears near the Saint Lawrence Seaway.Further evidence leads them to Havre-Saint-Pierre and a subversive military group that has been infiltrating Canada for eighty years in a plan to overthrow the government. Canadian RCMPs move in an operation requested by the United States State Department to apprehend the group responsible for the death of the American archeological team. The plan backfires and plunges John and his team in an international incident that rocks Canada to its core. Both countries call for investigations, while Canadian candidates prepare for their elections and American politicians fight for political ground.John and the Islander Foundation pit themselves against two enemies armed with the latest military armaments in a race against the clock. The opposing forces unleash their plans for world domination with a mushroom cloud rising over Pearl Harbor.Canada and the Eastern United States plunge into sudden darkness as John and his team intervene.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781643348933

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Ghosts from the North

Cleighton MacGregor

Copyright © 2022 Cleighton MacGregor

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-64334-894-0 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-64334-893-3 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

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About the Author

1

A Battle to Lose to Save a War

April 29, 1945, 1900 Hours

Night fell in the picture-book district of Schleswig-Holstein and brought with it the cold air sweeping in from the Baltic Sea. It foreshadowed the events that Grand Admiral Karl Dönitz knew would soon come. He looked out at the water framed on the shore with oak and birch trees, watching and hearing the explosions of the Russian and Allied barrage with its bursts of flashing lights in the distant sky.

Two German guards made their rounds through the darkened town. Their German shepherd guard-dog strained at the leash while the soldiers made their way through the new home of the 33 Unterseeboots Flottille (Thirty-Third U-Boat Flotilla). The grand admiral sensed the end of Germany was at hand. He had done everything possible that a good German military leader could do and more than most would attempt…just days earlier, he had moved his naval headquarters from Berlin, now besieged by the Russians on the east and north and the soon-to-be arriving Allies in the west. He had argued with the Führer, to escape but to no avail as did the rest of the German High Command. The Führer wanted to defend Berlin to the last man. Dönitz knew that this was futile and unrealistic.

Events had been going badly all week beginning with the radio transmissions balloon that held the antenna in the sky being shot down. The Allied invasion had severed the supply lines, interrupting supplies from reaching their proper destinations. The troop movements attempted by the Germans were also constrained.

Now the phone call, by one of two inside contacts Dönitz had aligned with in the Fuhrerbunker, signaled that the time had come. It was all happening too fast. There would be no chance for a backup plan and no way out for those involved in the operation. Dönitz weighed the situation. The costs in personal sacrifice were enormous, and the plan was only as good as its weakest link.

They would almost certainly face prison, and possibly a firing squad, if the operation was exposed too early. On the other hand, the Russians would have them all tortured and eventually killed if the Americans did not reach them first.

Dönitz's tired eyes looked back at him from the reflection in the ship's clock, a gift from the man that he would now send to certain death. Yes, he was assured from his personal relationship with Werner Fehler that the Korvettenkapitan was loyal to the death, as was he. Fehler had served in the Kriegsmarine with him in the First World War, and then they were celled together as prisoners after the war's end.

Dönitz thought back to the beginning of the war, and even then, Fehler bore a strong resemblance to Hitler, and the voice was close enough to get him in trouble at parties. His personality was that of a kindly old Bavarian grandfather, and the women all loved him… But now, with the help of the doctors, the artistry of the dentist, and hours of listening and practicing speeches in front of mirrors to perfect speech mannerisms and hand gestures, there would be no apparent difference between the two men. The deception was complete. What had been a fanciful quirk of fate would now, hopefully, fool the world. What was meant as a decoy for assassination attempts, after the seventeenth attempt on July 20, 1944, was now a full-blown covert operation.

With the Führer's permission, it had been Admiral Dönitz's brainchild to provide his leader with a defensive decoy to draw fire while the president of the National Socialist Party made his escape. But Dönitz, after suffering defeat in the First World War, was driven by a demon from the past, a drive to secure the existence of the Führer and preserve a remnant of the Führer's vision for the German people. As a result, he amassed both doubles and similar men. He would make sure the Führer would survive any attack. He had observed closely the career of another WWI U-boat captain as he had moved swiftly up the chain of command in a meteoric rise to the most powerful position in the Abwehr (Germany's military intelligence community), Wilhelm Canaris. Unknown by either of the two men, both were living double lives.

Dönitz knew Wilhelm Canaris, as did most of the German command, as the wily old fox. Canaris had a reputation for being everywhere at the same time.

He was also known to show up where one least expected. Friends and enemies treated him with great caution. Dönitz knew that as a result, Canaris was not afraid of anyone. Canaris fearlessly kept his power-hungry second-in-command, Reinhard Heydrich, close to him, even though Heydrich wanted to take over the Abwehr. Dönitz also knew that Admiral Canaris believed that he could better control his enemies if they were kept close. Canaris feigned ignorance of his enemies' actions while keeping secret dossiers on them, and he had information on Heydrich's mixed heritage of Jewish ancestry locked away (with others) to remove his enemies if they posed any danger. But Heydrich was assassinated before he became a problem.

Canaris felt Dönitz was a possible ally. Although a German admiral in command of the Kriegsmarine, he was not a Nazi Party member and did not have the bloodlust found in the rest of the German High Command. He was a loyal German officer who, with cultivation, might be brought around, in Canaris's mind, to another way of thinking. Canaris was intrigued by the possibility, though Dönitz was unaware of the Abwehr leader's designs for him. Unbeknownst to the High Command, Canaris was waging a desperate struggle to save the lives of hundreds of Jews while giving information to the Allies. He was duplicitous, acting as a coconspirator in the attempts on Hitler's goals and, ultimately, his life. Dönitz kept his distance from Canaris, although they had a quiet working relationship.

That relationship had formed in the early part of the war, when Dönitz had contacted him and worked with him in 1941, in order to change coded communications from the standard military version to the more secure form, later known as M-4 (Triton to the Germans). In the end, when Canaris was arrested and finally executed for his complicity in the assassination attempts, Dönitz was not surprised. He utilized his relationship with the coders after the apprehension of Canaris in order to woo the brightest of them into his service.

Dönitz had planned well. He requested provisions early for what lay ahead. As he saw men from other units that met the operation's needs, he had them reassigned to the covert operation within the Kriegsmarine. Even Artur Axmann (head of the Hitler Youth Movement) had been a large, albeit unwitting, contributor to his efforts. Germany's architect Albert Speer had impressed him with his message of Germany's survival and reconstruction while negating Hitler's Nero Decree. It was now time for him to take the greatest gamble of the war. It had to be tonight. There was no other alternative. His operative had made the call, stating, The decision was made that all was lost, and that decision was final. The Führer had decided that he would end his life when it was determined that capture was imminent.

Karl Dönitz's new man was completely trustworthy and not easily shaken. When his operative stated that the Führer was about to take his life, Dönitz was forced to deal with the facts. There was no more time for preparation. He could not take the luxury of preparing the forces he had assembled any longer to prove them more worthy of his trust. The ship's clock read 20:30 hours. It was time to put his plan (as it was) into action. He had called the Korvettenkapitan to his office to inform him to prepare for the task for which he had rigorously trained him.

The admiral welcomed him solemnly as he entered his office, stating, Werner, your Führer and the Reich need you. Prepare yourself. The time has come.

The two men shook hands, and then Werner sat to wait for the others. Dönitz then called the most youthful of his forces (along with some of their older counterparts) because they were familiar with the complete layout of the catacomb-like Chancellery with its three separate bunkers, connecting stairways, and halls. Each had served with the Hitler Youth, delivering messages and supplies as part of the support staff. Many of the young boys had become a welcomed sight to the SS guards. The boys pulled their duty bringing them something from the kitchen, running errands from one guard to another, or bringing news from the streets as the approaching Russians and Allies came toward them.

As the admiral waited for the Hitler Youth assigned to him to arrive, he sent out a special courier with a top-secret message and sent him off before the others arrived to his operative in the command bunker. When the Hitler Youth arrived, Dönitz gave the boys their orders and watched as Werner and the boys left in the dark of night until they were out of sight. He could now play out his final role in a part in which he could only lose. He considered the plight of the command center in Berlin and could only envision it as some form of a dying prehistoric animal thrashing in the final death throes. The High Command tried vainly to posture itself in the best possible light for a new German government with its revised Nazi framework and its High Command still in power. From past experience, he was already aware that this posturing was all in vain.

2

The Shell Game

The Russian bombing had been relentless for the past two days, giving the occupants of the bunker little to do but stay huddled in small groups. While the General Staff swarmed in a flurry of meetings, the major players came routinely from the other two bunkers to the Fuhrerbunker. At the same time, a surreal form of normalcy infected the inhabitants.

Although the normal routines of the day were torn away, they were replaced almost as quickly with distorted counterparts. Meals (when served) came at strange hours, just like the demands of the General Staff, because of the unsettling torrent of the Russian shelling and the increasing peculiarities of the Führer. At this point, the number of occupants in the complex of the Fuhrerbunker had dwindled significantly.

The radio communication balloon, which held the radio telecommunication antenna in the sky, had been shot down during a conversation between General Hans Krebs and General Alfred Jodl. A midday conversation that updated the latest positions of the Russians' onward movement in Grunewald and in Charlottenburg, where the Anhalter railway station was now unavailable. With the breakdown in communication, vital information was not available from the other fronts. There was also a concerted effort for members of the support staff (who had been rendered useless with the collapse in communications) to leave.

The General Staff had sent out messengers. The group included Major Willi Johannmeier (Hitler's Army adjutant), SS Standartenführer Wilhelm Zander (Bormann's personal adviser), and Heinz Lorenz (from the Office of Propaganda Ministry). They carried the Führer's political and personal testaments with additional documents, letters, and communications to the newly appointed commandant in chief of the Army, Field Marshal Schörner. A copy was also sent to Admiral Dönitz, who was promoted to Reich president.

A wide range of objectives had propelled these messages. For Hitler, it was a statement of his political and personal testament. By sending these documents, he would justify his actions, resolve himself of all blame, and affix blame on those he had sought to wipe out as a race (the Jews), blame those responsible for Germany's military defeat, and declare his successor. Goebbels, on the other hand, wanted to send out a statement as well (of which the Führer had no knowledge).

Unlike many of the others, Goebbels had chosen to stay fanatically with his leader. He had parroted the Führer's statements about treason concerning the founder of the Luftwaffe and the originator of the Gestapo, Hermann Goering, who had gone behind Hitler's back to try to negotiate for peace.

In a twisted statement (sent out earlier by way of celebrated Nazi aviatrix Hanna Reitsch with Field Marshal Robert Ritter von Greim to his stepson, Harold Quandt), Goebbels had expressed what had amounted to a wish to die with the Führer. By dying with the Führer, he believed that they would act as examples for future generations of the German people in how to rebuild the Nazi dream with a newer and a stronger Germany. While some jockeyed for position in the history books, there was another who lusted for power and control. In an ironic twist of fate, the Führer had made him executor of his estate. He had the keys to the kingdom as the new secret ruler of Germany. In these last days, he could do little to impede the transfer of power, which he could manipulate but not lay legitimate claim to. He was a mere conduit from the Führer to his successor, Admiral Dönitz. In a rationale born of desperation and emotion (from the control slipping through his fingers), he withheld key information from Dönitz regarding Hitler's impending death in an effort to manipulate his way into the court of the new Reich president designate.

Martin Bormann could not have known about the admiral's man on the inside. Bormann's treachery and ruthlessness were well-known, and he enjoyed his power. He thought back on earlier events. Even in the bunker, he victimized whom he could. Considering himself a ladies' man and having been spurned by a socialite some months earlier, he had taken particular pleasure in orchestrating the upcoming death of her sons. As Dönitz was gathering personnel for his covert operations (unbeknownst to the general), the admiral had asked Artur Axmann in Bormann's presence in the Chancellery Garden for a special volunteer for a dangerous mission. The volunteer had to be fit, intelligent, and ready to die for the Führer and the Fatherland. In a surprise move, Bormann jumped in and offered to make the decision for him. Axmann hated Bormann but knew enough not to interfere. Dönitz (not a man to play politics) said as long as the criteria were met, he would have no objections.

Bormann quickly chose the son of the woman who had spurned him. Unseen by the general was the older brother of the boy that was submitted for the mission, waiting to give the general a message. With the movement of troops, he could only hear part of the conversation and thought it was himself that the general had mentioned in his conversation. The fourteen-year-old approached the men as they spoke. He was surprised by the change in the general's demeanor. Message, Herr General.

Bormann ripped the satchel from the boy's hand and said, Can't you see I'm busy, you stupid boy? Be off with you!

The boy gave a salute and left, ducking around the corner. He peeked back with hatred in his eyes. Bormann, confident the boy was ignorant of his plans, continued with his conversation while thinking in his mind how he would make both her sons' heroes of the Fatherland and exact his revenge in one stroke. At his leisure, he would go after her other son, all without her ever knowing it was a setup. He planned on enjoying her wither. She would find out about the death of her youngest son, only to have the eldest son also die in her hour of grief.

Later, at subsequent party functions, with a glint in his eye, he watched when she attended the dinners and social gatherings. He did not know at that time that they would both outlive him, the one just by a few days. Now he was caught in the wheels of change as an unknowing participant. The turn of events changed him from the puppet master to a mere puppet.

Hidden in the shadows, a small group moved with silent precision down familiar paths in which they had moved a thousand times during happier days. Now the slightest misstep or the faintest noise would rain down a hail of bullets both from their own countrymen and the Russians. Slowly they made their way around the back of the Chancellery past a mournful fountain of a young woman looking down where its base lay shattered before her. Its water was now in stagnant, debris-ridden pools. They pressed onward through the garden, and they came to the battered, unfinished tower; its walls testified to the Russian onslaught. The Korvettenkapitan looked at his watch in the dim moonlight and saw that they had made good time, seeing it was 2:00 a.m.

A guard stood vigilant watch at the window of the tower, looking down into the garden, and he had a commanding view of the emergency exit. As the leader of the group studied the guard, he had just decided to take action when the guard climbed down to talk with a superior officer, who was making his rounds, checking the guards before the shift rotation. As the two men spoke, the group (unseen by the two men) entered the tower on the other side and quickly made their way quietly down the ladder while gathering inside at the base of the tower. While one of the oldest of the Hitler Youth opened the door to peer around the corner into in the conference passage, he saw two guards and Hitler's personal servant, Heinz Linge.

As the men talked quietly, Linge, who was facing the guards, noticed the Youth in the doorway behind the guards. They had turned toward him during the conversation. Suddenly, there was a call summoning Linge into the Führer's room. The Youth quickly jumped back behind the door as Linge entered to answer the Führer's call. Upon his return, he told the guards that the Führer had requested that the others be summoned for a farewell ceremony. The guards were part of Hitler's personal bodyguard unit and had grown accustomed to taking orders from Linge, since the orders came straight from the top. To do otherwise was to invite the wrath of the Führer. While the one guard swiftly went to summon the support staff, the other went to call Bormann to gather for the solemn event. As the two men left, Linge ran to the tower door and stated, You must hurry. The Führer's life depends on it.

The group sprang into action. They bolted through the door and into the Führer's two-room suite. The move took the elder statesman by surprise as he was putting on his coat. The Korvettenkapitan saluted, as did the others. There was not a moment to lose. As the Youth spoke and relayed the message given by Dönitz, the leader stiffened, and the group saw resistance building in the old man's eyes. The Korvettenkapitan walked around, placing himself between his leader and the chest of drawers, where a revolver lay. As he engaged Hitler, the oldest Youth came up behind Hitler and clapped a cloth of chloroform over his nose and mouth. The others closed rank and firmly held their Führer until the powerful medication took effect. Werner Fehler now transformed himself into the man who was even then being rushed out of the room as Linge informed him of what lay ahead.

The youths quickly filed into the base of the tower. The last youth turned to close the door, spotting Eva and one of the two guards approaching unaware that she would soon join in death with a total stranger. The Korvettenkapitan looked at his watch, which now read 2:15 a.m. The phone rang, and Bormann was notified that the Führer was having people gathered for a ceremony. As he arrived, Hitler's double was among a group of twenty people. The Führer was silent as he and his bride moved from his various staff members, secretaries, and servants. Werner came to Bormann. As the two men locked eyes for the last time, he shook Bormann's hand and nodded. Bormann returned the nod, and the Führer and his bride, Eva, went into their room. The Korvettenkapitan was confident that all were unaware.

The crowd milled around in the conference passage, discussing the latest events. It was suggested that they move to the canteen to continue their conversation; the mood then lightened noticeably. The normal barriers that separated the various groups in the bunker's daily routine dissolved. A jovial air lent its way to a dance with singing and socializing that was not possible until now. The gathering included Brigadefuhrer Johann Rattenhuber (head of the police guard), who greeted a tailor (who acted as one of the Führer's personal clothiers), saying, Good evening.

Secretaries became the belles of the ball. The gathering grew in size, drawing more and more into the festivities. The crowd, at one point, became so boisterous that an order came down to lower the noise, but to no avail.

Later in the day's meeting, Brigadefuhrer Mohnke brought news of the recapture of the Schlesischer railway station—an improvement. The additional reports were bleak. The Vossstrasse tunnel was now partially occupied, and the underground railway in the Friedrichstrasse had been overtaken. The Tiergarten and the Weidendammer Bridge over the river Spree were also occupied. The command center braced for an explosive outburst from the Führer, but none came. The group broke for lunch, with the Führer eating with his cook and two secretaries, who remained quiet throughout the meal.

Eva returned to her room, having no appetite, and retired. The guards had been notified that morning to gather the day's rations and ordered not to use the corridor of the bunker. Hitler's adjutant, Sturmbannfuhrer Guensche, issued orders to the transport officer and chauffer, Sturmbannfuhrer Erich Kempka, to deliver 200 liters (approximately 53 gallons) to the garden of the Chancellery. The short notice was objected by Kempka, who later relented. After much effort, he had 180 liters (approximately 47.5 gallons) delivered by a four-man detail. The police guard realized he was being deceived. He knew the ventilating plant they claimed to be fueling burned oil.

The quarrel was about to escalate when they were approached by Hitler's personal servant. He surveyed the situation, quickly ended the argument, assured the guards, received the petrol, and dismissed the detail. Not long after the petrol incident, all the guards were cleared from the Chancellery, except those necessary for security to prevent any observers of the final events about to take place. The scene was set, and being finished with his final meal, Fehler (acting as the Führer) dismissed his luncheon guests. He then summoned Eva and remained until her arrival.

After a few minutes had passed, Fehler emerged with Eva at his side, and the couple gave their final farewell and re-entered the suite. Outside the bedroom, a deathwatch waited. The muted sounds came from conversations between Linge (who was keeping watch to make sure no one discovered the switch), Gobbles, Bormann, Burgdorf, Krebs, and Hewel. The Führer's inner circle of support staff spoke in muted tones until their conversation was disrupted by a loud crack of a revolver. As the group entered, they found the Führer lying on the sofa with his wife, Eva Braun. Werner had shot himself in the mouth, spattering the sofa with blood, but Eva had opted for the cyanide capsule that Hitler had provided. Now the preparation was in full swing. Dönitz's man Linge was loyal to Hitler, and his faithfulness to his Führer extended to the man to whom Hitler passed the legacy of the Reich. But his faithfulness did not extend to the end, because his beloved Führer was not dead, as the others believed. He was at this moment being spirited away by the two military entities that had not deserted him: his beloved Hitler Youth and the Kriegsmarine.

Outside the tower, the group struggled with their Führer's limp body, pulling him into the cover of night. As the Hitler Youth made their way out of the back of the Chancellery Garden, a Russian shell exploded in front of the group.

3

A Rude Awakening

An oily smell permeated the air as the old man slowly regained consciousness. His blurred vision made surveying the tiny little room around him difficult. The room was very sparse, with plain wood paneling and wooden trim. Next to him was a small desk that could be converted into a sink. His bed was very narrow and had an elevated rail running the entire distance of the bed. His head rested on a small red pillow, and his blanket bore a wide-bordered black line running down the middle, with the German Kriegsmarine insignia on it. Above his head was a set of brackets that had three small brass coat hooks attached to a board affixed to the wall. The brackets supported a shelf that was just big enough to hold a pillow or a hat at best. A small hanging lamp shed light in the tiny room, and he could hear voices outside the curtain as he looked at a set of storage lockers across from him.

As he came to, he suddenly felt an explosion of pain emanating from his right side. The old man moaned in pain as the doctor walked through the curtain into the tiny little room, saluting as he entered.

Heil Hitler, he said matter-of-factly. He was an older man who walked assuredly as a man who had seen much in his career as a physician. From the German uniform, the medical insignias, and the medals, he could see that his caretaker appeared to be one of his own countrymen.

Good, you are finally awake, my Führer, said the doctor.

We almost lost you. You must stay as quiet as you can. The stitches in your lower right abdomen are still fresh, and your temperature is still elevated.

Who are you? Where am I? And what is this place? Hitler demanded.

Please, my Führer, you must calm down and relax, said the doctor. I will answer as many questions as I possibly can, and the kommandant will be down to see you shortly to inform you of those things that I cannot, he said. "I am Dr. Rudolph von Janowski, and I am your attending physician. You are in the kommandant's quarters on Unterseeboote U-869 somewhere in the Atlantic. You were injured from a piece of shrapnel from a Russian shell that exploded. It killed two of the courageous Hitler Youth who were carrying you away from the bunker in Berlin," the doctor replied.

Hitler's eyes flew open. He remembered the last minutes of his consciousness and the struggle he fought in his bedroom.

He launched into a tirade. Who dared to issue orders to attack me and take me away from my sacred mission to lay down my life for the German people? You are all traitors of the Reich, and I will have you all shot! I demand to see your Kommandant immediately, and—

The doctor, now in the voice of a seasoned physician, tersely interrupted as he shouted at the visibly shaken leader, I told you to keep calm, and your questions would be answered! If you don't, I will give you an additional sedative to place you unconscious until we get to our destination, for your own good. If you want to shoot me, then so be it, but until then, you will obey my orders. Hitler became very quiet. No one had ever spoken so forcefully to him before.

The doctor spoke quietly again, stating, Countless lives are, this very minute, being sacrificed for you, not from hardened soldiers. They have had full, rewarding lives with families and homes and the trappings of their rich surroundings, but those children from eight years old and up, both boys and girls, are facing vicious Russian shelling and machine gun fire. You were plucked to spare your life so that the German people would not die in vain as a race but be reborn through the Reich throughout the world and live forever in a pure, Aryan-dominated environment free from subhuman species. These children, your Hitler Youth, covertly under Admiral Dönitz, have been slaving zealously under hazardous conditions to turn the defeat of the Fatherland into a lasting victory that will stun the world. If you want to reward them for their faith and loyalty by taking their lives, then their faith and loyalty in you have been unfounded. My son was one of the boys killed by the shell that wounded you. He was just eleven years old. His birthday was just last week.

Just then, Kommandant Hellmut Neuerburg stepped through the curtain and snapped to attention, slapping his heels as he thrust his hand out in the familiar Nazi salute.

Heil Hitler, the kommandant's voice reverberated in the tiny room.

Thank you, Doctor. The Führer and I have some important business to discuss. So, if you would arrange to have some nourishment brought for him, it would be greatly appreciated. The doctor saluted and left the room.

Outside the kommandant's quarters, the doctor could hear the two men talking. As he listened to make sure his patient was calm and under the kommandant's control, he looked across the way and saw the new funker (radio operator) as he manned his post, reading the manuals on the new configuration of two Enigma machines recently wired together for the current mission. He was a sergeant that came aboard with the doctor as a replacement for Herbert Guschewski, one of the two sergeants in charge of three wireless operators who had missed the departure due to being hospitalized with pneumonia. He continued past the radio room, stepping through a hatch into the wardroom. An officer, with his feet propped up by an orange crate, was busy reading a manual. This room was clearly the most comfortable room on the sub. Each of the officers had their own small locker. What little space remained contained storage for manuals, documents, and stored foodstuffs. Alongside the walls hung four berths (two on each side) and a small cabinet that contained chinaware, glass, and silverware.

The officer bolted from his berth, snapping to attention, saluting as the doctor passed through, continuing into the galley. Upon entering the little room that only measured 150 centimeters by 70 centimeters (5 feet by 2 1/2 feet), he said to himself, How the cook prepares meals for as many as sixty men in this broom closet is beyond me. The cook was a loud, happy-go-lucky fellow who was busy in front of a small electric range with all three hot plates filled to capacity, two with pots steaming, while he was busy browning sausages and onions in a skillet in one hand, with a cup of coffee in his other.

He looked up at the doctor peering at him as he