Submariner (2008) Read Online Free Page B

Gone, door shut. Spare COs were there to stand in for other COs when they needed a break, were sick or otherwise indisposed;
     and between such outings worked as staff, Shrimp’s back-up. Shrimp back to Mike’s briefing, however: ‘So –
might
find a cruiser or two coming your way. And of course their convoys to the desert are still running – Tripoli, Homs, Misurata,
     as well as Benghazi, I’m deploying boats accordingly. Here, see for yourself.’
    Off Crotone, he saw, and Cape dell’Armi. Those were to be Mottram’s and Ruck’s billets: Ruck watching the Messina Strait, Mottram
     with a longer haul in front of him, to Crotone and the route south from Taranto. Other boats already on patrol were disposed
     between Pantellaria, Lampedusa and Tripoli – from where they’d be readily enough redeployable to other convoy-covering positions
     south of Pantellaria and west of Marettimo. Distances – well, with the U-class boat’s regrettably low surface speed of ten
     knots flat out a good night’s progress –
if
uninterrupted – was something like seventy nautical miles.
    Feeble enough. But Shrimp would have adequate noticeof the need to redeploy. And might leave those two where they were, he guessed. Especially if he had as many as ten boats
     at his disposal by that time.
    Touching the Menorca to Malta chart with his dividers. ‘I’m putting you twenty miles northeast of Cape San Vito, Michael.
     Prime position for anything coming down from Naples either for Palermo or to pass west of Marettimo. You could move in closer
     to Palermo if you had reason to; alternatively, withdraw north or northeastward, vicinity of Ustica. But stay to the west
     of Alicudi – otherwise you could fall foul of
Swordsman
– Dan Gerahty, d’you know him?’
    ‘Lord, yes.’
    ‘He’s between Lipari and Cape Vaticano – northern approaches to Messina, of course.’
    Swordsman
, S-class – on loan from the 8th Flotilla in Gibraltar, Mike guessed. Gib flotilla temporarily expanding eastward during the
     10th’s absence, no doubt: and when she left her billet, might well be passing through or close to
his
. A point to check on, before departure. Nodding, mentally crossing fingers. Shrimp hadn’t of course needed to mention that
     to get round to Sicily’s north coast in the first place
Ursa
’s track would be through – or rather under – the QBB 255 minefield. There was no great problem about that, nothing in the
     least unusual; the established routine was that you dived to 150 feet off Cape San Marco and paddled northwestward on course
     300 for fifty-five miles under the bloody mines before turning up around the island of Marettimo. Alternatively – shortcut
     to where
he
was going – inside it, through the channel between those islands.
    Do that, he thought. Get on the billet sooner. He nodded again. ‘Clear enough, sir.’
    ‘We’ll give it to you on paper in the morning. And – fuel, stores, water-barge and Msida, all of that by noon – right?’
    ‘Yes.’ Msida Creek had the torpedo depot at its head.
Ursa
would be embarking three, to replace the three she’d fired. Mark VIIIs, he hoped – but that would be up to ‘Wiggy’ Bennett,
     the base torpedo officer, and his right-hand man, Commissioned Gunner ‘Sunny’ Warne. Lick their boots, if that would help.
     Well, it wouldn’t … Anyway, getting it all done by midday would be aimed at giving most of the lads the rest of the day to
     themselves, preferably for fresh air and exercise.
    ‘See you for a gin later, sir?’
    ‘My dear fellow,
that
’s a novel idea …’
    Visit the boat first, see McLeod had it all in hand and that Danvers had Sicily north-coast charts corrected up to date. Have
     a word with Chief McIver too.
Then
see to one’s own gear, have a bath – first for twelve days – and read those letters.
    In fact he’d decided, having attended to those and a few other priorities, to read his letters first. The Old Man’s to start