The Spear Of Destiny POD Print
When his vessel is sunk, leaving him as sole survivor, Herbert Nollau must choose to follow orders, or follow his conscience. He is alone, against the combined forces of the Allies.
How can he deliver the Secret Weapon which Hitler believes will win the war for Germany?
Genre: Historical fiction/thriller
Sensuality rating: 0
Cover Art by James Robinson
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Oberleutnant Herbert Nollau stood with his Zeiss night glasses glued to his eyes, impervious to the rain whipped across his cheeks by half a gale. This howled almost exactly at ninety degrees to the tide, which had just reached the full but not yet begun its retreat. His command craft, U-534, sat uneasily at anchor, dipping at bow and stern in the current, yawing as frequent Force Ten gusts buffeted her broad flanks. Low, heavy rainclouds hunkered closer, seeming to settle on the upper branches of the natural pine forest spreading untamed and unculled, across the low hills of Schleswig-Holstein.
An identical pair of black Opel staff cars bracketed a canvas-bodied Mercedes half-track transport wagon, all three vehicles picking their way carefully along an unmarked country road. The headlights were taped n to the size and shape of a feral cat’s vertical slits, obeying the strict rules governing all traffic during the hours of darkness. The road to the harbour just outside Lübeck was neither tarmacked nor enhanced with any form of lighting. The drivers were obliged to steer cautiously around every twist, using the gears and brakes more frequently than the accelerator.
“Amateurs,” he thought to himself, as the three sets of headlights crawled slowly closer.
He decided he would never trust any of them to navigate a submarine, and particularly not in circumstances that screamed for discretion and secrecy. He’d followed them driving through the totally blackened landscape for almost half an hour and was frankly amazed no one else appeared to have noted the convoy's progress. Once again he scanned carefully behind the third set of lights. As far as he could tell, the vehicles conveying his final items of equipment weren’t being followed. Perhaps there really was a God to thank, after all.
He blanked the thought as soon as it intruded on his consciousness, forcing himself back into State-approved Wehrmacht thinking, based on purely practical matters directly related to carrying out current instructions, with maximum efficiency, without question. He pulled the collar of his oilskins closer around his throat in a futile attempt to prevent the rain from seeping through, soaking his uniform. Raising his night glasses once more, he cursed the weather, the Wehrmacht, and the world in general, feeling more exposed and vulnerable with every minute that passed as he waited for the convoy of lights to crawl closer, carrying the cargo he had been ordered to collect. It bothered him that he was expected to set sail immediately, to await orders concerning his destination by radio only once he cleared the bay and entered Store Bælt. Technically, that section of the North Sea was neutral Danish waters, and if he were to remain on the surface for any length of time in order to receive orders.
As the lights snaked around another pair of curves and began their final descent to the shoreline and the jetty where U-534 was waiting, Herbert Nollau realized that he had on board a much more powerful sender/receiver than any other U-boat.