CHAPTER 12

There were several new faces in the group we found waiting when we reached Navy House. NOIC presided at the introductions.

"This is Commander Thompson," he said, as an officer in the uniform of the Royal Navy stepped over to shake hands. The Commander was in his late forties, a quiet and determined looking man. The faded ribbons on his tunic proclaimed him a hero of great exploits. He was accompanied by a slight young man, dressed like a fisherman, who had the look of being just out of public school on his interrupted way to Oxford or Cambridge, and a lieutenant-commander, also of the professional navy, who wore a fiery red beard. The bearded officer was introduced by the commander as his assistant; the young fisherman as a sub-lieutenant of reserves, named Taylor, the skipper of a vessel called the Gull.

"I understand you want to make a trip across to the Dalmatian coast," the Commander said. "We had a message from Admiral Power. I think we can help you."

One other new face in the room was that of s captain in the British army. "Sterns," he said simply, offering his hand, then he identified himself. He was there for a branch of the British secret service. An expert on Jugoslavia, he too was interested in getting across to the opposite shore of the Adriatic. He wished to be one of our party.

Mladineo was the central figure at this gathering. We would be at the mercy of his judgment in approaching the other shore. It would be up to him to keep us out of the minefields and take us safely through waters which (we hoped) were still defended by the Partisans, and into port.

"I should be much surprised if there were any change in the situation in the islands," he told the Commander, "and even if there is it seems most improbable that the Germans could have worked their way out as far as Vis. We should be able to put in there safely; but it is ten days now since we came over."

"If the Germans are in the islands they could just as well be in Vis as at any other point, couldn't they?" Commander Thompson wanted to know.

"They could, of course, if they approached from the sea instead of working their way out along the islands of Hvar and Brae or along the Peljesac," Steve answered, "but we have always supposed they would come the other way, moving west from the coast. On this basis, Vis, as the westernmost island, is the one they would reach last; however, as you suggest, it could also be the first to fall."

A chart of the Adriatic was spread on the table before us and Thompson studied it pensively. Lieutenant Taylor said: "Excuse me, sir: I wonder whether Commander Mladineo knows what patrols the enemy maintains along that shore."

"Yes, what do you know about that?" Thompson asked Mladineo.

"There appear to be no regular patrols as far west as Vis," Steve answered, "but there are some enemy vessels plying between Split and the mouth of the Neretva River which pass there quite often. They are well armed, of course. The waters between the islands are quite well patrolled by the Germans, a peculiar type of power-driven rubber boat carrying twenty men with sub-machine guns and mounting two fairly heavy machine guns being most commonly used in this sheltered water. These boats appear to be based in the mouth of the Neretva."

"That's a lot of fire-power," the red-bearded lieutenant-commander observed, as though talking to himself; then to Steve: "Have they got any speed?"

"They're supposed to be good for about twenty knots," he answered.

I asked Lieutenant Taylor: "Would the Gull be a match for one of those?"

"Lord, no," he replied with an engaging grin. "Hardly!"

Thompson turned to his bearded assistant and said: "Please make out the following orders for the Gull, and include the text of the orders in our signal reporting the operation to the Flag Officer at Taranto:

" 'Being in all respects ready for the sea HMS Gull will clear the Port of Bari at 1600 hours Tuesday October 12 and set course for the Island of Vis. . . .'"

His voice rumbled on, the words following the romantic pattern of Naval Orders. Several times he paused to consult us, verifying the acceptability of the arrangements. We could find no fault with them. Taylor was to take us across to Vis and "such other port or ports in the Jugoslav islands as might be necessary," then bring us back, "returning direcdy to Bari on completion of the mission." The Order authorized Taylor to carry Sterns and Mladineo and me—and no one else.

"It wouldn't be possible for us to get off tonight, would it, sir?" I asked Commander Thompson.

"How about it, Mr. Taylor?" Thompson queried.

"I doubt it, sir," Taylor answered at once. "We have six hours' work for Sparks here ashore, if we are going to have radio contact while we're at sea."

Thompson said: "You will observe radio silence except in an emergency, but you must have the circuit, of course. You must be in a position to deal with an emergency . . ." Then, turning to me, he added: "Don't you agree, Major?"

"It's probably best, sir."

"Very well. Then it's fixed for tomorrow," he said conclusively, pushing back his chair, "and the best of luck to you."

We thanked him and filed out. In the hallway Taylor said: "Wait till you see the Gull, Major! She's a lovely thing. Can you and Commander Mladineo come down now for a drink? We're tied up near you."

We accepted at once and made our way back toward our pier afoot, following the waterfront.

"There she lies," Taylor said, pointing out an innocent little fishing smack lying against the sea wall. "She's not as harmless as she looks. There are guns under those nets and her engines will develop two thousand horse-power."

"Your friend the Admiral beats Aladdin's Jinnee in the Arabian Nights," Steve whispered to me as we went aboard. "What do you think would happen if we asked him for a little battleship—or perhaps a small fleet?"

The Gull was literally built for the task to which she was now assigned—clandestine operations on an unfriendly coast. There was nothing about her decks to pique the curiosity of a prowling reconnaissance plane; from the air she would be just another little fishing boat, broad-beamed and lazy; but her hull was solid aluminum and her big motors had authority to drive her along, in spite of her lack of streamlining, at the very creditable speed of twenty knots. Empty oil drums on the deck could be hinged open to reveal heavy machine guns. Her one little cabin, below, was richly appointed in mahogany and blue leather, with an impressive array of up-to-date navigational instruments gleaming on the forward bulkhead. The Gull was as neat and functional here as she was sedulously sloppy and unkempt on her open decks.

"Here's to the Gulll" I toasted, as we clinked glasses.

"To the Gull!" Steve and Taylor responded, and we drank it down.

"Now we must drink another," Taylor said eagerly. "I'll propose it."

He refilled the glasses and said: "To the success of our mission, the Gull's first operation!"

We joined him in that one. So it was their first operation too!

Steve and I made our way back to the Bog s Nama, looking for Tim, but he was not yet back from his call on the port security officers. We found Petrinovic, very sour.

"We're still waiting for that four hundred tons of coal," he said. "Navy House says it's on the way. I've told the men to get some dinner, that we may have to take it aboard tonight. Some have had a little rest this afternoon, but most of them have worked straight through since six this morning and are pretty tired."

They deserved a rest, all right, but I wanted to consult Tim before dismissing them, so we waited for his return. Soon after eight o'clock he was back.

"I went over to the hotel with one of the officers," he told us. "We had a long talk with Olga and got a very full description of her visitor. She is a most observant girl. The police think they have a good chance of picking him up. They have posted a plain-clothes man in the hotel and are doing a methodical search of the city. How did you get along?"

"We're all set for tomorrow."

"My God, that's wonderful. What time do we leave?"

I had been anticipating that question and Tim's disappointment on hearing the reply, but it was out of the question for both of us to leave the port when there was so much to be done there. i

"This is just the first one: there'll be lots more," I told him, after explaining that he would have to stay behind. "Maybe you can go over with the Bog s Noma at the end of the week."

There could be no doubt that this was the proper course. It would have been absurd for us both to leave, but he was very crestfallen and looked at me reproachfully while agreeing that he should stay in Bari.

Petrinovic of the bandaged head came over to ask again about the coal.

"It will be here in half an hour," Tim answered. He had stopped at Navy House on his way back to the pier to find out whether we should still wait for it and had been told that it would be a great help if we could load it all before twelve o'clock next morning. "Do you think we can get started with the job tonight?" he asked Petrinovic.

"We'll keep as many as we can on the job all night," he answered. "That's the only way we can get the tracks clear by twelve o'clock."