Company of Spies

He awoke with a start. Whether it was the motion of the boat or the constant drone of the engine, he couldn’t tell. But then, he was always super alert when a new leg of his mission began. Sleep had never been a primary requirement for him. On the contrary, he often found that a few minutes at a time could renew him for hours.

He looked at his watch; it was almost 3 AM. Soon the sub would surface and he would be on his way. He would be glad to leave these cramped quarters. Being buried under the sea was definitely not for him; besides the uneasiness, it was somewhat tedious. He had taken his meals and had conversed to some extent with the captain, an interesting fellow, the epitome of a highly efficient and disciplined German officer, who would carry out explicit instructions to the letter. But he had had little to no contact with the crew. No need for any excess exposure.

He checked off his requirements in his mind. Yes, it was all there. He had carefully eyeballed his equipment the day before, and checked the items off one by one. Now all that remained were those things he had requested be waiting for him.

At times he thought that his mind was like a vast file cabinet, filled with well-organized folders of information. He had always had a knack of keeping past and present details of operations, people, and events in his mind. Habit had made it easy to open those folders, one at a time, if reviewing an area of concern or a specific operation at an instant’s notice. His memory had never failed him. It was one of those endowments that had given him the edge to achieve his ends.

            From the onset of his operations from Czechoslovakia through Poland, Austria, and on to France, England and all their conquests, he still had his fingers on all the trigger points. And now, on the eve of an all out expansion of the American caper, he felt he was well equipped. His memory prevented the need for written records. They could be captured, intercepted. No need. His own capture was the only chink in a meticulously well-built armor. But that would never happen. He had taken care of that. No one knew his identity. His pyramid contained few but trustworthy intelligence officers, placed in key areas, who had the authority to carry out his orders, each protected from the other by total ignorance of who they were or what they were doing.

The engine noise suddenly increased, and the boat lurched forward. He felt that strange phenomenon—the pull of gravity against his body as the sub rose—up—up. Soon he would be resurrected into the dim light of the mild March night and a new leg of his mission would begin.

He felt a cool excitement as he gathered his gear and stepped into the narrow corridor. He heard the captain’s voice over the intercom, “Alles ist klar.”

Quickly, he followed the crewman up the ladder to the surface. The small boat had been inflated and four crewmen were waiting to row him ashore. The brisk sea air filled his grateful lungs as he stepped into the boat. “Ah, fresh air, at last.” He shivered  as the cold sea-spray touched his skin. But for the lapping of the waves as the sailors dipped  their oars, all was silent.

The night was dark with the cloud cover, but he could make out the silhouette of the shore close by. Seven minutes later they reached land. He swung his gear over his shoulder and stepped onto the sand. The head crewman saluted, pushed off, and without a sound they rowed back to the submarine waiting in the distance.

He watched them reach the boat. Soon, quietly, it submerged and disappeared from sight, and he was alone. How easy it had been. Miles of unoccupied virgin beach, in constant patrol by our fleet of U-Boats. Yet, almost five months into the Americans’ entrance into the war, the beaches were still wide open for entry.

During the past ten years, he had planted several groups of agents in a number of areas, Florida and New York, for instance. And they had all come by submarine. Espionage was a tricky business—even boring at times. Sometimes it took years of planning and waiting—for just the right moment. Some of his operatives had been functioning within the U.S. government all this time—even in the State Department, right under their noses. He laughed. But then, the Americans were so naive about security, unlike the Europeans, who periodically found the devastation of war at their doorsteps. It never seemed to occur to the Americans that the enemy could walk right in or out of their borders, completely unnoticed, and create havoc.

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