With dainty care he finished sealing the envelope, then, picking
up a telephone transmitter, he snapped "Admiralty!" In about a minute
he was connected, and to my astonishment I realized that he was talking
to the duty captain of the operations department in Berlin.
His words chilled my heart, for he said: "Commodore speaking! U.39
sails at 2 a.m. for operation F.Q.H.--Repeat."
His words were apparently repeated to his satisfaction, for while I was
vainly endeavouring to convince myself that I was unconnected with the
sailing of U.39, he banged the receiver into place (Old Man Max does
everything in bangs) and snapped at me.
"You Lieutenant Von Schenk?"
I admitted I was, and then heard this disgusting news.
"Kranz, 1st Lieutenant U.39, reported suddenly ill, Zeebrugge,
poisoning--you relieve him. Ship sails in one hour forty minutes from
now--my car leaves here in forty minutes and takes you to Zeebrugge.
Here are operation orders--inform Von Weissman he acknowledges receipt
direct to me on 'phone. That's all."
He handed me the envelope and I suppose I walked outside--at least I
found myself in the corridor turning the confounded envelope round and
round. For one mad moment I felt like rushing in and saying: "But, sir,
you don't understand I'm lunching with Zoe to-morrow!"
Then the mental picture which this idea conjured up made me shake with
suppressed laughter and I remembered that war was war and that I had
only thirty-five minutes in which to collect such gear as I had
handy--most of my sea things being in U.
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