Sea of Greed

27 January 1968, 0640 hours. Target located. Tracking. Expect target to surface prior to entering port.

27 January 1968, 0755 hours. Intercepted coded message. Decryption indicates target will not surface until it enters channel. By that point, we would be exposed to French radar and hostile vessels. Action would be impossible. Attempting to ram target vessel's snorkel and force them to the surface.

27 January 1968, 0819 hours. French vessel boarded and subdued. Three casualties. Due to mounting threat of detection by French Air Force and the nature of contraband cargo, we have only been able to retrieve Objective Alpha. Objective Bravo remains on the French submarine. Executive decision has been made to divide the crew and sail captured vessel back to Haifa. Releasing debris as countermeasure to convince the French that she foundered. With luck, they will conduct search-and-rescue operations for days and never learn that we’ve taken her.

“They took the French sub as a prize,” Rudi questioned. “Am I reading this right?”

“They couldn’t leave her afloat to call for support,” the Admiral said. “And considering the weather and time constraints, they couldn’t transfer the entire crew or all the materials. The only other option would have been sending her to the bottom, but that would have been murder.”

Rudi understood. There was a difference between acting in combat and killing prisoners. It was a line professional military men would not cross.

Rudi envisioned the situation. “Two submarines headed for Haifa,” he said. “Each with a divided crew, each carrying some portion of the bacterial cultures on board. How could they not expect an uprising on one ship or both?”

“There were clashes,” Natal admitted. “The captain’s logbook, which we recovered from the Dakar, stated there were two attempts by French sailors to escape when the sub was surfaced briefly and one attempt to take the boat by force while running submerged. One Israeli sailor died. Three French sailors were wounded. But the voyage continued.”

“Not long enough, apparently.”

“No,” the Admiral said. “And it did not end satisfactorily for anyone.”

He gave Rudi the last envelope. Inside were scribbled notes. They were almost unreadable.

“Written in the dark,” the Admiral explained, “after all power was lost. The words are in French. The next pages are a typewritten English translation.”

Rudi switched from the scribbled writings to the orderly translation and went through it slowly, reading aloud as he went.

“The engine room is flooded to the midpoint. We are dead in the water, bow pointed toward a surface we will never again reach. The Israeli captain has given us permission to write our families, to say our good-byes, but I wish only to commend him. He has treated us fairly. The governments of the world have their wars, but men of the sea are brothers and we are brothers who shall die together.”

Rudi looked up at Natal and then turned the page. “This is from a French sailor.”

The Admiral nodded.