Alpha Threat by Ron Smoak

simply wanted to get home; the sooner the better.   Little did he know that there was little home to go back to.   The home he had left behind was quite different now.   He had no idea that Germany had been defeated, Hitler was dead and the Allies swarmed all over Germany.  
    The leutnant looked up upon hearing footsteps on the gravel drawing near.   It was Major Bayer and Karl Grimme, the Gestapo man in the black uniform.
    “Have you dispatched the trucks, Leutnant?” barked the major as he strode onto the pier, his boots clopping loudly as he marched down to the desk.  
    “Yes, sir, the trucks are coming around now with enough men to load everything.”
    Grimme stood quietly behind the major with a devious smirk that the leutnant simply hated.   It reminded Trox of a weasel.   Gestapo were seriously scary and dangerous people.   Trox wondered if they were people at all; just animals.  
    Some of the things the leutnant saw Grimme do were just horrible.   Grimme had personally taken a young private who asked a few questions over by the water’s edge and slit his throat ear to ear, nearly cutting his head completely off.   The leutnant would never forget the look on the private’s face as he realized Grimme executed him right there without any emotion and without anyone else saying a word to stop him; especially the major, who stood there shocked and speechless.   Grimme stood over the private as he bled out into the water.   Then he ordered several men to put the private in a boat, tie bricks to his body and dump him in the ocean.   After that, no one asked any questions…period!
    Karl Grimme stood just over 6 feet, 4 inches tall.   His closely cropped dark hair and dark eyes made him a poster child of the perfect Gestapo agent.   His small spectacles made his face seem smaller.   His early devotion to the party was solid and unwavering.   At twenty-eight, most would think he was young, but the last 10 years hardened Grimme.   He could kill without any hint of remorse if duty called him to do so.   He was ruthless, clearly not a man to push in any way.   He carried out his orders to the letter no matter how harsh anyone else would think they might be.   Karl Grimme was in charge here.   He was not the ranking officer but he was in charge.   Make no mistake about that.  
    The humming sound of the approaching U-boat was louder, now just about 20 meters from the dock.   Even under electric power the slow approach of the large U-boat caused waves larger than normal to lap the shore.   Leutnant Trox saw several crewmen scurrying around the deck as they readied the various lines needed to tie off and secure the U-boat to the dock.   His own men ran about to get into position to catch the lines.   He turned to see several trucks coming down the dirt road to the left of the command building.   He was relieved that unloading could begin immediately.   Even though it would not have been his fault, late trucks would have infuriated Grimme.   Trox definitely did not want to go down that road.   He knew that when Grimme got mad someone usually paid for it with their life.  
    The three men waited, trying to identify the U-boat number painted on the side of the conning tower.   It was just now coming into view with the weak light; the bow of the U-boat just a few meters away.   They could now see the faded 1055 notation.   The leutnant recorded the number on his tally sheet and checked his information on U-1055 commanded by Captain Ernst Adler.   Their expected cargo should be forty-two sealed wooden boxes.  
      “Reverse engines,” barked the U-boat captain.  
    “Reverse engines, aye, sir,” came Hientz’s reply as the message was relayed to the engine room.   The U-boat shuddered as the engines reversed, churning up mud and silt from the bottom.  
    “All stop!” commanded the captain.   “Tie off all lines and secure the boat,” he said turning to Hientz.   “Let me go see what