Specimen & Other Stories by Alan Annand

lay captive in the embrace of an Arctic sea. To
the east, Greenland unloaded icebergs into the frigid Atlantic.
    Rising from the depths, a German U-boat
arrived in Canadian territorial waters, armed for war. It was 1942
and the Battle of the Atlantic was in full tide.
     
    ~~~
     
    The U-boat’s control room was cramped and
odorous, dominated by the smell of diesel fuel and human sweat. On
a bulkhead was a humidity-wrinkled photo held in place with
electrician’s tape. It showed a U-boat in harbor, crew lined up on
deck, flag draped from the conning tower.
    A helmsman sat at his console, maintaining
plane and rudder control. A green phosphorous sonar screen cast a
dim light on his face. The engines’ steady throb was punctuated by
the sonar’s ping at 2-second intervals. Now and again, an
air valve let out an oily sigh of tedium and tension.
    A few feet away, Kapitan Wolff and Leutnant
Richter stood at a plotting table under an overhead lamp. Between
them lay plotting instruments atop a map of eastern Canada.
    Richter was in his twenties, in a white
shirt with a lieutenant’s insignia on his epaulets. Wolff was in
his thirties, bearded, in a wrinkled blue shirt with rolled-up
sleeves. His hair hadn’t been cut in a while. Dark crescents under
his eyes were a testament to insomnia.
    “Another half an hour, we’ll be there,”
Wolff said.
    “Cape Chidley.” Richter tapped his finger on
the northern tip of the Labrador Peninsula. “Why up here, rather
than further down the coast?”
    “The meteorologists at Naval Command say
it’s ideal for monitoring weather patterns. Cold air masses from
the north pass directly over this cape, diverging into the Atlantic
off Newfoundland.”
    “And into the sea lanes of Allied convoys
bound for England…”
    “Right. Given accurate readings on
temperature, barometric pressure and wind from here, they could
predict the weather in the shipping lanes days in advance.”
    “Advising us when and where to attack…”
    “Us, and every other U-boat in the North
Atlantic. This mission could be the deciding factor in choking off
England’s supply line.”
    “If it’s so important, why so little time to
accomplish our mission?”
    Wolff shrugged. “Ask Naval Command.”
    “Two days. Not much time to set up the
meteorological station and the radio, test them and make our
rendezvous.”
    “No choice. If we want to get re-supplied,
we need to be south of Greenland by 1800 hours on Thursday. We miss
the boat, we’re on our own.”
    “Let’s hope there’re no complications. The
Canadians don’t have military posts this far north, do they?”
    “According to our intelligence, the place is
completely uninhabited.”
     
    ~~~
     
    A kilometer south of Cape Chidley, on the
western shore facing Ungava Bay, a cove offered shelter from the
wind. A small fire burned in the lee of a caribou-skin tent where a
Naskapi family went about their activities.
    The man Agatak, his face as weathered as a
used moccasin, was sharpening a spear tip. He wore leather pants,
sealskin boots and a leather shirt with a short fur collar. His
head was bowed in concentration as he manipulated a rasp against a
metal spear head.
    The woman Nuna was repairing a pair of
boots. Her hair hung in shiny folds over her shoulders. Like her
husband and children, she wore the same sexless leather pants,
boots and shirt.
    Their teenage son Shogan was securing an
arrowhead to a shaft with a length of copper wire. Their little
girl Kanti played with a rag doll. A baby slept in a makeshift
backpack near Nuna, only its flat face visible beneath a ruffle of
fox fur.
    Nuna looked at Agatak. “We need food.”
    “We’ll go soon,” Agatak said. “With the sun
out, there’ll be seals on the beach.”
     
    ~~~
     
    Kapitan Wolff stood aside as the periscope
tube, slick with grease, rose with a hiss. He snapped the handles
into place and put his sallow eyes to the viewfinder.
    The periscope lens revealed a rocky headland
a