Amber

Chapter 3

The Amber City. Known for producing the world’s most valuable raw amber, a major part of its economy was based around the sought-after substance. Both mined from the Earth and recovered along the local beaches when it washed up from the Baltic Sea, the high-quality amber found here was a constant reminder of the city’s most enduring mystery, the disappearance of the Amber Room in 1945 from Königsberg Castle.

A U.S. Navy enlisted man pulled a truck to a stop at the Commercial Sea Port. Maddock, Bones, Professor and Willis exited the vehicle, each carrying a single small bag. The ship Gettysburg was docked at an immense berth in front of them, her decks full of life as sailors went about their business. Despite the general atmosphere of hustle and bustle — Navy personnel readying for a major at-sea exercise-the air about people was subdued. Bones was the first to mention it.

“You guys notice it’s like we showed up to the party uninvited with no beer?”

Indeed, a passing Russian dockworker gave them a dose of stink-eye without slowing. Even their American escort, the Navy man driving the truck, seemed none too happy to see the SEALs, remaining silent on the drive over from the military airport except when pressed for a response.

Maddock made a dismissive gesture with a hand. “Let’s just get aboard and meet the guy we’re supposed to meet and get the job done.”

This was greeted with grunts from Willis and Professor, and after being let off at the berth without a word from the driver, the four of them walked up a gangway to the deck of the huge warship. Again they were met by a man wearing a frown on his face. He wore a white sailor’s uniform and introduced himself without enthusiasm before telling the newly arrived SEALs to follow him. They walked in silence across the massive cruiser, either ignored by passing sailors or met with stony stares, even when greeted by Bones’ wassup nod. After what seemed a long trek, the travel-weary foursome arrived on the rear deck of the Gettysburg.

Lower to the water than the rest of the ship, this area made a suitable launching place for small boats, and a variety of them were lined up and suspended in cradles where they were kept ready for launch. Their escort pointed to an officer in uniform down by the boats. “That’s your contact. He’s the Underwater Operations Coordinator, an officer. Andy Metcalf. Go talk to him.”

With that, the sailor saluted, did an about face and left. The SEAL team wasted no time. They walked over to the man, who stood alone in front of a Zodiac inflatable boat, consulting a clipboard. They introduced themselves without elaborating on their mission objectives, explaining only as instructed to do that they required the use of small boats, dive gear and SEAL Delivery Vehicles (SDVs) to access an area of interest, the coordinates for which were sent ahead of time via encrypted email.

The officer, a man about the same age as the four SEALs, wearing mirrored sunglasses over a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, slowly shook his head.

“I know you guys are just following orders, but I have to say, the timing couldn’t be any worse on this.”

Maddock and Bones exchanged glances. This was just weird. They were SEALs, elite warriors, the best of the best of the best. Usually any American or allied force was happy to see them show up. They were used to being greeted, if not with downright awe, then at least with a certain measure of respect. Not that they needed that or sought it out in any way; they could care less what people thought of them. Bred into them from Day 1 was to get the job done with a minimum of fanfare. But this type of reception was certainly unusual and definitely did not go unnoticed.

“What’s the problem?” Maddock asked. “Admiral Liptow notified you about our mission, right?”

The coordinator removed his glasses and stepped closer to Maddock. “My problem is not with you SEALs, personally, sir. It’s with your orders.”

“How much do you know about our orders, sir? Our mission is classified Top Secret.”

“I don’t know the details, but I know that your orders are to investigate the wreck of the Wilhelm Gustloff.”

“Among other Russian and German sites, that is correct.”

“You’re looking for something.” He paused as if hoping the statement would prompt additional information, but neither Maddock nor his three cohorts ventured anything forth. The officer shifted tack.

“I understand that I am duty bound to assist you in achieving your objectives. I do not intend to stand in your way. But I need you to understand that there is an extremely sensitive exercise operation underway now. Some of these Baltic nations would prefer it if we weren’t here at all, and having a bunch of cowboys kicking around on a sacred war grave isn’t going to endear us to the locals.”

The mention of a tomb struck a chord with all four SEALs. They knew the grim story of the Wilhelm Gustloff from their briefing materials. A missile from a Soviet submarine sent the German cruise ship to a watery grave on the bottom of the Baltic Sea on January 30, 1945. She was carrying about 9,000 souls, Germans evacuating in advance of the approaching Red Army, making it easily the most deadly shipwreck in history. By comparison, the wreck of the better known Titanic claimed about 1,500 lives. The ship now lay in 150 feet of water, a depth within reach for many SCUBA divers, and especially for SEALs.

“Rest assured that we’ll disturb the wreck as little as possible, hopefully not at all.” Maddock looked at his fellow SEALs who nodded solemnly.

“You’re looking for the Amber Room, aren’t you?”

Maddock put on his best poker face but there was no hiding the looks of surprise on Willis and Professor’s faces. But Maddock was nonchalant.

“Will you be diving the wreck with us, sir?”

The officer shook his head. “Negative. Two of my divers are available to provide underwater support, per your request, but I personally will not be one of them.”

“Then we can neither confirm nor deny the exact nature of the dive’s objective, sir. Our orders are to report here for logistical assistance with the dive. We will personally brief your support divers, who will be granted the necessary clearance for the information they require to assist us.”

The officer’s face reddened somewhat but he seemed to calm himself. “That’s fine. I doubt you’ll find much down there, anyway. The wreck is pretty well picked over by now, and almost all of it isn’t even intact anymore, it’s just scattered ruins.”

“Orders are orders,” Professor chimed in. “Whatever state it’s in, we’ve got to check it out. What about the SDVs — you’ve got those?”

The officer turned and pointed to a recessed section of deck with a retractable roof that was currently open. “Two SEAL Delivery Vehicles at your disposal.”

Professor nodded his approval. SDVs were basically “wet subs,” sort of like giant underwater scooters that up to three scuba divers could ride in or on, but they did not provide an enclosed and dry, air-filled environment like a traditional submarine or submersible. They were designed to enable SEAL scuba divers to travel farther and faster underwater, and with minimal exertion. Initially conceived of as a way to transport SEALs to shore from large ships, which often had to stay far from shore in deep enough water, without being seen, the vehicles allowed SEALS to conserve air consumption and energy.

“Perfect.” Professor said. “With the four of us plus two of your frogmen, we’ll have three divers on each SDV.”

Maddock turned to his fellow SEALs. “I’ll go with Bones and one of Officer Metcalf’s men. Willis and Professor, you take the other SDV with the other one of the officer’s divers.”

They nodded and Metcalf indicated for them to walk with him. They made their way to the SDVs, where a dive locker was also housed in the recessed area. Several men were working here on maintaining various pieces of equipment. Maddock looked at the officer, hoping he would get the message without having to be told. There were too many people here to brief the new divers on the mission. They needed privacy. Thankfully, Metcalf’s next words were, “Attention: I need everybody except for Jiminez and Yu to clear out of this immediate area until further notice. This is a minimum required personnel task necessitating Top Secret level clearance.”

Maddock nodded his approval and after the other sailors had left, only two besides the officer remained. One was short and thin, of Hispanic descent, while the other was a medium-built Asian man. They introduced themselves to the team as Raul Jiminez and Alex Yu, respectively. Bones asked them if they had ever dived the Wilhelm before and both shook their heads.

“You’re the first U.S. military guys we’ve heard of diving it, but we’ve been over the site topside before in a boat on patrol. We know right where it is.” Yu said. His officer and Jiminez both nodded their agreement.

“Is there a spot where we can go over the dive plan?” Maddock asked.

For the next several minutes the SEAL team reviewed their objectives with the Gettysburg sailors. Once satisfied they understood the plan, the team of six loaded the SDVs onto a small, fast boat. The SEAL team took jump-style seats while the Gettysburg men sat at the steering console. The boat was an inflatable RIB, or rigid inflatable boat, suspended above the waterline on a crane.

“We better get moving,” Yu said, signaling a crane operator on deck to lower them to the water.

“Why, you in a rush to make it back for the award-winning chow?” Bones wanted to know. “I still haven’t forgotten the stuff they fed us on these ships, or more precisely, my intestines haven’t.”

Yu shook his head without laughing. “No, radar has a storm front moving in. Doesn’t look too bad… yet. But if we can we should beat it.”

Bones nodded. He knew from experience that inclement weather at sea was nothing to mess with. But Yu still looked like he had something to say. “What else?”

“Just trying to get us out there before it gets too busy, is all.”

“Busy with what?”

“The Russians have been hanging all over the site for the last couple of days. Been secretive. They could be diving, could just be profiling from a surface sonar pinger or maybe an ROV, but whatever it is they’re doing, they’ve been ramping up their activity. More boats, even a few aircraft, and staying longer.”

The RIB splashed into the water. They double-checked that the SDVs were securely tied down, and then Jiminez gunned the twin outboards as he aimed the craft out into the Baltic.