The underwater mole L u c a s D u r a n D The Underwater mole The tension inside the submarine was palpa- ble, the air heavy with the smells of diesel and sweat. Lucas Durand Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C The underwater mole The underwater mole Lucas Durand Lucas Durand An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C The underwater mole T he German U-boat U-87 sliced through the inky waters of the English Channel, a dark phantom beneath the waves. The tension in- side the submarine was palpable, the air heavy with the smells of diesel and sweat. The crew, sharply dressed in their navy-blue uniforms, moved with a quiet urgency as they navigated closer to the French coastline, the heart of their mission just moments away. Kapitänleutnant Heinrich Falk stood in the com- mand center, his tall frame a stark figure against the dim light. His sharp eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the instruments before him. His mind was already miles ahead, thinking of the intelligence they needed to gather, any scrap of information that would cripple the British and French naval forces. Lucas Durand “All stations, report,” Falk commanded, his voice calm, yet laced with controlled anticipation. “Everything is in order, Kapitän,” came the reply from First Officer Karl Dietrich. His fingers danced across the control panels, ensuring that every meter of the U-87 was in its proper position. “The course is set. We’re on target.” Falk nodded, his gaze shifting toward the sonar operator, Erik Schmidt, who was hunched over the sonar console. The young man’s face was pale under the glow of the dim green lights, his fingers steady on the controls. “Any sign of British patrols?” Falk asked, his voice low but commanding. Schmidt’s eyes flicked nervously to the readings, then back to Falk. “None so far, Kapitän. But we’re getting close to the strait, and they’ll be watching closely. They always do.” Falk narrowed his eyes, staring into the darkness of the water beyond, imagining the patrol boats lurking just out of sight. “There could be anything lurking out there. We’re in their waters now,” Schmidt con- tinued, his voice barely a whisper. The underwater mole “Then we proceed as planned,” Falk said firmly, straightening his posture. He turned to Dietrich. “We’re not here to play it safe. We’re here to gather intelligence—anything we can to cripple their naval operations. The mission depends on it. Understand?” “Understood, Kapitän,” Dietrich said, his face a mask of calm determination. Falk turned back to Schmidt. “Keep your eyes open. If anything moves, I want to know about it.” Schmidt nodded, but the unease in his eyes was un- mistakable. The waters of the Channel were treach- erous, full of hidden dangers, and even the smallest mistake could lead to disaster. The pressure was on. With a sharp nod, Falk gave the order. “Dive deep- er,” he said. “Take us to fifty meters.” The submarine groaned as it began its descent, its engines humming steadily, cutting through the cold, dark depths like a ghost in the night. The sonar read- ings began to stabilize, the tension easing slightly as the boat descended further, hidden from prying eyes. But what Falk didn’t know was that they were be- ing hunted. Lucas Durand Half a mile to the west, the HMS Dauntless , a sleek British fast boat, sped through the water at full throt- tle. The engine hummed in a steady rhythm, its pro- pellers carving through the waves with practiced precision. Captain Nicholas Kane stood at the helm, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the waters around him. His mind was focused on one thing: the U-87 “Sir, we’re closing in on the area,” his First Officer, Lieutenant Robert Harding, said. He stood at atten- tion, scanning the horizon. “Steady, Harding,” Kane ordered, his voice sharp, his eyes cold with determination. “No sign of the German sub yet, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. Keep your wits about you.” Harding nodded and turned his attention back to the radar. They had been tracking the German U-boat for hours now, their course seemingly head- ing into the heart of French waters. It wasn’t just any U-boat—this one was known for its cunning, its abil- ity to infiltrate the enemy’s harbors and wreak havoc on supply lines. But Kane knew that every mission had a price. And the U-87 had made a grave mistake by venturing too close to British waters. The air on the bridge was thick with anticipation The underwater mole as Kane clenched his jaw. He knew the risks, but this mission had to succeed. They couldn’t afford to let this U-boat slip through their fingers. “Engines at full speed,” Kane barked, and the boat surged forward with deadly efficiency, the noise of the engine echoing across the waters. The boat cut through the night with remarkable speed, its hull slicing effortlessly through the waves. Then, the radar pinged. “Target!” Harding exclaimed. “Right ahead, sir!” Kane’s eyes flicked to the screen, narrowing. There it was. The dark outline of the U-87 , barely visible beneath the waves. “All hands, prepare for engage- ment!” Kane shouted, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. “We’re taking her down tonight.” Below the surface, the crew of the U-87 was un- aware of the approaching threat. Falk stood at the helm, his eyes fixed on the instruments as the sub- marine continued its descent. The faint hum of the engines was the only sound in the command room. Schmidt’s voice broke through the silence. “Ka- pitän, I think we have something. Something moving fast on the sonar. It’s coming straight at us.” Lucas Durand Falk’s heart skipped a beat. “How fast?” “Too fast to be just another patrol boat. It’s a fast craft, possibly a launch,” Schmidt replied, his voice tense. “We can’t outrun it at this depth.” Falk cursed under his breath. “Surface to twenty meters. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.” The order was relayed, and the boat began to rise. Falk’s mind raced. They didn’t have much time. Back on the HMS Dauntless , Kane’s eyes never left the U-87 , which had just surfaced. “Fire the first vol- ley!” he barked, his voice a razor’s edge. The torpedo tube doors hissed open, and the first torpedo shot out, racing through the water towards the U-87 with devastating speed. Falk’s crew barely had time to react as the water exploded in a burst of foam and spray, sending a shockwave through the submarine. The force of the blast rocked the U-87 , throwing men against the walls and sending sparks flying from the electrical panels. Falk’s grip tightened on the helm as he shouted, “Full power ahead! Dive! Get us under the surface!” But the Dauntless was relentless. A second torpe- The underwater mole do launched, and this time, it struck directly amid- ships. The U-87 groaned as it was rocked to its core, the sound of the blast ringing through the boat like a death knell. Schmidt, wide-eyed and panicked, scrambled to relay the damage. “Kapitän! We’re taking on water! The hull’s been breached!” “Not yet!” Falk snapped, his voice hard with com- mand. “Prepare to launch countermeasures. We will not let them finish us.” Dietrich, the first officer, worked frantically at the controls, trying to stabilize the submarine as the wa- ter continued to flood in. “We’re losing ballast! We need to surface again or we’ll be sunk!” “Not yet,” Falk growled, determination in his eyes. “We need to fight. We need to send a message.” But Kane’s boat was closing in for the kill. Falk knew time was running out. The U-87 was wounded, its systems failing, but the fight was not over. Not yet. The Dauntless closed in, weapons ready. Kane’s voice rang out across the deck, filled with ruthless certainty: “This ends now.” Lucas Durand Falk’s lips curled into a grim smile as the U-87 turned sharply to face its predator. “We’re not finished yet,” Falk muttered, gripping the wheel with a fierce resolve. And the final battle began. The underwater mole I. The coastal fog was thick, rolling like a living thing over the waters of the French port of Calais. It clung to the edges of the harbor like a shroud, swallowing the distant lights of the dockside and muting the sound of the waves. Below the surface, in the shadow of the quay, the U-87 sat moored, a silent predator, its hull black as night and invisible in the churning depths. Inside the submarine, Kapitänleutnant Heinrich Falk stood at the command console, his back straight and his eyes cold, scanning the instruments before him. His crew was ready. Their mission was critical: infiltrate the French naval base, plant explosives on key ships and equipment, and slip away unnoticed. The element of surprise was their only advantage. Lucas Durand “Move out, now,” Falk ordered in a voice that car- ried no hint of hesitation. His crew, First Officer Karl Dietrich, and the young sonar operator Erik Schmidt, moved quickly to their posts. Falk’s mind raced, thinking through every step of the plan. It had to be perfect. The Allies were watching. One mistake, and it would all come crashing down. The hatch opened, and the night air rushed in, thick with the salty smell of the sea and the dampness of the mist. Falk led the way, Dietrich and Schmidt following closely behind, their faces obscured by the dark hoods of their weathered jackets. The harbor was eerily quiet, with only the occasional creak of mooring ropes or the soft ripple of the waves break- ing against the shore. “Eyes open,” Falk whispered, his voice low but commanding. “We don’t know how much the French know, but they won’t suspect us. We have the element of surprise.” They crept through the shadows, avoiding the main road that led into the port and instead sticking to the narrow alleyways and dark paths that wound through the older part of the base. The dockside was cluttered with merchant ships, their hulls resting in the calm waters, their crews sleeping in the cabins The underwater mole above. All was still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. As they neared the French naval base, Falk’s eyes narrowed. This was the heart of their mission—if they could cripple the French fleet, they would slow down the Allies’ ability to push back against the Ger- man advance. But there was no room for mistakes. The U-87 could only stay hidden for so long. They had minutes, not hours. He motioned for Dietrich to stay on lookout as they approached a guard post. The sentry was a sol- itary figure, pacing lazily along the raised wooden platform, his rifle slung over his shoulder, oblivious to the shadows creeping around him. Falk drew a knife from his belt, its blade gleaming faintly under the fog. “Stay low, quick and quiet,” Falk murmured. Dietrich nodded, his breath steady but his hands tense. The two men moved in silence, a deadly whis- per of motion through the darkness. Dietrich reached the sentry first, his hands quick and sure. A single strike to the neck, and the man slumped without a sound, his rifle clattering against the wood. Falk knelt beside him, checking the guard’s pulse before pulling him off the platform and out of sight. Lucas Durand “Clean,” Falk muttered, before he moved to the crates of explosives they had hidden earlier. Schmidt stood ready to help, his nervous energy palpable, but his movements were efficient as he helped set the first charge on a large supply vessel docked nearby. Falk glanced around, his mind ticking through the plan. They had to get in, place the explosives on key vessels and the base’s equipment, and then disappear. Time was their enemy. The longer they stayed, the higher the risk of detection. They worked quickly, moving with military preci- sion as they planted explosives on several ships. Falk kept an eye on Schmidt as he set the final charge, his thoughts racing. It was almost too easy. They hadn’t been spotted. The French guards were lax, unaware that a storm was about to hit their harbor. Falk set the last wire on a merchant ship, then stood up, wiping his hands on his pants. He allowed himself a brief moment to breathe, to think they had pulled it off, before the unmistakable sound of an en- gine echoed through the mist. It started as a low hum in the distance, barely au- dible over the slap of the waves against the quay. But then it grew louder, closer. Falk’s blood froze. The underwater mole A British motor launch. His eyes snapped to Dietrich, and the First Officer’s face went pale. “Get back to the U-87,” Falk ordered urgently, his voice low but sharp. “Move!” They had no time to think. The Dauntless, a fast British patrol boat, was only minutes away. If it spot- ted them now, all would be lost. The men bolted into the shadows, weaving through the maze of crates and barrels. Falk kept his head low, his breathing slow and steady, but every muscle in his body was screaming for them to hurry. “Schmidt! Get moving!” Falk barked as he turned to see the young sonar operator hesitating, staring wide-eyed at the sound of the approaching boat. “I—I can’t leave it!” Schmidt stammered, his voice high with panic. “The charges...” “Forget the charges!” Falk snapped. “We’re ex- posed. Now move!” Schmidt blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and then sprinted to catch up with them. Falk didn’t look back as they darted between the shadows, moving fast but keeping as quiet as possible. Lucas Durand The harbor loomed ahead, the U-87 just visible against the dark water. Falk pushed forward, his heart pounding in his chest. They were so close. But then the first flare went off. It was a sudden burst of red light that shattered the darkness, illuminating the harbor like daylight. Falk’s mind screamed at him, but there was no time to think. He heard the British boat’s engine roar as it began its approach. “Faster!” Falk barked, his voice hoarse. The crew sprinted for the water’s edge, where the inflatable dinghy was waiting. Falk and Dietrich jumped in first, with Schmidt following close be- hind. As the motor roared to life, Falk glanced over his shoulder and saw the flash of the British boat’s searchlight. “Full throttle!” Falk ordered, as they pulled away from the quay. The dinghy sped into the darkness, the fog swallowing them once more, but Falk could hear the distant roar of the Dauntless cutting through the water. They weren’t out of danger yet. “We can’t outrun them like this,” Dietrich mut- tered. “We’ll have to dive again, Kapitän. Get back to the sub.” The underwater mole Falk’s jaw tightened. They were too close to be- ing caught. But the mission wasn’t over yet. They’d planned for this. “Keep the motor running. We’re not finished,” Falk muttered, eyes scanning the water ahead, his mind already calculating their next move. As the dinghy raced toward the dark silhouette of the U-87, the tension mounted. Falk could feel the weight of the world pressing down on him. They had to get back to the submarine, or the British would close in for the kill. But the Dauntless was still out there, lurking in the fog. And Falk knew they weren’t going to give up so easily. Lucas Durand II. The fog rolled like a blanket over the Channel, thick enough to swallow the world in its cold, clam- my embrace. Onboard the HMS Dauntless, Lieuten- ant Nicholas Kane stood with his hands clasped be- hind his back, his sharp eyes fixed on the horizon. The Dauntless had been patrolling the waters off the northern coast of France for hours. It was no secret that German U-boats had been spotted in the area. The Allies had been playing a deadly game of cat and mouse, and Kane had learned long ago that one slip could mean the end of a ship, a career, or even a war. “Bring her around, thirty degrees port,” Kane barked.