The Abyss Of The Atlantic--Chapter Ⅰ Section Ⅰ

This novel was written in 2018. I wrote it after watching the wonderful submarine movie "Das Boot". This novel is about giantessifying(personifying) a U-boat , similar to Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.What I have to say is that my novels often spend a lot of time describing the settings and characters...

I am working hard to translate it into English completely and without any grammatical errors.  If possible I will also translate it into German and Japanese

Similarly, since accurate manual translation will take up a lot of my time, it is only open to subscribers, please understand.

{and I would like to correct a historical error in my previous article:In World War II, the rank of U.S. destroyer captain was lieutenant colonel instead of captain.}

Chapter Ⅰ Section Ⅰ

July 2, 1942.

“This is Lieutenant Jackson Monteldan, head of supplies at Liverpool Port,” a man in an officer’s uniform said, sitting in his office. He grabbed the incessantly ringing phone and spoke into the receiver with a hint of boredom.

He was idly doodling on a piece of paper with his pen.

“Lieutenant, I have some very unfortunate news,” the voice on the other end of the line was heavy with concern. “We’ve lost our supply fleet again.”

“Damn those Germans. I’ll report to the higher-ups immediately.”

“Uh, well,” the person hesitated, “the fleet was actually lost to something… hard to explain.”

“What do you mean?” The lieutenant glanced at his watch.

“People often gather to discuss whether there’s a bottomless pit in the Atlantic. I never believed it before, but now it seems it might be true.”

“Really? How could that be?” The lieutenant chuckled involuntarily. He had never believed in such a far-fetched and scientifically implausible theory, but if his subordinate was saying this, there must be some evidence. “What happened?”

“We managed to tow back the only surviving destroyer from the fleet, but the crew is in bad shape. I hope we can let them rest a bit before bringing their lieutenant colonel to you. You can ask him directly.”

“Alright, sounds good. I’m just sitting here with nothing to do anyway. Send him to me.”

The lieutenant hung up the phone and lit a Hadlow cigarette. Soon, the room was filled with smoke, reminiscent of a gun deck after a cannon blast in a medieval warship.

“Yeah, those muzzle-loading cannons could even scare off the Kraken…” the lieutenant muttered to himself, seemingly confident that humanity could conquer the bottomless pit, despite his deep skepticism just moments before.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in!” the lieutenant called out, flicking ash into the ashtray.

“Lieutenant!” The door swung open, letting in a rush of fresh air along with two men—one in a pristine military uniform, the other in a less tidy officer’s uniform. Both looked utterly exhausted.

“Lieutenant,” the man in the military uniform said nervously, “this is the lieutenant colonel of the surviving destroyer. He witnessed the entire fleet being swallowed by the bottomless pit.”

The officer barely managed to maintain his professional demeanor despite his fatigue and saluted.

“I am Lieutenant colonel Martin Clowen O’Claire of the United States Atlantic Fleet.”

“I am Lieutenant Jackson Monteldan,” the lieutenant quickly stood up, returning the salute with his right hand, which wasn’t holding the cigarette. “Welcome to Liverpool Port. There’s not much here, but if you need anything, we can head to Manchester to get it.”

“There’s no need for that, you’re too kind,” the lieutenant colonel said, finding a chair and sitting down. He accepted the cigarette the lieutenant offered and casually pulled out a lighter. With a flick and a click, the familiar smoke began to swirl around them.

“Hadlow brand, from Wales,” the lieutenant colonel nodded, his earlier fatigue and tension dissipating with the smoke, replaced by a smile. “You have good taste, Lieutenant.”

The lieutenant smiled back, then got straight to the point. “Lieutenant colonel, you mentioned… you saw something?”

“Something very interesting, sir, very interesting,” the lieutenant colonel replied, his mood darkening. “Of course, if I had seen that dreadful thing myself, I doubt I’d be standing here now.”

“Can you tell me about it?” The lieutenant asked, his interest piqued, watching the lieutenant colonel take a deep drag from his cigarette.

“Of course, though I doubt you’ll believe it,” the lieutenant colonel sighed and began slowly. "Since I left New York Harbor, the rumors about the bottomless pit in the Atlantic, the one that supposedly swallows everything, have been rampant. I didn’t really believe it, not until last night. Even then, I was skeptical.

"But around 2 AM, a friendly ship ahead of us reported detecting a German submarine on radar. I immediately ordered the ship to battle stations. I knew the Germans’ tricks; soon there would be a second, a third, more submarines emerging.

"The friendly ship advised us to hold our position. We were about 80 nautical miles from the nearest cargo ship. I wanted to go and protect it, but I followed orders and stayed put. That decision saved our ship.

"The friendly ship reported they were approaching the submarine to investigate.

The lieutenant colonel took a sip from the tea cup the lieutenant handed him before continuing slowly:

"I thought, given how difficult it is to detect submarines while they’re submerged, the Germans’ submarine was likely underwater and hard to pinpoint. It would be easy for them to launch a surprise attack. If it were me, I wouldn’t take such a risk.

"Then, terrified screams came over the radio. Someone was shouting, ‘Run!’ and ‘Release the smoke bombs!’ I knew something was terribly wrong. Seconds later, there were only frantic cries for help, the sound of metal being crushed, and water rushing in—like pouring water into the sea. After that, just static.

"I was so shaken by those horrifying sounds that I rushed to the deck with my binoculars to look at the last known position of the friendly ship. There was nothing but a cloud of smoke.

"‘Were they attacked by a German submarine?’ my executive officer asked. I couldn’t be sure. A ship hit by a submarine wouldn’t sink that quickly, and there was nothing on the surface where the friendly ship had been, as if it had never existed. But I didn’t dare venture into the smoke to find out. That might have been my wisest decision.

"Another friendly ship, the closest to the vanished one, volunteered to investigate. I watched as it sailed into the smoke, and then the sea rose in waves. After that, there was no sign of the ship, not even a shadow. Nothing remained, not even debris.

"‘Lieutenant colonel! That ship has disappeared too. Their last radio message was, ‘It’s not a German submarine! It’s…’ and then it was cut off… cut off.’ The intelligence officer rushed to me, panic-stricken.

"‘A bottomless pit...so,a abyss?’ the executive officer muttered to himself, ‘Is there really a bottomless pit?’ My mind went blank, but I gave the final order.

"‘Retreat! Get out of here immediately!’ I even forgot there was another friendly ship nearby, but I couldn’t care less. I had to order a retreat. This enemy was beyond our capacity to fight.

“And what about the supply fleet?” the lieutenant interjected.

“Gone, all gone. When we returned the next day to retrieve something, the sea was calm… nothing at all, not even a piece of wood or anything that could float. The bottomless pit had wiped everything out, leaving no trace.”

“Lieutenant colonel, your story of escaping the...abyss is truly remarkable,” the lieutenant marveled. “It would make for a fascinating memoir. You’re the only one who has escaped from the bottomless pit, though not many believe in its existence. It’s still just a topic of idle conversation.”

The lieutenant colonel shrugged helplessly.

“The main issue is, there’s no concrete evidence to prove it exists, you understand?” the lieutenant continued. “No photos, no videos, no eyewitnesses…”

“Everyone on our ship knows about it,” the lieutenant colonel interrupted urgently.

“But none of them saw what the bottomless pit actually looks like, right?” The lieutenant stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Maybe you retreated too early.”

“Lieutenant, please show some respect for the victims,” the lieutenant colonel’s face darkened. “We barely escaped with our lives.”

“Ahem…” the lieutenant pretended to cough.

The atmosphere grew tense, but a clear knock on the door skillfully broke the tension.

“Come in!” the lieutenant called out.

The door opened slightly, and a frail yet spirited man stepped in.

“Lieutenant, je wrote a report about our armée(army). Voudriez-vous jeter un oeil(Would you like to take a look)?” The newcomer, holding a camera and with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, spoke in a muffled voice. His English was heavily accented with French.

“Ah, Lieutenant colonel,” the lieutenant said with a smile, pointing to the peculiar speaker, “this is our journalist—Challe. He’s a native Frenchman, just back from North Africa.”

“Hello, hello,” Challe extended his free left hand to shake the lieutenant colonel’s, “I’m Challe, but you can call me Char B1, that’s mon pseudo(my nickname).”

“I’m Lieutenant colonel O’Claire of the Navy, very pleased to meet you.” The lieutenant colonel scrutinized the young man, who appeared to be in his mid-twenties. Despite his age, he had a scholarly and frail demeanor, more like a dreamy novelist than a war correspondent.

“Interesting, Char B1,” the lieutenant colonel nodded, “you do look like a Char B1.”

“Haha…” the lieutenant chuckled softly, “the nickname suits you well.”

“They say I look like a réservoir(tank) with my camera and cigarette. Do I look that strong? L'humour britannique est difficile à comprendre.(British humor is hard to understand.)” The journalist tilted his head in exasperation, resembling a Char B1 tank with a malfunctioning steering mechanism.

“But,but I just encountered something intéressant(interesting),” the journalist shifted the conversation, showing his camera to the two officers. “Look, this is a seabird I photographed at the port.”

The film showed a faint outline that could be interpreted as a ship, a warship, or even a piece of wood. It was the best his photography skills could capture.

The lieutenant and the lieutenant colonel exchanged glances and shrugged.

“Et devinez quoi(And guess what?!)” the journalist smiled, “the bird flew right up to me, waiting to be photographed.”

The next image barely showed the bird’s shape, as if it had been pixelated.

“Your photography skills are impressive,” the lieutenant said. “Char B1, do you believe in the bottomless pit exists?”

At the mention of this topic, the journalist’s enthusiasm burst forth.

“Absolutely, absolutely,” the journalist began excitedly, “the Atlantic must hold many secrets, not just German submarines. I think there are sea monsters, sirens, and more. The deep sea has always been mysterious and sci-fi. I’ve read Jules Verne’s ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea,’ and I believe the underwater world is far more complex than we imagine.”

The lieutenant colonel interjected with interest, “I think it’s possible.”

“Do you really think so?” The journalist eagerly grasped the lieutenant colonel’s hand. “I once wrote a report on the mysteries of the Atlantic, but the newspapers wouldn’t publish it. They said it belonged in a novel, not a news report. They even called me a rising star in science fiction. I think it was just British sarcasm.”

“The lieutenant colonel just returned from the Atlantic and experienced the bottomless pit firsthand,” the lieutenant added.

“That’s… unfortunate. I suspected the supply fleet was swallowed by the bottomless pit, but no one believed me.” The journalist closed his eyes and shook his head in regret, as if lamenting the losses that could have been avoided if they had believed him sooner.

The lieutenant colonel, noticing the journalist’s disappointment, said, “The main issue is the lack of evidence. If there were photos, more people would believe it.”

“But I don’t know how to find the bottomless pit… and I can’t sail.”

“I can give it a try.”

The small office fell silent for a moment.

“If we want to investigate, I’ll need to report to my superiors,” the lieutenant said cautiously after a pause. “But it could be very dangerous, comrades.”

The journalist patted his frail chest and said nonchalantly,

“What’s the danger? As long as we can find out if the bottomless pit exists, any risk is worth it. It’s called professional ethics and spirit: bringing the truth to light.”

“I also want to see what it’s like,” the lieutenant colonel supported. “At least we can’t let our ships be mysteriously destroyed.”

The lieutenant nodded slightly, though his eyes still showed strong skepticism. But then he quickly smiled and said, “Alright, I’ll report this to my superiors immediately.”

The lieutenant stood up quickly. “Char B1, grab your camera. You’re about to become a proper war correspondent.”

The journalist gave a mysterious smile.

The lieutenant colonel exchanged a glance with the journalist and smiled back.

“Does this mean we can go, Lieutenant colonel?” the journalist asked eagerly after the lieutenant left the room.

“That depends on how you see it,” the lieutenant colonel replied with a slight smile and a hint of sarcasm. “Do you truly believe in the bottomless pit, Mr. Journalist?”

“Of course, I’m a firm believer!” The journalist proudly tried to pull out something to prove his point but found nothing. He had nothing but his imagination.

“Are you willing to uncover this mystery yourself?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“Are you unafraid of any danger, even death?”

“Yes, sir!”

To an outsider, it might have seemed like a crusader’s oath. The journalist’s earnest and proud declaration to the lieutenant colonel resembled a saint swearing allegiance to the pope.

“Gentlemen, orders from the higher-ups,” the lieutenant announced, opening the door. “Lieutenant colonel, your crew will be sent to Manchester for further instructions. And—”

The lieutenant paused deliberately.

“Our colonel is very interested in your encounter and has approved your request.”

The lieutenant colonel and the journalist smiled. Although they had expected this, they still felt a surge of excitement.

“However, given the wartime situation, there are no spare military ships or additional personnel to assist you. So, you’ll have to make do with a deep-sea fishing boat.”

“No problem, we can handle it,” the journalist waved his hand. “Right, Lieutenant colonel? As long as we can see what it is, any boat will do.”

The lieutenant colonel remembered something. “When can we depart?”

“If you’re ready, you can leave now,” the lieutenant smiled.

“Understood! I’ll go pack right away! Lieutenant colonel, may I document our voyage?”

“Of course,” the lieutenant colonel nodded gently...

Please look forward to the next one,stay tuned~~