Polished brass, well kept steel, ticking gauges, and six broad figures in ancient diving suits towered over Tom and Paul who stared back in a confusion that could only be best described as “complete”. The first object Paul had noticed was the lightbulb in an old fashioned socket, working. Paul considered himself a good around-the-house handyman and had spent a few summers at his cabin camp running wire. He had tried to cut costs through buying older, cheaper equipment and crossing it with more energy efficient bulbs and appliances. The end of several days worth of effort nearly burned his whole camp down. This was all to say that retrofitting old tech with new tech was extremely difficult and there above them, pouring light into the room, was a perfect fusion of old and new technology.
No one moved. Tom could see water dripping from the towering figures, silently tapping to the worn metal grating below. The heavy metal boots of the ancient diver suits had scrapped and well used toes. The dense rubber was a mingled patchwork of repairs, looking like Frankenstein creation and half fetish suit, it’s shade was black but it was hard to tell if that was the original color. Around the middle was a thick leather gear belt with a thoroughly polished buckle that gleamed a pale gold.
GOTT MIT UNS
They knelt down and cast iron grips hauled the brothers to their feet, balance uneasy with the half shredded diving equipment still dangling from their bodies. Fins were still half torn from their feet as they were shuffled forward toward an opening hatch, the beckoning figure, also adorned in an ancient dive suit, gesturing with one hand to the others who began to clear the room. The respirator mask kept Paul from looking back from the torpedo room, but he could tell there was one of the mystery men staying back as the hatch was close and locked tight.
Paul noticed the small details first, that all the light bulbs that lit the narrow corridor were different, that different shades of duct tape had been nearly patched over aging wire, that everything was immaculately maintained and ordered, that the divers in their cumbersome suits walked effortlessly and without bumping into a single thing. They climbed down the dizzyingly steep ladder well to a lower deck and were greeted by another pair of figures in dive suits. Tom noted one of them had a purely silver buckle, and both had significantly less tattered suits. The tinted face masks on the brass bubble helmets not betraying what stared back at the brothers. Around the chamber, attached to the bulkheads and walls, were strings with maps and pictures dangling from them. This room was the closest to being considered disheveled of all that they had seen.
Proudly hung above the control wheel and throttle helm was the battle flag of the Third Reich, iron cross and swastika looking as proud as ever.