Free The Interrogator by Andrew Williams Page A

discretion should be of the highest order. The closest enquiries should be made into the political past and views of prospective interrogating officers.
     
    Admiralty NID 11
Notes on the Interrogation of Prisoners of War, 1941
     

10
     
HMS White
Liverpool
    I

t was the old
White
’s finest hour. She swept into Liverpool in a triumphant cloud of steam, decked in crew and bunting. Her captain, Lieutenant-Commander Jack Thompson, was enjoying the spectacle from his ship’s open bridge. The brisk river breeze cut to the skin but he was too proud to care. He reached into his pocket and touched the rough edge of the signal paper.
From the First Sea Lord. The Prime Minister has asked me to pass on heartfelt congratulations to the captain and crew of HMS White. Keep up the good work
.
     
    The destroyer came to rest beneath the great brick bond warehouses of the Albert Dock and up and over went her ropes. There was already a disorderly murmur below, excited voices in the for’ard mess, whistling and singing, as if the ship were haunted by a mutinous ghost. The crew was preparing to celebrate ashore with beer at the Roebuck and dancing at the Grafton Ballroom.
    ‘The local intelligence officer is here to talk about the transfer of the prisoners, sir.’ The ship’s first lieutenant was at Thompson’s side. ‘And some chaps from the press would like to take pictures.’
    Thompson turned with a satisfied smile to the quay where the newspapermen had been joined by sailors and dockyard workers eager for a glimpse of the famous U-boat commander.
    ‘Very good, Number One, I’ll see the local IO in my cabin.’
    The captain of the
White
was a deck officer of twenty years experience and it was his fixed view that only those who had seen service at sea were worthy of the King’s commission. It was quite apparent tohim that the plump, shiny-faced lieutenant who shuffled into his cabin a short time later had not.
    ‘Lieutenant Cooper, sir.’
    Thompson looked the intelligence officer up and down with barely concealed scorn. ‘Please, sit down, Lieutenant,’ he said briskly, ‘It’s rather cramped in here but no doubt you’re used to that.’
    Lieutenant Tim Cooper sank with some relief into the chair he had been offered: ‘The news of the
U-112
cheered us up no end, sir.’
    ‘Good.’
    Thompson slid some closely typed sheets of paper across the table to him. It was a list of the prisoners, and a few general observations had been scribbled beside the names of the officers. ‘I don’t think there’s anything of great interest there, but that’s for you and your colleagues to judge, isn’t it?’
    ‘Has Mohr been co-operative, sir?’
    Thompson stared pointedly at Cooper for a few seconds to indicate his displeasure, then said with careful emphasis: ‘Captain Mohr, Lieutenant. Captain Mohr behaved in an exemplary manner and we treated him accordingly.’
    A sheet of paper slipped unnoticed from Cooper’s knees to the deck. He had the anxious air of someone with something on his broad chest but wisdom or fear got the better of him.
    On the deck below, Kapitän zur See Jürgen Mohr could hear the stamp of soldiers’ boots and the orders barked at his crew as they were led along the ship’s side and down the gangway. He had been locked in the wardroom with the
White
’s silver trophies. The officers of
U-112
were standing stiffly before him.
    ‘They will be coming for us in a minute.’
    Mohr’s voice was surprisingly high-pitched for such a tall man. He was too tall ever to be comfortable in a U-boat, lean, older-looking than his thirty–two years, his face weathered brown and creased.
    ‘We’ve spoken often of the days to come,’ he said with quiet authority, ‘but I must remind you again. We still have a part to play in this war. Carry on fighting for your Fatherland.’
    He had warned them time and again: be silent, be strong. Theywould be separated and questioned. It was vital they kept their discipline and