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Razzle Dazzle

The convoy made its way through the cold Atlantic waters. There were almost a score of ships in the flotilla: ten cargo vessels, three tankers, three escorts, two destroyers and a cruiser. They had been at sea for a week, heading east towards the British ports. The ships carried important supplies for the war in Europe - supplies that would feed the factories making engines, ammunition and weapons.

Once the convoy had left the protection of the shore air patrols, they were in danger from the Kriegsmarine wolf packs. Enemy submarines patrolled the sea, looking for convoys just like this one. Then, if any ships were spotted, the commander of the lucky U-boat would alert his comrades and they would gather, ready to strike. The crews of the ships in the convoy were well aware of the potential danger, and they would pray for storms that would keep the enemy submarines at bay. Like wolves, the U-boats only hunted in the good weather. In calm weather, the convoy had to rely on lookouts scanning the waters around them, looking for telltale wakes or shadows.

The convoy had one more defence against their stalkers: invisibility, or as near as they could manage. Each ship was painted in strange patterns - lines, checks, triangles - designed to break up its silhouette and confuse any observer. The black and white schemes were known by different names; the British called it dazzle camouflage, the Americans called it razzle-dazzle.

Today the convoy was shrouded in fog. Even if they had been allowed to show any lights, it would have been difficult to see another vessel at more than a quarter-mile away. With their camouflage, the ships in the convoy seemed like Picassoesque ghosts gliding through the midday twilight. For obvious reasons, the lookouts were more concerned with avoiding the other vessels around them than looking for any hunters that might be nearby.

Seaman Francis was standing on the starboard waist of his vessel, the Gloriana. It was a Liberty ship, one of hundreds produced by the shipyards in America and Canada. So many of the Liberty ships had been produced, and with such haste, that only a few of them had been formally named. So their crews, reluctant to attract the attentions of the gods of misfortune, had christened them before setting sail.

Francis had been on watch for almost four hours: four hours of staring into the fog that surrounded him; four hours of aching arms and bleary eyes. Sometimes the fog would clear just enough for him to see more than a phantom shape, and then he would call out, "'Ware ship to starboard!" More often than not, all he could see was shades of grey and the fog shifted around him. Francis was looking forward to the end of his watch, to going below and having a hot meal and a warm drink. Most of all, he just wanted to close his eyes and to see colours and shapes once more.

From somewhere behind him, Francis heard the whooping sound of a ship's siren. He counted the blasts: five, six, seven, then a much longer note before the cycle repeated. It took a moment for its significance to sink into Francis's fog-numbed mind - an alarm! Somebody had seen something!

The rest of the convoy began to sound their horns in response, repeating the warning. The Gloriana joined in, its superstructure trembling with each blast of sound. Francis cursed. Now he would have to stay on deck, watching the sea for something - anything! - that might be the harbinger of an attack. He had to be alert. If nothing else, his life might depend on it.