Island Flavor, (Part 5, Excerpt 49)
This is a new story titled, Island Flavor. Our German spy who was dropped off by a “U” boat in the Miami area has just got a new assignment. He has to immediately change his spy business from the Miami area to Key West. He is going to buy a house down there and set up to spy on the submarine base.
Island Flavor
With his new job, the Key West bank account and his Miami house for collateral, he was now the new owner of the house he saw the day before.
Peter immediately went about getting things in order at his house. He went down to Duval Furniture and bought a few things: bed, dresser, chair, and lamp for the bedroom. A couch, chair, end table and two lamps for the living room. Small kitchen table and two chairs. But his special purchases were a medium size chair and small end table for the turret and a small rectangular table. He had a special use for this table.
Next, on a recommendation from the furniture salesman, he found a carpenter. He wanted someone who was self-employed.
Saturday, there was a knock on his door. “Hello, I’m John West. Sam James at Duval Furniture said you needed a carpenter.”
“Yes, come in. I’m Peter, Peter Smith. I have a special job for you. It may seem a little bit unusual, but trust me, I need it. I want you to enclose this area below the stairs. I’m going to build a dark room. I need for you to use the same wood for paneling as you see in this house and I need a door. It must have hidden hinges and opener.”
“That is kind of strange, Mr. Smith.”
“Yes, it is, but I want to keep my supplies safe. If you can do it, I will pay you for your time.”
“Yes I can. I can start today.”
When it was done, Peter gave the carpenter a little extra for a tip and asked for his confidentiality. It was in this small room under the stairs that Peter put the small rectangular table and one of the kitchen chairs. Luckily the wood walls enclosed an electric receptacle on the wall. Peter now had his transmitting room. He set up his Enigma machine and transmitter. He brought in a lamp, and he was in business!
He wasted no time doing his spying job. He went to work and kept his eye on the comings and goings through the main gate of the Navy Base. Evenings found him eating at the bars and restaurants on Duval Street. He was continuing picking up bits and pieces of military conversation. Mornings saw him sitting on his chair in the tower, shutters open and watching the Navy Base. Weekends found him prowling all of the poplar places up and down Duval Street. He could be seen any place there was a civic gathering.
On the appointed day and time, exactly two weeks since he had left Miami, he was sitting in his transmitter room under the stairs. He had the Enigma rotors to the correct settings.
He typed out his call sign on his key.
His key sounded an answer.
Set up_
All in place_
Sonar training_
Base occupancy, 5-7,000_
Subs-5, Tender-1_
PS out_
His key responded:
U out_
He smiled and said to himself, we’re in business!
Jane and Al’s house in Miami:
“Well, Janie, let’s go up, and check on that address the Monroe County Court House clerk gave us.”
“You mean the owners of the Key West Victorian house, Al?”
“Yep. Let’s go. I got the address here. It’s on East Ninth Street, a couple blocks east of Palm Avenue. I was looking at the map, and it looks like we should take 42nd Ave up past the airport from Coral Gables. We will almost run right into it. We’ll just turn left on Ninth.”
“Al, there it is! The small bungalow on the right,” Janie pointed.
They pulled up and parked curb side. The place looked a little messy and unkempt. They walked up the sidewalk. Al stepped up on the porch and knocked on the door. There were a few old flyers in the mail box and one or two on the porch floor. No answer. Al knocked much harder.
“Let’s walk around back, and take a look.”
“Do you think it will be all right, Al?” Janie asked.
“Who’s going to complain?” Al answered.
They went around back. “Not much back here,” Al murmured.
They walked back out front. There was an older guy sitting on the front porch of the house next door. Al walked up to the guy.
“Hey old timer, know anything about the house and its occupants?”
“Morning. I know a little.”
He was sitting on an old overstuffed chair. An undershirt barely covered his chest, and white hairs were sticking out. He had a glass of iced tea in his hand. He looked like he was enjoying his day.
“I haven’t seen anyone for about a year. Although I sometimes feel someone is over there. If you want to go back a few years, a real estate lady brought a guy there in ‘42. I’ve lived here at this house the last thirty years. The guy must have bought it, because he would come out early every day, catch a bus for Miami Springs and return late at night. I would see him before I went to work and late after I came home. He did that for a couple of months and then disappeared. A few weeks later a guy, who looked just like his brother started leaving early and returning just like the first guy.
Then in ‘46 I saw both of them together one time. But neither one after that. This last year it’s been real quiet.”
“The place looks desolate. But the grass is kind of ok?” Al questioned.
The old man answered, “Well, a kid comes by about once a month and cuts the grass. Kind of high when he does. I once asked him about it, and he said some guy contracted him to take care of it.”
“That’s interesting,” Al mused.
“Oh, by the away, you’re not the first ones to be asking about that house. A couple of guys came by last month. Knocked on the front door. Then they went around back and looked in the windows. They came over to talk to me. Said they were salesmen. Ha, salesmen my foot! I know CIC* guys when I see them.”
“CIC, what does that mean?” Al asked.
“Counter Intelligence Corps. I worked around a couple of these guys at the Miami Beach Training Center in ‘44. They were a US Army special unit. They worked with the FBI doing background checks on military personnel. Special investigation of people of foreign ancestry. I told them the same thing I just told you.”
“Sir, we appreciate you talking to us. Thanks a lot.”
“Take care, and good luck looking for them. Ma’am,” he nodded to them both.
Al and Janie drove off.
“What are we going to do, Al?”
“We’ll just run those ads, get Mike our lawyer on stand-by, and buy that house,” Al stated forcefully.
Peter kept up both his spying and work routine. He was picking up a lot of tidbits of information. He transmitted on schedule every two weeks.
Naval District HQ K Y_
Rear Admiral James Kauffman_
Administrative offices moved Miami_
Key West sub killer group_
Ships, Destroyers 3_
B-18s
Costal Bomber task force_
Colonel Louis Merrick_
Munitions dump Fleming Key_
Anti-sub vessel, Icarus 165 ft._
Key West sub pens-3, subs-5_
Military population, 10,000+
There were times in 1943, when the U-boat did not rendezvous. Peter was reading in the newspapers that in 1942 the German U-boats were ravaging the Atlantic Coast, and Gulf, sinking 400 ships. At least 35 were off the Florida coast. In 1943 the US improved their anti-sub defense by using convoys and destroyer escort.
Then it happened. In 1944, Peter had no more contacts and no more orders. However, he continued to spy, keep records and tried to contact the U-boat at the prescribed times. But no luck.
One day in May 1945, it was a month after the surrender of Nazi Germany, Peter noticed a green Army, 1941 four-door Ford sedan driving through his neighborhood. The next day it was parked on his block just a few houses down from his. Peter hurriedly packed his suitcase.