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Memoirs of a U-boat Officer * Part 4

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    Memoirs of a U-boat Officer * Part 4

    “What on earth is going on?” ...

    The commandant shouted in the torpedo-room; “Idiots, who fired the torpedo? Check at once whether all the torpedoes are still in the tubes!” - “All the torpedoes are in their tubes!” came back the report to the bridge. In the meantime the commandant had taken a look around through the periscope, and spotted an enemy periscope about 500m astern of our boat. “Periscope down – dive!” was the instant order to the control room. It was now clear that the freighter was operating in conjunction with a U-boat. While we were mounting an attack on the freighter, the enemy submarine had tried to sink us. You can see how cunningly they operated. The torpedo missed; the Lord God must have had a hand in it yet again. It isn’t that easy, of course, to shoot a torpedo successfully at a U-boat while it’s travelling under water. The enemy doesn’t know which direction the boat is in – abeam, ahead or astern. Also it isn’t that easy to tell a boat’s course from the wake left by the periscope when the boat is travelling slowly and the sea is choppy. It isn’t that easy – but the enemy boat could just have had, one might say, the devil’s own luck. This time as well there was nothing we could do except make our escape and later warn all boats about this double-act of submarine and freighter. As already mentioned, a U-boat is a delicate thing; a hit through the pressure hull or damage to the diving equipment is quite enough to make the boat unfit to dive. One must have consideration for this fact. We had no lack of courage and resolution for starting an artillery battle against the U-boat traps, but we had to preserve our boat for more important engagements, and without any damage, which might perhaps compel us to return home early - or worse still, if we couldn’t get away as a result of it.

    Undisturbed, we set our course to the south at a slow speed well out in the Atlantic. The sea is calm, the visibility exceptionally good. One is unlikely to get any surprises in such circumstances, unless an enemy submarine comes sneaking around, which could easily happen at any point. The blue sea and the warm sun were an invitation to bathe. The opportunity for such an unusual activity inspires everyone to take part. The engines are stopped and permission is given to bathe. It’s a joy to see the crew letting off steam, how they stretch themselves and rush about and refresh their spirits. Just a few, keen on bringing their bodies up to a high degree of polish, try in vain to get their soap to lather up to the required extent. But it can’t be done with seawater. They are sad, and realise that they are going to have to travel on in their old socks until the boat comes back into harbour. They would have had to in any case, for of course there is no fresh water available for cleaning purposes. The cook would be only too pleased if the fresh water lasted out to the end of the patrol; he would have been furious with the ‘robber’ if he had found ‘his’ water being used for the purpose of washing. Similarly there was no freshwater available for shaving. Hence we all grew beards – manly beards! On the rare occasions when the English managed to capture such a bearded man, you can imagine that they believed they had a pirate in front of them. Under the beard was concealed the youthful face of a German seaman, who was doing his duty for Germany. There had been a decision of the English, on the grounds that that method of waging war was so much hated by them: that they would treat U-boat prisoners as pirates. It is and remains a permanent disgrace for England to have declared that German U-boat prisoners were to be tried as pirates. Because of it they intended to condemn our seamen and soldiers to the most humiliating death – execution by hanging. In earlier days pirates were indeed, as is well known, hung from the yard arm.

    “Everyone on board!” This command sounds a bit silly in the middle of the ocean, but it has to be given in order to collect even the most stalwart onto the boat again. The engines go slow ahead once again, and, refreshed by bathing in the sea and the sun, officers and men stand at their posts again ready for new deeds.

    The sea is empty again. Not a puff of smoke to be seen. We don’t yet need to think of travelling home, for the diesel tanks still show adequate supplies. It is a lovely and restful cruise. We have to push right into the Bay of Biscay to see the first smoke-clouds again. The large number of smoke clouds stretching down over the horizon leads us to think that it is a convoy. When the first mast tips show over the horizon, and the course of the convoy becomes clear, we dive, and steer so as to bring us closer to the convoy. As we approach and can make it out better, we have before us a double column, each of 4 or 5 plump steamers with their escorts. The convoy is travelling in general on an easterly course, but tacking periodically as a precaution against U-boats. With a bit of luck, one of the tacks of the convoy will place us absolutely between the two columns. The boat is travelling towards the convoy, and so is on the same course as the steamers. It happens just as the kommandant has intended. In fact after the next tack by the convoy the boat lies between the columns of steamers. We couldn’t imagine a better position for us, but it is also a position in which we will need to observe the maximum precautions, and keep the use of the periscope down to an absolute minimum. The periscope can only be shown occasionally for a very short time, and in this time the position of the boat must be established in relation to the target. Hence the commands “Periscope up! Periscope down!” follow each other very quickly. The convoy commander flew his commodores pennant on the large ship travelling at the front of the starboard column, and it was especially tempting to aim at this ship. We were stationed ahead of it in the best possible position. The tubes are all cleared, and two tubes are made ready. Great excitement! Now the boat turns to fire. “Torpedo away!” The torpedo leaves the tube. Silence! The running time of the torpedo must be just about up – and then an explosion; it breaks up at once. The sides of the ship split, and the detonation is so powerful that we are convinced that the whole thing is going to fall on top of us. The torpedo has really hit home.

    We had done our duty. The ship goes to the bottom. We were not lucky enough to have a second go at the convoy, for the escorts keep us under water. When we realise that we are being followed by underwater sound detectors, we take all possible precautionary measures for such a situation: complete silence in the boat, the tiniest and quietest movements of the boat with only one electric motor, and lots of changes of direction at a great depth. It takes hours before we succeed in shaking off the tiresome escort. It must be put down to extreme good fortune, that they didn’t start an attack with depth charges during the pursuit. Perhaps our pursuer had already used them up elsewhere. We are of the opinion that those on the surface intended to keep us under water so long that we would be compelled to surface because of the electric batteries getting low, and that then they would be able to polish us off very quickly by gunfire. This realisation was no great comfort to us, for it wouldn’t be the first time that a U-boat had fallen victim to the enemy in this way. The chap on our trail certainly isn’t easy to get rid of; the pursuit has gone on for hours already, and the air in the boat in the meantime is not getting any better; it is less and less refreshing. However, luck stays on our side, for suddenly we hear the propeller noises going away, and when they don’t return, and since by this time the darkness outside has reached a suitable level, we surface. The boat is aired, and as far as possible all the crew come up to the bridge to pump themselves full of fresh air.

    We turn our attention to the homewards journey, since the state of the diesel-supplies doesn’t allow us to spend much longer in our operational area for apart from the usual quantity of diesel, an extra amount needs to be allowed for the return journey as well, since one cannot tell in advance how much full-power is going to be used on the way back. And we do indeed meet terrible weather over the top of the Hebrides. A mounting northwesterly sets in against us and we do no more than mark time all day long. The sea gives us a merciless battering, pounding now all day on the deck under the cladding of the tower. It seems as though our warpath must surely come to an end. All day long the boat struggles against the sea, and the diesel situation makes us seriously consider, if we get held up for longer by the heavy sea, whether we should be compelled to take measures whose consequences could only mean the loss of the boat for the duration of the war. If this weather continued, we would need to get help somehow or other. But it was only the weather itself that was able to provide this, in that the sea grew calmer and we could make further progress with our engine-power. God does not forsake the courageous. The weather cleared up, the wind dropped, and our prayers were answered.

    We continued on towards our homeland. The Shetlands were rounded, and we ran through the enemy minefield, laid between the Orkneys and Norway as a blockade, at full speed on the surface. We steered southwest into the Skagerrak. Something has been happening here!
    Regards, Rob
    Collecting Inerests Awards / Badges and Kriegsmarine

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