“Alarm”, and dive deep. ....
Since nothing happens, presumably we haven’t been spotted. At a depth of 30m we steer westwards. After we surface we continue on both diesels, and emerge without further opposition from the Channel where we had experienced so much hostility.
We can now begin the action in our operational area. There are no net blockades here, no enemy planes; here we are free. A three-masted sailing ship pushes up over the horizon. With a shot across the bows it is compelled to heave to. Its papers show that it has contraband for England, so it is sunk with shells, and goes to the bottom with all its sails hoisted. Five months ago it set sail from the west coast of America to travel round Cape Horn, and it met its doom just before entering its home port. The terrified face of the Captain, rugged from many sea winds, grows serious as he is compelled to watch the destruction of his ship with us.
He follows his crew into the lifeboat, and our best wishes for a successful homecoming go with him. So it has to be. It is essential to be hard, especially in wartime, for one cannot give way to one’s emotions.
It is matter not just of being a seaman, but also of being a comrade in the fullest meaning of the word. It is an unwritten law that in dangers at sea one must help those in distress even at the risk of one’s own life. Ships cannot be helped in the U-boat war, but on the other hand in the process of carrying out the war against merchant ships, while destroying shipping, we have a duty as human beings to do our best to save seamen who have gone overboard and are struggling for the lives, whether they be friend or foe.
Unfortunately, however there are alarming examples available to show that on the side of our enemy for the most part not even the most elementary rules of seamanlike conduct are being followed, regarding one’s fellow man struggling for his life. It is a matter of grave concern that England does not shrink back from murdering seamen in distress at sea, and thereby toss their own honour as seamen to the winds.
We behaved as our human feelings compelled us to. On our patrols we often sat captured Captains and seamen to eat with us at our table. They were allowed to take from it the same as we had. Amongst others, I well remember a portly English merchant captain to whom, on account of his brave behaviour during our persecution of his ship, we awarded a specially thick slice of ham, if I remember right. But he was full of hatred, and continued so, our enemy to the last. He remained reserved and unfriendly until he left the boat in our home port – a true Britisher. After our warning shot he had tried to escape at top speed. We were faster, so he didn’t manage to succeed. Hit after hit from our 8.8cm shells tore his decks apart, but he refused to surrender. He fought on, tough and determined, then a further hit blew up his boilers. Now he was finished. His speed slowed right up, the steamer stopped. He was sunk with one torpedo from the stern tube.
Another Captain, to whom we would gladly have awarded an even thicker slice of ham, was full of remorse when he was captured that he had been unable to reach us with his gun – had he done so, the battle would perhaps have turned out differently. He was excited by the war, and viewed the ‘duel with unequal weapons’ more from the sporting angle. Since he couldn’t reach us with his gun, we were able to get hold of him more easily.
As I have already said, after we had sent the old Captain of the sunken sailing ship on his way with good wishes, the boat headed again into the Bay of Biscay. The sea gave us an unfriendly welcome; we struggled with the worst possible weather. It is impossible for a layman to imagine a sea in all its force and strength with winds of force 11 to 12 in the Bay of Biscay. I would not have thought that storm and wind alone could stir up the sea into such real mountains of water. Here monstrous Forces of Nature are evident, which so far have never been harnessed by man – and never would be able to be used, either. What we are seeing is, in short, the forces of nature in full swing. We have been experiencing this heavy sea, in which we as insignificant beings can only be patient, for several days already, and by now we know the song of the wind and wave. Nature has revealed herself in all her strength, and it is exciting to watch the mighty game of the sea, as it offers itself in ever-new forms, and its raging powers would have destroyed us, had not German shipbuilding skill prevented them.
In such circumstances the use of weapons is not possible, whether artillery or torpedo. Whether on the top of a crest or between the mountainous waves, swept over by the sea, we just manage to make slow progress against the sea. As long as we have the sea breaking over us, we have also to put up with water coming in through the hatch in the tower. That is no good in the long run, and we try travelling with the hatch closed and periscope up. But that is no good either; we would soon have drained the batteries, nor were we able to keep a proper look-out.
Without hesitation, at a suitable moment we position the boat at an angle to the sea, flood tanks and submerge in order to wait for better weather. In such a heavy sea it is important that the boat is placed at an angle to the sea before diving. If one dives with the sea either directly ahead or astern, one would have to reckon with the certainty that in the former case, as soon as the critical stage of the dive was reached, the force of the sea would come down on the bow of the boat, which was unsupported from below, and stand it on its head; and in the latter, if the sea under such circumstances came down on the stern, it might turn the boat head over heels and endanger the boat as it slid astern; and in addition in the case of such strong pressure from a heavily rolling sea the rudder is useless. These dangers are not present when a boat is positioned diagonally to the waves.
We succeed in diving, but we have to dive to 40m in order to be free of the rolling movement. The sharp contrast between the heavy sea we have just experienced and the present ‘silence of the grave’ results in a feeling of the greatest relief. We needed a bit of peace after the days of being thrown about and hanging on to bars and handholds in the boat. As a result we allowed ourselves a wonderful sleep. Slowly the soothing and rocking sea bore us off into the land of dreams. A peace like that of the grave ruled.
But we couldn’t go on like that for ever. Suddenly the order “To diving stations!” calls us back to reality. The boat comes to life again, the passageway resounds with feet, the crew move as quickly as possible so as to be able to look at the weather and have a look out for the enemy, and to stand ready by the engines. “Go to periscope depth!”. “Surface!” it has calmed down considerably, and we can reckon on the weather soon improving yet further. We stay on the surface, spare the electric batteries and ventilate the boat thoroughly in every corner. ‘Every day is a day for hunting, but not every day is a day for catching’. This hunter’s saying was true of us as well. For many days we sailed backwards and forwards until finally the lookout reported to the kommandant, “Smoke clouds ahead!”
Since nothing happens, presumably we haven’t been spotted. At a depth of 30m we steer westwards. After we surface we continue on both diesels, and emerge without further opposition from the Channel where we had experienced so much hostility.
We can now begin the action in our operational area. There are no net blockades here, no enemy planes; here we are free. A three-masted sailing ship pushes up over the horizon. With a shot across the bows it is compelled to heave to. Its papers show that it has contraband for England, so it is sunk with shells, and goes to the bottom with all its sails hoisted. Five months ago it set sail from the west coast of America to travel round Cape Horn, and it met its doom just before entering its home port. The terrified face of the Captain, rugged from many sea winds, grows serious as he is compelled to watch the destruction of his ship with us.
He follows his crew into the lifeboat, and our best wishes for a successful homecoming go with him. So it has to be. It is essential to be hard, especially in wartime, for one cannot give way to one’s emotions.
It is matter not just of being a seaman, but also of being a comrade in the fullest meaning of the word. It is an unwritten law that in dangers at sea one must help those in distress even at the risk of one’s own life. Ships cannot be helped in the U-boat war, but on the other hand in the process of carrying out the war against merchant ships, while destroying shipping, we have a duty as human beings to do our best to save seamen who have gone overboard and are struggling for the lives, whether they be friend or foe.
Unfortunately, however there are alarming examples available to show that on the side of our enemy for the most part not even the most elementary rules of seamanlike conduct are being followed, regarding one’s fellow man struggling for his life. It is a matter of grave concern that England does not shrink back from murdering seamen in distress at sea, and thereby toss their own honour as seamen to the winds.
We behaved as our human feelings compelled us to. On our patrols we often sat captured Captains and seamen to eat with us at our table. They were allowed to take from it the same as we had. Amongst others, I well remember a portly English merchant captain to whom, on account of his brave behaviour during our persecution of his ship, we awarded a specially thick slice of ham, if I remember right. But he was full of hatred, and continued so, our enemy to the last. He remained reserved and unfriendly until he left the boat in our home port – a true Britisher. After our warning shot he had tried to escape at top speed. We were faster, so he didn’t manage to succeed. Hit after hit from our 8.8cm shells tore his decks apart, but he refused to surrender. He fought on, tough and determined, then a further hit blew up his boilers. Now he was finished. His speed slowed right up, the steamer stopped. He was sunk with one torpedo from the stern tube.
Another Captain, to whom we would gladly have awarded an even thicker slice of ham, was full of remorse when he was captured that he had been unable to reach us with his gun – had he done so, the battle would perhaps have turned out differently. He was excited by the war, and viewed the ‘duel with unequal weapons’ more from the sporting angle. Since he couldn’t reach us with his gun, we were able to get hold of him more easily.
As I have already said, after we had sent the old Captain of the sunken sailing ship on his way with good wishes, the boat headed again into the Bay of Biscay. The sea gave us an unfriendly welcome; we struggled with the worst possible weather. It is impossible for a layman to imagine a sea in all its force and strength with winds of force 11 to 12 in the Bay of Biscay. I would not have thought that storm and wind alone could stir up the sea into such real mountains of water. Here monstrous Forces of Nature are evident, which so far have never been harnessed by man – and never would be able to be used, either. What we are seeing is, in short, the forces of nature in full swing. We have been experiencing this heavy sea, in which we as insignificant beings can only be patient, for several days already, and by now we know the song of the wind and wave. Nature has revealed herself in all her strength, and it is exciting to watch the mighty game of the sea, as it offers itself in ever-new forms, and its raging powers would have destroyed us, had not German shipbuilding skill prevented them.
In such circumstances the use of weapons is not possible, whether artillery or torpedo. Whether on the top of a crest or between the mountainous waves, swept over by the sea, we just manage to make slow progress against the sea. As long as we have the sea breaking over us, we have also to put up with water coming in through the hatch in the tower. That is no good in the long run, and we try travelling with the hatch closed and periscope up. But that is no good either; we would soon have drained the batteries, nor were we able to keep a proper look-out.
Without hesitation, at a suitable moment we position the boat at an angle to the sea, flood tanks and submerge in order to wait for better weather. In such a heavy sea it is important that the boat is placed at an angle to the sea before diving. If one dives with the sea either directly ahead or astern, one would have to reckon with the certainty that in the former case, as soon as the critical stage of the dive was reached, the force of the sea would come down on the bow of the boat, which was unsupported from below, and stand it on its head; and in the latter, if the sea under such circumstances came down on the stern, it might turn the boat head over heels and endanger the boat as it slid astern; and in addition in the case of such strong pressure from a heavily rolling sea the rudder is useless. These dangers are not present when a boat is positioned diagonally to the waves.
We succeed in diving, but we have to dive to 40m in order to be free of the rolling movement. The sharp contrast between the heavy sea we have just experienced and the present ‘silence of the grave’ results in a feeling of the greatest relief. We needed a bit of peace after the days of being thrown about and hanging on to bars and handholds in the boat. As a result we allowed ourselves a wonderful sleep. Slowly the soothing and rocking sea bore us off into the land of dreams. A peace like that of the grave ruled.
But we couldn’t go on like that for ever. Suddenly the order “To diving stations!” calls us back to reality. The boat comes to life again, the passageway resounds with feet, the crew move as quickly as possible so as to be able to look at the weather and have a look out for the enemy, and to stand ready by the engines. “Go to periscope depth!”. “Surface!” it has calmed down considerably, and we can reckon on the weather soon improving yet further. We stay on the surface, spare the electric batteries and ventilate the boat thoroughly in every corner. ‘Every day is a day for hunting, but not every day is a day for catching’. This hunter’s saying was true of us as well. For many days we sailed backwards and forwards until finally the lookout reported to the kommandant, “Smoke clouds ahead!”