The Demise of U-93

VonApist · 04-27-18, 04:25 AM

June 1943 – Grid BB Outside Halifax

Kaleun Reimar Petersen lowered his binoculars from his eyes and rubbed them hard. It was his third week on board of his VIIC boat criss-crossing the Atlantic in search of pray. He has left the well known hunting grounds of the Western Approaches with a tally of 3 merchants and 17,000 tons. But air activity in the area was intense and he decided to move towards the Atlantic Gap (or, whatever was left of it since nowdays the Allies had long range Liberators patrolling the skies) and try his luck in the American coast if the situation (and his fuel reserve) allowed.

The relentless sea spray had made his skin burn, crusts of salt on his eyebrows, as he had been on the bridge for the past 3 hours scanning the horizon.

The sea was choppy with gusts of wind coming from the North, sending a chill down his spine. Despite his oilskin, water managed to trickle down his neck (wrapped by a now totally wet towel) making him shiver. He tried to open a pack of his Turkish cigarettes but the pack was all wet and the paper disintegrated as he fumbled with his frozen, rigid fingers. He was about to curse when Bootsman Heinz Konig shouted at the top of his lungs: "Smoke, bearing 040 lots of it sir!"

Reinar Petersen grabbed the binoculars hanging from his neck, a personal gift from Doenitz, his gaze following the index finger of his comrade who was pointing at the exact direction.

Adrenaline rushed into his body, making every neuron alert. The hunt was on. And what a hunt. This was not a single merchant. As the seconds passed, through his binoculars smoke filled the horizon and a forest of masts became visible.

"This is not smoke, Heinz, this is a freaking city coming our way" Petersen said with a grin on his face.
"Sound the alarm, take her down to periscope depth" the kaleun ordered as the rest of the watch crew slid down to the belly of the uboat. Petersen, touched his right earlobe for good luck, a superstition copied from his late father that came as an instinct. He followed the crew below last, securing the hatch behind him as the gurgle of water filling the water tanks escorted him to the Control Room.

David I · 04-27-18, 08:36 AM

Keep'em coming. I love a good story.

PapaSmurf · 04-28-18, 07:06 PM

Don't stop now, you've got me wanting to hear the rest of the story!

04-27-18, 04:25 AM	#1
VonApist Navy Dude Join Date: Mar 2011 Location: Greece Posts: 175 Downloads: 6 Uploads: 0	The Demise of U-93 June 1943 – Grid BB Outside Halifax Kaleun Reimar Petersen lowered his binoculars from his eyes and rubbed them hard. It was his third week on board of his VIIC boat criss-crossing the Atlantic in search of pray. He has left the well known hunting grounds of the Western Approaches with a tally of 3 merchants and 17,000 tons. But air activity in the area was intense and he decided to move towards the Atlantic Gap (or, whatever was left of it since nowdays the Allies had long range Liberators patrolling the skies) and try his luck in the American coast if the situation (and his fuel reserve) allowed. The relentless sea spray had made his skin burn, crusts of salt on his eyebrows, as he had been on the bridge for the past 3 hours scanning the horizon. The sea was choppy with gusts of wind coming from the North, sending a chill down his spine. Despite his oilskin, water managed to trickle down his neck (wrapped by a now totally wet towel) making him shiver. He tried to open a pack of his Turkish cigarettes but the pack was all wet and the paper disintegrated as he fumbled with his frozen, rigid fingers. He was about to curse when Bootsman Heinz Konig shouted at the top of his lungs: "Smoke, bearing 040 lots of it sir!" Reinar Petersen grabbed the binoculars hanging from his neck, a personal gift from Doenitz, his gaze following the index finger of his comrade who was pointing at the exact direction. Adrenaline rushed into his body, making every neuron alert. The hunt was on. And what a hunt. This was not a single merchant. As the seconds passed, through his binoculars smoke filled the horizon and a forest of masts became visible. "This is not smoke, Heinz, this is a freaking city coming our way" Petersen said with a grin on his face. "Sound the alarm, take her down to periscope depth" the kaleun ordered as the rest of the watch crew slid down to the belly of the uboat. Petersen, touched his right earlobe for good luck, a superstition copied from his late father that came as an instinct. He followed the crew below last, securing the hatch behind him as the gurgle of water filling the water tanks escorted him to the Control Room. __________________ "Submariners are a special brotherhood, either all come to the surface or no one does. On a submarine, the phrase all for one and one for all is not just a slogan, but reality.” -- VADM Rudolf Golosov Last edited by VonApist; 04-27-18 at 04:01 PM.

04-27-18, 08:36 AM	#2
David I Ensign Join Date: Apr 2008 Location: San Diego, CA Posts: 231 Downloads: 360 Uploads: 0	Keep'em coming. I love a good story.

04-28-18, 07:06 PM	#3
PapaSmurf Bosun Join Date: Sep 2016 Location: On the front of a bass boat or in a deer stand Posts: 64 Downloads: 129 Uploads: 0	Don't stop now, you've got me wanting to hear the rest of the story!