GoldenRivet
03-23-07, 06:13 PM
"The Course of Heroes"
There was a certain silence that filled St. Nazaire whenever we would leave port these days, and this warm June afternoon was no different. One could easily sense the masked depression of the friends and the girlfriends who would gather at the pier to see us off. As always, the silence was broken when the conductor qued the band to start our lucky song... "Der Konnigratzer". But even the sound of the horns and the drums and the symbols seemed somewhat muted and sad. What was the source of all of this dejection? From what dark waters did all of the sorrows spring? Last month, May 1943, our kriegsmarine lost no less than 41 U-boats. Of course it is natural to say that during the course of war, loss is inevitable. But the loss of a U-boat is a distinctive and mysterious thing. Many times there is no explaination of what happened to the boat... or her crew. Words like "missing", and phrases like "lost contact" come to mind. Though you dont know now, and though you may never know what happened to the boat and the friends it carried with it, as a u-boatsmen you are acutely aware of one thing... your comrades are gone to a dark and cold place. The dread that you stand next in line for that end is unyielding. On the other hand, you are a fighting sailor of the fatherland. You have a greater sense of duty and responsability as a U-boat crewman than any other unit in the kriegsmarine. And when, like the howling of a lone wolf that duty calls to your heart, your answer without hesitation. With that, U-594 had departed, the sound of the band, sad as it may have been was now fading in the distance as France became an ever receding speck in the distance behind us. Ahead of us lay a strange place. A combination of places if you will. A sailor's home, a sailor's battle ground even his death bed.
We had been at sea for several hours when I opened my sealed orders from BdU. We were charged with a patrol that would first take us into the shallows of the Celtic Sea then West along the southern coast of Ireland, changing course to the north to patrol deeper waters near the inlet of the North Channel. With the threat of ever increasing air patrols I was not excited about our orders. But, the kaleun must present an air of confidence and calm for the sake of the crew. I will never forget what Korvkpt. Karl-Heinz Moehle said in his commencement speech back in Kiel. "These sailors who will serve under you will look to you for the answers, the guidance and the confidence. They essentially will be your sons, as you will be their fathers. Never show them fear, or doubt. put them first in your thoughts when making your decisions and they will follow you beyond any horizon and through any stormy sea." With his words fresh in my memory i turned to my navigator with the orders to plot a course to our destination.
The patrol dragged on as it always had, for days. I was surprised by the absence of allied air patrols through the course of the journey so far. If they were not attacking our U-boats they were harrasing our merchant fleet, if their attention was not drawn to the merchant fleet they were hitting our harbors, if not attacking our ports they were bombing rail installations, straffing truck columns and demolishing bridges. The once steady supply of fuel oil, machine parts, torpedoes, and shells was steadily slowing to a trickle as trains were either bombed or forced to seek alternate routes due to destroyed rail bridges. Foolishly, the majority of our air power in France was gambled away on the uncertainty of the Battle of Britian! Now here we stand underneath a constant rain of steel with not so much as a black crossed umbrella for protection! Goering and his arrogance be damned. As a result of the allied air power it was a rare thing indeed that a U-boat could remain surfaced for very long. No sooner could the batteries be recharged or the oxygen replinished we would usually be forced to dive due to radar signals or a sighted air patrol. Because we were forced to change our tactics over this past year i was no longer concerned with the tonnage the u-boat fleet was racking up... i was more concerned with the tonnage that was creeping by us steadily every day. I couldnt help but wonder, for every tanker i sent to the sea floor, how many others sailed by unscathed? Despite asking myself this very question every time i fired a torpedo i was sure that i didnt want an answer. I often wondered if this crew of young men wondered such things when they witnessed a ship being ripped in half by the torpedos they had just helped launch. Hearing their cheers made me think they didnt consider such things. Christ... these boys should be shooting rifles at stags not torpedoes at cargo ships.
My ponderings were quickly interrupted when the lookouts spotted a column of ships off the port bow closing slowly. "There" the senior watchman said. Following his outstretched finger to the horizon i could see three ships slicing a lazy wake through the moon beams dancing on the water. I called the watch officer to the deck. Though we could barely see the ships in the darkness before the dawn we managed to flip through the recognition manual and identify them. Two large tankers and a Tramp Steamer moving North.
"Come left to new course 280" i ordered. Peering through the UZO at the second ship in the column... a large tanke sitting low in the water. "Al stop, prepare tubes one through four for surface firing". I whispered the target data to the watch officer who in turn relayed it down the hatch to the weapons officer. "Bearing...three four zero, range one thousand meters, speed three knots, angle on bow seventy degrees... set tubes one and four for a two degree spread" The senior watchman relayed the weopons officers reply "Solution ready sir, tubes one and four are flooeded and ready for surface firing."
"Ok mister Carlsen, lets go to work... tubes one and four LOS!" The compressed air hissed and with a spash the fish were off and running! My heart was pounding.
I immediately shifted the UZO to the first ship in the column the lead large tanker. this time as the adrenaline coursed through my veins, i wasnt whispering "New target bearing three five five! range nine hundred meters! Speed three knots, angle on bow... seventy five degrees! Set tubes two and three for a two degree spread! Tubes two and three LOS!" after a brief hesitation the familair hiss of compressed air forced the torpedos out of the tubes. The watch officer counted down the minutes to impact. "Tubes two and three.... 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..." we listened, nothing! "Tubes one and four... 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..." Again norhing. "Did we miss?" the watchmen asked. "patience... these range finders are not 100% accurate, the timing might be off by just a fe-" I was interrupted by several flashes floowed by the sound of massive secondary explosions. all four torepedos ripped the tankers in half as a wall of flames fanned out in every direction devouring the newly spilled oil from the waters surface. "Ahead standard.... man the deck gun!" I couldnt imagine the fright that this little tramp steamer might be feeling right about then. 4:30 in the morning - its crew shaken from their sleep by a thunderous sound as if Neptune himself had speard his mighty trident cleanly through their keels. As the gunners opened fire on the little steamer its crew was leaping overboard before the first shots ever hit the boat. Several well placed hits below the waterline found her cargo. Be it ammunition or fuel or chemicals it ignited with great force, quickly reducing the little steamer to a floating burning reck. I gave the order to secure the deck gun and dissapeared below. "Return to course mister Hulsenbeck" i turned to the weapons officer and ordered him to bring down the external stores. If we hurry, i thought we can bring a couple of torepdoes in before the sun comes up.
The watch crew stood alert during the entire loading process. This close to the Celtic sea we were begging for an air patrol to find us or a lone destroyer to rush us from out of the sun. The crew finished loading the external stores right about sunrise. I was proud of my crew, we had managed to take down nearly 50,000 tons of merchant shipping and it was only our second partol together. Just then i heard a strange sound, it was as if someone was continuously throwing a hand full of rocks against the side of the conning tower. Little splashes kicked up out of the water all around us. I knew immediately what was happening. "ALARM!!!" my voice trailed off as it was overpowered by the sound of a british hurricaine fighter passing so low overhead i could have just as well been decapotated by the propeller. The fighter's engine drowned out all noice on the boat - even the alarm bell. It made for a slow motion surreal experience. The torpedo loading crew was just clambering up onto the conning tower after completing their loading duties. There were twice the normal number of men on the watch tower because of the loading activities which had just ceased.
Fritz Hauber. That is a name that i will remember for the rest of my life. As the second of four hurricaines made its dive to bring its guns to bear on our vulnerable boat Fritz shoved me down the hatch as he ran by. He was pulling men by their arms over the railing and pushing them toward the hatch "Go!! Go!! Schnell!!!" as the last two men were climbing over the railing Fritz Hauber knew exactly what he needed to do. A group of men which included myself fell into the control room just in time for the engines to rev to flank speed. "We have 3 more men out there chief! - Hard to port!" I could hear a steady stream of relentless gunfire overhead. After a moment, the gunfire fell silent. One man came down the ladder, then another holding Fritz best as he could. "All secure above herr kaluen!"
With every man accounted for our sub slipped beneath the sea. Fritz fell to the floor. I knew immediately that something was rong. His shirt was soaked in deep red, almost black blood. "MEDIC!!!" i called out "****!" i exclaimed. The medical officer ran to the control room, we sat on the floor beside him. The medic tore his shirt open. Three holes about the size of a walnut were pouring blood. I was surprised at how quite Fritz was. He was obviously consious, thrashing about on the command room floor... his eyes were wide and wild, looking at all of us as if to silently ask for help. But there was little we could do. Fritz took three deep gasps, his eyes fixed ahead as if he were looking past us at something that none of us could see nor imagine. Within seconds his thrashing stoped and his eyes glazed over. Fritz was dead.
I could feel the eyes of the crew upon me. Whether or not they were looking at me or not was of no consiquence. Perhaps it was my own eyes i could feel turned inwardly gazing at my soul as if to accuse me of a bad decision. As selfish as that may seem as Fritz lay there in a silent control room every commander who ever lost a man in combat secretly blames himself at first. We set a course for St. Nazaire. I hope that the 20,000 tons this partol produced was worth it to someone because it damn sure wasnt worth it to me.
We arrived back in port without further incedient, every man unloaded with a certain heavyness about him. There was now a certain silence that filled St. Nazaire not only when we would leave port... but now whenever we would return to port as well.
I knew what i had to do. I knew what task the burden of command had laid at my feet.
"Dear Mrs. Fritz Hauber,
It is with a heavy heart, and most cincere regret that I must inform you that your husband Fritz M Hauber was killed in action on June 12th 1943 during actions against the enemy. I can assure you that Fritz died a hero's death while voluntarily, under no orders or commitement to do so, single handedly defended his fellow crew during a devastating and costly air attack against our U-boat Personally saving my life, and the lives of no less than every man on the boat.
Per Fritz's wishes he was buried at sea amongst his crew, amongst his friends...along side his family of sailors. You can rest assured that his selfless act has prevented the loss of many more of our kriegsmarines sailors. He has been postumously awarded the Iron Cross First Class and the Iron Cross Second Class for his actions.
Fritz's belongings will be shipped to you once his crew mates and I have finished the sorting of the materials. Be aware that you are the first of his family to be notified of this tragedy.
Heil Hitler,
KaptLt. Karl Falkner
Commanding Officer U-594
St. Nazaire, France"
THE END
There was a certain silence that filled St. Nazaire whenever we would leave port these days, and this warm June afternoon was no different. One could easily sense the masked depression of the friends and the girlfriends who would gather at the pier to see us off. As always, the silence was broken when the conductor qued the band to start our lucky song... "Der Konnigratzer". But even the sound of the horns and the drums and the symbols seemed somewhat muted and sad. What was the source of all of this dejection? From what dark waters did all of the sorrows spring? Last month, May 1943, our kriegsmarine lost no less than 41 U-boats. Of course it is natural to say that during the course of war, loss is inevitable. But the loss of a U-boat is a distinctive and mysterious thing. Many times there is no explaination of what happened to the boat... or her crew. Words like "missing", and phrases like "lost contact" come to mind. Though you dont know now, and though you may never know what happened to the boat and the friends it carried with it, as a u-boatsmen you are acutely aware of one thing... your comrades are gone to a dark and cold place. The dread that you stand next in line for that end is unyielding. On the other hand, you are a fighting sailor of the fatherland. You have a greater sense of duty and responsability as a U-boat crewman than any other unit in the kriegsmarine. And when, like the howling of a lone wolf that duty calls to your heart, your answer without hesitation. With that, U-594 had departed, the sound of the band, sad as it may have been was now fading in the distance as France became an ever receding speck in the distance behind us. Ahead of us lay a strange place. A combination of places if you will. A sailor's home, a sailor's battle ground even his death bed.
We had been at sea for several hours when I opened my sealed orders from BdU. We were charged with a patrol that would first take us into the shallows of the Celtic Sea then West along the southern coast of Ireland, changing course to the north to patrol deeper waters near the inlet of the North Channel. With the threat of ever increasing air patrols I was not excited about our orders. But, the kaleun must present an air of confidence and calm for the sake of the crew. I will never forget what Korvkpt. Karl-Heinz Moehle said in his commencement speech back in Kiel. "These sailors who will serve under you will look to you for the answers, the guidance and the confidence. They essentially will be your sons, as you will be their fathers. Never show them fear, or doubt. put them first in your thoughts when making your decisions and they will follow you beyond any horizon and through any stormy sea." With his words fresh in my memory i turned to my navigator with the orders to plot a course to our destination.
The patrol dragged on as it always had, for days. I was surprised by the absence of allied air patrols through the course of the journey so far. If they were not attacking our U-boats they were harrasing our merchant fleet, if their attention was not drawn to the merchant fleet they were hitting our harbors, if not attacking our ports they were bombing rail installations, straffing truck columns and demolishing bridges. The once steady supply of fuel oil, machine parts, torpedoes, and shells was steadily slowing to a trickle as trains were either bombed or forced to seek alternate routes due to destroyed rail bridges. Foolishly, the majority of our air power in France was gambled away on the uncertainty of the Battle of Britian! Now here we stand underneath a constant rain of steel with not so much as a black crossed umbrella for protection! Goering and his arrogance be damned. As a result of the allied air power it was a rare thing indeed that a U-boat could remain surfaced for very long. No sooner could the batteries be recharged or the oxygen replinished we would usually be forced to dive due to radar signals or a sighted air patrol. Because we were forced to change our tactics over this past year i was no longer concerned with the tonnage the u-boat fleet was racking up... i was more concerned with the tonnage that was creeping by us steadily every day. I couldnt help but wonder, for every tanker i sent to the sea floor, how many others sailed by unscathed? Despite asking myself this very question every time i fired a torpedo i was sure that i didnt want an answer. I often wondered if this crew of young men wondered such things when they witnessed a ship being ripped in half by the torpedos they had just helped launch. Hearing their cheers made me think they didnt consider such things. Christ... these boys should be shooting rifles at stags not torpedoes at cargo ships.
My ponderings were quickly interrupted when the lookouts spotted a column of ships off the port bow closing slowly. "There" the senior watchman said. Following his outstretched finger to the horizon i could see three ships slicing a lazy wake through the moon beams dancing on the water. I called the watch officer to the deck. Though we could barely see the ships in the darkness before the dawn we managed to flip through the recognition manual and identify them. Two large tankers and a Tramp Steamer moving North.
"Come left to new course 280" i ordered. Peering through the UZO at the second ship in the column... a large tanke sitting low in the water. "Al stop, prepare tubes one through four for surface firing". I whispered the target data to the watch officer who in turn relayed it down the hatch to the weapons officer. "Bearing...three four zero, range one thousand meters, speed three knots, angle on bow seventy degrees... set tubes one and four for a two degree spread" The senior watchman relayed the weopons officers reply "Solution ready sir, tubes one and four are flooeded and ready for surface firing."
"Ok mister Carlsen, lets go to work... tubes one and four LOS!" The compressed air hissed and with a spash the fish were off and running! My heart was pounding.
I immediately shifted the UZO to the first ship in the column the lead large tanker. this time as the adrenaline coursed through my veins, i wasnt whispering "New target bearing three five five! range nine hundred meters! Speed three knots, angle on bow... seventy five degrees! Set tubes two and three for a two degree spread! Tubes two and three LOS!" after a brief hesitation the familair hiss of compressed air forced the torpedos out of the tubes. The watch officer counted down the minutes to impact. "Tubes two and three.... 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..." we listened, nothing! "Tubes one and four... 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..." Again norhing. "Did we miss?" the watchmen asked. "patience... these range finders are not 100% accurate, the timing might be off by just a fe-" I was interrupted by several flashes floowed by the sound of massive secondary explosions. all four torepedos ripped the tankers in half as a wall of flames fanned out in every direction devouring the newly spilled oil from the waters surface. "Ahead standard.... man the deck gun!" I couldnt imagine the fright that this little tramp steamer might be feeling right about then. 4:30 in the morning - its crew shaken from their sleep by a thunderous sound as if Neptune himself had speard his mighty trident cleanly through their keels. As the gunners opened fire on the little steamer its crew was leaping overboard before the first shots ever hit the boat. Several well placed hits below the waterline found her cargo. Be it ammunition or fuel or chemicals it ignited with great force, quickly reducing the little steamer to a floating burning reck. I gave the order to secure the deck gun and dissapeared below. "Return to course mister Hulsenbeck" i turned to the weapons officer and ordered him to bring down the external stores. If we hurry, i thought we can bring a couple of torepdoes in before the sun comes up.
The watch crew stood alert during the entire loading process. This close to the Celtic sea we were begging for an air patrol to find us or a lone destroyer to rush us from out of the sun. The crew finished loading the external stores right about sunrise. I was proud of my crew, we had managed to take down nearly 50,000 tons of merchant shipping and it was only our second partol together. Just then i heard a strange sound, it was as if someone was continuously throwing a hand full of rocks against the side of the conning tower. Little splashes kicked up out of the water all around us. I knew immediately what was happening. "ALARM!!!" my voice trailed off as it was overpowered by the sound of a british hurricaine fighter passing so low overhead i could have just as well been decapotated by the propeller. The fighter's engine drowned out all noice on the boat - even the alarm bell. It made for a slow motion surreal experience. The torpedo loading crew was just clambering up onto the conning tower after completing their loading duties. There were twice the normal number of men on the watch tower because of the loading activities which had just ceased.
Fritz Hauber. That is a name that i will remember for the rest of my life. As the second of four hurricaines made its dive to bring its guns to bear on our vulnerable boat Fritz shoved me down the hatch as he ran by. He was pulling men by their arms over the railing and pushing them toward the hatch "Go!! Go!! Schnell!!!" as the last two men were climbing over the railing Fritz Hauber knew exactly what he needed to do. A group of men which included myself fell into the control room just in time for the engines to rev to flank speed. "We have 3 more men out there chief! - Hard to port!" I could hear a steady stream of relentless gunfire overhead. After a moment, the gunfire fell silent. One man came down the ladder, then another holding Fritz best as he could. "All secure above herr kaluen!"
With every man accounted for our sub slipped beneath the sea. Fritz fell to the floor. I knew immediately that something was rong. His shirt was soaked in deep red, almost black blood. "MEDIC!!!" i called out "****!" i exclaimed. The medical officer ran to the control room, we sat on the floor beside him. The medic tore his shirt open. Three holes about the size of a walnut were pouring blood. I was surprised at how quite Fritz was. He was obviously consious, thrashing about on the command room floor... his eyes were wide and wild, looking at all of us as if to silently ask for help. But there was little we could do. Fritz took three deep gasps, his eyes fixed ahead as if he were looking past us at something that none of us could see nor imagine. Within seconds his thrashing stoped and his eyes glazed over. Fritz was dead.
I could feel the eyes of the crew upon me. Whether or not they were looking at me or not was of no consiquence. Perhaps it was my own eyes i could feel turned inwardly gazing at my soul as if to accuse me of a bad decision. As selfish as that may seem as Fritz lay there in a silent control room every commander who ever lost a man in combat secretly blames himself at first. We set a course for St. Nazaire. I hope that the 20,000 tons this partol produced was worth it to someone because it damn sure wasnt worth it to me.
We arrived back in port without further incedient, every man unloaded with a certain heavyness about him. There was now a certain silence that filled St. Nazaire not only when we would leave port... but now whenever we would return to port as well.
I knew what i had to do. I knew what task the burden of command had laid at my feet.
"Dear Mrs. Fritz Hauber,
It is with a heavy heart, and most cincere regret that I must inform you that your husband Fritz M Hauber was killed in action on June 12th 1943 during actions against the enemy. I can assure you that Fritz died a hero's death while voluntarily, under no orders or commitement to do so, single handedly defended his fellow crew during a devastating and costly air attack against our U-boat Personally saving my life, and the lives of no less than every man on the boat.
Per Fritz's wishes he was buried at sea amongst his crew, amongst his friends...along side his family of sailors. You can rest assured that his selfless act has prevented the loss of many more of our kriegsmarines sailors. He has been postumously awarded the Iron Cross First Class and the Iron Cross Second Class for his actions.
Fritz's belongings will be shipped to you once his crew mates and I have finished the sorting of the materials. Be aware that you are the first of his family to be notified of this tragedy.
Heil Hitler,
KaptLt. Karl Falkner
Commanding Officer U-594
St. Nazaire, France"
THE END