TarJak
03-28-07, 08:00 AM
For a .PPS screenie show of part 1 of the patrol download from: http://files.filefront.com/U56_Atlantic_Patrol_Part17z/;7225707;/fileinfo.html
Kiel Harbour Northern Germany September 1941 04:00: The early morning air had a crisp autumnal bite to it, that made Leutnant zur See Gunther Kruse hunch his shoulders as he lifted his scarf to cover his neck. As he strode down the pier he watched the harbour starting to come to life. Fishing boats returning or just setting out skimmed across the small waves blown up by this cold north wind. Only 7 or 8 knots he thought to himself just a gentle zephyr really.
He knew out beyond the protection of the Baltic and on the North Sea that cruel mistress that had claimed so many of his friends lives, even at his tender 23 years, would show it’s full fury to him and his crew. Possibly during this patrol…
Kruse was in a hurry to get back aboard U-56, he was returning from collecting his sealed orders from the Harbour Kommandant’s office. His 2nd in command Walter Hoss was already aboard making sure that their final preparations were concluded and they would be ready to sail as soon as Kruse came aboard.
As he came around the corner of a warehouse his command and pride and joy came into view. Over two hundred metres of grey steel, the slim upper casing glistened darkly in the moonlight. The conning tower fat with two tiers for the flak guns mounted at the rear of the platform that served as the boat’s bridge, on which he and his watch crew would be spending a significant portion of this patrol. A thing of warlike beauty, U-56 was his first command and his chance to prove himself to his superiors.
As he came aboard Oberfahnrich Schulman and the watch crew formed up on the bridge and piped him aboard. He stopped at the foot of the gangway turned sharply to the stern of the boat and saluted the flag flown on the short staff at the far end of the casing.
He climbed aboard and was greeted by his second in command Hoss who was just emerging from the hatch on the floor of the bridge. “Everything is in readiness Herr Kaleun!” he reported.
“Then let us begin” replied Kruse.
Hoss and Schulman rapped off their orders to the deck crew and to the engine room and the roar of the twin diesels starting up obliterated anything but the loudest petty officer’s roar. The deck crew efficiently slipped the mooring and U-56 was finally underway. Kruse’s breast swelled with pride. This was for him one of his proudest moments. From the time that he had first been to sea whilst a Naval cadet in the Kreigsmarine, he had wanted a command of his own and finally it was his.
The u-boat slid quietly out of Kiel harbour and turned towards the Kiel canal entrance. As she slid quietly under the cover of the predawn darkness, past the Graf Zeppelin, Germany’s unfinished aircraft carrier and the other ships of various shapes and sizes, he thought back to the night before, carousing with his comrades, some from his old boat congratulating him on his promotion.
“I shouldn’t have had that last bottle of champagne.” The thought pounded through his head like the rivet guns already at work in the yards on the far side of the harbour. The rolling of the boat on the slight swell didn’t make him feel any better. Next time he said it would be different. No drinking before leaving. For many of his men though it would be a very different story.
He knew what it was like out there. He’d already served 4 patrols in U-48 with some close scrapes with the British destroyers. They had still managed to sink over 32,000 tons in their last two patrols.
He wondered how he would fare as the skipper of the boat. How would his men respond when the time came? Would they be able to withstand the shattering noise and the shaking of the depth charges when they inevitably came? Would he be able to bring them all and the boat back safely and in one piece? Would the boat be able to handle the punishment that he know only too well could be dished out?
He knew every inch of the boat and how the workmen had put it together. He was lucky enough to have been given command during the last stages of construction so he had personally supervised some of the work, particularly on the interior fit out.
His hand caressed the cold steel edge of the conning tower. He knew the steel must withstand what he asked of it and that when the time came for a deep dive that they might not return from. He shuddered at the thought and turned his Wachtoffizer, Martin Schulman, a young Oberfahnrich from Hamburg. “The weather forecast looks good so far.”
“Ja.” replied Schulman. A man of few words thought Kruse.
Schulman had been a last minute replacement for this trip and Kruse had not had a lot of time to get to know him.
The submarine stayed at 8knots as the followed their escort out of the harbour sea walls, between the submarine nets and minefields that guarded the harbour entrance. An hour or so later Kruse went below as he ordered the boat to ahead standard. They could cruise at this speed (around 13-14 knots) for almost 3 weeks, slowing only when they dived for regular hydrophone checks to listen for the tell tale sound of a merchant’s screws churning through the water. If they slowed to 9 knots they could cruise for over a month almost non-stop, not counting the manoeuvring that would be needed to get into position to
The distinctive smell was the first thing that greeted Willi as he descended the ladder into the control room. Although the boat was new, the smell of the forty men that were to live in it had already started to mingle with the diesel and oil stench that would live in his nostrils and on his skin forever. One note that stood out was the unmistakable waft of wurst, ham and eggs cooking.
Walter Britzling, a leading seaman who had sailed with Kruse on 3 occasions, was already cooking breakfast in the miniscule galley behind Willi’s cabin, not that it was much of a cabin, more an alcove with a curtain, but certainly more privacy than was afforded to the rest of the crew. They had the indignity of sharing bunks with the on duty crew waking the off duty crew and climbing into their warm racks. Each crewman was given a rack about 5 and a half feet long and about 3 feet wide suspended from the inner pressure hull of the boat by a chain at either end. There were three bunks layered on top of one another with about 2 feet between each bunk.
Being fully provisioned for a 3-4 week patrol meant that the crew also had to share their bunk space with any food or other supplies that could not be stowed elsewhere. On the first day of a new patrol almost every inch of spare space the boat had was crammed with tinned and fresh food, ranging from eggs, hams, sausages and fruit to spare torpedoes and fuel drums crowded the already cramped compartments. Even some of their drinking water tanks had been filled with fuel to provide that little bit of extra range.
Directly opposite Kruse’s bunk were the hydrophone and radio rooms, where two specialists would sit for most of the patrol listening on the radio for messages that might indicate a convoy was close enough to move in for an attack or the hydrophones which were checked every few hours by diving to around 20 metres running at slow speed and making a few turns of the boat to make sure that they covered all angles of the compass. His bunk as also a seat for three when dining; a fold out table was set up in the narrow passage between his bunk and the radio room.
As he and two of the other officers sat down at the folding table to eat, conversation moved to what their orders were. Kruse could not open them for another two days, but their first patrol grid was BE83, one of the hundreds of patrol grids the BDU had divided the North Sea, Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea to allow Admiral Karl Doenitz, the supreme commander of the Ubootewaffe to know exactly where each u-boat was at any given moment, off the southwest tip of Ireland. He presumed their mission would be to intercept convoy traffic moving across the Atlantic and into either of the St Georges or the English Channels as this grid was squarely on the choke point for convoys on those routes. Occasionally they would expect to see southbound convoys carrying supplies for the British effort in North Africa.
Because of the heavy defences and minefields in the English Channel, they would have to go the long way around the north of Scotland, down the western coast of Ireland until they reached their patrol grid some one and a half weeks from now.
As the boat entered the Kiel Canal Kruse watched the moonlight playing on the calmer waters of that narrow ditch that crossed the southern end of the Danish Peninsular and his thoughts fell to the work he and his crew had already done in preparation. His crew was a mixture of first timers and more experienced men. His job on the trip out would be to whip them into shape as a crew. This would mean constant exercising, when not actually in contact with the enemy, so that when they were they would be ready.
One of the biggest tasks was to keep the men occupied as boredom frequently set in during the long patrols through what seemed like empty seas waiting for some contact with the enemy.
The trip through the Canal that morning was uneventful and there were no delays to speak of waiting for the locks to fill or empty. As they left the last lock, the first rays of the rising sun were warming their faces, the breeze was much as it was when the had left if not a little fresher when Martin Goetz, the lookout on the forward port watch spotted a glint of sunlight off metal low on the horizon.
As they drew nearer they could hear the thrumming of two high revving diesel engines pushing the E-Boat at around 25 knots. “One of ours” said Schulman. The E-Boat was the surface equivalent of the U-Boat. Fast light and highly manoeuvrable, they were responsible for coastal patrol and raiding around the German controlled North Sea and Atlantic coasts. This one was painted with what looked like a tiger striped camouflage pattern that broke up her lines in an effort to confuse enemy gunners. Kruse ordered a signal to the patrol boat asking if they had seen any traffic in the area. The response “All clear”, came back and U-56 continued on her way in a North-Westerly direction.
“Sail spotted!”, Cried young Goetz, pointing to a few points off the port bow of the U-Boat. All sets of eyes on the bridge swung to try to catch sight of the new vessel only 2 hours since their encounter with the E-Boat. They were still in the German Bight and it was likely that this would be another German vessel, but they still had to be careful. Reports of commando raids being dropped on the French and Dutch coasts meant they were alert from the moment they left the quayside.
“Looks like a schooner rig”, said Goetz. “She’s flying the swastika!” This kid has good eyes thought Kruse. Sure enough after another hour the schooner hove into plain view. A privately owned sailing boat was a rarity now that the war was in full swing. As they came to within a few hundred metres of one another the, the master of the schooner hailed them. “I’ve seen a small British steamer about a day ago, moving slowly to the west.” He shouted through an old fashioned megaphone.
“What are you doing out here?” hailed Kruse.
“We’re been taking a small cargo from Zeebrugge to Hamburg.” Came the reply.
“What cargo?”
“I can’t tell you that”
“We will have to board you then”, Kruse was a little curious as well as frustrated by the reply. Stopping this boat even through it was German was necessary. It could be an enemy ruse and they could also be carrying contraband even if they were German.
“Sure come aboard and have a look for yourselves” Replied the Master.
“Take a boat and 5 men over and check out that everything is in order”, he ordered Hoss.
An hour later the schooner and the U-Boat were on their separate ways again. “They were carrying a couple of crates of Dutch masters.” said Hoss, when they were finally under way again. The artworks had been “confiscated” by some official in Zeebrugge who didn’t want to have then carried home over land or by air for some reason. “He’s taking a risk though if he’s seeing British shipping isn’t he?”
“I’d say so” said Kruse. “Unless the Englander was way off course.”
“Well, based on what he told me the vessel should be somewhere around here by now. Do you think we could catch him?”
Well, if he doesn’t speed up too much we should be on him by the end of tomorrow and he should still be out of range of most of the English patrols.” Hunched over the small plotting table in the control room the CO and his number two worked out the course and speed they would need to run to catch this freighter.
“Set course. 248 degrees, rudder 15 degrees, speed 14 knots!” Kruse ordered. The helmsman and engineer responded in kind and the chase was on!
By mid afternoon of the next day they had moved well into the North Sea and it was Schulman this time spotted the smoke on the horizon. “Full ahead on electrics!” ordered Kruse. “Give me 7m” He wanted to close to gun range before the merchantman spotted. The sub settled low in the water so that only the conning tow was cutting through the waves at the surface. At their lowered profile they would be harder to spot but they had to move slower. The diesels could not operate when the hull was immersed as the exhausts and intakes would flood the engines with seawater, so the electric engines were started almost silently only a dim whine in the engine compartment gave away the fact that they were underway.
U-56 sported an 88mm Krupp gun with an effective range of over 5 kilometres, but firing from the unstable platform of the U-boat casing was another matter entirely. To truly be effective he needed to get as close as he could 500 metres was the depression limit so somewhere between 1 kilometre and that range is where he needed to be to ensure his crew got more hits than not.
The difficulty was that the fine conditions meant that even if the lookouts on the merchant were not very alert, the submarine would be spotted from a few kilometres away sooner if they were alert, plenty of time for her to radio “SSS”, the international signal for submarine sighted, which could bring down any number of forms of vengeance on the u-boat.
Schulman called up the gun crew and they raced up the ladders and unlocked the gun from it’s cruising position, removed the waterproof coverings and opened the hatch for the ammunition locker. A human chain extended from the locker to the hatch and to the gun to pass ammunition as fast as it could be fired.
The crew and officers on board the submarine were puzzled, the merchant hadn’t appeared to have spotted them and was gently cruising along at 5 knots, just another tramp steamer going about it’s business. Kruse and Hoss were wary. “Do you think it could be a Q-Ship?”
“Hard to say, Herr Kaleun. If it is a trap you’d think you would see a bit of activity on the deck, but I don’t think they’ve got lookouts posted. I can’t see any movement in the masts at all”
The submarine closed with the merchant and when they got to within 3 kilometres, Kruse gave the order to prepare to commence firing. “Aim for the waterline!” shouted Schulman.
“Aim for the waterline…I’d like to be able to hold this tub still enough to just hit him from this range!” grumbled Unteroffizer Kurt Frank under his breath. As gun layer it was his job to attempt to keep the gun levelled at the target despite the rolling deck beneath them. This was no easy task even in these calm seas and he also had to constantly adjust the range as they closed on their victim.
“Feuer!” yelled Kruse and the boat shook with the reverberation of the shot.
“They’ve seen us now” joked Hoss as the 88mm shells screamed towards their target.
“Ja, keep a look out for aircraft and have the flak crew stand by.” He didn’t want to bring too many more men above decks in case they had to crash dive. Every man on the bridge or casing, meant precious seconds during which they could be hit with shells or bombs.
The merchant started to turn away from U-56, but it was to no avail, after only 12 shots, most of which were hits, the small cargo ship had launched it’s lifeboats and was well on its way to becoming a smoking hulk.
“Good shooting boys!” shouted Kruse. “Let’s get out of here.” He ordered a turn of speed to put some distance between them and the evidence of their attack. He didn’t want to risk slowing down to question the crew of the stricken freighter as he was well within RAF range from England. He was proud of his men as they had performed flawlessly. He had the radioman Franz Dorner; send off a contact weather report advising of the sinking. It was only about 1200 tons but it was still their first sinking as a crew.
The boat turned back onto its north-westerly course straight towards the Orkney islands north of Scotland. It would take them another two days to reach the waters surrounding these remote islands and then another 4 days to get to their allotted patrol area as long as everything went to plan.
Over this time Kruse exercised the crew mercilessly. Diving stations were called every 3-4 hours. They had to dive to do a regular hydrophone check anyway but sometimes Kruse ordered crash dives that took them as deep as 60 meters which would save their lives if they were attacked by patrolling aircraft. Luckily so far none had been spotted and more importantly none had spotted them. The crew went through endless damage control drills until they satisfied their captain’s wish for perfection, loading and unloading the torpedoes from their tubes in mock attacks against the empty sea.
“Smoke spotted, Range about 8 kilometres, bearing 201!” This time it was Joachim Tripp who raised the alarm. Kruse had been sleeping in his alcove it was 0415 and about another 2 hours before dawn. He grabbed is leather coat and struggled into it just before launching himself through the narrow circular open hatchway between his compartment and the control room. Kruse glanced at the dials on his way to the ladder that led through the conning tower to the bridge.
Hoss was on watch on the bridge. “Morning Herr Kaleun, looks like we have a bigger fish this time!”
“Let’s see” Kruse raised his binoculars and scanned the inky black horizon. In this light it was hard to tell sea from sky, but Hoss’s arm pumping up and down along the bearing line gave Kruse a good head start. He could see a dim glow as if from a hidden fire and a slight smudge of smoke against the blackness. Now that his eyes had adjusted he could also just make out a bow wave. Looking at the distance between the glow and the wave it was certainly a much bigger ship than their first victim, possibly a tanker!
Again Kruse ordered his gun crew to stand by as they made a similar approach but bow on to this ship so that they would be harder to see against the rising sun. “It’s either an ore carrier or a tanker from the configuration of its masts.” The recognition books were not much help until they could get close enough to identify her properly.
This time the lookouts on the ammo carrier were doing their job and the crew on U-56 saw her starting to take evasive action. “Surface and muster the gun crew on the casing” he ordered. Efficiently the gun crew emerged from the hatch and went through their routine of readying the gun for action.
At around 1500 meters, they started firing and this time it was only a few shots before a massive purple and black explosion ripped though the forward half of the ship. “She’s carrying ammunition!” screamed Hoss as secondary explosions ripped through the air and a crackling roar started to come from the ship they were attacking. Again and again the 88mm shells ripped through the thin steel hull of the ammunition carrier until, at last a massive explosion which toppled the after mast and the ships funnel tore the stern of the ammo carrier apart and she quickly sunk, no boats or survivors were spotted.
“She had to be at least 5500 tons.” Said Hoss elated. The entire crew were grinning now brimming with confidence. The gun crew in particular were very pleased with themselves and proclaimed that torpedoes were no longer needed and that they could throw them all overboard next trip and load up with high explosive 88mm rounds. “At least we’d have more room in here.” The forward bunkroom had two torpedoes stowed on the floor of the compartment. Frank himself led the crew in a round of drinking songs. Pity they had no beer on this trip.
Kruse had Radioman Bruno Wendt, put some of his jazz collection onto the gramophone. The scratchy tones of Louis Armstrong started belting out Oh when the saints come marching in drifted out of the radio room through the submarine and could faintly be heard drifting up through the conning tower to the bridge. Most of his collection was banned in Nazi Germany, but he had managed to secrete the records aboard in the record sleeves of good German military marches. “What would Onkel Karl Doenitz, think of his crews listening to untermensch music?” he mused as he drifted into an exhausted slumber. He didn’t care, because he knew his men enjoyed his collection as much as he did.
The next morning just as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, the lookout cried “Ship spotted!” It was another small freighter and heading almost right for their submarine. “Dive! Dive!” shouted Kruse. “Take her down to 30 metres and level out at ahead 1/3rd.” U-56 responded to the downward pressure on her forward dive fins and dipped her bow beneath the gentle swell just as the last of the lookout cinched the upper hatch closed, the sound of rushing water filling her tanks drowning out the hubbub below.
“When she closes to 2 kilometres, we will blow ballast at flank speed get the gun crew on deck and start the fun!” explained Kruse to his officers in the control room. “Schulman, I need your gun crew on their toes for this one. We won’t have a lot of time once we are on the surface before the target radios our position in. Aim for the bridge and then the waterline. I want this one sunk in under ten minutes!”
“Jawhol Herr Kaleun!” Schulman turned on his heel and shouted for the gun crew to assemble in the control room while Kruse ordered the forward torpedo tubes checked, locked then flooded. Their timing was going to critical on this target and the audacious plan would given them a few seconds head start as the crew of the freighter would not be expecting an enemy submarine to surface next to them in daylight and he hoped the confusion with sunrise silhouetting his boat would buy his crew the time it needed to finish the job.
The tension was as thick as the humidity in the crowded control room. Condensation formed on almost every exposed metal surface and the maps and charts spread out on the plotting table stuck together by the moisture like a damp multicoloured mat as the clocked ticked.
“Bring her up to periscope depth” said Kruse as they closed the gap.
Moments later, “Periscope depth, Kaleun” said Francke, the chief engineer who manned the helm station.
“Ahead slow” Kruse had already climbed the ladder to the conning tower where the periscope was located. The periscope slid almost silently upward until it broke the surface. Kruse waited until the glass cleared then swung the scope around to scan the horizon for threats. Nothing other than the freighter was in sight and it had closed a little faster than he had expected. “No matter, it makes the wait a little shorter. He kept tracking the freighter for another 35 seconds, just enough time for him to update his speed estimate.
The scope slid back, “Ahead flank” he cried.
“Jawhol!” and the message was relayed to the electric engine room. The engines whined in protest as they were both wound up to full power pushing the great brass propellers faster and faster through the water. It would make a small wake on the surface and this depth but it would scarcely be noticed by the freighter in the cold morning light.
Kruse counted off the seconds in his head and marked the chart he was using to plot the attack with a grease pencil as the two vessels closed the gap between them. “Blow ballast! Ahead flank! 10 degrees starboard rudder!” He roared.
Smoothly the practise drills of the crew impelling them to automatically follow the orders and bring the sub into the position the skipper wanted whilst the noise of compressed air forcing the water from the tanks screamed in their ears.
They broke surface at about 7knots, the ballast blowing increasing their top speed slightly as U-56 broached and crashed off the top of a wave into the trough following it.
The lookout on the bridge of the freighter spilled the fresh mug of tea that had just been brought to him and the called out the alarm to the officer on duty. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed,”Submarine, broached on the starboard quarter sir!”
The duty officer called down for the captain. “We need to make sure it’s not one of ours before we radio it in.” he said. “They may need our help.”
On U-56, the gun crew raced to their positions and removed the water proof covers as quickly as they ever had. “Range 1600 meters! Bearing 285 degrees.”
The gun layer already had the first shell in the breach and was locking it off
“They don’t look bloody helpless!” cried the lookout pointing out the gun being trained on them. Before the officer could look up the bridge erupted in a ball of purple orange and red flame as the 88mm shell ripped through the wheelhouse door killing everyone in it in seconds.
“Good shot Franck!” Applauded Schulman.
“He’s actually enjoying this” thought Kruse as the gunners reset their weapon.
The next six shots saw the small freighter slowly sliding nose first into the depths below. “Another 2500 tons with just the gun!” exclaimed Franck. You can chuck those eels overboard now we really have gotten the hang of this”.
“Just wait till we see some bigger game, then your pop gun can be the anchor we use to tie up with next time we are in harbour!” said torpedo man Grodl.
U-56 resumed its course and sailed on for the next 3 days, diving for hydrophone soundings every few hours, without a sighting and luckily without being sighted.
During the afternoon sound check, Henner the sonar man on duty called out to through the command room hatch, “Herr Kaleun, I think I may have something, bearing 56 degrees.” “It’s quite faint but I think it is multiple screws so it must be a far distance off at the moment. Too far to pick out revolutions anyway.”
Kruse, joined his sound man in the cramp hydrophone room and took the headset being handed to him by Henner. “Good work Henner.” I think we may have a convoy.” “Chief, change course to let us track this contact for a while. Ahead slow.”
As he listened, Henner gave a running commentary on the sound contact’s bearings, whilst Schulman and Kruse plotted them on the chart as the minutes ticked by. “Looks like they are closing on our position.” Schulman murmured.
“Ja, I think our torpedo men may be in luck this time.” Said Kruse with a crooked smile.
The sounds of individual ships were distinguishable as they drew closer. “I’m getting at least 10 separate contacts.” Henner interrupted. “Maybe more…” “At least two destroyers as escorts.” Henner could now hear the higher pitched sounds made by the smaller ships propellers as they made short fast bursts to circle around their charges.
“Given their speed and the fact that they will cross our path in about and hour I’m going to attempt a daylight submerged attack.” Kruse told Schulman. “They won’t be expecting that and if we have to we can fall back and follow them until dark then attack on the surface later tonight.”
End of Part one...
For a .PPS screenie show of tpart 1 of the patrol download from: http://files.filefront.com/U56_Atlantic_Patrol_Part17z/;7225707;/fileinfo.html
Kiel Harbour Northern Germany September 1941 04:00: The early morning air had a crisp autumnal bite to it, that made Leutnant zur See Gunther Kruse hunch his shoulders as he lifted his scarf to cover his neck. As he strode down the pier he watched the harbour starting to come to life. Fishing boats returning or just setting out skimmed across the small waves blown up by this cold north wind. Only 7 or 8 knots he thought to himself just a gentle zephyr really.
He knew out beyond the protection of the Baltic and on the North Sea that cruel mistress that had claimed so many of his friends lives, even at his tender 23 years, would show it’s full fury to him and his crew. Possibly during this patrol…
Kruse was in a hurry to get back aboard U-56, he was returning from collecting his sealed orders from the Harbour Kommandant’s office. His 2nd in command Walter Hoss was already aboard making sure that their final preparations were concluded and they would be ready to sail as soon as Kruse came aboard.
As he came around the corner of a warehouse his command and pride and joy came into view. Over two hundred metres of grey steel, the slim upper casing glistened darkly in the moonlight. The conning tower fat with two tiers for the flak guns mounted at the rear of the platform that served as the boat’s bridge, on which he and his watch crew would be spending a significant portion of this patrol. A thing of warlike beauty, U-56 was his first command and his chance to prove himself to his superiors.
As he came aboard Oberfahnrich Schulman and the watch crew formed up on the bridge and piped him aboard. He stopped at the foot of the gangway turned sharply to the stern of the boat and saluted the flag flown on the short staff at the far end of the casing.
He climbed aboard and was greeted by his second in command Hoss who was just emerging from the hatch on the floor of the bridge. “Everything is in readiness Herr Kaleun!” he reported.
“Then let us begin” replied Kruse.
Hoss and Schulman rapped off their orders to the deck crew and to the engine room and the roar of the twin diesels starting up obliterated anything but the loudest petty officer’s roar. The deck crew efficiently slipped the mooring and U-56 was finally underway. Kruse’s breast swelled with pride. This was for him one of his proudest moments. From the time that he had first been to sea whilst a Naval cadet in the Kreigsmarine, he had wanted a command of his own and finally it was his.
The u-boat slid quietly out of Kiel harbour and turned towards the Kiel canal entrance. As she slid quietly under the cover of the predawn darkness, past the Graf Zeppelin, Germany’s unfinished aircraft carrier and the other ships of various shapes and sizes, he thought back to the night before, carousing with his comrades, some from his old boat congratulating him on his promotion.
“I shouldn’t have had that last bottle of champagne.” The thought pounded through his head like the rivet guns already at work in the yards on the far side of the harbour. The rolling of the boat on the slight swell didn’t make him feel any better. Next time he said it would be different. No drinking before leaving. For many of his men though it would be a very different story.
He knew what it was like out there. He’d already served 4 patrols in U-48 with some close scrapes with the British destroyers. They had still managed to sink over 32,000 tons in their last two patrols.
He wondered how he would fare as the skipper of the boat. How would his men respond when the time came? Would they be able to withstand the shattering noise and the shaking of the depth charges when they inevitably came? Would he be able to bring them all and the boat back safely and in one piece? Would the boat be able to handle the punishment that he know only too well could be dished out?
He knew every inch of the boat and how the workmen had put it together. He was lucky enough to have been given command during the last stages of construction so he had personally supervised some of the work, particularly on the interior fit out.
His hand caressed the cold steel edge of the conning tower. He knew the steel must withstand what he asked of it and that when the time came for a deep dive that they might not return from. He shuddered at the thought and turned his Wachtoffizer, Martin Schulman, a young Oberfahnrich from Hamburg. “The weather forecast looks good so far.”
“Ja.” replied Schulman. A man of few words thought Kruse.
Schulman had been a last minute replacement for this trip and Kruse had not had a lot of time to get to know him.
The submarine stayed at 8knots as the followed their escort out of the harbour sea walls, between the submarine nets and minefields that guarded the harbour entrance. An hour or so later Kruse went below as he ordered the boat to ahead standard. They could cruise at this speed (around 13-14 knots) for almost 3 weeks, slowing only when they dived for regular hydrophone checks to listen for the tell tale sound of a merchant’s screws churning through the water. If they slowed to 9 knots they could cruise for over a month almost non-stop, not counting the manoeuvring that would be needed to get into position to
The distinctive smell was the first thing that greeted Willi as he descended the ladder into the control room. Although the boat was new, the smell of the forty men that were to live in it had already started to mingle with the diesel and oil stench that would live in his nostrils and on his skin forever. One note that stood out was the unmistakable waft of wurst, ham and eggs cooking.
Walter Britzling, a leading seaman who had sailed with Kruse on 3 occasions, was already cooking breakfast in the miniscule galley behind Willi’s cabin, not that it was much of a cabin, more an alcove with a curtain, but certainly more privacy than was afforded to the rest of the crew. They had the indignity of sharing bunks with the on duty crew waking the off duty crew and climbing into their warm racks. Each crewman was given a rack about 5 and a half feet long and about 3 feet wide suspended from the inner pressure hull of the boat by a chain at either end. There were three bunks layered on top of one another with about 2 feet between each bunk.
Being fully provisioned for a 3-4 week patrol meant that the crew also had to share their bunk space with any food or other supplies that could not be stowed elsewhere. On the first day of a new patrol almost every inch of spare space the boat had was crammed with tinned and fresh food, ranging from eggs, hams, sausages and fruit to spare torpedoes and fuel drums crowded the already cramped compartments. Even some of their drinking water tanks had been filled with fuel to provide that little bit of extra range.
Directly opposite Kruse’s bunk were the hydrophone and radio rooms, where two specialists would sit for most of the patrol listening on the radio for messages that might indicate a convoy was close enough to move in for an attack or the hydrophones which were checked every few hours by diving to around 20 metres running at slow speed and making a few turns of the boat to make sure that they covered all angles of the compass. His bunk as also a seat for three when dining; a fold out table was set up in the narrow passage between his bunk and the radio room.
As he and two of the other officers sat down at the folding table to eat, conversation moved to what their orders were. Kruse could not open them for another two days, but their first patrol grid was BE83, one of the hundreds of patrol grids the BDU had divided the North Sea, Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea to allow Admiral Karl Doenitz, the supreme commander of the Ubootewaffe to know exactly where each u-boat was at any given moment, off the southwest tip of Ireland. He presumed their mission would be to intercept convoy traffic moving across the Atlantic and into either of the St Georges or the English Channels as this grid was squarely on the choke point for convoys on those routes. Occasionally they would expect to see southbound convoys carrying supplies for the British effort in North Africa.
Because of the heavy defences and minefields in the English Channel, they would have to go the long way around the north of Scotland, down the western coast of Ireland until they reached their patrol grid some one and a half weeks from now.
As the boat entered the Kiel Canal Kruse watched the moonlight playing on the calmer waters of that narrow ditch that crossed the southern end of the Danish Peninsular and his thoughts fell to the work he and his crew had already done in preparation. His crew was a mixture of first timers and more experienced men. His job on the trip out would be to whip them into shape as a crew. This would mean constant exercising, when not actually in contact with the enemy, so that when they were they would be ready.
One of the biggest tasks was to keep the men occupied as boredom frequently set in during the long patrols through what seemed like empty seas waiting for some contact with the enemy.
The trip through the Canal that morning was uneventful and there were no delays to speak of waiting for the locks to fill or empty. As they left the last lock, the first rays of the rising sun were warming their faces, the breeze was much as it was when the had left if not a little fresher when Martin Goetz, the lookout on the forward port watch spotted a glint of sunlight off metal low on the horizon.
As they drew nearer they could hear the thrumming of two high revving diesel engines pushing the E-Boat at around 25 knots. “One of ours” said Schulman. The E-Boat was the surface equivalent of the U-Boat. Fast light and highly manoeuvrable, they were responsible for coastal patrol and raiding around the German controlled North Sea and Atlantic coasts. This one was painted with what looked like a tiger striped camouflage pattern that broke up her lines in an effort to confuse enemy gunners. Kruse ordered a signal to the patrol boat asking if they had seen any traffic in the area. The response “All clear”, came back and U-56 continued on her way in a North-Westerly direction.
“Sail spotted!”, Cried young Goetz, pointing to a few points off the port bow of the U-Boat. All sets of eyes on the bridge swung to try to catch sight of the new vessel only 2 hours since their encounter with the E-Boat. They were still in the German Bight and it was likely that this would be another German vessel, but they still had to be careful. Reports of commando raids being dropped on the French and Dutch coasts meant they were alert from the moment they left the quayside.
“Looks like a schooner rig”, said Goetz. “She’s flying the swastika!” This kid has good eyes thought Kruse. Sure enough after another hour the schooner hove into plain view. A privately owned sailing boat was a rarity now that the war was in full swing. As they came to within a few hundred metres of one another the, the master of the schooner hailed them. “I’ve seen a small British steamer about a day ago, moving slowly to the west.” He shouted through an old fashioned megaphone.
“What are you doing out here?” hailed Kruse.
“We’re been taking a small cargo from Zeebrugge to Hamburg.” Came the reply.
“What cargo?”
“I can’t tell you that”
“We will have to board you then”, Kruse was a little curious as well as frustrated by the reply. Stopping this boat even through it was German was necessary. It could be an enemy ruse and they could also be carrying contraband even if they were German.
“Sure come aboard and have a look for yourselves” Replied the Master.
“Take a boat and 5 men over and check out that everything is in order”, he ordered Hoss.
An hour later the schooner and the U-Boat were on their separate ways again. “They were carrying a couple of crates of Dutch masters.” said Hoss, when they were finally under way again. The artworks had been “confiscated” by some official in Zeebrugge who didn’t want to have then carried home over land or by air for some reason. “He’s taking a risk though if he’s seeing British shipping isn’t he?”
“I’d say so” said Kruse. “Unless the Englander was way off course.”
“Well, based on what he told me the vessel should be somewhere around here by now. Do you think we could catch him?”
Well, if he doesn’t speed up too much we should be on him by the end of tomorrow and he should still be out of range of most of the English patrols.” Hunched over the small plotting table in the control room the CO and his number two worked out the course and speed they would need to run to catch this freighter.
“Set course. 248 degrees, rudder 15 degrees, speed 14 knots!” Kruse ordered. The helmsman and engineer responded in kind and the chase was on!
By mid afternoon of the next day they had moved well into the North Sea and it was Schulman this time spotted the smoke on the horizon. “Full ahead on electrics!” ordered Kruse. “Give me 7m” He wanted to close to gun range before the merchantman spotted. The sub settled low in the water so that only the conning tow was cutting through the waves at the surface. At their lowered profile they would be harder to spot but they had to move slower. The diesels could not operate when the hull was immersed as the exhausts and intakes would flood the engines with seawater, so the electric engines were started almost silently only a dim whine in the engine compartment gave away the fact that they were underway.
U-56 sported an 88mm Krupp gun with an effective range of over 5 kilometres, but firing from the unstable platform of the U-boat casing was another matter entirely. To truly be effective he needed to get as close as he could 500 metres was the depression limit so somewhere between 1 kilometre and that range is where he needed to be to ensure his crew got more hits than not.
The difficulty was that the fine conditions meant that even if the lookouts on the merchant were not very alert, the submarine would be spotted from a few kilometres away sooner if they were alert, plenty of time for her to radio “SSS”, the international signal for submarine sighted, which could bring down any number of forms of vengeance on the u-boat.
Schulman called up the gun crew and they raced up the ladders and unlocked the gun from it’s cruising position, removed the waterproof coverings and opened the hatch for the ammunition locker. A human chain extended from the locker to the hatch and to the gun to pass ammunition as fast as it could be fired.
The crew and officers on board the submarine were puzzled, the merchant hadn’t appeared to have spotted them and was gently cruising along at 5 knots, just another tramp steamer going about it’s business. Kruse and Hoss were wary. “Do you think it could be a Q-Ship?”
“Hard to say, Herr Kaleun. If it is a trap you’d think you would see a bit of activity on the deck, but I don’t think they’ve got lookouts posted. I can’t see any movement in the masts at all”
The submarine closed with the merchant and when they got to within 3 kilometres, Kruse gave the order to prepare to commence firing. “Aim for the waterline!” shouted Schulman.
“Aim for the waterline…I’d like to be able to hold this tub still enough to just hit him from this range!” grumbled Unteroffizer Kurt Frank under his breath. As gun layer it was his job to attempt to keep the gun levelled at the target despite the rolling deck beneath them. This was no easy task even in these calm seas and he also had to constantly adjust the range as they closed on their victim.
“Feuer!” yelled Kruse and the boat shook with the reverberation of the shot.
“They’ve seen us now” joked Hoss as the 88mm shells screamed towards their target.
“Ja, keep a look out for aircraft and have the flak crew stand by.” He didn’t want to bring too many more men above decks in case they had to crash dive. Every man on the bridge or casing, meant precious seconds during which they could be hit with shells or bombs.
The merchant started to turn away from U-56, but it was to no avail, after only 12 shots, most of which were hits, the small cargo ship had launched it’s lifeboats and was well on its way to becoming a smoking hulk.
“Good shooting boys!” shouted Kruse. “Let’s get out of here.” He ordered a turn of speed to put some distance between them and the evidence of their attack. He didn’t want to risk slowing down to question the crew of the stricken freighter as he was well within RAF range from England. He was proud of his men as they had performed flawlessly. He had the radioman Franz Dorner; send off a contact weather report advising of the sinking. It was only about 1200 tons but it was still their first sinking as a crew.
The boat turned back onto its north-westerly course straight towards the Orkney islands north of Scotland. It would take them another two days to reach the waters surrounding these remote islands and then another 4 days to get to their allotted patrol area as long as everything went to plan.
Over this time Kruse exercised the crew mercilessly. Diving stations were called every 3-4 hours. They had to dive to do a regular hydrophone check anyway but sometimes Kruse ordered crash dives that took them as deep as 60 meters which would save their lives if they were attacked by patrolling aircraft. Luckily so far none had been spotted and more importantly none had spotted them. The crew went through endless damage control drills until they satisfied their captain’s wish for perfection, loading and unloading the torpedoes from their tubes in mock attacks against the empty sea.
“Smoke spotted, Range about 8 kilometres, bearing 201!” This time it was Joachim Tripp who raised the alarm. Kruse had been sleeping in his alcove it was 0415 and about another 2 hours before dawn. He grabbed is leather coat and struggled into it just before launching himself through the narrow circular open hatchway between his compartment and the control room. Kruse glanced at the dials on his way to the ladder that led through the conning tower to the bridge.
Hoss was on watch on the bridge. “Morning Herr Kaleun, looks like we have a bigger fish this time!”
“Let’s see” Kruse raised his binoculars and scanned the inky black horizon. In this light it was hard to tell sea from sky, but Hoss’s arm pumping up and down along the bearing line gave Kruse a good head start. He could see a dim glow as if from a hidden fire and a slight smudge of smoke against the blackness. Now that his eyes had adjusted he could also just make out a bow wave. Looking at the distance between the glow and the wave it was certainly a much bigger ship than their first victim, possibly a tanker!
Again Kruse ordered his gun crew to stand by as they made a similar approach but bow on to this ship so that they would be harder to see against the rising sun. “It’s either an ore carrier or a tanker from the configuration of its masts.” The recognition books were not much help until they could get close enough to identify her properly.
This time the lookouts on the ammo carrier were doing their job and the crew on U-56 saw her starting to take evasive action. “Surface and muster the gun crew on the casing” he ordered. Efficiently the gun crew emerged from the hatch and went through their routine of readying the gun for action.
At around 1500 meters, they started firing and this time it was only a few shots before a massive purple and black explosion ripped though the forward half of the ship. “She’s carrying ammunition!” screamed Hoss as secondary explosions ripped through the air and a crackling roar started to come from the ship they were attacking. Again and again the 88mm shells ripped through the thin steel hull of the ammunition carrier until, at last a massive explosion which toppled the after mast and the ships funnel tore the stern of the ammo carrier apart and she quickly sunk, no boats or survivors were spotted.
“She had to be at least 5500 tons.” Said Hoss elated. The entire crew were grinning now brimming with confidence. The gun crew in particular were very pleased with themselves and proclaimed that torpedoes were no longer needed and that they could throw them all overboard next trip and load up with high explosive 88mm rounds. “At least we’d have more room in here.” The forward bunkroom had two torpedoes stowed on the floor of the compartment. Frank himself led the crew in a round of drinking songs. Pity they had no beer on this trip.
Kruse had Radioman Bruno Wendt, put some of his jazz collection onto the gramophone. The scratchy tones of Louis Armstrong started belting out Oh when the saints come marching in drifted out of the radio room through the submarine and could faintly be heard drifting up through the conning tower to the bridge. Most of his collection was banned in Nazi Germany, but he had managed to secrete the records aboard in the record sleeves of good German military marches. “What would Onkel Karl Doenitz, think of his crews listening to untermensch music?” he mused as he drifted into an exhausted slumber. He didn’t care, because he knew his men enjoyed his collection as much as he did.
The next morning just as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, the lookout cried “Ship spotted!” It was another small freighter and heading almost right for their submarine. “Dive! Dive!” shouted Kruse. “Take her down to 30 metres and level out at ahead 1/3rd.” U-56 responded to the downward pressure on her forward dive fins and dipped her bow beneath the gentle swell just as the last of the lookout cinched the upper hatch closed, the sound of rushing water filling her tanks drowning out the hubbub below.
“When she closes to 2 kilometres, we will blow ballast at flank speed get the gun crew on deck and start the fun!” explained Kruse to his officers in the control room. “Schulman, I need your gun crew on their toes for this one. We won’t have a lot of time once we are on the surface before the target radios our position in. Aim for the bridge and then the waterline. I want this one sunk in under ten minutes!”
“Jawhol Herr Kaleun!” Schulman turned on his heel and shouted for the gun crew to assemble in the control room while Kruse ordered the forward torpedo tubes checked, locked then flooded. Their timing was going to critical on this target and the audacious plan would given them a few seconds head start as the crew of the freighter would not be expecting an enemy submarine to surface next to them in daylight and he hoped the confusion with sunrise silhouetting his boat would buy his crew the time it needed to finish the job.
The tension was as thick as the humidity in the crowded control room. Condensation formed on almost every exposed metal surface and the maps and charts spread out on the plotting table stuck together by the moisture like a damp multicoloured mat as the clocked ticked.
“Bring her up to periscope depth” said Kruse as they closed the gap.
Moments later, “Periscope depth, Kaleun” said Francke, the chief engineer who manned the helm station.
“Ahead slow” Kruse had already climbed the ladder to the conning tower where the periscope was located. The periscope slid almost silently upward until it broke the surface. Kruse waited until the glass cleared then swung the scope around to scan the horizon for threats. Nothing other than the freighter was in sight and it had closed a little faster than he had expected. “No matter, it makes the wait a little shorter. He kept tracking the freighter for another 35 seconds, just enough time for him to update his speed estimate.
The scope slid back, “Ahead flank” he cried.
“Jawhol!” and the message was relayed to the electric engine room. The engines whined in protest as they were both wound up to full power pushing the great brass propellers faster and faster through the water. It would make a small wake on the surface and this depth but it would scarcely be noticed by the freighter in the cold morning light.
Kruse counted off the seconds in his head and marked the chart he was using to plot the attack with a grease pencil as the two vessels closed the gap between them. “Blow ballast! Ahead flank! 10 degrees starboard rudder!” He roared.
Smoothly the practise drills of the crew impelling them to automatically follow the orders and bring the sub into the position the skipper wanted whilst the noise of compressed air forcing the water from the tanks screamed in their ears.
They broke surface at about 7knots, the ballast blowing increasing their top speed slightly as U-56 broached and crashed off the top of a wave into the trough following it.
The lookout on the bridge of the freighter spilled the fresh mug of tea that had just been brought to him and the called out the alarm to the officer on duty. “Bloody hell!” he exclaimed,”Submarine, broached on the starboard quarter sir!”
The duty officer called down for the captain. “We need to make sure it’s not one of ours before we radio it in.” he said. “They may need our help.”
On U-56, the gun crew raced to their positions and removed the water proof covers as quickly as they ever had. “Range 1600 meters! Bearing 285 degrees.”
The gun layer already had the first shell in the breach and was locking it off
“They don’t look bloody helpless!” cried the lookout pointing out the gun being trained on them. Before the officer could look up the bridge erupted in a ball of purple orange and red flame as the 88mm shell ripped through the wheelhouse door killing everyone in it in seconds.
“Good shot Franck!” Applauded Schulman.
“He’s actually enjoying this” thought Kruse as the gunners reset their weapon.
The next six shots saw the small freighter slowly sliding nose first into the depths below. “Another 2500 tons with just the gun!” exclaimed Franck. You can chuck those eels overboard now we really have gotten the hang of this”.
“Just wait till we see some bigger game, then your pop gun can be the anchor we use to tie up with next time we are in harbour!” said torpedo man Grodl.
U-56 resumed its course and sailed on for the next 3 days, diving for hydrophone soundings every few hours, without a sighting and luckily without being sighted.
During the afternoon sound check, Henner the sonar man on duty called out to through the command room hatch, “Herr Kaleun, I think I may have something, bearing 56 degrees.” “It’s quite faint but I think it is multiple screws so it must be a far distance off at the moment. Too far to pick out revolutions anyway.”
Kruse, joined his sound man in the cramp hydrophone room and took the headset being handed to him by Henner. “Good work Henner.” I think we may have a convoy.” “Chief, change course to let us track this contact for a while. Ahead slow.”
As he listened, Henner gave a running commentary on the sound contact’s bearings, whilst Schulman and Kruse plotted them on the chart as the minutes ticked by. “Looks like they are closing on our position.” Schulman murmured.
“Ja, I think our torpedo men may be in luck this time.” Said Kruse with a crooked smile.
The sounds of individual ships were distinguishable as they drew closer. “I’m getting at least 10 separate contacts.” Henner interrupted. “Maybe more…” “At least two destroyers as escorts.” Henner could now hear the higher pitched sounds made by the smaller ships propellers as they made short fast bursts to circle around their charges.
“Given their speed and the fact that they will cross our path in about and hour I’m going to attempt a daylight submerged attack.” Kruse told Schulman. “They won’t be expecting that and if we have to we can fall back and follow them until dark then attack on the surface later tonight.”
End of Part one...
For a .PPS screenie show of tpart 1 of the patrol download from: http://files.filefront.com/U56_Atlantic_Patrol_Part17z/;7225707;/fileinfo.html