Reverie
07-04-07, 03:56 AM
The last few patrols have been carbon copies of a textbook, award winning mission. Beginning in ’41 with a VIIB assigned to quadrant BE, coming to be referred to as the Big Easy, our transits to the assigned area have been postponed by beacon transmissions from an engaged wolfpack. The procedure has been the same: crew rotation with minimum non-essential on watch, from cruising one third we increase to standard, then alter course towards the beacon usually a few hundred nm away. The initial plot at such distance always proves useless, so our navigator will only start thinking of an intercept after we’ve closed the gap, and if the beacons are reliable. In January we found ourselves closing on an area of intercept after marching for more than a day, only to turn about and retrace our course because of adverse weather. We picked up the convoy without further beacons, but it was two days later and close to where we originally started.
The wolfpack can often be the remnants rather than a reconnoiter. The January mission for instance was instigated by a uboat, but was formalized by our hydrophone attendance. The only way we determined that this was the convoy originally shadowed by our comrade was our taking into account the aftermath of its initial encounter. Ships were damaged, a few were burning, and no escorts were observed. Nor were escorts detected; possibly hunting attacking uboats. There were definite signals of at least ten vessels moving at medium speed in disarray; other signals that faded in and out were also detected, but proved impossible to localise or confirm. This last shortcoming could have been equipment malfunction or operator inexperience. Night had come on, and we only had a break in the weather, still overcast yet smooth enough for gun operations. A frustrating encounter further irritated by defective torpedoes and inclement weather at a darkening hour. We were allowed to make up for predetonations, duds, and errors in tracking by the use of both the flak and deck guns. We braved return fire from unseen armed merchants, and tallied approximately 45K tons before proceeding to our assigned patrol area. We returned to St. Nazaire undamaged and unassuaged of the journey, but proud of its accomplishment. A band had been assembled to play music on the pier for our arrival.
Late February was another assignment to patrol an area in the Big Easy, with a detour to close on beacons of a forming wolfpack. This time the weather remained clear and calm, and the beacons were reliable. We were marching ahead full then turning our beam to the last report bearing and diving, this every hour after closing to ninety nm. It was obvious that the targeted convoy was in straits as we found ourselves crossing east then west to intercept its southern course, all the while receiving beacon signals. As night fell, and the hydrophone signals we had started to catch became louder and louder, we pushed the diesels longer and harder lest we miss our share of the action. With diminishing signals and vanishing contacts, it became obvious that the convoy was dispersing with ships sinking. Then in the early hours before sun up, with an officer on the bridge the lookouts reported flashes on the horizon. We immediately slowed our advance and dove to periscope depth, putting our beam to the approximate bearing, then went to Silent Routine. Contacts. So scattered that they presented a broad front. Unable to detect escorts, but a uboat was having a field day. And one other signal that sounded like a submerged vessel, but we failed to classify it. Surfaced the boat with a heading not based on the hydrophone, but on the continuing flashes in the distance. Ordered off a Contact Report. Ahead one third. By the time the sun came up, we were at periscope and reloading torpedoes after our first salvo. Another disappointment with the Torpedo Directorate. We were forced to fire with dead reckoning as the convoy was not a convoy at all. Ships were simply in the same vicinity, but heading in different directions and constantly altering course and speed. And with the daylight, ships would actually come to a stop to let a torpedo harmlessly cross their bows. Despite the merchants alertness, most failures in our attacks were again attributed to torpedo malfunction. IWO and I watched wakes lead up to ships with no resulting explosion. Detonations one quarter, one third, and one half distance from a target were recorded. And errant predetonations in a spread gave proof of guidance problems. One spread of three set for impact ahead offered a predetonation more than forty five degrees off our bow. Similar misfortune may have been what prompted our beacon sender to attack on the surface with deck gun. So would we. We found at least two armed merchants out of a minimum of sixteen vessels. They were on the outskirts of vision, and keeping other ships between us and the threat kept us unassailed. We finally sighted a fellow uboat, both of us moving through the center of the merchant mass, but couldn’t exchange information or recognition signals. The other boat was phlegmatic in its pursuit, almost lackadaisical in its assault. We told ourselves that they were probably conserving ammunition. Which we began doing as all torpedoes were spent, and our 88mm shells dwindled. The flak gun was enlisted to start fires on the nearest targets. Then a hydrophone warning, the unknown signal being recognised as a Tommy submarine, sought to alter our tactics. We were adaptive, continuing our attacks, but keeping on the move. The added alertness to the unseen threat should have galvanized us, but quite the opposite. The guncrew was shelling ships that were close enough that if they exploded would cause us collateral damage. Lookouts failed to warn of ships attempting to ram. We were constantly running into the field of fire from the armed merchants. Someone was piping bagpipe music up to the bridge from below. The flak gunner had to be relieved for dereliction of duty. I replaced him with one of the now idle Lords of the Stern Torpedo Room. If I could have found a way, I would have loaded our empty torpedo tubes with empty headed sailors. IWO said that the ebb and flow of adrenaline could account for the erratic behavior throughout the boat. Rather than wet nurse individuals, I kept a tight reign on each department. Not a manner in which a commander should have to run his mission. After all is said and done we survived, and shored up our performance with substantial sinkings. We never identified our benefactor. An interesting occurrence, our new flak gunner sank a Large Merchant. The other uboat had been shelling it when our erstwhile shootist decided to target same. Already a smoldering heap, the ship took some poignant flak gun fire to the aft waterline when the rear hold of the merchant exploded, destroying the ship. That makes for excellent propaganda. We managed only one received Contact Report. It was acknowledged after we had sunk sixteen merchant ships, effectively eliminating the convoy. Our partner in action also stopped sending beacons. All weapons expended, we were positioning ourselves south and east of our patrol area to spot for another convoy shadower. When we did get back to base, no disciplinary action was taken. We were scheduled to go back out in April.
And here we are in April. Marching through the Big Easy with another beacon signal teasing us off course. We’ve come close enough to hear the action, but still can’t report in. Nor can we contact any other uboat. Emil has good ears, and we’ve been affording him listening time. He’s got us confident in an intercept, and continues to identify types of ships in this very large convoy. He initially declared a clear track on a fellow uboat, moving this way and that, but replaced it with a new twist: the sound of two escorts. That was over an hour ago. Now the latest count is five destroyers. And the convoy must be demented. They’ve either stopped for tea, or they’re moving verrry slow, heading south. Haven’t gotten a beacon signal for a while, and can’t get acknowledgment on our Contact Reports. I ordered reports sent until we’re heard. A beautiful Spring day.
16:25 Contact report
04/04/1941 16:25
U-47 Position Grid BE95
Convoy sighted.
Estimated speed 5 knots.
Estimated course 213 degrees.
16:42 Radio Message
From: Bdu
To: U-47
Contact report received.
No further reports were transmitted from U-47. No further contact with convoy was made.
Reverie :cry:
The wolfpack can often be the remnants rather than a reconnoiter. The January mission for instance was instigated by a uboat, but was formalized by our hydrophone attendance. The only way we determined that this was the convoy originally shadowed by our comrade was our taking into account the aftermath of its initial encounter. Ships were damaged, a few were burning, and no escorts were observed. Nor were escorts detected; possibly hunting attacking uboats. There were definite signals of at least ten vessels moving at medium speed in disarray; other signals that faded in and out were also detected, but proved impossible to localise or confirm. This last shortcoming could have been equipment malfunction or operator inexperience. Night had come on, and we only had a break in the weather, still overcast yet smooth enough for gun operations. A frustrating encounter further irritated by defective torpedoes and inclement weather at a darkening hour. We were allowed to make up for predetonations, duds, and errors in tracking by the use of both the flak and deck guns. We braved return fire from unseen armed merchants, and tallied approximately 45K tons before proceeding to our assigned patrol area. We returned to St. Nazaire undamaged and unassuaged of the journey, but proud of its accomplishment. A band had been assembled to play music on the pier for our arrival.
Late February was another assignment to patrol an area in the Big Easy, with a detour to close on beacons of a forming wolfpack. This time the weather remained clear and calm, and the beacons were reliable. We were marching ahead full then turning our beam to the last report bearing and diving, this every hour after closing to ninety nm. It was obvious that the targeted convoy was in straits as we found ourselves crossing east then west to intercept its southern course, all the while receiving beacon signals. As night fell, and the hydrophone signals we had started to catch became louder and louder, we pushed the diesels longer and harder lest we miss our share of the action. With diminishing signals and vanishing contacts, it became obvious that the convoy was dispersing with ships sinking. Then in the early hours before sun up, with an officer on the bridge the lookouts reported flashes on the horizon. We immediately slowed our advance and dove to periscope depth, putting our beam to the approximate bearing, then went to Silent Routine. Contacts. So scattered that they presented a broad front. Unable to detect escorts, but a uboat was having a field day. And one other signal that sounded like a submerged vessel, but we failed to classify it. Surfaced the boat with a heading not based on the hydrophone, but on the continuing flashes in the distance. Ordered off a Contact Report. Ahead one third. By the time the sun came up, we were at periscope and reloading torpedoes after our first salvo. Another disappointment with the Torpedo Directorate. We were forced to fire with dead reckoning as the convoy was not a convoy at all. Ships were simply in the same vicinity, but heading in different directions and constantly altering course and speed. And with the daylight, ships would actually come to a stop to let a torpedo harmlessly cross their bows. Despite the merchants alertness, most failures in our attacks were again attributed to torpedo malfunction. IWO and I watched wakes lead up to ships with no resulting explosion. Detonations one quarter, one third, and one half distance from a target were recorded. And errant predetonations in a spread gave proof of guidance problems. One spread of three set for impact ahead offered a predetonation more than forty five degrees off our bow. Similar misfortune may have been what prompted our beacon sender to attack on the surface with deck gun. So would we. We found at least two armed merchants out of a minimum of sixteen vessels. They were on the outskirts of vision, and keeping other ships between us and the threat kept us unassailed. We finally sighted a fellow uboat, both of us moving through the center of the merchant mass, but couldn’t exchange information or recognition signals. The other boat was phlegmatic in its pursuit, almost lackadaisical in its assault. We told ourselves that they were probably conserving ammunition. Which we began doing as all torpedoes were spent, and our 88mm shells dwindled. The flak gun was enlisted to start fires on the nearest targets. Then a hydrophone warning, the unknown signal being recognised as a Tommy submarine, sought to alter our tactics. We were adaptive, continuing our attacks, but keeping on the move. The added alertness to the unseen threat should have galvanized us, but quite the opposite. The guncrew was shelling ships that were close enough that if they exploded would cause us collateral damage. Lookouts failed to warn of ships attempting to ram. We were constantly running into the field of fire from the armed merchants. Someone was piping bagpipe music up to the bridge from below. The flak gunner had to be relieved for dereliction of duty. I replaced him with one of the now idle Lords of the Stern Torpedo Room. If I could have found a way, I would have loaded our empty torpedo tubes with empty headed sailors. IWO said that the ebb and flow of adrenaline could account for the erratic behavior throughout the boat. Rather than wet nurse individuals, I kept a tight reign on each department. Not a manner in which a commander should have to run his mission. After all is said and done we survived, and shored up our performance with substantial sinkings. We never identified our benefactor. An interesting occurrence, our new flak gunner sank a Large Merchant. The other uboat had been shelling it when our erstwhile shootist decided to target same. Already a smoldering heap, the ship took some poignant flak gun fire to the aft waterline when the rear hold of the merchant exploded, destroying the ship. That makes for excellent propaganda. We managed only one received Contact Report. It was acknowledged after we had sunk sixteen merchant ships, effectively eliminating the convoy. Our partner in action also stopped sending beacons. All weapons expended, we were positioning ourselves south and east of our patrol area to spot for another convoy shadower. When we did get back to base, no disciplinary action was taken. We were scheduled to go back out in April.
And here we are in April. Marching through the Big Easy with another beacon signal teasing us off course. We’ve come close enough to hear the action, but still can’t report in. Nor can we contact any other uboat. Emil has good ears, and we’ve been affording him listening time. He’s got us confident in an intercept, and continues to identify types of ships in this very large convoy. He initially declared a clear track on a fellow uboat, moving this way and that, but replaced it with a new twist: the sound of two escorts. That was over an hour ago. Now the latest count is five destroyers. And the convoy must be demented. They’ve either stopped for tea, or they’re moving verrry slow, heading south. Haven’t gotten a beacon signal for a while, and can’t get acknowledgment on our Contact Reports. I ordered reports sent until we’re heard. A beautiful Spring day.
16:25 Contact report
04/04/1941 16:25
U-47 Position Grid BE95
Convoy sighted.
Estimated speed 5 knots.
Estimated course 213 degrees.
16:42 Radio Message
From: Bdu
To: U-47
Contact report received.
No further reports were transmitted from U-47. No further contact with convoy was made.
Reverie :cry: