sabretwo
03-28-08, 07:26 AM
Last night a glitch in the game (or SH3 Commander’s malfunctions feature) gave me the most intense convoy encounter I have had yet. After one previous encounter with a large convoy in the northern part of AM51 (sinking a Whale Factory Ship and evading the escorts), I plotted an intercept course for a second bite. I raced about 50 kilometers parallel with the convoy before proceeding north toward my planned interception point. It was night and the weather was heavy rain, light fog, and light chop on the water. Visibility was about 700 meters or so. Just as I was getting ready to dive to periscope depth, we almost ran directly into an enemy destroyer. I ordered crash dive and we narrowly missed a deck gun shot as U-122, an IXB, dropped below the surface.
Once underwater, I set us to Ahead Flank and set the depth to 220m. Once we reached 220, I set silent running and the speed to 1 knot. With the chop on the water and running about 75 rpms, I thought we had blown our chance at bagging a merchant, but at least we’d slip away. Then I noticed the depth gauge…
We were sinking…225…228…231
I decreased the depth trying to compensate. Nothing…233….235. I ordered ahead standard and finally we started ascending after we had reached 238m. During this time, another escort had joined the first.
For the next thirty minutes, I found myself playing a cat and mouse game evading depth charges while adjusting our speed to maintain depth. We tried holding our depth around 180m, but anytime I dropped my speed below 3 knots we would start to sink again. In the last three years at sea, I have never seen my first officer and helmsman, Herbert Linder, sweat so much. He kept a sturdy demeanor, but I could see the fear in his eyes.
We were as good as dead. Just one possible chance….a longshot.
After realizing that there was no way we were going to get out of this creeping out quietly, I ordered ahead flank and periscope depth. My crew looked at each other in disbelief, but they complied and we started ascending. I monitored the hydrophone contacts and oriented the sub toward an escort that was circling for a run. Quickly to the attack scope….TDC 3-shot spread, magnetic fuzes, 3 meters, and a quick prayer…open the doors.
Just as the attack scope broke surface, I could see a Hunt class destroyer at about 40-degrees, 500 meters, and getting ready to pass our bow. I didn’t know what his speed was nor his exact AOB, so I made a best guess at 80-degrees AOB and 10-knots. FIRE!
Just about the same time the last fish cleared the tube, I could hear myself being pinged and I ordered our depth back to 180m. The ticking of the stopwatch seemed like eternity…then suddenly, boom! One hit to the Hunt’s stern, the other two torps had missed. (Thanks, event camera!)
My men cheered as we listened to the crushing of the Hunt’s hull as it descended less than 300 meters from us. We realized that we may survive this yet. With only one escort left, we might stand a chance.
However, unknown to me at the time, there wasn’t just two escorts on the surface, but three.
We discovered that quickly when the next round of depth charging began. After monitoring the speed between runs and looking at the hydrophone contacts, there appeared to be two escorts left on the surface. Again we were locked into a vicious cycle of speeding up and slowing down, trying to maintain depth at 180m and yet slipping away quietly.
Not to be…after another thirty minutes of endless assault from the surface, luckily avoiding any serious damage, I ordered us off silent running and sent a team to the bow torpedo room to reload. It seemed to take forever for them to reload…meanwhile the party above continued…splash, splash, splash….boom, boom, boom.
Finally we had one more torpedo in the tube, giving us two stern and two bow. I could see that my men were tired and demoralized. Even Herbert looked like he had had too much. I ordered the entire bridge crew replaced immediately.
Once the new crew was seated, I ordered them to ahead flank and periscope depth. We started to ascend…could our luck get us through this again? Personally, I thought it was the end of the road.
While we ascended I set the TDC for a spread shot. When the periscope broke the surface it looked surreal. Water was washing over the lens distorted further by glare from the spotlights. I quickly turned the scope desperately to see what was going on. We had one last shot at this and if this didn’t work…(I’d have to call it a night and reload a saved game the next night!:cool: )
I could see one destroyer circling behind me and then a second at about 120-degrees port. Then I noticed, the second destroyer was stationary! (Probably using his hydrophones) Quickly…hard left rudder…ahead slow. We started turning, bringing our stern into alignment for the shot. Meanwhile I frantically set the TDC…700 meters was my best guess (no time for measuring masts), speed 0, 60-degree AOB, 1-degree spread. Rudder amidships. Open doors. …the destroyer started to appear in the scope…195…190….185…FIRE!
I ordered ahead flank and back to 180m. I quickly lost view of the target, praying he would remain still….several seconds passed before - BOOM! One hit.
The second escort made a pass over us at 40m. I thought we were dead, but by miracle all depth charges missed. I ordered us to 150m and then cut back to silent running and under 75 rpm…new course 170-degrees. We slowly started sinking again…but much slower this time. I ordered us to 130 meters…depth was held…we weren’t sinking or rising.
We all held our breath as the minutes seemed like hours….creeping little by little. Several times the remaining escort dropped charges, but they were too far away. After he passed over us several times without dropping charges we concluded he had lost us. We were lucky again. At 128 meters, we should have been an easy spot if he was using his active sonar.
After about another thirty minutes he gave up and rushed back to catch up to his flock. We slowly crept south, putting as much distance between him and us as possible. I then commended the men and went to my bunk, drew the curtain, and poured myself a brandy…noticing that my hand was still shaking just a little.
I yelled around the curtain to Adolf, the helmsman on the other side of the hatch…”Plot a course back to St. Nazaire! Surface and set speed to seven knots. This patrol is over!”
Once underwater, I set us to Ahead Flank and set the depth to 220m. Once we reached 220, I set silent running and the speed to 1 knot. With the chop on the water and running about 75 rpms, I thought we had blown our chance at bagging a merchant, but at least we’d slip away. Then I noticed the depth gauge…
We were sinking…225…228…231
I decreased the depth trying to compensate. Nothing…233….235. I ordered ahead standard and finally we started ascending after we had reached 238m. During this time, another escort had joined the first.
For the next thirty minutes, I found myself playing a cat and mouse game evading depth charges while adjusting our speed to maintain depth. We tried holding our depth around 180m, but anytime I dropped my speed below 3 knots we would start to sink again. In the last three years at sea, I have never seen my first officer and helmsman, Herbert Linder, sweat so much. He kept a sturdy demeanor, but I could see the fear in his eyes.
We were as good as dead. Just one possible chance….a longshot.
After realizing that there was no way we were going to get out of this creeping out quietly, I ordered ahead flank and periscope depth. My crew looked at each other in disbelief, but they complied and we started ascending. I monitored the hydrophone contacts and oriented the sub toward an escort that was circling for a run. Quickly to the attack scope….TDC 3-shot spread, magnetic fuzes, 3 meters, and a quick prayer…open the doors.
Just as the attack scope broke surface, I could see a Hunt class destroyer at about 40-degrees, 500 meters, and getting ready to pass our bow. I didn’t know what his speed was nor his exact AOB, so I made a best guess at 80-degrees AOB and 10-knots. FIRE!
Just about the same time the last fish cleared the tube, I could hear myself being pinged and I ordered our depth back to 180m. The ticking of the stopwatch seemed like eternity…then suddenly, boom! One hit to the Hunt’s stern, the other two torps had missed. (Thanks, event camera!)
My men cheered as we listened to the crushing of the Hunt’s hull as it descended less than 300 meters from us. We realized that we may survive this yet. With only one escort left, we might stand a chance.
However, unknown to me at the time, there wasn’t just two escorts on the surface, but three.
We discovered that quickly when the next round of depth charging began. After monitoring the speed between runs and looking at the hydrophone contacts, there appeared to be two escorts left on the surface. Again we were locked into a vicious cycle of speeding up and slowing down, trying to maintain depth at 180m and yet slipping away quietly.
Not to be…after another thirty minutes of endless assault from the surface, luckily avoiding any serious damage, I ordered us off silent running and sent a team to the bow torpedo room to reload. It seemed to take forever for them to reload…meanwhile the party above continued…splash, splash, splash….boom, boom, boom.
Finally we had one more torpedo in the tube, giving us two stern and two bow. I could see that my men were tired and demoralized. Even Herbert looked like he had had too much. I ordered the entire bridge crew replaced immediately.
Once the new crew was seated, I ordered them to ahead flank and periscope depth. We started to ascend…could our luck get us through this again? Personally, I thought it was the end of the road.
While we ascended I set the TDC for a spread shot. When the periscope broke the surface it looked surreal. Water was washing over the lens distorted further by glare from the spotlights. I quickly turned the scope desperately to see what was going on. We had one last shot at this and if this didn’t work…(I’d have to call it a night and reload a saved game the next night!:cool: )
I could see one destroyer circling behind me and then a second at about 120-degrees port. Then I noticed, the second destroyer was stationary! (Probably using his hydrophones) Quickly…hard left rudder…ahead slow. We started turning, bringing our stern into alignment for the shot. Meanwhile I frantically set the TDC…700 meters was my best guess (no time for measuring masts), speed 0, 60-degree AOB, 1-degree spread. Rudder amidships. Open doors. …the destroyer started to appear in the scope…195…190….185…FIRE!
I ordered ahead flank and back to 180m. I quickly lost view of the target, praying he would remain still….several seconds passed before - BOOM! One hit.
The second escort made a pass over us at 40m. I thought we were dead, but by miracle all depth charges missed. I ordered us to 150m and then cut back to silent running and under 75 rpm…new course 170-degrees. We slowly started sinking again…but much slower this time. I ordered us to 130 meters…depth was held…we weren’t sinking or rising.
We all held our breath as the minutes seemed like hours….creeping little by little. Several times the remaining escort dropped charges, but they were too far away. After he passed over us several times without dropping charges we concluded he had lost us. We were lucky again. At 128 meters, we should have been an easy spot if he was using his active sonar.
After about another thirty minutes he gave up and rushed back to catch up to his flock. We slowly crept south, putting as much distance between him and us as possible. I then commended the men and went to my bunk, drew the curtain, and poured myself a brandy…noticing that my hand was still shaking just a little.
I yelled around the curtain to Adolf, the helmsman on the other side of the hatch…”Plot a course back to St. Nazaire! Surface and set speed to seven knots. This patrol is over!”