The Magnificent Mishaps of U-1337

[Weiss Pinguin]

September 26th, 1939
Somewhere off the coast of Scotland


"She's definitely a merchant, Herr Kaleun." Manfred Reckhoff had been working the hydrophones, tracking the contact we had detected 10 minutes earlier. "Medium range and approaching. Not sure about her speed. Sorry, sir, best I can do in these conditions." We were at perischope depth, and a rather fierce storm raged overhead, not uncommon this far north. I knew anybody listening to a set of hydrophones would be having a fantastically fun time sorting out the noise.

Kapitänleutnant Felix Wagner patted Manfred on the back. "Excellent work. I'll need a range estimate, though, Reckhoff. I think it's time we tested how well our sonar works."

Manfred powered up the Sonderapparat, and fired off a series of sound waves at the unsuspecting merchant. The new sonar equipment, designed specifically for the experimental Type XXI, was supposed to allow our shiny new homing torpedoes to be fired 'blind,' while submerged. At least, that's what they told us. Just about everything on U-1337 was new and practically untested, except for maybe the toilets, but even they were polished and had a futuristic look to them.

As I pondered the issue of the polished toilets on our Elektroboot and how long they would stay shiny, Manfred concentrated on the data from the sound set. "Range is 1800 meters, sir, bearing 320. Still closing," He added as he concentrated on the hydrophones again.

Wagner went back into the control room to bring the U-boat into firing position.

"Sir, we don't even know if it's an English merchant," objected Werner Pietschner, our navigator. He was also quite good at math, so consequently he worked out firing solutions most of the time.

"Think," Wagner replied, "Who else could it be? Would a Dutch or a French freighter be this far north, off the coast of Scotland?"

"A Norwegian ship might," I mused.

"Heading northwest, between Scotland and the Shetland Islands?" A smug smile found its way onto to our captain's mouth as we all pondered what the problem.

Fifteen minutes later we were busy at work putting together a solution for a pair of unguided electric torpedoes, while the soundman tracked our target's progress. The T XI acoustic torpedo could only detect targets moving at 10 knots or more, and with the storm overhead, we decided the chances of a hit were too small to risk wasting one of the precious torpedoes. Besides, we reasoned, we might come across a task force or convoy later on, and every last torpedo counted.

"Los!" Wagner ordered with gusto. The men all stared at him in confusion as he stared back with impatience. "Los, you fools, before he gets away! Fire!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation as the control room came alive again.

The control room came alive as the torpedoes ejected into the cold waters of the North Sea. We all anxiously crowded around the captain to stare at the chronometer in his hands. The seconds ticked down while we all worried that our equipment had malfunctioned or the solution had been calculated incorrectly or the torpedoes had had faulty pistols installed or-

"-Torpedo impact, Herr Kaleun! Two explosions, sir, I- Hold on... I can hear her, sir, breaking up..."

I motioned for him to hand me the headphones. I listened to what could only be the sounds of a ship descending to its watery grave, or a choir of baboons making love to a sheet of metal. Either way, it struck me as the saddest sound I had ever heard.

Still, as we turned north and resumed our stealthy cruise, and I recorded the sinking in the logbook, I couldn't help but feel satisfied. U-1337 had proven herself in combat, and the crew felt invincible. I knew that could all change the moment a British escort detected us, but for the moment, we were unstoppable. After finishing my bookkeeping duties, I retired to my bunk to catch up on some unneeded sleep.



Several hours later I awoke in bed and realized that we didn't even know the tonnage of the ship we had sunk...






(So after losing two GWX 3 careers to apparent computer issues which I have hopefully pinned down, I decided to do something different, fun, and maybe a little cheap. Like starting a career in 1939 with the Type XXI and pretending it's an early, top-secret prototype. Or painting my face orange, with cheap paint.

I also decided to pester you with my war journal, because I'm generous like that ;))

[Lt. Sven Thomsen]

Nice, Herr Kaleun, you do have literary talent. Do you think of publishing books after the victory?


(And I must say that your U-Boat has the most appropriate designation for a SH3 player I've ever seen.)

[A Very Super Market]

Oh, you rotten cheat! :lol:

[Weiss Pinguin]

I do what it takes to win :smug:



September 26th, 1939
Still somewhere off the coast of Scotland


I sat lazily in my bunk, staring at my wristwatch and listening to the quiet hum of the electric engines.

20:35... It had been ten hours since we detected and sunk the assumed British freighter. Since then the ocean had been quiet as a grave. We had continued northwest after the attack, and we were now in the southeast corner of Grid AN14. The crew had been pumped up for hours, like a bunch of children who had eaten several cakes in a row and then been locked in a giant steel tube. Except we didn't have cake, of course.

While I was having my imaginary cake and eating it in my minds eye's mouth, the sonarman suddenly came alive.

"Contact, Herr Kaleun, bearing 350! Sounds like a merchant, moving slow and closing. Long range," he added, twisting his dial around to pin down the exact bearing.

Captain Wagner strode into the radio room and towered over the sonarman. I moved beside him and joined in staring intently at the back of the young crewman's head.

"Do you have a heading for the target?" Wagner inquired.

"Not yet, sir, give me several more minutes. Can we come over to the right some?"

Wagner nodded and gave the order. In a minute we were headed north-northwest, and the soundman was busy plotting the contact on a piece of paper.

Finally, he finished his scrambled doodling. "Bearing is constant, captain, but definitely approaching. I think she's headed straight for us."

Wagner grunted, and returned to the control room and began issuing a stream of orders. "Come left to course 270, reduce speed to 3 knots. Come up to periscope depth. Rig for silent running."

Several minutes later he was peering through the observation scope. "Mein gott... It's darker than the inside of your head, Winkelman," he jested, motioning to my cap. "Down periscope. Bring us back down to 20 meters, mein schatz." Wagner knew the helmsman hated being called that.

Felix popped his head into the radioroom. "Bearing to target?"

"Bearing is 23, sir. Still approaching." Now that the sonarman had the contact pinned down, he returned to doodling on his notepad.

Wagner nodded, and back in the control room he ordered the boat on a reciprocal course to the target. I stared at him. "What the devil are we doing?"

His left brow slowly levitated at my question. "We don't know how deep the keel on our target is, and we don't have any room left to manuever. This way we might score a hit on her bow, and in this weather it'll be less than 15 minutes before she goes under." With a smug smile he went over to the TDC and began adjusting the solution for Tube 5.

Several minutes later and countless meters closer to our target, he ordered the torpedo tube opened. "Feuer, fünf!"

We all listened to the loud woosh of the torpedo ejecting. Several minutes later we decided the torpedo had missed.

"I miscalculated? The great Wagner never miscalculates!" Our captain cried out in agony. As the sonarman fed us new data, I quietly began adjusting the solution on Tube 6. The merchant had apparently detected us at the last minute and turned south. I wondered if they had somehow heard our pinging.

Several minutes later we were moving west into a new firing position when the sonarman came alive once more. "New contact! Long range and closing slowly, bearing 010!" Everyone in the control room stopped for a second. Had our target gotten a message out to the Royal Navy?

As we pondered this new problem, our U-boat continued to creep into position. Finally, Wagner gave the order to fire. Many long seconds later Goldbeck reported an explosion.

"Torpedo impact! She's still going, though, sir," he added after several seconds of listening.

Wagner cursed and ordered tube one fired. This time a homing torpedo was kicked out into the dark water.

"We've got her, Herr Kaleun," Goldbeck gleefully reported a minute later. "Scratch one freighter!"

We were busy grinning and slapping each others backs when Wagner brought us back to business. "Excellent work," he said gruffly. "Now we can move on to our new visitor." He quickly fired off a series of orders: Reload torpedo tubes, come to course 340, increase speed to 6 knots, dive to 40 meters.

As we lept into action, I wondered if we were heading into a trap of some kind...


Edit: lol that was longer than I intended :lol:

[Spike88]

Give us more!

[Weiss Pinguin]

30 minutes later...

"Range to target is 1850 meters, Herr Kaleun. Course and speed are steady." We had been tracking our contact for 15 minutes, since identifying it as a merchant, and were now almost in position to fire. From over 1500 meters. At 40 meters. This is madness, I thought to myself.

The sonarman continued pinging the target. "Range is now 1600 meters." We were closing at 6 knots, which would have made enough racket to bother a deaf man. The Type XXI, on the other hand, slid neatly and silently through the dark water, thanks to her streamlined hull.

Meanwhile, the tracking crew was busy updating the solution for a pair of acoustic torpedoes. "We must close to at least 1000 meters to ensure they acquire the target," Prietschner said reminded everyone and no one. "Set boths tubes to run at one meter. Any lower and they might bounce off the hull."

Several minutes later we were finally ready. Wagner popped his head into the radioroom. "Range to target?"

"1100 meters, sir." The sonarman sent one final ping to confirm his estimate.

"Close enough," the captain mused. "Flood tubes one and two... Feuer, einz! Feuer, zwei!"

One minute and sixteen seconds later, we heard first one, then the other torpedo impact. After continuing on for several more seconds, Reckhoff, back on the hydrophones, reported that our target was sinking.

Once we were clear of the attack area and the excitement and worn off, I took the time to record both attacks in the ship's log. As I began on the first entry I wondered how large the ships we had sunk were. So far we had detected and sunk three ships, and we hadn't even rounded the northern tip of Great Britain. Hopefully we would have enough torpedoes to stir up some trouble when we arrived at our assigned grid...




Several hours later, while we celebrated a clean escape, our sonarman suddenly yelled out a warning: "Warship! Bearing 230, long range but closing fast!"




To be continued...

[Weiss Pinguin]

September 28th, 1939
Grid AN13

"... And fire! Tube five, tube six!" The tension in the control room was as thick as the smell of limburger cheese as Captain Wagner gave the final order of another tense approach.

Within 2 minutes another pair of torpedoes found their target, and another merchant met an exciting end.

By now the business of stalking and sinking enemy vessels was starting to become as routine as brushing ones teeth. Still, that was not to say there wasn't any excitement to be had...

12 hours earlier...

We all huddled quietly in the radioroom, staring intently at the sonarman as he concentrated on the hydrophone dial. He had been tracking the approaching contact, which had been identified as a warship shortly after detection, for almost half an hour now, and it continued to motor along quickly in our direction.
We feared the worst: A destroyer, sent to investigate the area. Or maybe it had already been in the neighborhood, undetected, and it had heard one or both of our attacks.

As we pondered this, U-1337 continued to creep northwest at 2 knots, just barely enough to maintain depth, while the crewmen silently went about their business. There was to be no cooking, talking, or using the toilet, which began to weigh heavily on my mind at an alarming rate. Never again would I consume three cups of tea inside of an hour.

The minutes passed slowly as the ship neared. We hoped the foul weather would interfere with any hydrophones or sonar devices they might carry, while we sat quietly at 50 meters below the surface and listened through ours.

"She's right on top of us!" The sonarman quietly shouted. The vessel overhead might hear if he spoke too loudly, after all.

"Mein gott," Wagner reprimanded, "Contain yourself, man!"

By now the anxiety had spread throughout the rest of the crew, and everybody stood frozen in place as they stared upwards, as though they could see the enemy pass overhead.

The sonarman continued listening. "Heading is constant... No change in speed..."

Wagner popped his head into the control room. "Slowly increase speed to 4 knots, come left to course two-seven-zero." He returned to his spot in the radioshack as the helmsmen went to work.

We slowly began to breath again as the contact continued on its way, apparently oblivious to the drama unfolding below.

After another hour or so, once the contact had passed beyond the hydrophone's range, we resumed our cruise, and I was free to finally empty my ballast tank.

[Sailor Steve]

Very good start! Type XXI or no, it's a fun read so far.:sunny:

[Weiss Pinguin]

Edit: Thank you much :-j

September 29th, 1939
Grid AN13

As I peered through the periscope at the good-sized freighter, it occured to me that this was the first time we would actually be able to see our target. I began calling information to the tracking crew, who adjusted the solution for one of our few remaining homing torpedoes.

Several minutes later we listened to the woosh of the ejecting torpedo, and Manfred Reckhoff on the hydrophones tracked our eel's progress. We were close enough to the enemy merchant that we could faintly hear the explosion as our torpedo impacted.

"Contact is still going, sir," Reckhoff called out. "She's reducing speed some..."

"Down periscope," Wagner ordered, "Come right to zero-zero-zero, increase speed to six knots. Set tube two to run straight at one meter, contact pistol." After several minutes of tooling along to the north, he ordered another course change, this time to the southwest.

"Reduce speed to 2 knots, up periscope." This time he took the scope, grabbing it just after it broke the water's surface. "Flood tube two... Feuer, zwei!"

Once more Reckhoff monited the torpedo's run. "Torpedo detonation!"

Wagner nodded confidently as he lowered the periscope. "Excellent work, men. Helmsman, come to course one-six-five, depth fifty meters. Increase speed to five knots."

This time I was finally able to record more than a simple 'Ship sunk' in the ship's log. I ran through the details in my head as I wrote: Granville-type freighter, estimate approx. 4000 tons, sunk September 29, 1939...

From there we decided to turn for home, as our torpedo stores were low, and our imposing 20mm kanonen were useless against anything bigger than a fishing vessel. The return trip was uneventful, and after having run submerged for an entire week, we finally surfaced on October 1st, several kilometers from Heligoland. The crew was more than happy to see the outside world again, and as we motored into Wilhelmshaven at a brisk 4 knots, they were all lined up on the deck, which was quite impressive, as there was little room to stand.


Later that evening a grand celebration at the nearest pub ended with a glorious barfight and rousing performance by a choir in town. I could have sworn the fellow leading them was wearing a tea cozy on his head, but I might've just been that tipsy.

[Weiss Pinguin]

October 5th, 1939
Southeast corner of Grid AN59


"Depth under keel?" Kapitänleutnant Wagner asked the navigator.

Pietschner worked the Atlas-Echolot sounding device before answering. "Depth under keel is... Twenty-seven meters, Herr Kaleun."

"Very well. Prepare to dive," Kapitänleutnant Wagner ordered tersely. The crewmen responded to his stream of orders quickly and efficiently as he surveyed the control room, stopwatch in hand.

As we descended to 20 meters several minutes later, he clucked his tongue. "Too slow, mein schatz," he confided quietly to me. "We shall have to drill them harder..." He continued to mutter under his breath as we strode to the radioroom.

"Anything?" Reckhoff shook his head negatively at my question while he continued to manipulate the hydrophone controls.

Suddenly: "Aha! I have it!" His voice dripped with triumph.

"What is it! A freighter? No, a large warship, the Hood perhaps!" The captain and I crowded close with anticipation.

"I have finally remembered the name of the lady I entertained last night." He directed an evil grin in our direction as we stormed back into the control room.

"Everything looks good, Herr Kaleun," Eduard Jonetat reported. "Engines are running normally, no leaks indicated. It will be several minutes before I can get the tanks properly trimmed, though."

Wagner nodded smartly to the chief engineer. "Very well. If that is all, then I will be in my room for the next three hours. Winkelman," he said to me, "You have the watch. Put on some music, if you please." As I went back into the control room, making sure to give Reckhoff my angriest glare, I reflected on the last week.

We had spent a grand total of 3 days on shore, unless you counted yesterday, which was mostly spent in our cramped, soundproofed home, preparing for another patrol. Reports of increased activity in the Irish sea had cut short our small vacation, and now we were back in the familiar waters off the British coast. Such is life.

[DanFraser]

Edit: Thank you much :-j

Later that evening a grand celebration at the nearest pub ended with a glorious barfight and rousing performance by a choir in town. I could have sworn the fellow leading them was wearing a tea cozy on his head, but I might've just been that tipsy.

Love that little nod!

[Weiss Pinguin]

From the personal log of Lt. z S Willi Winkelman...


October 14th:
Last patrol was a washout. BdU guesstimates less than 15000 GRT scored. Homing torpedoes need better acoustic sensors - Half our shots either lost contact shortly after acquisition or failed to acquire altogether. Firing pistol on T II electric is also abysmal. Word is that the Kriegsmarine is supposedly developing new equipment for them, but people will say anything these days.

Radio crew still need more practice with new hydrophone equipment. Even after half-dozen patrols they still have trouble identifying vessel types. (Not that I have much right to speak; The propeller noises all sound the same to me)
At least sonar set works. Several pings needed to pin down range, but so far all distance readings have been accurate enough. Hopefully crewmen will have enough experience with identification before things start heating up.

In any case, we are safely back in port, although crew is disgruntled. Didn't even round the northern tip of Great Britain before we expended our eels.
On the bright side, KptLt. Wagner and U-1337 are currently at the top of the scoreboard with nearly 50000 GRT credited. Crew are all very proud.

Tonight the boys are all planning to head out to let off steam. Hope that choir is still in town.

[si888]

A Type XXI in 1939 that sounds like lots of fun !! How do you do that ???

[Weiss Pinguin]

[BETA] Type XXI 1939 (http://www.subsim.com/radioroom/showthread.php?t=143816)

Still some bugs being ironed out, but that makes it feel all the more experimental. ;)


Next episode soon to come... (Heads up for everyone listening in... All 4 or 5 of you :p)

[Weiss Pinguin]

November 2nd, 1939
Wilhelmshaven, Germany

I stood on the pier and proudly surveyed our gleaming Type XXI. I also watched as Oberfähnrich zur See Rolf Friedrich directed a group of sailors in painting our U-boot's insignia. Someone somewhere on our roster had decided that a Snail would be an excellent choice, because of the slow manner in which we crawled around the North Sea. I personally thought that 6 knots was a decent speed for a submerged boat.

Friedrich was a newcomer to U-1337, and had arrived the day before. I was rather disappointed that the empty bunk I used when stowing away in the crew quarters would be taken. Rolf came from a rather well off family, and had traveled to England on many occasions as a child. As such his English was somewhat better than the rest of ours, as he now demonstrated rather painfully.

"Snailboot, you see? Snailboot, Schnellboot... Nobody?" His humor was apparently lost on the lowly matrosen, who stared at each other while Rofl explained the joke.

I sighed and went back to watching the torpedomen wrestle our torpedo stores on board. Several of our acoustic torpedoes had been equipped with adjusted hydrophones, and were also slightly faster than the older model. To compensate for their fantastic new capabilities, we had had a grand total of five assigned to our boat.

After several minutes watching the crewmen nearly drown one of the precious eels, I made my way onto the conning tower and then headed below to see what trouble I could stir up. After two and a half weeks in port boredom, and with it carelessness, was beginning to set in. Just the previous day a good portion of the crew were nearly eaten alive after an accident involving a cigar and the ship's logbook.* Needless to say the captain was not pleased.

On the bright side, we were scheduled to leave the next day, if all went well. After a week of maintenance on her massive batteries and modifications to various equipment, even our U-boat seemed anxious to get underway. I stood in the middle of the control room for several more minutes, oblivious to the activity around me as I contemplated the meaning of life.

Suddenly the cook slapped me on the face. "Um Gottes willen! Don't just stand there, help me with these bloody provisions!"

Judging from the large stack of boxes he carried and the cherry-red complexion he had suddenly acquired, I decided that assisting him would probably be the healthier choice. Ach so... Back to work then.



* Said incident actually involved the 'Delete' button and a quirky mouse, but that's not important.

[Weiss Pinguin]

November 4th, 1939
North Sea

"Anything?" I looked over at the speaker, annoyed at whoever had interrupted my reverie. It was currently my watch, and the conning tower was not the most fun place to be.

"Nein," I called out, hopefully loudly enough that the disembodied voice could hear me.

"Ach. How's the weather up there?" I decided the question wasn't even worth annswering. The sky was beginning to darken and the winds were picking up, and it wasn't even noon yet. Already my boots felt like ice. Watch duty did not rank high on my list of jobs.

We were heading to the North Atlantic, and as the English Channel had been closed by mines, we would have detour around to the north of Great Britain. To make up for this we were running low on the surface, to maximize speed.
So far we had only been sent to patrol the relatively shallow and cramped waters around Britain. We would now put U-1337 to the test in the frigid waters of the Nordatlantischer ocean, where the storms and the wind cut through the thickest of coats and froze up the toughest of sailors. Or at least that's how I remembered it.

Anyways. We still had a good week to go until we reached the Atlantic, at least. I tried to comfort myself with thoughts of the convoys and large merchants we would be hunting. And who knew, we might even be lucky enough to run across a British carrier hunter-killer gruppe... Lt. Winkelman, hero of the Kriegsmarine! I grinned at the thought.

As I huddled safe and warm inside my fantasy the hours crawled by. I was in the middle of entertaining a number of actresses at my hotel room when suddenly Rolf Friedrich slapped me on the shoulder.

"Let's go, stud!" His wide grin greeted me. "Your watch has been over for ten minutes, Willi, get below before you drown for Pete's sake!"

I could have slapped him. As I went below, I wondered just how much of my daydream he had heard...

[Weiss Pinguin]

From the personal log of Lt. z S Willi Winkelman...


November 10th, 1939
Rain, rain, rain. I swear, if I never see another cloud it will be too soon.

In other news, Franz had one of his canines removed yesterday. We had a small ceremony on the bridge during a spot of vaguely clear-ish weather to bury his fallen tooth. Afterwards we went back to feeling miserable.
Up until now we had spent most of our time submerged, only coming to the surface to snorkel; consequently, we've had little experience with storms at sea. Now we are feeling the full-blown fury of the North Atlantic, and we still have several more days to go until we reached our patrol area. Even after a week of nonstop storms we still haven't fully adjusted.

So far we've run across little traffic. We've picked up several contacts the last few days, but all have been too far to for us to even consider attacking.
The crew is itching for action, but in these conditions we probably won't see very much for several days at least.

Anyways, we'll be having lunch in about half an hour. The aroma coming from the kitchen area has filled the boat up completely, and I can't decide whether to feel hungry or sick. The captain has decided we will dive for mealtime, in an attempt to escape the surface action. Hopefully we can stomach our food.

However it turns out, the watch crew and I are definitely not complaining.

~ Lt. z S Winkelman

[mx]

good read :up:

although i guess an experimental sub type in the 39 wouldn't be called type XXI, but that's your call ;)
keep up the good work U-leet crew!

[Weiss Pinguin]

good read :up:

although i guess an experimental sub type in the 39 wouldn't be called type XXI, but that's your call ;)
I s'pose :hmmm:




November 10th, 1939
Southwest of the Rockall Bank

"Herr Kaleun, new contact, merchant!" The sonarmen were getting better at identification. "Bearing 039, moving slow and closing. Very faint, definitely long range."

Wagner stuck his head back into the control room. "Come right to course zero-one-five, make revolutions for three knots." To the sonarman: "Track the contact, keep us updated." He patted Reckhoff on the shoulder and returned to the Zentralle.

I looked up from the plotting table where I had been practicing my penmanship. I had been in the middle of another column of R's when the report came in. Quickly I finished the string of letters before putting my pad of paper away.

"So what do we have," I inquired anxiously.

Otto called out from the stoves. "We have coffee, milk, tea..."

"Not you," I yelled angrily to the cook as I wondered how sharp my fountain pen was.

Reckhoff continued to call out bearings as we crept north at periscope depth. Luckily it was just after midnight, as we had been snorkeling. We decided that it was dark enough to continue without fear of detection.

10 minutes later we were positioned off the target's starboard bow. "Definitely flying the Red Ensign," I studied the freighter through the observation scope. Wagner manned the attack periscope, and called out data to the tracking crew.

"Flood tubes one and two," he finally ordered. "Feuer... Einz! Feuer vier!" He stepped back from the periscope and lowered it. "Left 15 degrees rudder, come to course 230, six knots."

We had just finished our turn when a faint explosion came through the hull. I had still been tracking the target through the periscope and was greeted by an impressive explosion. I nearly fell over, but instead decided to lower the observation scope and pretend my eyes weren't bleeding.

Later I logged U-1337's first victory of the patrol as we sailed southwest: Bulk freighter, estimate 2700 tons, November 10th...

[si888]

Thanks very much Type XXI are great fun in 1939, how different the battle of the atlantic would have turned out with a few of them cruising the high seas.
Great story to keep it up !! :yeah:

[Weiss Pinguin]

November 13th, 1939
the North Atlantic

I watched as the periscope quietly slid upwards, before grabbing the handles just as it broke the waterline.

"Nothing," I reported. "I can't see a thing, Herr Kaleun, too dark." I watched again as the periscope slid down into its well before walking into the radioshack.

The sonarman looked up at the captain and I. "Sounds like a tanker," he grinned. "Moving fast, though, and still a good distance away."

"Very well. Come left to course 140, ahead standard," he shouted into the Zentralle.

For the next 15 minutes we sprinted at 14 knots while U-1337 quickly closed the distance. As we slowed back down to 5 knots the sonarman reported the contact still a good distance away.

"Ping her," the captain quietly ordered.

5 sound waves later the sonarman reported the tanker at a distance of 3000 meters. Wagner quietly cursed under his breath.

"Captain, the batteries are running dangerously low. We won't be able to keep this up for much longer." Disappointment crept into my voice even as I talked.

Wagner sighed, and lightly banged his fist against the bulkhead. "Well, it's not as if we would be able to get off a shot at her stern. Probably American anyways," he added with a faint grin.

We stepped into the control room, and he gave the orders that would put us back on course. The crew was even more restless and agitated than before as we headed south again and dropped back down to 100 meters.

"Make revolutions for 3 knots," Wagner said before heading for his bunk. "We'll come up to snorkel in an hour. Wake me then."

With that, he went off to nap, and I went back to practicing my handwritten ABC's.


(Finally got around to playing SH3 again, lol)

[Weiss Pinguin]

November 17th, 1939
Grid BF41

We ran across two ships the other day, both an hour apart from each other. As they were heading in opposite directions it took a bit of sprinting and manuevering, but we made it, and both ships found their way down to Davy Jones' locker.

At the moment I was running through a column of R's when suddenly the alarm sounded. Crewmen jumped out of their bunks, the cook almost burned himself to death with a pan of scrambled eggs, and my pen went flying towards the navigator as I rushed to my post.

Two and a half minutes later the Captain clicked his stopwatch and scowled. "Ach... Too slow, mein schatz," he called to everyone and no one.

I sighed, and was stooping down to find my pen when suddenly the sonarman also called out excitedly to everyone and no one. "Herr Kaleun, multiple contacts... I've got three so far, sounds like there may be more." He took off his headphones and poked his head out of his cubbyhole, a wide grin on his face.

Everyone in the Zentralle stared at each other as Kapitänleutnant Wagner headed for the radioshack, motioning for me to follow.

"They're headed northeast, same as us, but they're moving at a good clip, and they've got a headstart." the sonarman observed, looking at us.

"Very well," the captain mused, "We'll continue snorkeling, and when the batteries are charged we'll sprint at 15 knots for half an hour on our present course. Then we'll get down to business."

We headed back to the control room to prepare.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[gord96]

great job! i am going to be playing this mod tonight!

[gord96]

haha what a great time!! January 1940 and I am sailing around in U-111. One of the KM's new Type X "Wunder" boats!!

Keep up the good story sir! :arrgh!:

[Weiss Pinguin]

Grid BF41...

I watched as the periscope slid up from its housing and poked out from the cold, black water of the North Atlantic. We had just come off our sprint, and we were now in front of the convoy, somehow.

"Ach," the captain muttered, "I can't see a thing... Wait! There she is, the lead destroyer... Zig-zagging, looks like," he added after several minutes.

I looked over at the map. We had plotted about over 15 contacts, and more calls were coming from the radioroom. This was a big one.

I looked up, and was about to speak to the captain when suddenly the boat rocked violently, and began to dive at an increasing angle, as if a giant hand was propelling the boat downwards. Suddenly the engines ran up to full power, and the needle on the depth gauge spun wildly. Captain Wagner stared up at me, his face pale.

"Crash dive to desktop...." he fearfully whispered to-


A hand began to shake my shoulder, and I jerked up and yelled out a warning to whomever was waking me. "Runaway dive!"

The captain stared at me while one of his eyebrows began its ascent up his forehead. "What the devil did you eat before you went to sleep?"

"Ah, nothing Herr Kaleun... Euhm, just a nightmare. Ahem." I decided now would be a good time to let go of my blanket and get ready.

"We've just come off our sprint... Get in the control room when you can."

I nodded sheepishly as he left. The whole boat had probably heard me...



(SH3 crash-dived as soon as I was in position... Will have to try again... :nope: )