Captain Birdseye
03-05-09, 10:18 AM
The night was dark, Kaleun Freudenburg stood on the conning tower, as U-551 slowly made its way out of St Nazaire. Days passed, the men on their third patrol of the war. It's 1941. Morale is high, and Freudenburg recieves a radio transmission of a key enemy convoy heading up the Atlantic from Africa with coal and iron ore supplies. It was up to U-551 that these goods never ended up in British hands.
Freudenburg arrives at the plotted interception area. "Damnit! it's pitch black and the weather is rough, we will never see them! Let's stay on a circular knots at ahead standard. We'll try our luck."
Hours passed, the men growing tired from being alert. Freudenburg writes out a letter to his wife, missing her. Then, suddenly, "WARSHIP SPOTTED BEARING 020". "Dive to periscope depth! hurry!" demanded Freudenburg. " ALAAAAAAARM". U-551 was now stalking HMCS Athabaskan, as she escorted the vital supplies to England.
"Damn this god damn weather!" I can't see a thing!". The navigator was now growing more and more concerned, the U-Boat was on a collision course with the merchants. Freudenburg calls up his officers.
"Ok, we have a Tribal class escorting two large merchants. We will take out the Tribal with one eel. We aim for her engine, she is disabled. We are at a lower depth, and thus she cannot depth charge us. If needs be, we then break her back with another torp. We must act quickly, the merchants will spot this and divert course, we must keep them in sights at all times. Understood? Let's get to it!"
The boat swings round, Freudenburg can make out the eerie dark figure of HMCS Athabaskan. The gyro angle reaches 000 "Torpedo 1, LOS!" The torpedo firing shakes the boat. The sweat drips from Freudenburg's beard. The ticking of the clock, an eerie sound for many. "just hold on gentleman, just hold o...." BOOM. HMCS Athabaskan lights up the night sky, everything is visible. Freudenburg can see panicking sailors jumping overboard from Athabaskan on fire. "You poor, poor bastards".
The hydrophone operator reports Athabaskan going down. The breaking bulkheads send a chill down every sailors spine.
"Ok, now for the merchants! alter course! Torpedo tube 2, open!"
The first merchant is now in sight, a rusty old Coal carrier. Surely the tommies need better boats than this? The fire from HMCS Athabaskan's oil lights the merchant up perfectly.
"Torpedo 2, LOS!". The clock ticks again, the desperation for a hit sets in again.
BOOM. The first merchant has its back broken, the coal fuels the fire, it's a burning wreck. Freudenburg swings the periscope around and notices the Ore Carrier starting to diverge course immediatley. Freudenburg gives the order to swing the Aft tubes round to the last merchant ship. The aft torpedo is fired. It hits. the pulse in Freudenburg's veins races. He is sinking his first convoy, alone.
The ship isn't going down, and neither is the coal carrier. Freudenburg swings the boat around to use the forward torpedo tubes. Another torpedo is fired into the Ore Carrier. The hull screams with pain, and she falls to her watery grave, only a few crew remain in small life rafts.
"Ok, gentlemen, I don't want to waste torpedos. Let us surface, and man the deck gun".
U-551 surfaces amongst the fire and carnage, men screaming for help, dead bodies float everywhere. The boat rocks from the deck gun fire. There is silence. No one is excited anymore.
The coal carrier finally gives in, rolls over, and sinks, following her friends.
"Dive to 40 metres and return to course! they will have radioed us in by now! we need to get out of here!".
U-551 has survived. The vital supplies from Africa are now 1000 metres below the waterline. And so are most of the crew. U-551 surfaces 5 hours later, on a course south heading for DH55.
Merchant spotted! bearing 013! Freudenburg gets on the UZO. It is a British foodstuffs ship heading north east, probably towards England.
"Get ready for torpedo attack gentlemen!"
"Torpedo tube 1, LOS!" This wait will be longer. She is atleast 2KM's away. The morning air is fresh on the face of Freudenburg, this will be a bittersweet victory.
The men gaze on, quiet as ever. BOOM! she is hit. She turns away from us, her gunners desperatley firing shells towards us, most falling short of their target.
10 minutes pass, and she too, follows the convoy. U-551 is racking up the tonnage.
"Brilliant gentlemen. We will head back to St Nazaire, we have all served our purpose in the Kreigsmarine for one patrol".
The next few days go without event. Many of the men singing and cheering to the gramophone records. Even the Kaleun breaks a smile.
Freudenburg dives to 20 metres coming into Nazaire's port due to reports of a warship nearby. He wasn't going to get caught out after this success.
Just as they headed to shallow waters a young sailor ran to him "Sir! sir!" he holds out a map to Freudenburg, just as Freudenburg reads the heading MINEN the boat is shook violently.
"MINEFIELDS! DAMNIT!"
The boat rocks again, minefields ripping the boat to shreds. Men are shouting, the sound is deafening. Men wail with pain as exploding pipes spray them with bolts.
"Blow ballast! BLOW BALLAST!"
The boat finally surfaces. U-551 is in chaos. Freudenburg goes to the conning tower. It's peaceful up here. There is no war. There is no destruction. There is no death.
U-551 is slowly sinking. Freudenburg tries to help his men out onto the conning tower. The water is rough. He has no chance.
Freudenburg is left on the surface, 51 men set sail from St Nazaire. 50 have just died.
Freudenburg is picked up by a Raeumboot Klass boat. His last words to the crew are "God bless the men of U-551." As he sailed back, into the smokey confines of Nazaire.
U-551 sinks on 28th August 1941.
Freudenburg arrives at the plotted interception area. "Damnit! it's pitch black and the weather is rough, we will never see them! Let's stay on a circular knots at ahead standard. We'll try our luck."
Hours passed, the men growing tired from being alert. Freudenburg writes out a letter to his wife, missing her. Then, suddenly, "WARSHIP SPOTTED BEARING 020". "Dive to periscope depth! hurry!" demanded Freudenburg. " ALAAAAAAARM". U-551 was now stalking HMCS Athabaskan, as she escorted the vital supplies to England.
"Damn this god damn weather!" I can't see a thing!". The navigator was now growing more and more concerned, the U-Boat was on a collision course with the merchants. Freudenburg calls up his officers.
"Ok, we have a Tribal class escorting two large merchants. We will take out the Tribal with one eel. We aim for her engine, she is disabled. We are at a lower depth, and thus she cannot depth charge us. If needs be, we then break her back with another torp. We must act quickly, the merchants will spot this and divert course, we must keep them in sights at all times. Understood? Let's get to it!"
The boat swings round, Freudenburg can make out the eerie dark figure of HMCS Athabaskan. The gyro angle reaches 000 "Torpedo 1, LOS!" The torpedo firing shakes the boat. The sweat drips from Freudenburg's beard. The ticking of the clock, an eerie sound for many. "just hold on gentleman, just hold o...." BOOM. HMCS Athabaskan lights up the night sky, everything is visible. Freudenburg can see panicking sailors jumping overboard from Athabaskan on fire. "You poor, poor bastards".
The hydrophone operator reports Athabaskan going down. The breaking bulkheads send a chill down every sailors spine.
"Ok, now for the merchants! alter course! Torpedo tube 2, open!"
The first merchant is now in sight, a rusty old Coal carrier. Surely the tommies need better boats than this? The fire from HMCS Athabaskan's oil lights the merchant up perfectly.
"Torpedo 2, LOS!". The clock ticks again, the desperation for a hit sets in again.
BOOM. The first merchant has its back broken, the coal fuels the fire, it's a burning wreck. Freudenburg swings the periscope around and notices the Ore Carrier starting to diverge course immediatley. Freudenburg gives the order to swing the Aft tubes round to the last merchant ship. The aft torpedo is fired. It hits. the pulse in Freudenburg's veins races. He is sinking his first convoy, alone.
The ship isn't going down, and neither is the coal carrier. Freudenburg swings the boat around to use the forward torpedo tubes. Another torpedo is fired into the Ore Carrier. The hull screams with pain, and she falls to her watery grave, only a few crew remain in small life rafts.
"Ok, gentlemen, I don't want to waste torpedos. Let us surface, and man the deck gun".
U-551 surfaces amongst the fire and carnage, men screaming for help, dead bodies float everywhere. The boat rocks from the deck gun fire. There is silence. No one is excited anymore.
The coal carrier finally gives in, rolls over, and sinks, following her friends.
"Dive to 40 metres and return to course! they will have radioed us in by now! we need to get out of here!".
U-551 has survived. The vital supplies from Africa are now 1000 metres below the waterline. And so are most of the crew. U-551 surfaces 5 hours later, on a course south heading for DH55.
Merchant spotted! bearing 013! Freudenburg gets on the UZO. It is a British foodstuffs ship heading north east, probably towards England.
"Get ready for torpedo attack gentlemen!"
"Torpedo tube 1, LOS!" This wait will be longer. She is atleast 2KM's away. The morning air is fresh on the face of Freudenburg, this will be a bittersweet victory.
The men gaze on, quiet as ever. BOOM! she is hit. She turns away from us, her gunners desperatley firing shells towards us, most falling short of their target.
10 minutes pass, and she too, follows the convoy. U-551 is racking up the tonnage.
"Brilliant gentlemen. We will head back to St Nazaire, we have all served our purpose in the Kreigsmarine for one patrol".
The next few days go without event. Many of the men singing and cheering to the gramophone records. Even the Kaleun breaks a smile.
Freudenburg dives to 20 metres coming into Nazaire's port due to reports of a warship nearby. He wasn't going to get caught out after this success.
Just as they headed to shallow waters a young sailor ran to him "Sir! sir!" he holds out a map to Freudenburg, just as Freudenburg reads the heading MINEN the boat is shook violently.
"MINEFIELDS! DAMNIT!"
The boat rocks again, minefields ripping the boat to shreds. Men are shouting, the sound is deafening. Men wail with pain as exploding pipes spray them with bolts.
"Blow ballast! BLOW BALLAST!"
The boat finally surfaces. U-551 is in chaos. Freudenburg goes to the conning tower. It's peaceful up here. There is no war. There is no destruction. There is no death.
U-551 is slowly sinking. Freudenburg tries to help his men out onto the conning tower. The water is rough. He has no chance.
Freudenburg is left on the surface, 51 men set sail from St Nazaire. 50 have just died.
Freudenburg is picked up by a Raeumboot Klass boat. His last words to the crew are "God bless the men of U-551." As he sailed back, into the smokey confines of Nazaire.
U-551 sinks on 28th August 1941.