Angelo Cire
10-01-11, 01:42 AM
I pulled into Wilhelmshaven two days ago after being out for 6 days patrolling grid AN54. As my fruitless, target-less patrol dragged on, the tedium built, and tensions ran high among my men. Weather was miserable, and minor injuries among the watch crew kept piling up as they were thrashed by high waves and forty-knot winds.
My men were becoming more exhausted by the hour, and with the sea pitching as it was, no one could get more than a couple hours of sleep at a time.
I finally decided that our patrol sector had been black-listed by the Tories, or that Lady Luck had turned her nose up at those of us passively waiting for her to deliver a catch into our sights.
I ordered a course for Aberdeen, and though my crew seemed uneasy at this decision, they were visibly relieved to have something rouse them from their malaise. As we approached Aberdeen, I ordered us South, following the coastline.
Ignoring a few of the first towns we passed, and ruling out a run on any of the harbors on account of the bad weather and shallow water (four meters below the keel at periscope depth doesn't leave much room for being thrashed by the tide), we trudged on through the night.
Finally the weather began to clear, calming the seas into the kind of glassy reflecting mirror that only the departure of a storm can.
I ordered the boat surfaced, and in the distance I could just make out the soft glow of lights. Peering through my binoculars, what before appeared as only a few lights in the darkness, now I could see were accompanied by many others. Consulting my charts, I figured myself to be looking at Blythe.
Looking at the diagram of its small port, I ordered the boat to periscope depth, and rigged for silent running. It was 6:15, and I didn't have long before daylight. Slowing to a stop, I ordered a sounding, and found myself to have a mere four meters under the keel.
As daylight washed across the water, I decided to wait out the day submerged, as I could make out the small outline of an ASW trawler making octagonal sweeps across the mouth of the harbor. Midday rolled around, and after checking in with the sonarman for any signs of other ships, I took the periscope up, hoping to make a profile or two on any boats docked.
Immediately after focusing the periscope on the docks, my heart sank - a C&D class sat moored along the coast, and I presumed it was waiting to be called upon for assistance by the ASW trawler. Still, there was no point in not at least examining what else was here. A small and a large coal hauler, an ammunition ship, and a pair of medium transports - not a bad line-up - though the coal ships and ammunition barge were situated with their bows facing outwards, so wasting torpedoes on them was out of the question.
Sighing, I prepared to order the boat about, when a glimmer of light from in front of the one of the medium transports with her broadside to me caught my eye. Inching the periscope higher, I could make out a darkened shadow.
After a few seconds, it dawned on me what the outline was - an S Class! A Torie u-boat was moored alongside the transport, presenting me with a clear line to her flank!
Feeling a shiver run up my spine, I lowered the periscope and hurried down the ladder to consult with my XO. We decided quickly that it was a worthwhile target, and that we would wait until nighttime to attack.
Our position was a little off, and I feared that if fired from where we were, our torpedoes might deflect off the side. Ordering us to two knots, we inched Northwards throughout the day, so that by nightfall we were nearing a perpendicular position to the ships. We still had a measly four meters under the keel, so I knew that we would have to fire the torpedoes, and then immediately flee before they hit, but we would of course know if we had sank them before too long.
At 18:54 I ordered all hands to battlestations, and began making final adjustments to the firing solution. I was sending two eels at the transport, and two at the S-Class, hopefully ensuring a hit.
At 19:15, I ordered the XO to make ready to bring the boat about, and make East at four knots.
By 19:19, all preparations were made, and I ordered a one-minute countdown to fire tubes one-through-four at five-second intervals.
At exactly 19:20, the first eel left the tube, and went streaking off into the darkness. Thirty seconds later, the other three had launched, and with no apparent misfires, the motors started, and we began coming about.
We had gone perhaps six-hundred meters when the first torpedo struck.
Rapidly, the other three sounded - all direct hits!
I ordered the periscope up, and for the briefest of moments I beheld the sight of both the transport AND the S Class ablaze!
Bringing the periscope back down, we then concentrated on our escape. Our sonarman immediately reported that the C&D class had indeed started its engines, and was moving into the harbor, and the ASW trawler had already begun moving rapidly towards our firing position, but they were both too late. We were a kilometer away from our firing position by the time they reached it, and running silent, with the depth beneath our keel only growing and the darkness ever deepening, we were not going to be caught.
My sonarman reported that he could hear both ships settling to the bottom, and what sounded like the transport rolling onto its side, pinning the S-Class beneath it! We made the appropriate records in our logs, and then moved out to sea. In the morning we surfaced to recharge the batteries and air, and to report on our hunt.
I could already see that the weariness was gone from the men's faces.
My men were becoming more exhausted by the hour, and with the sea pitching as it was, no one could get more than a couple hours of sleep at a time.
I finally decided that our patrol sector had been black-listed by the Tories, or that Lady Luck had turned her nose up at those of us passively waiting for her to deliver a catch into our sights.
I ordered a course for Aberdeen, and though my crew seemed uneasy at this decision, they were visibly relieved to have something rouse them from their malaise. As we approached Aberdeen, I ordered us South, following the coastline.
Ignoring a few of the first towns we passed, and ruling out a run on any of the harbors on account of the bad weather and shallow water (four meters below the keel at periscope depth doesn't leave much room for being thrashed by the tide), we trudged on through the night.
Finally the weather began to clear, calming the seas into the kind of glassy reflecting mirror that only the departure of a storm can.
I ordered the boat surfaced, and in the distance I could just make out the soft glow of lights. Peering through my binoculars, what before appeared as only a few lights in the darkness, now I could see were accompanied by many others. Consulting my charts, I figured myself to be looking at Blythe.
Looking at the diagram of its small port, I ordered the boat to periscope depth, and rigged for silent running. It was 6:15, and I didn't have long before daylight. Slowing to a stop, I ordered a sounding, and found myself to have a mere four meters under the keel.
As daylight washed across the water, I decided to wait out the day submerged, as I could make out the small outline of an ASW trawler making octagonal sweeps across the mouth of the harbor. Midday rolled around, and after checking in with the sonarman for any signs of other ships, I took the periscope up, hoping to make a profile or two on any boats docked.
Immediately after focusing the periscope on the docks, my heart sank - a C&D class sat moored along the coast, and I presumed it was waiting to be called upon for assistance by the ASW trawler. Still, there was no point in not at least examining what else was here. A small and a large coal hauler, an ammunition ship, and a pair of medium transports - not a bad line-up - though the coal ships and ammunition barge were situated with their bows facing outwards, so wasting torpedoes on them was out of the question.
Sighing, I prepared to order the boat about, when a glimmer of light from in front of the one of the medium transports with her broadside to me caught my eye. Inching the periscope higher, I could make out a darkened shadow.
After a few seconds, it dawned on me what the outline was - an S Class! A Torie u-boat was moored alongside the transport, presenting me with a clear line to her flank!
Feeling a shiver run up my spine, I lowered the periscope and hurried down the ladder to consult with my XO. We decided quickly that it was a worthwhile target, and that we would wait until nighttime to attack.
Our position was a little off, and I feared that if fired from where we were, our torpedoes might deflect off the side. Ordering us to two knots, we inched Northwards throughout the day, so that by nightfall we were nearing a perpendicular position to the ships. We still had a measly four meters under the keel, so I knew that we would have to fire the torpedoes, and then immediately flee before they hit, but we would of course know if we had sank them before too long.
At 18:54 I ordered all hands to battlestations, and began making final adjustments to the firing solution. I was sending two eels at the transport, and two at the S-Class, hopefully ensuring a hit.
At 19:15, I ordered the XO to make ready to bring the boat about, and make East at four knots.
By 19:19, all preparations were made, and I ordered a one-minute countdown to fire tubes one-through-four at five-second intervals.
At exactly 19:20, the first eel left the tube, and went streaking off into the darkness. Thirty seconds later, the other three had launched, and with no apparent misfires, the motors started, and we began coming about.
We had gone perhaps six-hundred meters when the first torpedo struck.
Rapidly, the other three sounded - all direct hits!
I ordered the periscope up, and for the briefest of moments I beheld the sight of both the transport AND the S Class ablaze!
Bringing the periscope back down, we then concentrated on our escape. Our sonarman immediately reported that the C&D class had indeed started its engines, and was moving into the harbor, and the ASW trawler had already begun moving rapidly towards our firing position, but they were both too late. We were a kilometer away from our firing position by the time they reached it, and running silent, with the depth beneath our keel only growing and the darkness ever deepening, we were not going to be caught.
My sonarman reported that he could hear both ships settling to the bottom, and what sounded like the transport rolling onto its side, pinning the S-Class beneath it! We made the appropriate records in our logs, and then moved out to sea. In the morning we surfaced to recharge the batteries and air, and to report on our hunt.
I could already see that the weariness was gone from the men's faces.