VonApist
02-29-12, 03:39 AM
Finishing it in a month or so
Here' is a chapter from my book. Half way. Let me know what you think
Best
Von Apist
Finishing it in a month or so
Here' is a chapter from my book. Half way. Let me know what you think
Best
Von Apist
-----edit ---- i wont let me i get giberrish when i copy/paste from word
Finishing it in a month or so
Here' is a chapter from my book. Half way. Let me know what you think
Best
Von Apist
Finishing it in a month or so
Here' is a chapter from my book. Half way. Let me know what you think
Best
Von Apist
November 1942, aboard U-53, somewhere in the North Atlantic
Torpedomechaniker Otto Moch folded his hands behind his large head. He was beaming. “Ah…The U-boat’s senior officers took another beating by a humble Bavarian Bootsmanner. Allow me to say sir, that you had played a much better game back at base, while drunk. As for Franz…He always was, and will always remain, an average Skat player” Otto continued, smiling at Stephan.
He got up from the Uboat’s floor, nodding at the crew of the Zentrale who rushed to congratulate him. “These were the best Skat rounds I had ever played. Every time I won a hand, there was a firework celebration around me” he proclaimed theatrically, referring to the continuous depth charge and Hedgehog barrage of the past hours, making his way to the kitchen.
“I’ll get you next time fat boy. You can count on it” Stephan whispered to Moch who dismissed his captain’s threat with a gesture.
Stephan stood up, put on his cap and moved towards the map table, followed by his navigator.
“Franz, the barrage is losing its intensity. They haven’t dropped a single charge for more than 45 minutes. They are either out of ammo, or saving it until they spot us. Bad thing is that we have no way to know where they are for God’s sake”.
Stephan checked his wristwatch. 11.00 am. He pressed the intercom button.
“Chief what’s our oxygen level?”
“Fifty per cent Stephan. Batteries eighty-five per cent” Herbert replied.
“Thank you. Keep movement to a minimum. We have to conserve every liter of oxygen as we still have another 5-6 hours before darkness” U52’s Kaleun ordered, cutting off the connection.
The eerie, unearthly silence within the boat and the absolute absence of sound from the destroyers above was chilling.
Am I waiting them out to leave, or are THEY waiting me out to surface? Stephan wondered silently. He had no way to know. All he had was his plan. Stay deep, stay still, stay silent for another few hours. Then surface at periscope depth and scan the dark horizon for any signs of activity. If all went well, they would be fine.
Stephan decided to walk around the U-Boat in an effort to check on the morale of his comrades. The Skat game and the beating he got from Otto was a successful distraction, but that was over. He was pretty sure that his crew grew more and more impatient by the minute. Waiting out destroyers below surface, having no idea of what’s going on above, was no task for the faint hearted. One needed nerves of steel not to yield to panic. He, himself, could feel the tension.
He was not so much concerned about the boys at the Zentrale. They were all experienced U-Boat men, with cool heads over their shoulders. But the younger members of the crew, Stephan knew, must feel petrified. He made his way towards the torpedo room. Walking slowly, he noticed that sonar-man Heinrich was asleep, earphones hanging from his neck. Stephan smiled and opened the hatch to the bow compartment. It was all quite.
The muted glow from red emergency lighting added to the solemn atmosphere. The air was thick as CO2 levels were on the rise. It was surreal. Alois was asleep, bandaged, on his bunk. Young Karl occupied the bunk across and was staring blankly at the ship’s steel hull, his gaze mechanically following the tiny drops of condensation dripping from the ceiling to the floor. The other men were either sleeping or trying to sleep. But everybody was motionless and silent. A metal catacomb, Stephan thought. A moist grave made of steel at 200 meters below surface. I have to take them back to the world of the living. They won’t last for much longer.
***
USAAF First Lieutenant Brian Whelan shifted his weight, trying to make himself comfortable. He was a big man and the aircraft’s pilot seat, designed for an occupant of average built, was a size too small for the Lieutenant from Idaho.
His PBY-5 Catalina flying boat had been patrolling the empty Atlantic Ocean for almost two hours, on orders to locate the German U-boat that had attacked an Allied Task Force the previous night. His squadron’s aircrafts were all on the same hunt, dispersed, in order to cover as much of the ocean area close to the attack as possible.
The U-Boat had managed to sink an escort carrier and one of the escorts. The Brits had gone mad over the incident. On top of the loss of HMS Avenger, the German submarine remained undetected. The Task Force’s two remaining escorts reported that the U-Boat had vanished and that they were returning to base as they were out of ammunition. So it was up to the USAAF to spot the bandit. Again.
So far during the war, Brian’s PBY-5 Catalina had seen its fair share of action. The captain and his now veteran crew of seven, were credited with the sinking of an IXB Uboat in May 1942 and another probable, a VIIB type, during the summer.
No wonder. Brian’s aircraft was an intimidating U-Boat hunter. Equipped for Anti-Submarine missions, the PBY-5 was carrying 4,000 lbs of depth charges. Moreover, the aircraft’s three 0.30 caliber machine guns (two on the nose and one at the tail) and two 0.50 guns (one in each waist blister) provided enough firepower to blow out of the sea any submarine that would be unwise to engage him with anti-aircraft fire. But he hadn’t used his guns for months. U-Boat captains rarely chose to remain on surface when spotted by his beast. In which case, depth charges did the trick.
According to the Catalina’s navigator, they were close to the position of the U-Boat attack. Brian leaned towards his co-pilot. He had to shout to be heard over the deafening noise coming from the aircraft’s powerful Pratt&Witney radial engines.
“We got ourselves the short straw, Dave. Our patrol area is as dead as it gets. No U-Boat captain would be stupid enough to stay close to his attack position; and its almost 18 hours since this bastard had nailed the Brits. I’m pretty sure that, by now, he is on the French coast sipping a glass of red wine, while we freeze our asses up here looking for him. ”
His co-pilot nodded in agreement. Brian checked their fuel gauge. They had a maximum of 20 more minutes of patrol time; otherwise they would have to land with the aircraft’s two engines running on fumes.
He turned his gaze towards the empty ocean. It would be dark in a while. Fifteen more minutes. That’s it. Then he would turn the aircraft, hoping to get back to base on time for a nice hot meal and a pint of English ale.
Brian switched the intercom button and talked to his crew. “15 more minutes boys and we head home. Don’t give up on me yet. Keep your eyes open for the Kraut tin-can”.
***
Stephan got up from his bunk, short of breath. After almost a day submerged, CO2 levels inside the U-Boat were rising fast. A wave of foul smell, coming from the overflowing buckets inside the submarine’s toilet, ripped through his nostrils. The acid stink was now unbearable. He started breathing from the mouth in an effort to block the smell. It was so intense he could almost taste it. Disgusted, he spat on the floor. Stephan checked his wristwatch. 16:50. At this time of year, it should be getting dark now on the surface.
Stephan noticed the absence of noise. For a submarine, home of 45 souls, the silence was deafening. The crew complied with his order for utmost silence. But this, after so many hours below surface, was more a result of CO2 fatigue rather than strict adherence to his order.
He got out of his quarters and moved towards the Electric Engine compartment. Chief Herbert was half asleep on the floor, arms crossed across his chest. When he saw Stephan approaching, he lifted his cap and smiled.
“We appreciate the siesta herr Kaleun but our oxygen levels are now below 20%. If you hadn’t stepped by, I would have come to wake you up. We have to break surface or else. We have one more hour of breathable oxygen left, at most”
“I know Herbert. We have to go up. It should be getting dark. Get your crew ready, I will be at the Zentrale”
Stephan entered the command room and took off his cap. “Ok boys, enough sleep for today. We will be making our way up in a minute. Crew to battle stations”
Stephan turned towards Franz and Wolf, who had already assumed their position for the ascent. The rest of the crew dragged themselves to their stations.
“We will go periscope depth and I will take a sweep to check if all is clear. If this is the case, Franz will climb to the bridge with Wolf, Massman and Obermaschinist Kruger. We will replenish oxygen and Kruger will have a look at the hydrophones to assess the damage. Franz will get a fresh fix of our position using the sextant. Clear?”
Approving nods from everyone. “Ok people, let’s roll”.
Stephan pressed the intercom button. “Chief, ahead slow. Keep RPMs below 100 and please send Kruger to the command room. I want him to have a look at the hydrophones, as soon as we break surface”.
He then turned to the helmsmen. “Maintain course, Periscope depth”
After almost 20 hours of absolute stillness, the snail pace of the U-Boat making its way towards the surface felt like a sprint. The crew in the command room knew well that if the Allied escorts were still in the vicinity, this could prove their last ascend.
***
“Periscope depth” Wolf whispered, staring at his captain, as the gauge needle settled at a depth of 13 meters.
“All stop” Stephan ordered.
“Periscope UP” he continued, moving towards the periscope stand, in order to perform a quick sweep of the horizon. The sound of the hydraulics pushing the scope upwards broke the silence. All eyes were on him.
Stephan glued his face on the eyepiece. “Sunset, precipitation none, visibility moderate. Horizon clear” He performed another sweep. Nothing.
“All clear, Periscope DOWN. Surface the boat” he ordered with a huge smile on his face.
A collective sigh of relief. Then the first muted laughter, followed by an explosion of celebrations. Sailors patting each other’s back, hugging, fists in the air. The tension of the past 20 hours was now released violently, absolute fear transformed into absolute joy.
Twenty minutes ago, everybody on board was trying to cope with the unbearable stress, with CO2 fatigue and the prospect of death from either depth charges or asphyxiation. Now, this dirty, unshaven bunch of U-Boat men, sailors that hadn’t had a proper shower for weeks were jumping up and down like children, hugging each other.
Stephan decided to let them take some steam off. No wonder they are such heavy drinkers when ashore. The sober human mind would be unable grasp the logic of going through the same excruciating ordeal, with odds against us, again and again, every time we are ordered to leave port for a new patrol.
In the bow compartment, Alois and Karl, still lying on their bunks, heard the commotion. Alois tried to turn towards the young sailor, but quit the effort. He was in great pain. He could feel his head throbbing. He stood still, staring at the ceiling, beaming with joy.
“See, Karl? I told you we would be fine. Good thing you picked up that cigarette from the floor. It would have been a waste of fine tobacco and perfectly good rolling paper. Now be a good lad and roll me a new cigarette. As long as we keep rolling, nothing bad is going to happen to this rusty old bucket” he laughed out loud, his weak voice joining the loud cheers of the rest of the crew.
***
In the Command Room, Obermaschinist Kruger joined Wolf, Franz and Massman. They climbed the ladder, making their way to the conning tower bridge. Wolf opened the hatch and a wave of crisp, fresh, ocean air entered the guts of the U-Boat. Instinctively, all four men paused and took in deep breaths, filling their lungs. The oxygen made them dizzy after spending so many hours submerged, breathing the U-Boats recycled, foul air.
“Schnell, schnell, boys, get out of the U-Boat. We need pairs of eyes scanning the horizon for any ships” Stephan’s voice brought them back to reality.
Stephan felt, or better, smelled Chief Herbert behind him. He had taken his cap off, taking in deep breaths of fresh, ocean air.
“Chief, you smell like a bucket of grease peppered with scheisse. Have one of your boys run a check on the diesels and tell Willy to empty the toilet buckets in the ocean. Tell him to think twice next time he’s noisy when we are running silent. I think that emptying all that piss will teach him a lesson” the captain said with a grin. The Chief nodded approvingly.
“I’m going up to check on our position with Franz and ask Kruger for his verdict on the hydrophones. In the meantime, let’s replenish oxygen. Boat is with you.”
Stephan continued “Since we are out of silent running start reloading torpedoes. In the aft tube tell Moch to load the Bruchbude. Just in case. Finally, make sure that after I climb up, all sailors get a 5 minute stint on the bridge to take in some fresh air” he concluded, climbing the ladder towards the conning tower bridge.
The minute his head emerged from the conning tower’s hatch, Stephan felt reborn. He brought a pair of bino’s on his eyes and scanned the horizon. The sun was about to set. All clear. Franz had just finished taking a fix with the sextant and was scribbling numbers on his note pad to. Wolf and Massman were on the lookout for ships or aircrafts. Massman was holding a cigarette awkwardly in his fingers. It was the first time he had ever seen him smoke.
Kruger had climbed down on the deck, checking the KDB Hydrophone installation. It looked in terrible shape. In less than two minutes, the Obermaschinist had climbed back on the bridge to report.
“Doesn’t look good herr Kaleun. The rotating device is bent useless and most of the piezoelectric hydro-phones are destroyed. We don’t have the spare parts to fix it on board, so you might as well assume that we will be deaf for the rest of our patrol.”
“Thanks August. We will manage. Stay up for 5 minutes and then go down. We will all take turns on the bridge”
Kruger acknowledged and retreived a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. He lit one, leaned towards the bridge railing and exhaled smoke, staring blankly at the setting sun.
The sea was perfectly calm and the U-Boat kept cruising effortlessly at a speed of 5 knots. Stephan decided to climb down to the deck, to perform a quick visual inspection for any structural damage. He checked on the damaged hydrophone setting. Pretty beaten up. August was right. U-53’s Kaleun walked past the boat’s 88mm Deck gun. A quick inspection revealed no damage, so Stephan continued forward, towards the bow.
At a couple of places to the deck’s starboard, Stephan could see, the hull had caved in as a result of the depth charge barrage. But these cavities seemed to be nothing more than dents, compared to the severity of the attack that the U-Boat had endured. He was not worried about those. He would take care of them back at base.
He moved forward, mindful not to loose his footing. Even thought the seas were calm, the deck was very slippery and the sea below menacingly cold. He visually checked the hydroplanes for damages but there was none. A muted groan made him stop at his track. Below him, coming from the ship’s belly, he could listen to the sound of chains moving torpedoes to their positions. Torpedomechaniker Otto Moch was reloading his tubes. Good. He checked his wristwatch. Not long till complete darkness. Satisfied he turned, making his way back towards the bridge.
He could make out the outlines of his fellow sailors on the bridge enjoying the crisp ocean air, talking and gesturing. Everybody seemed in high spirits following their 20 hour ordeal below the ocean’s surface. What he could not make out was a tiny speck coming from the direction of the setting sun. A speck flying low, growing larger by the minute.
***
From the cockpit of his PBY-5 Catalina, the view was magnificent. Skies were perfectly clear, not a single cloud in the sky. The sun was about to set and the ocean was now colored a bright purple. Beautiful. USAAF’s First Lieutenant Brian Whelan checked his wristwatch. 10 more minutes of patrol time.
He tapped the fuel gauge with the index figure of his right hand. As usual, the reading remained unchanged.
Tapping the instruments was a pretty pointless habit, one he had acquired during his days as a commercial pilot flying the Ford Trimotor. The old “Tin Goose” was a venerable aircraft but its instrument panel was notoriously unreliable. He looked at the cockpit of his Catalina. Not these babies. They have never let me down.
Brian was ready to suggest that they should call it a day, when he heard the agitated voice of one of his waist gunners.
“Brian, Dave! Guys. I think I saw a shadow, check it out. 8o clock to your left. We are moving away from it now, so bank left quickly if you want to take a better look”
Brian’s gaze instinctively locked towards the heading Herman had indicated. At the same time, his hands moved the yoke to the left, bringing the plane into a slow, graceful turn. He could still see nothing.
“Herman, you better be pretty positive about it ‘cause we ain’t got no fuel to waste” the pilot’s voice was heard through the intercom.
The waist gunner remained silent. For the next twenty seconds they saw nothing. And then…There it was. A shadow cruising casually on the surface of the purple ocean. A German VIIB U-Boat. Brian couldn’t believe his eyes.
The Catalina’s captain switched on the intercom “There it is. Eleven-o-clock. Distance four to five miles. Get your guns ready for action, boys. Bow turret. Don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes. Waist gunners, wait for me to bank after the first pass before you start shooting. Make sure you nail the bastard hard on the first pass. We’re kinda short on fuel”
Brian assumed his attack run, his aircraft coming from the setting sun. He leveled the plane at an altitude of 600ft. He reduced speed to 110 Knots. Despite the low altitude, turbulence was tolerable. Brian had the U-Boat in his cross-hairs. He double-checked his depth charge load. All fine. This is f**ing text book.
Here' is a chapter from my book. Half way. Let me know what you think
Best
Von Apist
Finishing it in a month or so
Here' is a chapter from my book. Half way. Let me know what you think
Best
Von Apist
-----edit ---- i wont let me i get giberrish when i copy/paste from word
Finishing it in a month or so
Here' is a chapter from my book. Half way. Let me know what you think
Best
Von Apist
Finishing it in a month or so
Here' is a chapter from my book. Half way. Let me know what you think
Best
Von Apist
November 1942, aboard U-53, somewhere in the North Atlantic
Torpedomechaniker Otto Moch folded his hands behind his large head. He was beaming. “Ah…The U-boat’s senior officers took another beating by a humble Bavarian Bootsmanner. Allow me to say sir, that you had played a much better game back at base, while drunk. As for Franz…He always was, and will always remain, an average Skat player” Otto continued, smiling at Stephan.
He got up from the Uboat’s floor, nodding at the crew of the Zentrale who rushed to congratulate him. “These were the best Skat rounds I had ever played. Every time I won a hand, there was a firework celebration around me” he proclaimed theatrically, referring to the continuous depth charge and Hedgehog barrage of the past hours, making his way to the kitchen.
“I’ll get you next time fat boy. You can count on it” Stephan whispered to Moch who dismissed his captain’s threat with a gesture.
Stephan stood up, put on his cap and moved towards the map table, followed by his navigator.
“Franz, the barrage is losing its intensity. They haven’t dropped a single charge for more than 45 minutes. They are either out of ammo, or saving it until they spot us. Bad thing is that we have no way to know where they are for God’s sake”.
Stephan checked his wristwatch. 11.00 am. He pressed the intercom button.
“Chief what’s our oxygen level?”
“Fifty per cent Stephan. Batteries eighty-five per cent” Herbert replied.
“Thank you. Keep movement to a minimum. We have to conserve every liter of oxygen as we still have another 5-6 hours before darkness” U52’s Kaleun ordered, cutting off the connection.
The eerie, unearthly silence within the boat and the absolute absence of sound from the destroyers above was chilling.
Am I waiting them out to leave, or are THEY waiting me out to surface? Stephan wondered silently. He had no way to know. All he had was his plan. Stay deep, stay still, stay silent for another few hours. Then surface at periscope depth and scan the dark horizon for any signs of activity. If all went well, they would be fine.
Stephan decided to walk around the U-Boat in an effort to check on the morale of his comrades. The Skat game and the beating he got from Otto was a successful distraction, but that was over. He was pretty sure that his crew grew more and more impatient by the minute. Waiting out destroyers below surface, having no idea of what’s going on above, was no task for the faint hearted. One needed nerves of steel not to yield to panic. He, himself, could feel the tension.
He was not so much concerned about the boys at the Zentrale. They were all experienced U-Boat men, with cool heads over their shoulders. But the younger members of the crew, Stephan knew, must feel petrified. He made his way towards the torpedo room. Walking slowly, he noticed that sonar-man Heinrich was asleep, earphones hanging from his neck. Stephan smiled and opened the hatch to the bow compartment. It was all quite.
The muted glow from red emergency lighting added to the solemn atmosphere. The air was thick as CO2 levels were on the rise. It was surreal. Alois was asleep, bandaged, on his bunk. Young Karl occupied the bunk across and was staring blankly at the ship’s steel hull, his gaze mechanically following the tiny drops of condensation dripping from the ceiling to the floor. The other men were either sleeping or trying to sleep. But everybody was motionless and silent. A metal catacomb, Stephan thought. A moist grave made of steel at 200 meters below surface. I have to take them back to the world of the living. They won’t last for much longer.
***
USAAF First Lieutenant Brian Whelan shifted his weight, trying to make himself comfortable. He was a big man and the aircraft’s pilot seat, designed for an occupant of average built, was a size too small for the Lieutenant from Idaho.
His PBY-5 Catalina flying boat had been patrolling the empty Atlantic Ocean for almost two hours, on orders to locate the German U-boat that had attacked an Allied Task Force the previous night. His squadron’s aircrafts were all on the same hunt, dispersed, in order to cover as much of the ocean area close to the attack as possible.
The U-Boat had managed to sink an escort carrier and one of the escorts. The Brits had gone mad over the incident. On top of the loss of HMS Avenger, the German submarine remained undetected. The Task Force’s two remaining escorts reported that the U-Boat had vanished and that they were returning to base as they were out of ammunition. So it was up to the USAAF to spot the bandit. Again.
So far during the war, Brian’s PBY-5 Catalina had seen its fair share of action. The captain and his now veteran crew of seven, were credited with the sinking of an IXB Uboat in May 1942 and another probable, a VIIB type, during the summer.
No wonder. Brian’s aircraft was an intimidating U-Boat hunter. Equipped for Anti-Submarine missions, the PBY-5 was carrying 4,000 lbs of depth charges. Moreover, the aircraft’s three 0.30 caliber machine guns (two on the nose and one at the tail) and two 0.50 guns (one in each waist blister) provided enough firepower to blow out of the sea any submarine that would be unwise to engage him with anti-aircraft fire. But he hadn’t used his guns for months. U-Boat captains rarely chose to remain on surface when spotted by his beast. In which case, depth charges did the trick.
According to the Catalina’s navigator, they were close to the position of the U-Boat attack. Brian leaned towards his co-pilot. He had to shout to be heard over the deafening noise coming from the aircraft’s powerful Pratt&Witney radial engines.
“We got ourselves the short straw, Dave. Our patrol area is as dead as it gets. No U-Boat captain would be stupid enough to stay close to his attack position; and its almost 18 hours since this bastard had nailed the Brits. I’m pretty sure that, by now, he is on the French coast sipping a glass of red wine, while we freeze our asses up here looking for him. ”
His co-pilot nodded in agreement. Brian checked their fuel gauge. They had a maximum of 20 more minutes of patrol time; otherwise they would have to land with the aircraft’s two engines running on fumes.
He turned his gaze towards the empty ocean. It would be dark in a while. Fifteen more minutes. That’s it. Then he would turn the aircraft, hoping to get back to base on time for a nice hot meal and a pint of English ale.
Brian switched the intercom button and talked to his crew. “15 more minutes boys and we head home. Don’t give up on me yet. Keep your eyes open for the Kraut tin-can”.
***
Stephan got up from his bunk, short of breath. After almost a day submerged, CO2 levels inside the U-Boat were rising fast. A wave of foul smell, coming from the overflowing buckets inside the submarine’s toilet, ripped through his nostrils. The acid stink was now unbearable. He started breathing from the mouth in an effort to block the smell. It was so intense he could almost taste it. Disgusted, he spat on the floor. Stephan checked his wristwatch. 16:50. At this time of year, it should be getting dark now on the surface.
Stephan noticed the absence of noise. For a submarine, home of 45 souls, the silence was deafening. The crew complied with his order for utmost silence. But this, after so many hours below surface, was more a result of CO2 fatigue rather than strict adherence to his order.
He got out of his quarters and moved towards the Electric Engine compartment. Chief Herbert was half asleep on the floor, arms crossed across his chest. When he saw Stephan approaching, he lifted his cap and smiled.
“We appreciate the siesta herr Kaleun but our oxygen levels are now below 20%. If you hadn’t stepped by, I would have come to wake you up. We have to break surface or else. We have one more hour of breathable oxygen left, at most”
“I know Herbert. We have to go up. It should be getting dark. Get your crew ready, I will be at the Zentrale”
Stephan entered the command room and took off his cap. “Ok boys, enough sleep for today. We will be making our way up in a minute. Crew to battle stations”
Stephan turned towards Franz and Wolf, who had already assumed their position for the ascent. The rest of the crew dragged themselves to their stations.
“We will go periscope depth and I will take a sweep to check if all is clear. If this is the case, Franz will climb to the bridge with Wolf, Massman and Obermaschinist Kruger. We will replenish oxygen and Kruger will have a look at the hydrophones to assess the damage. Franz will get a fresh fix of our position using the sextant. Clear?”
Approving nods from everyone. “Ok people, let’s roll”.
Stephan pressed the intercom button. “Chief, ahead slow. Keep RPMs below 100 and please send Kruger to the command room. I want him to have a look at the hydrophones, as soon as we break surface”.
He then turned to the helmsmen. “Maintain course, Periscope depth”
After almost 20 hours of absolute stillness, the snail pace of the U-Boat making its way towards the surface felt like a sprint. The crew in the command room knew well that if the Allied escorts were still in the vicinity, this could prove their last ascend.
***
“Periscope depth” Wolf whispered, staring at his captain, as the gauge needle settled at a depth of 13 meters.
“All stop” Stephan ordered.
“Periscope UP” he continued, moving towards the periscope stand, in order to perform a quick sweep of the horizon. The sound of the hydraulics pushing the scope upwards broke the silence. All eyes were on him.
Stephan glued his face on the eyepiece. “Sunset, precipitation none, visibility moderate. Horizon clear” He performed another sweep. Nothing.
“All clear, Periscope DOWN. Surface the boat” he ordered with a huge smile on his face.
A collective sigh of relief. Then the first muted laughter, followed by an explosion of celebrations. Sailors patting each other’s back, hugging, fists in the air. The tension of the past 20 hours was now released violently, absolute fear transformed into absolute joy.
Twenty minutes ago, everybody on board was trying to cope with the unbearable stress, with CO2 fatigue and the prospect of death from either depth charges or asphyxiation. Now, this dirty, unshaven bunch of U-Boat men, sailors that hadn’t had a proper shower for weeks were jumping up and down like children, hugging each other.
Stephan decided to let them take some steam off. No wonder they are such heavy drinkers when ashore. The sober human mind would be unable grasp the logic of going through the same excruciating ordeal, with odds against us, again and again, every time we are ordered to leave port for a new patrol.
In the bow compartment, Alois and Karl, still lying on their bunks, heard the commotion. Alois tried to turn towards the young sailor, but quit the effort. He was in great pain. He could feel his head throbbing. He stood still, staring at the ceiling, beaming with joy.
“See, Karl? I told you we would be fine. Good thing you picked up that cigarette from the floor. It would have been a waste of fine tobacco and perfectly good rolling paper. Now be a good lad and roll me a new cigarette. As long as we keep rolling, nothing bad is going to happen to this rusty old bucket” he laughed out loud, his weak voice joining the loud cheers of the rest of the crew.
***
In the Command Room, Obermaschinist Kruger joined Wolf, Franz and Massman. They climbed the ladder, making their way to the conning tower bridge. Wolf opened the hatch and a wave of crisp, fresh, ocean air entered the guts of the U-Boat. Instinctively, all four men paused and took in deep breaths, filling their lungs. The oxygen made them dizzy after spending so many hours submerged, breathing the U-Boats recycled, foul air.
“Schnell, schnell, boys, get out of the U-Boat. We need pairs of eyes scanning the horizon for any ships” Stephan’s voice brought them back to reality.
Stephan felt, or better, smelled Chief Herbert behind him. He had taken his cap off, taking in deep breaths of fresh, ocean air.
“Chief, you smell like a bucket of grease peppered with scheisse. Have one of your boys run a check on the diesels and tell Willy to empty the toilet buckets in the ocean. Tell him to think twice next time he’s noisy when we are running silent. I think that emptying all that piss will teach him a lesson” the captain said with a grin. The Chief nodded approvingly.
“I’m going up to check on our position with Franz and ask Kruger for his verdict on the hydrophones. In the meantime, let’s replenish oxygen. Boat is with you.”
Stephan continued “Since we are out of silent running start reloading torpedoes. In the aft tube tell Moch to load the Bruchbude. Just in case. Finally, make sure that after I climb up, all sailors get a 5 minute stint on the bridge to take in some fresh air” he concluded, climbing the ladder towards the conning tower bridge.
The minute his head emerged from the conning tower’s hatch, Stephan felt reborn. He brought a pair of bino’s on his eyes and scanned the horizon. The sun was about to set. All clear. Franz had just finished taking a fix with the sextant and was scribbling numbers on his note pad to. Wolf and Massman were on the lookout for ships or aircrafts. Massman was holding a cigarette awkwardly in his fingers. It was the first time he had ever seen him smoke.
Kruger had climbed down on the deck, checking the KDB Hydrophone installation. It looked in terrible shape. In less than two minutes, the Obermaschinist had climbed back on the bridge to report.
“Doesn’t look good herr Kaleun. The rotating device is bent useless and most of the piezoelectric hydro-phones are destroyed. We don’t have the spare parts to fix it on board, so you might as well assume that we will be deaf for the rest of our patrol.”
“Thanks August. We will manage. Stay up for 5 minutes and then go down. We will all take turns on the bridge”
Kruger acknowledged and retreived a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. He lit one, leaned towards the bridge railing and exhaled smoke, staring blankly at the setting sun.
The sea was perfectly calm and the U-Boat kept cruising effortlessly at a speed of 5 knots. Stephan decided to climb down to the deck, to perform a quick visual inspection for any structural damage. He checked on the damaged hydrophone setting. Pretty beaten up. August was right. U-53’s Kaleun walked past the boat’s 88mm Deck gun. A quick inspection revealed no damage, so Stephan continued forward, towards the bow.
At a couple of places to the deck’s starboard, Stephan could see, the hull had caved in as a result of the depth charge barrage. But these cavities seemed to be nothing more than dents, compared to the severity of the attack that the U-Boat had endured. He was not worried about those. He would take care of them back at base.
He moved forward, mindful not to loose his footing. Even thought the seas were calm, the deck was very slippery and the sea below menacingly cold. He visually checked the hydroplanes for damages but there was none. A muted groan made him stop at his track. Below him, coming from the ship’s belly, he could listen to the sound of chains moving torpedoes to their positions. Torpedomechaniker Otto Moch was reloading his tubes. Good. He checked his wristwatch. Not long till complete darkness. Satisfied he turned, making his way back towards the bridge.
He could make out the outlines of his fellow sailors on the bridge enjoying the crisp ocean air, talking and gesturing. Everybody seemed in high spirits following their 20 hour ordeal below the ocean’s surface. What he could not make out was a tiny speck coming from the direction of the setting sun. A speck flying low, growing larger by the minute.
***
From the cockpit of his PBY-5 Catalina, the view was magnificent. Skies were perfectly clear, not a single cloud in the sky. The sun was about to set and the ocean was now colored a bright purple. Beautiful. USAAF’s First Lieutenant Brian Whelan checked his wristwatch. 10 more minutes of patrol time.
He tapped the fuel gauge with the index figure of his right hand. As usual, the reading remained unchanged.
Tapping the instruments was a pretty pointless habit, one he had acquired during his days as a commercial pilot flying the Ford Trimotor. The old “Tin Goose” was a venerable aircraft but its instrument panel was notoriously unreliable. He looked at the cockpit of his Catalina. Not these babies. They have never let me down.
Brian was ready to suggest that they should call it a day, when he heard the agitated voice of one of his waist gunners.
“Brian, Dave! Guys. I think I saw a shadow, check it out. 8o clock to your left. We are moving away from it now, so bank left quickly if you want to take a better look”
Brian’s gaze instinctively locked towards the heading Herman had indicated. At the same time, his hands moved the yoke to the left, bringing the plane into a slow, graceful turn. He could still see nothing.
“Herman, you better be pretty positive about it ‘cause we ain’t got no fuel to waste” the pilot’s voice was heard through the intercom.
The waist gunner remained silent. For the next twenty seconds they saw nothing. And then…There it was. A shadow cruising casually on the surface of the purple ocean. A German VIIB U-Boat. Brian couldn’t believe his eyes.
The Catalina’s captain switched on the intercom “There it is. Eleven-o-clock. Distance four to five miles. Get your guns ready for action, boys. Bow turret. Don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes. Waist gunners, wait for me to bank after the first pass before you start shooting. Make sure you nail the bastard hard on the first pass. We’re kinda short on fuel”
Brian assumed his attack run, his aircraft coming from the setting sun. He leveled the plane at an altitude of 600ft. He reduced speed to 110 Knots. Despite the low altitude, turbulence was tolerable. Brian had the U-Boat in his cross-hairs. He double-checked his depth charge load. All fine. This is f**ing text book.