:up: :rock: :rock:

:up: :up: :up: Keep on Keepin' on!!!

Whatever the terrible twins of Max and Freddie had done further south, and they had clearly gone in again and again on their own at the southern end of Wolfpack Grief; for some reason at least a column of that convoy, and maybe the wounded ones, or some who had the jitters, sheered away further north. Hoping for a more direct route home.

They fell right into our path. Or driven onto our guns, like some boar hunt, by Stefan finally managing to wheel south himself.

We sank another three in two days. Our gunnery this time was spot on. No big shakes. Between one and three thousand tons each. They all count I suppose, and Joachim was pleased enough with his deck crew; but I can't say I enjoyed it much. All three had to be done in broad daylight, and we felt vulnerable while it was going on.

So much so, that I incremented the watch just to look upwards; and while normally there would be a joyful crowding forward to watch the kill, Bruno summed it up on the last one, without ever taking his eyes off the sky, by saying:

"Has he finished yet? Permission to dive, please, Sir?"

Perhaps it was having the reality and possible finality of their profession brought home to them, by taking on the U-467 survivors (although our own last few patrols should leave them in no doubt of that) that has added some tension

But the Lordships have a point to prove with their torpedoes. And they want to slam them into at least one big one before we go home.

So do I. Friedrich in U-122 is dogging them from the south, but he has only 3 torpedoes left. A bit of depth charge damage, but then Freddy is always complaining about something. Stephan in his Type IX, although he's also taken one chance freighter, has been dogged by mechanical problems, and his U-358 is ploughing east-wards at best speed to form the new 'back-stop'

So Freddy is the contact boat in U-122, he hasn't been shaken off on their south-southwestern quarter, and the poor sod is getting most of the attention by all accounts, but he keeps pushing the reports out when he can.

U-46 is now hammering along on a southeasterly bearing to head them off at the pass, as the Amis say in the Westerns.

While Stephan in U-358 is running a wider course eastwards, to try and catch them if they break north.

What could possibly go wrong over that vast stretch of sea....?

Lt de Bunsen, U-46

"Quiet, please, Sir! It's very faint."

Viktor is hunched over his morse key, almost willing the message to come through. One earphone hanging off so I can at least strain to hear.

..-

Even I know that is 'U' for U-boat

"What callsign, Viktor?" I urge impatiently

He holds up the palm of his hand to silence me. The other has a pencil poised for the next feeble dits and dahs

---

..

-.

-.-

OINK!

"Ha ha! That's Max, the cheeky monkey!"

"U-213 has come back up, lads! The Pig has surfaced!"

There are cheers as the news spread through the boat, and some of the seniors crowd around Viktor's radio cabin for news.

Viktor painstakingly compiles the rest of the report.

It's clear that U-213 has incurred the wrath of the Royal Navy. Their signal is weak, something must have happened in their radio room. Now well behind the convoy, and only one stern torpedo left

I get Viktor to acknowledge immediately, and order a run back to France which should keep him parallel with Friedrich for most of the way.

There was no SOS, and Freddie in U-122 is closest to him, and has also confirmed that he is hearing Max. We can't turn back to help. U-46 is in the best position, out of the four boats left, to take another dig at the convoy, that Max and Freddie have set up for us.

If me and Willi have calculated right, we should start to see their smoke stacks to starboard anytime now....

Lt de Bunsen, U-46

:ping: :ping: :ping:

"Smoke, Sir! To the Bridge please!"

And we have them.

The remnants of the convoy plugging away on roughly the same North Easterly bearing that Freddie last gave us.

In my haste up top, I look more like a tramp than a U-boat commander, a thick knitted hat perched on my head, my once expensive lambswool jacket, still unfastened, and doing nothing to hide the wear, tear and stains of weeks at sea.

But Christian and I have them, and are already now scouring the silhouettes through our binoculars to pick out the best ones.

The first row 4,000m off, behind our starboard bow, in ragged formation, maybe fifteen, but yet determined on the home stretch. And a clouded moon.

Yes, we have them.

"Battle stations. Flank 180. Flood all forward tubes."

"That C3-type cargo, second row, second column, Sir"

"Yes Christian. And that tanker on the nearside in the row behind. Two apiece. Any escorts?"

Christian frowned.

"None that I can see, Sir, but they'll be around somewhere, spoiling for a fight, and they don't have so many to look after now.."

"Ok, we won't go charging in this time, so let's make the most of this set up"

"Aim for the crane nearest the bridge on the first one, and the second torpedo should break open the aft cargo hold."

"For the tanker, just aim forward of the bridge, where the superstructure levels out, with the next two, that's where the fuel is."

We turn into our attack run, and watch with baited breath as the range drops and the angle on the bow becomes more and more favourable. I'm concerned that the cargo ship may get herself masked by a smaller ship in the outer column, but even more anxious to avoid being trapped by any destroyer screen.

"Extra hands, stand by to go forward"

Like with a crash dive we will have to compensate for the sudden loss of weight in the bow with a sudden salvo from four tubes. That is for Otto to work out below, and he would like to balance the boat without unneccesary pumping of his trimming tanks from aft to forward, when he has other things to think about.
Plus it's always handy for that emergency dive.

At 2,000m the figures look right, and we're still undetected. Not a great range to be firing at, but the hell with it, the ships are broadside on, and look big enough through the sight at least...

"Nummer Eins!"

"Nummer Eins!" is the tense answering pipe from Joachim

"Los!"

"Zwei, Drei und Vier, Los! Los! Los!"

There is the temporary upsurge of the bow and the white bubbly snakes of the torpedoes as we are already turning about.

"10 degrees on the rudder to North-North East! Kapitan to Contol Room, get the boys reloading fast, all spare hands."

I turn to Christian who already has the stopwatch in his hand.

"Well Number One, this is were the fun usually begins...."

Lt de Bunsen, U-46

:rock: :rock: :up: :up: :) :) :|\ :|\ :cool: :cool: :ping: :ping: :sunny: :sunny:

"Look to your sectors, men!" I shout to the First Watch.

"No nasty surprises!"

Francks, late of U-467, has come up to lend a hand, enabling Christian to join me in the Wintergarten staring hard over our stern at the receding convoy, like two excited schoolboys waiting to see a fireworks display.

"How about tube five Sir?" Christian asks.

It's tempting, and I normally would. But tonight I have decided on more caution.

"Let's keep a little knife in our sock, eh, Christian? Just in case things turn rough"

He nods. If we are forced down with all tubes empty, which we have been before, it would be an act of desperation to risk the noise involved in reloading underwater, for some means of striking back, with escorts prowling and listening overhead. And the stern tube has proved useful before in that situation. At least it's good for crew morale to know that we still have some teeth, even when the depth charges are dropping lazily down, and we seem to be trying to dodge snowflakes.

"Time enough yet, Sir" he grins

We watch and wait. To ease the tension, I murmur "Keep the stopwatch running even after the eels should hit, Christian. I want to time those lazy good-for-nothings below to reload all four in one hour."

"Ten marks say they don't make it, Sir"

"It's a bet!" I smile back...

"Should be round about now, Sir"

We peer more closely. After the last debacle when that steamer gave our torpedoes the slip, this just has to go right.

The first we knew, was no more than a flicker of light and a spray of water high over the merchant's bow. But there was no doubting the second orange ball of flame just under her bridge.

Moments later, two dull booms rolled out across the ocean towards us.

No need for a bridge announcement, we can hear the muffled cheers from below, as the sound carries through the water quicker than we can read them the scores.

"Look, Sir! She's crash diving just like us!"

Christian is almost hopping with joy.

"Steady, Number One. There were some brave men on her. Eyes on the tan..."

...Before the words were even out of my mouth, there were two vivid flashes on the second target, and a vast explosion as the tanker went up. The noise, when it reached us was like two gigantic cracks of a whip. Followed by something like a continuous peal of thunder.

Moments later there was no sign that the merchant had even existed, but a thick cloud of smoke to show where the tanker had once been.

Star shells were firing randomly over the convoy, adding to the whole surreal spectacle.

"Destroyer!" yells Dieter on the Port Aft Watch. For once, not caught with his pants down, as he so often is in port.

"Port and stern! There! There! There Away!"

We quickly follow the direction of his outstretched hand, jabbing urgently in the direction of our most hated enemy. I hadn't expected them to be on to us so soon.

I have just enough time to note that Francks has rushed over to confirm it visually to me with a fist raised where I can see it, and the thumb pointed down. A fairly universal sign for 'enemy'.
If he had been thrusting that thumb up and down at least three times, I knew it would be time to crash dive the boat. But he meets my eyes and holds steady.

Vital in the atrocious weather that U-46 has encountered, when even close conversation on the bridge has been impossible, but I have to admire his attention to his bridge watch training. Drills that I know Bruno and Christian are constantly trying to hammer into the heads of their watch teams.

Tonight, though, the sea and weather is calmer, so he follows up his signal with a fuller report.

"Destroyer confirmed, Sir! Two stacks, one forward turret observed, too early to identify" (He hurried on to the more important stuff) "Range 2,500. Bearing 200 from us. Speed 25 knots and slowing. Now playing searchlights to port and starboard. Estimated intention, survivor rescue "

I blinked at this perfect textbook recital. This man is good.

Looking back astern, I can see that the destroyer (it might be Hunter class) has indeed slowed, and there is no sign of pursuit. But there's fat chance of picking up any survivors, I'm afraid; certainly not from the tanker, and the big cargo-man sank too quickly. Besides, it's cruel but crazy to stop anywhere out here for long. Is he trying to lure us back in? Maybe giving time for his sonar people to get a fix with the engines running slow and more quietly, like we sometimes do?

Anyway, I'm not going back with just one stern tube loaded. Better to wheel round and hit them again tomorrow night with everything we have left.

"Tell the helm to maintain course, please Francks, then hand over to the First Officer. You and I will go down. I need to look at the charts.

There are raucous cheers as we clatter tiredly down.

I poke my head into the fore-end torpedo room first

"We're pretty much out of trouble lads, and we took two big ones tonight, a tanker full of juice and a big old merchant that didn't know what hit her; I'd say 19,000 tons the pair. The tanker went up with such a bang that the First officer swears they could hear it back in Germany - even your deaf old mother, Grun!"

"Anyway, damned fine shooting boys, all four hit and went off perfectly"

Their chests swelled with pride, as if they'd done the aiming, instead of actually the hard bit of loading and daily maintenance.

"But get those bloody torpedoes loaded! We're going to take another swing at them!"

There were congratulations too for Joachim, our weapons officer, particularly for some remarkable shooting, and Willi for navigating us there into such a prime position in the first place. Francks got a slap on the back for the way he stepped up on the bridge of an unfamiliar boat. And it would have been Otto too but he was asleep having handed over minutes before, but my thanks to him go without saying.

Stephan is ordered to converge down from the North, as is Freddie from the South. If we can't hit them all at once, then we'll bite away like pirhana fish, however we can.

Now at last I can get some sleep.

It seems like only minutes later that the shrill ringing of the alarm bell snaps me upright again.

I'm not dreaming. The rumble tumble of the crew rushing forward, the clanging of the conning tower hatch, Bruno shouting, Otto making himself heard over everyone to give orders to his planesmen.

And the unmistakeable tilt of the boat, my boat, the U-46, now diving hard and steeply downwards....

Lt de Bunsen, U-46

:rock: :rock: :up: :up: :ping: :ping: :sunny: :sunny: :|\ :|\ :cool: :cool: :D :D

More, More, I'm getting adicted to this :sunny:

I AM addicted to it!
:rock:

S

who isn't? really good stuff, pity no one could rig this up into a sort of podcast....or recording ya know?

You mean a radio play?

That'd be cool :up:

*practices his "ALAAAAAAAAAAARM!!" and wakes the whole house up*

yeah almost exactly like one, unfortuantly im not a tech wiz, so i dont know hte nuts and bolts of it, but it could be as simple as recording it wiht a mic at a pc, and hten putting it one one of those dl sites? but im not sure, there is probably somone here who has more knowledge, but i shall try to chip in with advice here and there

I'm sure I could fine some good sound effects for it. Just need to find some voice talent and a place to record it