¡Gracias a mis camaradas españoles! I love those pictures of El Ferrol!
Mucho más to come! :D

Das Weihnachtsgeschenk, Part 3
 

26.12.1939

"Herr Kaleun," said Lemper. "We have three torpedoes left. Shall we attack again?"

I gazed out at the darkness and considered my options. "Yes, once more. But the Tommies must be getting wise by now. Let's cross behind the convoy and attack the other side. After that, we'll try to find out which ships actually sank."

"Jawohl, Herr Kaleun!"

We turned the boat east and reduced our speed. Voigt reported that the small Frachter we torpedoed had just sunk. That plus the big ship that exploded made two confirmed sinkings.

As we passed behind the convoy, another Frachter came into view just off our starboard side. This was ideal for the stern tube; we would not have to turn around, but merely speed up and change course slightly.

Lemper rotated the UZO to aim at the ship. Just then, a lookout yelled, "Zestörer bearing 280!" The V&W emerged from the darkness at full speed!

"ALAARRM!!! Hard to starboard!" I screamed. We flew down the ladder and I sealed the hatch. As the tower went underwater, I ordered silent running and periscope depth. A big risk, yes, but I had a gut feeling that the Tommies had not seen us.

A peek through the attack periscope confirmed my hunch: the escort was merely rushing to rejoin the formation, and we had almost blundered across its path. When the V&W was nearly out of sight, I returned the boat to its original heading and soon re-acquired the Frachter. I had to act quickly before the impact angle became too steep.

"Rohr 5, LOS!" And away went our last stern torpedo... It missed.

"Verdammt!" I realized too late that the ship was now on a zig-zag course -- which I should have anticipated. Tired and frustrated, I descended to the Zentrale and ordered the boat down to 40 meters.

After hours of being tossed like a cork on the surface, it was a great relief to be underwater. Gerhard brought us mugs of steaming hot apple juice. On a bitterly cold Atlantic night, that was pure bliss!

Before I even had a chance to sit down, Rolf, our sonarman, reported three contacts far to the north: Stragglers, no doubt.

We soon confirmed these ships were heading south, on the same course as the convoy. Back on the surface, we began a visual search, starting with Voigt, myself, and our four best lookouts. Eventually Lemper and Arendt joined us on the bridge.

It was nearly 0400 when we finally located the Frachters. They were a pathetic sight, barely staying afloat.

"You have to give them credit," I mused aloud. "That's good damage control."

"Mensch!" said Arendt. "You couldn't pay me enough to be a merchant officer!"

"The one in the middle is almost running decks awash!" Lemper quipped. "They must have good planesmen!"

"Here's the plan," I said. "Target the two Trampdampfers -- they're close together and right in front of us. The third ship can help the survivors."

Arendt lamented, "If only we could use the deck gun! I'd finish them off in no time!"

"Out of the question," I said firmly. "It's not worth the risk of someone getting washed overboard."

We closed in and aligned our boat for a good shot angle. My officers peered at me from time to time, as if looking for a sign of doubt. Inwardly I dreaded the possibility of another flaming massacre. But I could not appear indecisive. The ships were moving: they were fair game.

By the time we were 1000 meters out, it was clear they were not zig-zagging. Lemper aimed with the UZO and fired our last two eels. With the convoy far to the south, there was no urgent need to flee. We waited for the impacts.

The Dampfer on the right took the first hit, and without further ado began to sink by the stern.

But the one on the left... something felt wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Voigt saw it first: "Its engine just went kaputt!" He was right: there was no more smoke trail! The ship was slowing down! Our torpedo passed harmlessly just in front of the bow.

"Ach, I can't believe it!" cried Lemper, pulling his hair. "It must've missed by a centimeter!"

I was upset for only a moment. "Naja, those poor bastards needed a miracle... This is one they'll be telling their grandchildren about!"

Before we departed, I waved and called out to the ship in English, "Hey, Tommies! This is your lucky night! HAPPY CHRISTMAS!!!"

:cool:

Love unexpected endings:up:

And it's all "true" -- based on actual events from my third patrol. :D

(Next stop: Vigo!)

Shore Leave in Vigo, Part 1
 

29.12.1939

For a full day and night we dutifully cruised up and down BF76 (our assigned Quadrat) and encountered no ships -- which was just as well, since we could neither load our external torpedoes nor fire the deck gun in the rough seas. But the time was not entirely wasted; a number of my men, having correctly guessed my plans, begged me to teach them Spanish. So I taught two classes each day, copying the techniques of my favorite language teachers, and using the chalkboard that we normally use to count wabo explosions. Interest grew rapidly, until the Bugraum was packed to capacity for every class.

Sailors being sailors, they wanted to learn how to order drinks, seduce women, and talk dirty. A more eager group of students would be hard to imagine. To practice what they learned, I had them role-play with each other: for ex., one man as the bartender, the other as the customer. Inevitably we collapsed in hysterical laughter when practicing the "boy meets girl" scenarios. I also lectured them on the importance of good manners and upholding the honour of Germany and the Kriegsmarine. Some of them, at least, got the message.

Just before dawn on the 29th Dec., we docked in Vigo for "emergency repairs", as I told the harbormaster. Before I could turn the men loose, there was in fact real work to be done. The biggest job was the loading of the external torpedoes, which took all morning. While Lemper supervised this project, I took Gerhard and six Matrosen (in civilian clothes, naturally) to the plaza market to buy fresh food for our trip home. We returned to the boat laden with crates of fruits, vegetables, smoked meats and bacalao (salt cod).

After releasing the crew and posting guards on the boat, my officers & I went to a restaurant to feast on Galician delicacies, including seafood dishes (like pulpo á feira) and empanadas, washed down with chilled ribiero. It was one of the best lunches I'd ever had. Kuppert balked at the sight of the octopus, but we teased him mercilessly. Lemper sang, "Das kann doch einen Seeman nicht erschüttern," waving a tentacle in Kuppert's face until he finally ate some. We made sure he swallowed, then applauded wildly. The locals must have thought we were insane. In a way, we were.

Pleasantly full and slightly drunk, we were planning the next stage of festivities when two strangers walked in: a balding, beak-nosed German in a trenchcoat, and a lean, black-haired Spaniard with a moustache, wearing a dark suit. One look at their faces, and I knew I was in trouble.

Vigo, 29.12.1939

The two men approached our table; we all stopped laughing.

"Excuse me, Meine Herren," said the German gentleman. "Is one of you the Kommandant of that U-Boat docked out there?"

"That would be me," I replied, standing up. "Kapitänleutnant Peter Ullmann."

"I am Karl-Heinz Gruber, attache to the German Consulate," he said, giving the Party salute before shaking my hand. The resident Abwehr agent, of course.

The Spaniard then introduced himself. "Good day, my name is Estevo Alberte Pardo, assistant to the Alcalde de Vigo."

"Would you like to join us for a drink?" I offered.

Gruber, the more serious of the two, looked over my hairy, unwashed officers with distaste, then gestured to the door. "We need to speak in private. It's an urgent matter."

I left my officers to finish their coffee while I accompanied the two men outside. Though the street was empty (siesta time), they kept a constant watch while speaking in low voices.

"Herr Kapitänleutnant, your U-Boat must leave Vigo at once," Gruber said bluntly.

"Herr Gruber, I was assured by the harbormaster that under international law we could stay for 24 hours to make emergency repairs," I said. "If it's the British you're worried about, I don't think they'll find out about us in time to do anything."

"Never underestimate British Intelligence," Gruber replied tartly.

Pardo interjected, "Señor Capitán, there is a larger problem to consider. We understand the need to make repairs. But your men were seen loading torpedoes. Think of how that must look to outsiders! People will talk -- and there are foreign reporters in Vigo."

Gruber continued, "Even the appearance of German naval operations in a Spanish port jeopardizes Spain's neutrality. And we do not wish to make Spain a co-belligerent against her will."

"Do you expect us to sail all the way back to Germany defenseless?!" I retorted. "Those torpedoes are essential to our safety!"

Gruber sighed. "Perhaps next time you should choose an isolated cove rather than a major port. But what's done is done. I urge you to gather your men and leave Vigo as soon as possible... If your U-Boat is not gone by tonight, I will contact your superiors at BdU."

He didn't have to threaten me like that. Abwehr Hund!

Pardo handed me a letter. "Use this only if you really need it." The letter was a very official request in Spanish to render all possible assistance to the bearer -- signed and sealed by the Alcalde.

I pocketed the letter, thanked Pardo and apologized for the trouble. I gave Gruber a curt naval salute, and the two men departed. I re-entered the restaurant to confer with my officers. They looked worried for me.

"Männer, our boat is making diplomatic waves. We have to round up the crew and leave port tonight."

"Scheisse," muttered Lemper. "I knew it was too good to last!"

"Mensch!" said Kuppert in dismay. "How are we going to find them all in time?! It's like looking for ships in the fog!"

"Not quite, L.I." I said. The waiter provided us with simple tourist maps of the city. Spreading a map on the table, I quickly drew up a search plan, Kriegsmarine-style.

"Assuming everyone's on foot, they can only get so far from the port. Since they don't know this town, they'll probably stick to bars and brothels within a mile of the bay. And they'll be moving in packs, not alone. This narrows down our search area considerably."

I divided the area into four parts (one for myself) and gave maps to Kuppert, Lemper, & Arendt.

"Voigt, you return straight to the boat. Collect any sailor you find on the way. The rest of us will rendezvous at the boat at 1700.

Now, repeat after me: ¿Usted ha visto los marineros alemanes?"

I had them say it several times until I was satisfied. Then we parted.

My own search area included, naturally, Madame Carme's. ;)

Wow looks like the commander is now in deeeeeeep trouble. British escorts? Nah, nothing compared to the spanish bureacracy :D a depth charge attack by Walker's elite group is prefereable, and of course does not last anywhere as long as dealing with spanish bureacracy :lol: it is legendary!!

You bet!!:up: Yummm I just got hungry from reading it! Will go to dinner and come later:p

http://aycu21.webshots.com/image/215...5924139_rs.jpg

Schlicktown
 

Wilhelmshaven, 10.1.1940

"Your tonnage saved you this time, Ullmann," said KrvKpt. Werner Hartmann, our new Flottillenchef. He sat at his desk, scratching his beard thoughtfully while reading my KTB. "You can imagine Raeder was not amused when he saw this report." He pushed an intelligence memo towards me, dated 31.12.1939:

Three British destroyers sighted patrolling outside Vigo Bay.

"But, Herr Korvettenkapitän, how was I to know a German supply ship would arrive in Vigo a few days later?!" I stammered. "I never hear anything till the last minute!"

"Na, someone up there must like you," Hartmann said, shaking his head. "Anyone else would be commanding a warehouse by now. What the hell were you thinking, anyway?"

"It was a calculated risk, sir," I said.

"With the Royal Navy, the Spanish government, and the Kriegsmarine all at the same time? Mensch, that was tempting fate!"

"I'm sorry, sir -- it'll never happen again!"

Hartmann smirked. "Oh, you'll return to Spain, all right -- just not the same way."

He showed me two long-range photos of our new supply ships at anchor: the Bessel, in Vigo, and the Thalia, in Cadiz.

"So, the Spaniards know about all this?"

"Only a few, at the very top," he answered. "But don't expect them to help if something goes wrong. They will 'look the other way' only if you follow these rules: You must make the rendezvous at night, undetected. And you must leave undetected in 24 hours. You and your crew may board the supply ship at the captain's discretion, but none of you may go ashore. Even emergency cases will require the prior approval of BdU."

"Understood, Herr Korvettenkapitan!"

"For your sake, I hope so," he said. "Believe me, I know the allure of Spain as well as you do. But it's not like the old days. Better get used to it."

I nodded; no doubt he saw my disappointment. To enter a Spanish port but not go ashore?!

Hartmann handed me my KTB. "By the way, I hope you don't have any skeletons in your closet."

For an instant I was taken aback. How much did he know?

"No, of course not. What's this about, sir?"

"The Propaganda Company's always looking for another U-Boat Hero. Should I mention your name?"

"What would I have to do? Magazine interviews?"

"Interviews, speeches, autographs, newsreels... If they really like you, they might even shoot a film on your boat," he replied.

Lieber Gott, I thought.

"You owe BdU a favor," he added. "And the publicity will help your career."

"Well, maybe after the next patrol," I said.

"Going on leave soon?"

"First I'll visit my parents in Kiel for a few days," I answered. "Then I'll join my crew in Garmisch. I'm not much of a skier, though."

"Doesn't matter. It's a great resort. Lots of women, too... the athletic type," he said with a wistful grin.

Quadrat BE39, 16.02.1940

All the cares, joys and discomforts of the previous weeks faded into dream-like insignificance when the enemy convoy came into view just after midnight. I knew in my bones that this sight would stay with me forever. Lemper and Voigt stared in awe through their binoculars.

"I've never seen a convoy so huge!" exclaimed Lemper. "And without escorts!"

"The Tommies should be ashamed of themselves," I said. "These ships would've been better off travelling independently."

"Maybe they'll rendezvous with some destroyers further east," Voigt speculated.

"You're probably right," I said. "Good thing we caught them first."

The conditions were nearly ideal: the sea was again too rough for the deck gun, but I felt we could risk using magnetic pistols on our eels. Our first devastating attack confirmed I was correct. The ships were unarmed, and for once we could fire at close range with impunity.

One could not properly call it a battle; in truth, it was a massacre. The only danger to us was the possibility of getting rammed on purpose or run over by accident. We dove many times, mainly to confuse the enemy. We also dove once to avoid a collision and to set up a stern-tube shot afterward.

In less than 3 hours we sent 7 ships to the bottom for a total of 37000 BRT. To my surprise, Voigt showed no sign of emotion when a pair of Frachters exploded and sank in flames -- something had changed in him since our last patrol. And in me, too, I realized. There was a terrible beauty in those fires burning so vividly in the dark. To watch them was hypnotic, like gazing into a fireplace.

During our egress to the southeast, Rolf handed me an SSS message he'd intercepted.

"I checked the registry, Herr Kaleun," he said in a flat tone. "That 3000-tonner we hit was Norwegian."

"Scheisse," I groaned. "All these flags have so much red in them, one can hardly tell them apart in the dark!" Not much of an excuse, but it was honest. The idea of sinking a neutral was abhorrent to me, and this marred our otherwise triumphant night, for me at least. All we needed was a new enemy and more propaganda calling us "pirates".

I had Rolf transmit a report to BdU, which included the unfortunate detail about the Norwegian ship. Fifteen minutes later, we received the first response, not from BdU, but U-37:

I HAVE SUNK MORE NEUTRALS THAN YOU. NO WORRIES. HARTMANN.

Keine Sorgen? Much as I respected his leadership, I still could not reconcile myself to the reality of "unrestricted submarine warfare". First the Prize Regulations go out the window. Now this.

Arendt turned in his bunk to face me. "In my opinion, if neutrals sail in British convoys, they should expect to get sunk."

Rolf chimed in, "Something's building, that's for sure. The Tommies are very busy in Norway these days."

"Naja, let's hope that supply ship in Cadiz has a full load of torpedoes for us." With that, I reclined on my bed and gazed up at the wood paneling. My eyes drifted to the radio shack, or more precisely, to our new pin-up girl, Bettina. A curvy brunette in a grass skirt, dancing the hula. Our boat's gentle rocking added to her liveliness. The red light was, of course, the Hawaiian sunset.

Rolf played us a recording of "Wochenend und Sonnenschein", which put a smile back on my face (it never fails). The original version was quite different; I could recall some of the English lyrics:

Happy days are here again,
The skies above are clear again,
So let's sing a song of cheer again,
Happy days are here again!

Happy Days? It's all relative, I guess.

nice as always.
didnt had much time to read this lately but... hell your a good storry writer :rock:

gimme some of your inspiration

There's more, Mohr, coming soon... ;)

Muchas Gracias!

im looking forward to it Herr Kaleun :rock:

The story is building nicely. Can't wait for the next installment.:up:

Cadiz, 24.02.1940

We entered the Bay of Cadiz at 0250, submerged. Several Spanish vessels were in port, and among them, one German merchant ship, the Thalia. We found her without difficulty, surfaced and pulled alongside -- on her starboard side, in order to be less visible.

When I informed my crew that we could not go ashore this time, one could hear a few groans -- from those few who had still hoped that I would somehow bend the rules again. Fortunately most of my men were content: I promised that the Thalia would provide them a good meal, a cold beer, a hot shower, and would even wash their stinking clothes. And the Thalia, bless her crew, delivered the goods.

Upon arrival my officers & I were warmly greeted by Kapitän Heinz Schroeder, a grey-haired old salt who clearly envied our youth and "wild adventures". Due to the lateness of the hour, the welcome celebration was simply a glass of champagne for each of us; all we really wanted was a good night's sleep.

"Tell me, Ullmann," asked Schroeder, "Has the hunting been good?"

"Better than ever," I answered. "One week ago, we sank 7 Frachters. Then two nights ago, on the way here, we sank 3 more. That was mostly Lt. Arendt's doing. You should've been there!" Anyone could see that Arendt was still ecstatic from his first use of the deck gun in combat.

"I'll bet you boys have some medals waiting for you in Schlicktown, eh?" said Schroeder.

"Very likely, sir," said Lemper. "But I prefer blondes and brunettes, myself." That got a wicked laugh out of the old man.

"Herr Kapitän, as for our boat, when shall we begin?" I asked.

"My men will perform the refueling right now," he replied. "No worries, they're very well-trained. They can do this job with their eyes closed."

That gave Kuppert some relief; he needed sleep even more than the rest of us.

Schroeder continued: "At dawn we'll start loading torpedoes. We'll need your crew on the receiving end, natürlich. This will take all day. After that, it's showers and laundry, fresh food for your boat -- then off you go!"

"First-rate," I remarked. I sent Arendt and Voigt to supervise the boat till daybreak. Schroeder then escorted me, Kuppert, and Lemper to our rooms. For a Frachter, they were better than I expected, more like ocean-liner staterooms.

"Ja, meine Herren, private rooms! With beds bigger than you are!" said Schroeder, who obviously knew of our deprivations.

Seconds after my head hit the pillow, I was fast asleep. For about four hours. Then I was awakened by the sounds of Schroeder's men hauling torpedoes.

I stood over the cargo deck watching this operation for several minutes; then I indulged my next primal urge -- I took a long, hot shower. Ahhh... At times like this, watching the rivulets of dirt stream off me, I think without a doubt the greatest invention of Western Civilization is the hot shower.

By the time I arrived in the mess hall, Lemper was already chowing down with the Thalia's junior officers. Kapitän Schroeder and I loaded up our plates from a surprisingly posh buffet, then sat at a separate table. Between bites, Schroeder told me about his situation in Spain. Though technically he and his crew were interned, the conditions were actually quite lax; he could, for ex., go ashore whenever he felt like it.

"I'm glad you don't feel like a prisoner here," I said with a hint of jealousy.

"Na, one still has to be careful," he replied. "There are plenty of British spies about. And destroyers out of Gibraltar. They stop by here often, to keep an eye on us. You're lucky, you just missed one of them."

"Verdammte imperialists," I said. "They think they own the whole ocean!"

"Ja, but they won't for much longer, eh?" said Schroeder with a wink. Leaning closer, he whispered, "Ullmann, there's someone here who wants to meet you, in private. Major Horst Brandt."

"Abwehr?" I whispered back. He nodded slightly.

Ach, Scheisse, I thought. What now??

This is making for such an excellent read.

Deep, entertaining and not dull at all.

This is well researched and very well written!

I Want More!!!!!!!:rotfl:


...bitte lol

Abwehr
 

After breakfast I quickly changed into my uniform -- my cleanest outfit, as I rarely wore it on patrol -- and met with Major Brandt, who had taken over Schroeder's office for the occasion. I greeted him with a sharp traditional salute, which he answered with what I call the "Party bureaucrat" salute: an almost casual gesture, like hailing a taxi. Over the years I've come to interpret this salute, esp. at first meetings, as a subtle signal that one is not dealing with a Fanatiker, but a "March Violet". However, Brandt was an Abwehr agent, so I had to stay on my guard.

Anyone might have guessed him to be an accountant, going by his grey business suit, wire-rimmed glasses, and sedate, owlish demeanor. But I reminded myself that this could just be a well-polished act; this man might be capable of anything. He closed the dossier he had been reading (probably mine) and invited me to sit.

"Herr Kapitänleutnant," he began. "Since your little escapade in Vigo, the Abwehr has made a very thorough investigation of you and your family." Just as I'd feared.

He gave me a clinical, penetrating look, as if I were an exotic species of beetle that he'd read about in a biological journal. If this look was meant to make me nervous, it was working. He went on: "My superiors have come to a conclusion about you."

I asked in a slightly indignant tone, "Herr Major, is my loyalty in question?"

"No, not at all," he replied. "We in the Abwehr understand that there is more than one kind of patriot. Even so, we think you need our help."

"Sir, are you quite sure?" I said. "Perhaps you haven't heard: I just sank ten ships. I may get the Ritterkreuz for this!"

"May I remind you, Herr Kapitänleutnant, that medals are not bullet-proof. If the SD or the Gestapo knew what we know about you..."

Mein Gott, the bastard really had me by the short hairs!

"All right, Herr Major," I said. "Let's lay our cards on the table, then. What sort of 'help' did you have in mind?"

"Have you ever considered," he said, warming to the topic, "how easily one clerical error can make a vital piece of evidence disappear forever?"

"You could really do that, huh?"

"Our people are everywhere," he answered. "The other agencies underestimate us -- that is our advantage."

"So... what does the Abwehr want in return?"

"From time to time we require the use of a U-Boot. Some of our missions are so secret, we don't want even the Kriegsmarine to know about them. If you were to work for us in that fashion, you would incorporate the Abwehr tasks into your regular patrols. You would simply not inform BdU about those activities."

I leaned back in my chair and glanced out a porthole at the skyline of Cadiz. What the hell was I getting myself into??

"Herr Major, what about my crew?"

"They must be sworn to secrecy, of course. How much do you trust them?"

"I trust my officers completely. As for the rest, most have done only a few patrols with me. I can't say I know all of them very well."

"An honest answer... You should know, we are conducting background checks on all your men. As a result, we might need one or more of them to transfer off your boat. Would you accept this?"

"That depends... Right now I'm satisfied with everyone's performance. How would I explain a transfer?"

"You won't have to. As you know, BdU has commissioned many new U-Boots, and they will need experienced crewmen. All we have to do is suggest some names. Problem solved."

"You really have this all figured out, don't you?" I remarked. "Do any of the skippers I know work for you, too?"

"That is not a subject for discussion," he answered sternly. "And you must never mention it to your fellow commanders."

"Ja ja, of course, Herr Major... I accept the conditions." As I shook Brandt's cold, clammy hand, I wondered if I would regret this. As a boy I'd heard the saying that "no man can serve two masters" -- evidently the Abwehr thought otherwise.

"Welcome aboard, Ullmann," said Brandt with a smile like a thin scar. "We have a job for you now, if you want it. Quite simple, really: One of our agents must go to Tangier. It's just 120 kilometers. You may think of it as a test."

"All right, Herr Major... We'll do it."

Brandt gave me a map of the Moroccan coast with an "X" mark 5 km east of the port of Tangier. "That is the drop-off point." On the back of the map were three short lines of Enigma-style code.

He explained: "One hour before you reach the coast, you will transmit this first line by radio, exactly as written. Upon arrival you will send the second signal by Varta-Lamp. The response from shore will be this third line. Then a boat will come to collect our agent."

"Sounds simple enough -- as long as the Tommies don't get in the way." I folded the map and slid it into my pocket.

"If we are satisfied with your work, one of our officers will contact you in Wilhelmshaven about future missions."

"Good. Is there anything else I should know, sir?"

"Stealth is the highest priority," Brandt said firmly. "Avoid engaging any enemy vessels en route to Tangier."

"Understood, sir!"

"And I must emphasize again: No one at BdU may know that you even went there. Klar?"

"Herr Major... are you suggesting that I falsify my KTB?"

Brandt replied crisply, "That would be an excellent idea."

im wondering.... what do you mean with this -> "May I remind you, Herr Kapitänleutnant, that medals are not bullet-proof. If the SD or the Gestapo knew what we know about you..."

Oh-ho-ho.... Be patient, Herr Mohr. (Btw, spy stories are my specialty -- as you'll soon see.) ;)

did you raped a spanish girl ? :hmm:
or killed a woman's husband and raped the woman ? :hmm:

On the trip dwn he will either spot a large convoy of troopshis tankers and passanger ships, A task force in perfect firing setup, or the Queen Mary! :roll: