:hmm: im sure this gets out of hand..
specialy now your "boys" wernt on shore for the "ladies of plesure" :nope:

"So, this is Major Brandt's idea of a test," I remarked.

Veronica noted the lascivious grins of the hairy sailors all around her. "For you and me both," she said.

"Prepare to dive!" I ordered. "All ahead standard! Periscope depth!" The news of this woman's presence must have spread through the boat faster than my orders.

"Herr Kaleun," said Veronica, "Is there some place more private where we can sit?"

"Sorry, on a U-Boot, no such place exists." Then a horrible thought startled me -- I whispered urgently in the ear of Bootsmann Leicht, "Make sure someone cleans the W.C. at once!"

He nodded and took off. Gott, if she saw our Klo in its usual condition, she'd think for sure we were cavemen!

I led Veronica to the officers' mess, asked Gerhard to bring us coffee, and stowed her satchel under my bed. By now the narrow corridor was filling up with desperately curious sailors.

"Back to your quarters!" I bellowed. Stabsoberbootsmann Zierbes drove back the herd, yelling, "Verdammt noch mal! Clear the way, you idiots! SCHNELL!! Or I'll kick your asses overboard!"

I sat down at the table next to Veronica. "We've been at sea a long time," I explained apologetically.

She answered, "It's all right, really. Being horny just means you're healthy." I liked her attitude!

I could still see men peering at us from the Zentrale. Arendt asked, "Should I close the hatch, Herr Kaleun?"

I seriously considered it. "Not all the way," I said at last. "I need to hear what's going on." Arendt closed the hatch half-way behind him.

Veronica & I sipped our coffee, glancing at each other in awkward silence. Perhaps she fancied me, but I couldn't be certain. If only Brandt had warned me, that Hund! I would have groomed myself better.

I asked Rolf at the sonar station about contacts. "Just a Frachter in port, Herr Kaleun, bearing 320." He turned the hydrophone wheel further, then his eyes brightened... "And dolphins!"

Veronica went to him at once. Rolf had a delirious grin -- he probably hoped she would sit on his lap. But she just crouched beside him when he gave her the headphones.

"I never knew they made such sounds!" she exclaimed with girlish delight. I could've watched her all night like that.

At 1930 we cleared the port of Cadiz and surfaced. Arendt went up with the watch crew. Voigt plotted a course to Tangier; our ETA would be 0130... provided all went well. Regardless of the speed, this was going to be a long ride.

Inevitably, Kuppert, Lemper, & Voigt joined us at the mess table for coffee. Veronica took it all in stride; no doubt by now she was used to this kind of attention.

"I've always been curious about the world of espionage," said Lemper. "Is there anything you can tell us that isn't classified?"

"Well," she began, "We do have a lot of inter-service rivalry. I'm sure you know what that's like."

"Ach, do we ever!" blurted Kuppert. "The Kriegsmarine and the Luftwaffe?! Gott, there's no end to it!"

"It's even worse for us," she said. "There's a lot of overlap and duplication with intelligence work. And our competition's not just over funding, it's about power & politics. Himmler and Heydrich would put the Abwehr out of business completely, if they could."

Voigt leaned in and spoke with a hint of caution. "Is it true, Fräulein, that there's internal spying in all the armed forces?"

"It's true," Veronica responded. "In fact our agencies even spy on each other! A phenomenal waste, if you ask me. A few of our operations have been spoiled as a result -- probably on purpose."

"So, you're not going to ask us to spy on the Kriegsmarine for you, eh?" I asked.

"Definitely not," she answered. "The Abwehr regards that as bad for morale and counter-productive."

I pondered this for a moment. "If we're to keep certain Abwehr missions secret even from BdU, is that because of the Gestapo & SD informants among us?"

"Now you're catching on," she said. "Mind you, the top brass at OKW know about our operations in general, if not in detail."

My officers and I glanced at each other. We were surprised by the seriousness of our talk, when we only meant to make chit-chat and ogle this beautiful woman! I felt like steering the conversation in a lighter direction.

"Veronica, may I ask where your family's from? At first sight I wouldn't have guessed you were German."

"I'm of Czech and Italian descent," she replied with a smile. "My family emigrated to Bayern about two centuries ago."

"Na, lucky for us the Abwehr doesn't subscribe to that Aryan purity nonsense, eh?!" I remarked. The others laughed, a bit nervously. It was about time... so many things we never discuss in public anymore.

"How many languages do you speak?" asked Lemper.

"In addition to German, Italian, and Czech, I speak Spanish, French, and English fluently; plus I know a little Catalan, Portuguese, Greek, Russian, and Arabic. Oh, and a bit of Japanese, too."

"Japanese??"

"A fellow from the Japanese Embassy taught me martial arts: Jujitsu and Karate. So if any man lays a hand on me, I'll snap his arm like a twig."

Formidable! as the French say.

We cruised south, about 10 km off the Spanish coast. The sea was calm, for a change. Voigt returned to the Zentrale, and the rest of us wound up reclining on the padded benches, as we usually do.

"Veronica, may I ask how you got into the Abwehr?"

"I was recruited while working for the Foreign Ministry," she said. "The good thing about diplomatic work is that you have access to high-level people. I was going to parties almost every night."

"Sounds very glamorous," I said.

She sighed. "The disadvantage, of course, is that everyone assumes you're an agent. Next time I should have a less obvious occupation."

"In Tangier?"

"Who knows? I'll probably lay low for a while and resurface somewhere else. I just go where they tell me."

"Same here."

I glanced at the clock; it was 2250. Then I heard Arendt scream from the bridge:

"Zerstörer, bearing 050! ALAAARRRMMM!!!"

:hmm: she speaks a lot of languidges.... that means she trained herselve ages on those languidges...

lol. im awaiting a convoy in front of Gibraltar at the moment. i shal clear your path :arrgh!:

Awesome, loving it :)

I bolted into the Zentrale just in time to miss the stampede of men rushing to throw their weight into the Bugraum. Arendt dropped in from the tower, panting, "It came out of nowhere! Doing at least 20 knots!"

"How deep is the water?!" I asked Voigt.

"Forty meters, Herr Kaleun!"

"Scheisse! Periscope depth! L.I., the moment we're under, give me 2 knots and silent running!"

"Jawohl, Herr Kaleun!" Before Kuppert could level off the boat, I raised the observation periscope for a quick look. Arendt gestured to indicate the Zerstörer's heading: coming in diagonally across our bow.

One glimpse through the scope, and I lowered it instantly. The Zerstörer was less than 1000 meters away and closing!

"L.I., give me 1 knot, depth 15 meters!" Kuppert's eyes widened.

"Herr Kaleun, at one knot, we can't hold this depth for long!" I knew this, of course -- the diving planes were already pushed to their limits.

"Just keep the tower under for a few minutes!" I watched the tachometers slow down to 50 rpm. The boat was as quiet as could be. We heard only our own heavy breathing, the clock ticking, and the ominous chugging of the Zerstörer directly ahead.

I noticed Veronica had climbed into the Zentrale along with several men returning to the stern compartments. She saw the severity of the situation in our faces.

Rolf called in a low voice, "Second Kriegschiff, bearing 290! Long range, closing fast!"

Gott in Himmel! I took a quick breath and raised the scope again to see the first Zerstörer. It was going full-speed off our port bow... we weren't out of the woods yet.

In the background I heard Veronica ask Lemper, "Is he going to launch torpedoes?"

He shook his head. "That would only make matters worse," he replied softly. "Every Zerstörer from here to Gibraltar would be on us like piranhas!"

Rolf called again, "Herr Kaleun! The first one's turning! It's coming back!"

Verdammt! He was right! It was making a loop, heading for our stern. I lowered the scope and leaned against the map table. Stay cool...

Veronica did not seem afraid. Her expression was rather one of consternation: the look you see on a businessman's face when he hears his train is running late. Those rude Tommies were disrupting her plans!

Lemper asked her, "Are you a good swimmer?" His humor, sometimes... Lieber Gott!

"Yes, I can swim," she said grimly. "But... if I'm captured, I have orders to kill myself." Well, that raised a few eyebrows!

"Don't take the cyanide yet, my dear," said Lemper. "Der Spanier still has a few tricks up his sleeve!"

It was good of him to flatter me. But the truth was, I had no more tricks. All we could do was listen as the chugging returned -- and pray.

Rolf whispered, "Bearing 200... 195... 190..."

I raised the scope once more. The Zerstörer passed behind us, heading away to the west.

"L.I., ahead two knots," I said. Everyone sighed with relief.

"Rolf, where's the second Zerstörer?" I asked. He turned the hydrophone wheel and listened intently.

"About... 5000 meters out... She's turned... heading... north."

I peered through the scope again; the westbound Zerstörer was nearly out of sight.

Following my instincts, I ordered: "Surface! All ahead full!" We had to reach the deep water, fast. Upon surfacing, I donned my leather coat & binoculars and joined Arendt and the lookouts.

By 2345 we had reached a part of the Strait that was at least 160 meters deep. We sighted no vessels. Sensing that the worst was behind us, I returned to the Zentrale. I decided to continue at full speed for the rest of the trip.

"At this speed, what's our new ETA?" I asked Voigt.

"At 14 knots... 0110, Herr Kaleun." Time for a midnight snack, I thought.

I turned to Gerhard in the galley. "Tapas, por favor!"

"Sí, Señor Kaleun!" he answered. "Pa amb tomàquet?" Clearly he'd done his homework!

"Sí, con jamón!" called Veronica from the radio room. With Rolf's approval, she played a recording by the Comedian Harmonists: "Schöne Isabella von Kastilien." We were all smiles again, like kids on holiday.

Wow man what a great story can't wait for the next piece

At 10 minutes past midnight, Rolf transmitted the coded signal to give the Abwehr station in Tangier one hour's notice of our arrival. Gerhard prepared a large platter of pa amb tomàquet for me & Veronica -- which we gladly shared with Kuppert, Lemper & Voigt. Such a simple dish, yet so satisfying: thick slices of toast rubbed with ripe tomato and raw garlic, topped with a dash of olive oil, and, in this case, sliced jamón serrano... Ja-wohl!

While we were happily munching and listening to the gramophone, Voigt asked, "Whatever happened to the Comedian Harmonists? They were so popular, remember? I used to hear them all the time when I was a kid."

We looked at each other, perplexed. Veronica finally answered, "Three of them were Jewish."

"Ohh..."

That "Ohh" spoke volumes, not just for Voigt, but for all of us. Our mood shifted suddenly, as if a cloud had blocked out the sun.

Voigt continued hesitantly, "Are they all right? Do you know where they are now?"

"The last I heard," said Veronica, "Those three went to live in Australia."

"Of all places," Kuppert remarked. "How are they doing?"

"Well enough, I suppose," she said. "But it'll never be the same again, obviously."

I observed the faces of my men as each privately grappled with this unsavory truth: another one of those things we somehow had learned not to talk about. Ironically, those happy dulcet voices were still singing to us -- but for once we weren't smiling.

Lemper tried to change the subject. "You think Schalke will go all the way this year? They're on a roll..."

Kuppert responded half-heartedly, "Well, don't forget Dresdner has Walter Dzur now. And I think Schalke's getting overconfident. They can't always be on top."

Their lingering embarrassment was palpable -- Voigt's most of all. He excused himself from the table first. Then Kuppert sheepishly rose and said, "Pardon me, I should adjust the trim -- it feels a bit off." And away he went.

Veronica hinted with her eyes that she wanted to go topside. That was fine with me.

Midway up, she stopped to examine the attack periscope. She was also fascinated by the repeater gauges and the torpedo control panel. I let her perch on the seat and "ride the carousel". Her girlish smile returned, and I felt better. I should've guessed she had another reason for stopping here. She spoke in a near-whisper: "Vous parlez français bien, non?"

I replied softly in French, "Yes, I do. You've read my file, eh?"

"But of course," she said. "Have you told your officers the truth about yourself and your family?"

I shook my head. "Do you think I should?"

"You can't rely on luck forever. You need to know who your friends are. And so do they."

"I might tell them... when the time's right." Her concern for me and my crew surprised me. I hoped it wasn't just an act.

We continued up to the bridge. Because of our speed, the wind was strong. Veronica zipped up her jacket, to Arendt's disappointment. The coastal hills of Morocco were just visible, silhouetted against the starry sky.

Reverting to German, I asked Veronica, "Isn't Tangier dangerous?"

"It can be, if you're alone and don't know the place. But for me, it's safer than Spain right now."

"Are you armed?"

"Always." She raised her right pant leg to reveal a Walther PPK in an ankle holster.

I leaned closer and said, "I've been meaning to ask... How does the war look to you? I mean, you know things that we don't."

After some thought, she sighed. "In my world, there are no lofty principles. It can make one quite cynical."

Veronica looked away towards the coastline. I scanned the horizon, occasionally glancing at her with concern. Like me, she was risking her life for the Fatherland -- and with fewer illusions, if any. I realized she was trying to protect me with her silence.

As if reading my mind, she said at last, "You mustn't worry about me, Ullmann. That won't help me at all -- it'll only distract you from your mission."

"Call me Peter," I said softly. For an instant, her reaction was one of subtle surprise. "So, I suppose you won't be worrying about me, eh?"

"I can't afford to, Peter," she replied stoically. "Your fate is not in my hands."

I looked at the shore ahead and recognized the dark outlines of palm trees; off to starboard, the lights of Tangier glittered. I called into the voice tube: "All stop! Varta-Lamp to the bridge!"

I reckoned our boat would come to a halt about 1 km offshore. Arendt handed me the Varta-Lamp, and with it I flashed the password towards the beach. After a few seconds, the countersign was flashed back.

Six minutes later, a small motor launch emerged from the darkness. Lemper brought Veronica's bag up to the bridge. I told Arno, one of the lookouts, to fetch a machine-gun, just in case.

Lemper asked Veronica impishly, "Will you say good things about us in your report?"

"Natürlich! But, forgive me for asking... Are all U-Boots this smelly?"

Without missing a beat, Lemper answered, "Oh, the others smell much worse!" We all nodded in agreement; she was lucky, in fact -- this was one of our better days!

"Next time I need a lift, I'll know which boat to ask for."

As the launch drew nearer, we could see its two occupants: a tall, leathery-faced European man in a trenchcoat stood near the bow; at the tiller was a young Moroccan in a striped djellaba and a red fez. Arno had his MP-38 ready, but Veronica gently nudged the barrel down.

"Relax," she told us. "I know these men."

She slung her bag on her shoulder, thanked us & shook our hands, and climbed down to the deck. "Auf Wiedersehen! Gute Jagd!" she called. Then she bounded across the gangplank provided by the trenchcoat-man. He merely looked up at us with bland detachment and gave the "Heil Taxi" salute. To him, we were just another ferryboat.

We all waved to Veronica as she sped away into the night. "Did you get her number?" asked Lemper.

"You don't call the Abwehr," I replied. "They call you."

We turned our boat west; our course would keep us in the deep water, yet close to shore. Amid the lights of Tangier, I could see the outlines of ancient palaces and mosques. I pictured Veronica there, walking the narrow, maze-like streets of the medina -- to another rendezvous, perhaps.

I glanced at Lemper, Arendt, & Voigt -- like me, they were gazing dreamily at the exotic skyline. In the few hours we had shared with Veronica, something had changed irrevocably. We did not have to say anything; it was enough just to watch Tangier gliding by in the velvet darkness.

:rotfl::rotfl::rotfl::rotfl:

good storry :up::rock:

Hmm I guess the Allies got themselves another sub :cry:

Keine Sorgen, looney,

Our boat still floats -- but life has been busy. And the weather in the Atlantic... :roll:

There will be more, maybe next week!

BTW, the more research I do about the Abwehr and the U-bootwaffe, the more I think "Der Spanier" would make a good novel: a real book for the public. I just read it to my girlfriend, who teaches film writing, and she's excited. Mensch, she even knows about the Comedian Harmonists!

Mach's gut!

From the private Tagebuch of Kptlt. Peter Ullmann:

2 März 1940, 0120 hrs., Planquadrat BE35

Since yesterday afternoon we have tracked a westbound convoy through heavy rain and fog. Only by regular hydrophone checks have we been able to maintain contact. At 1457 we sighted one of the Frachters, which forced us to crash-dive. Two minutes later a Zerstörer started dropping wabos; we were not damaged. We continue our pursuit in the hope that the fog will lift enough to make a torpedo attack feasible.

* * * * * *

In the Zentrale I called into the voice tube, “Clear the bridge! Prepare to dive!”

Lt. Arendt and his watch crew slid down the ladder, soaked and exhausted; they were grateful at the sight of Gerhard and his coffee-pot.

“Nothing sighted, Herr Kaleun,” said Arendt. “And no change in the weather. I might as well wear a sack over my head.”

“Na, at least no one ran us over,” I remarked. “Get some rest.” I turned to Kurt, the lookouts’ designated lens-wiper. “As soon as you’ve had your coffee, clean everyone’s binoculars thoroughly!”

He snapped to attention, splashing a bit of coffee on his sleeve. “Jawohl, Herr Kaleun!”

Our boat leveled off at 40 meters and slowed to 2 knots. Rolf donned his headphones, listened in all directions, and frowned. “No contacts, Herr Kaleun. Nichts.”

“Verdammt! They must've made a serious course change, not the usual zig-zag.”

“What now, sir?” asked Kuppert.

I studied the map, noting the previous contact marks. “If their destination is Canada, they probably turned south.” Walking the calipers from the last contact, I made an intuitive guess. “New course, 210. Surface!”

We proceeded blindly through the fog until 0300, when we dove and made another sound-check. Still no contacts. My hunch told me to continue SSW. So we ran on the surface again until 0455, then dove again.

This time Rolf exclaimed, “Contact! Very faint, bearing 340!” Endlich!

Voigt, struggling into his foul weather gear, asked, “Are the escorts still with them?”

“Can’t tell at this distance,” Rolf answered. “All the ship sounds blend together.”

We made another high-speed dash on the surface to catch up; then at 0600 we dove again. This time the convoy was east of us. We would stay under a while longer, to determine their course.

By 0900 it appeared certain they had resumed a zig-zag course, now heading northwest. We turned to 330 degrees, surfaced, and reported the contact to BdU. I accompanied Lemper and his lookouts to the bridge. For three mind-numbing hours we saw nothing but fog and rain.

At 1200 we dove again. After listening for several minutes, Rolf determined that the convoy was heading west. “I can tell them apart now,” he said. “At least 10 merchants, and 3 escorts. All ahead of us.”

“That might be better for us,” I said. “Less risk of collision.”

We surfaced and matched the convoy’s course and speed (8 kts.) for another 9 hours. At dinner with Lemper, Voigt, and Kuppert, I noted their pent-up tension.

“This verflüchte fog is like a wall protecting the Tommies!” groused Lemper as he stabbed his potatoes with a fork.

“Herr Kaleun,” asked Voigt, “Is there any way we can attack even with the fog?”

“Don’t be absurd!” Lemper retorted. “We can barely see 800 meters in the daytime. At night, 400 meters, at most! The ships disappear almost as soon as you see them!”

“And that's if you don’t run into them!” added Kuppert.

“So, how much longer do we shadow them, if the weather stays like this?” Voigt asked. “Looks like no other boats are joining us.”

I sipped my coffee and remarked, “Na, perhaps one just has to take a different approach.” I used my hands to illustrate the point. “For example… we can overtake the convoy, and as soon as we spot a ship, we turn away and shoot with the stern tube. How’s that sound?”

My officers mulled over the idea. “Under these conditions, it’s a damn sight better than turning towards the ship,” Lemper commented.

“With the stern tube, we’ll have two chances,” said Voigt. “Two’s better than none.”

“And Gott only knows when the storm will pass,” said Kuppert.

“All right then. At 2100 we go to battle-stations.”

We went to full speed to pass the convoy along its port side. Lemper turned the UZO around in preparation. At 2123 a small Dampfer emerged from the fog off to starboard. Our course was not quite parallel after all, which, given our speed, was a little frightening.

“Hart backbord!” I yelled. “Flood Tube 5!” Lemper peered through the UZO as the boat lurched in the turn. It was looking good… that is, until the Dampfer’s searchlights went on.

The twin beams blinded us. In seconds, more lights pierced the gloom from adjacent ships. Lemper gawked at me, bewildered. We heard a BOOM in the distance, and a splash in the water nearby.

“ALAARRRMMM!!!”

:damn:

seems like you dont have much luck dont you :hmm:

I know EXACTLY how that feels...

Lemper and his lookouts hurtled down the tower. As I sealed the hatch, a shell slammed into the rear of the tower, nearly knocking me off the ladder. My ears were ringing when I finally entered the Zentrale. Another shell struck us in the stern just as we were going under. The damage report came quickly: Our pressure hull was intact. No mechanical damage.

Now we had to escape the wabos. We heard a Zerstörer run directly over us like a freight train at full speed.

"Wasserbomben!" cried Rolf. We held on to anything solid, bracing for the inevitable...

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!! They just missed us, but the shock waves rocked our boat.

"Steer to 180 degrees," I told Kuppert. Then I turned to Rolf. "Na, where are they?"

"One's moving away at bearing 350," he replied. "Another Zerstörer approaching! Bearing 115!"

And then the pinging started. "Schiesse!" muttered Lemper. "They have ASDIC!"

I stared at the depth gauge, willing the boat to dive faster. It was the inbound Zerstörer that was pinging. We still had time, but not much. The depth needle crossed 150 meters.

"Hard to port. Silent running, 1 knot!" I ordered. Come on, Tommy, turn to starboard... I watched our compass dial rotate, waiting for the right moment.

Rolf leaned out of the sonar shack. "Zerstörer holding steady! Bearing 160!"

"Rudder amidships!" I ordered. Seeing that Kuppert and the others needed a little encouragement, I added, "They can't hear us now... If the ASDIC doesn't touch us, we can slip the noose."

We listened to the chugging and pinging as the Zerstörer passed behind us... then we heard faint booms from above, like gunfire. "Star shells?" asked Kuppert.

"Wabos," I answered. "They're shooting them with some kind of catapult. Clever, nicht wahr?" The pattern of explosions seemed to confirm this; two were noticeably closer than the rest.

Down the corridor, I saw Arendt and Voigt leaning out of their bunks, as if listening to a game on the radio. For the moment, our side was ahead. Arendt said, "They won't get us. Their wabos are set too shallow."

Lemper glanced upward. "Did you notice? The pinging... It's much fainter now."

I smiled -- so I wasn't going deaf after all. "We must've crossed a thermal layer. Gott sei Dank!"

Kuppert was still worried. "Herr Kaleun, we're rising." He was right: the depth gauge needle was creeping upwards.

"Rolf, where's the Zerstörer?"

"The ASDIC one's circling behind us, bearing 130," he replied. Turning the hydrophone wheel, he added, "The other one's heading away. Bearing 280."

I checked our depth again: 145 meters. "L.I., increase speed to 2 knots." The tachometer needles went to 100 rpm. Our ascent finally stopped at 142 meters.

Wabos continued to rain down at intervals, all behind us. I removed my rain coat and sat on the map box.

"Keine Sorgen, Männer," I said. "They're just trying to scare us. Rolf, where's the convoy now?"

"Bearing 120, heading southwest."

"If only we'd stayed up a few more seconds," sighed Lemper. "We would've sunk that Dampfer."

For the next hour, we crept away to the south, while behind us the Tommies circled, pinged, and dropped wabos uselessly. Since we did not know the effective range of ASDIC, it was safer to just wait for them to give up. At 2230 the Zerstörers finally departed, having sunk their imaginary U-boot.

At 2242 we returned to the fog, rain, and darkness on the surface. Stabsoberbootsmann Siegfried Baltz went up with the watch crew to inspect the damage to the tower. Even without a torch we could see the twisted edge of the Wintergarten deck and the bent flagpole.

"Flak gun is functional, Herr Kaleun," reported Baltz. "Damage to the tower is superficial. I'll begin repairs in the morning. In the meantime, however, one must still be careful." With a pair of pliers he extracted a piece of shrapnel from the wood lining the bridge. Lemper took a good long look at that razor-sharp hunk of metal.

I remarked, "You were saying something about 'a few more seconds'?"

be glad they didnt had radar then :-?