SUBSIM Radio Room Forums - I don't have words to describe these 2 patrols . .

. . . but I'll try.

The second and third patrol of U-652 have been both the most vexing and the most heart-pounding I've had in a lo-oooong time. And DDs didn't even play a part in that! :p

Our second patrol started off reasonably normal: ordered to ET57 to patrol there. A bit of a drive, especially with just a VIIC. We were on that patrol for a total of 25 days, and not until the very last day did we see anything, and that was a singleton merchant, the S.S. Mont Viso. Plenty of aircraft though, especially once down by Freetown! :o

I decided to dock at our resupply ship at Corrientes, as we were running on fumes by then. It was rather embarrassing, as we still had all but two torpedoes; the Mont Viso didn't go down without a fight, and required a second fish to finish her off.

A day later and we were off on our third patrol. As we hadn't been assigned a patrol area, I decided to troll the waters off of Casablanca and Gibraltar, hoping to find a convoy or two.

Instead, all I found were more aircraft . . . and problems with the boat. Roughly half the times I crash dived I'd start losing, with no reason, compressed air like there was no tomorrow. As I've no idea what happens if you're at 70 meters and your air reaches zero I wound up surfacing far sooner than I wished to do after an air attack. One time we surfaced directly under an air patrol. Wasn't that fun!

After three days of being harassed by aircraft, and struggling with the random compressed air losses, I made a decision I came to regret the next time my lookouts spotted incoming planes: I manned the flak gun and ordered my newly-qualified gunner to fire at will.

Watching depth charges sail only meters overhead as they pass over the watch tower is something to behold. It's also something I wish you never encounter. Our boat survived with only slight damage, but the same could not be said for bootsman Albrecht Eppen.

Several hours later, once we resurfaced, we buried bootsman Eppen at sea then continued our patrol. We intercepted a small convoy of three ships: one armed trawler and two merchants, and made a submerged attack run. It was then that we discovered yet another malfunction: the attack scope would not focus!

Which made discovering that the convoy was a neutral Free French one bittersweet: on the one hand, I didn't have to struggle with the lower magnification of the observation 'scope, yet on the other we had struggled to reach an excellent firing position even with the dismal optics only to discover they were neutral!

By now I decided to stop throwing good Duetchmarks after bad, and had us set a course back to St. Nazaire. When it started to pour down buckets hours later that only increased my desire to head home.

We were approximately at DJ1 when we received a contact report of a warship around CG2, heading south at a fast rate of speed. It was still pouring buckets, and they were over 400km out, which didn't bode well for any sort of successful interception. Still, they were headed almost directly towards me, so I set a reciprocal course towards them. I figured once I was about 50km out I'd submerge and see if I couldn't maneuver so they'd pass close by.

As it happened, they did.

And it wasn't a single warship, either.

My SO first picked up the fact that there was multiple contacts, and I used the sound bearings to adjust my course until I could just start picking up smoke at around 6km out. They were heading right down my throat, which was just what I wanted. The seas were still heavy with rolling high swells, and it was still raining like Noah was around. They were coming in fast, and I made a 90 degree turn starboard to start setting myself up.

At 2,500 meters my heart almost stopped, and my palms started sweating as I IDed one of the ships: HMS Anson! A 35.000 tonne battleship! It was closing fast, and I was perfectly positioned off its starboard beam. I set all four of my torpedoes (2 steam, 2 electric) for six meters and impact detonation. When it closed to within 1.500 meters I fired the two electric ones, aiming just behind the bow and about a third of the way back from the bow. I'd checked the run time of the fish: the electrics would take just about two minutes, and the steamers one minute at their fastest 44kt setting, so I'd planned on firing the second set of two one minute after the first, so they'd all arrive together.

I was keeping track of the Anson when I noticed another ship appearing out of the fog, paralleling the Anson on its starboard side, which placed it between me and the Anson. My knees almost buckled as I IDed that as the Southampton class HMS Birmingham! It was only 900 meters away, with an AoB of about 80 degrees. I couldn't have asked for anything better!

I had both tubed flooded and opened, then aimed at the fore and aft turrets then fired. Dropping the scope I set depth for 150 meters and crossed my fingers.

*BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*

Four impacts with 15 seconds of each other.

The Birmingham went down within minutes, blown apart as its magazines exploded. I wasn't sure about the Anson; my SO couldn't pick up the sounds of it sinking, and I wasn't about to lurk around and look either.

I crept away for about 20 minutes before turning back. Once I got to the approximate area of the attack I came up to periscope depth to look around.

Nothing.

Yet it was obvious the Anson hadn't sunk: we'd never heard it go down.

We'd easily tracked the remaining escorts as they left at high speed, but the Anson wasn't with them. Which meant it had to be somewhere in the vicinity. But where?

I zigzagged back and forth several times, but visibility reeked. And I wasn't about to surface and look for it with the higher magnification of the UZO. I had a feeling the Anson was a bit annoyed with me, and they had some big guns with which to express that annoyance.

I finally sat down at the hydrophone, and very slowly rotated the needle. I found the escorts easily enough, but nothing else.

Wait a moment . . .

My SO abruptly reported a very faint sound, ID unknown, as I was moving the needle. I slowly swept back and forth along a 10 degree arc, and confirmed the direction. Turning the boat that way we slowly crept along, constantly re-checking the hydrophone, until . . .

The fog in front seemed to grow thicker in one spot . . . then gradually a form took shape.

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l1...8-1-2007_1.jpg

A final torpedo from 600 meters . . .

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l1...1-2007_1-1.jpg

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l1...1-2007_1-2.jpg

and the Anson finally slipped under the waves.

http://i96.photobucket.com/albums/l1...1-2007_1-3.jpg

After that, it was a slow trip home, my crew (and myself) quite jubilant, looking forward to our reception back in port. Not even dealing with the non-stop deluge dampened our spirit as we traveled submerged save to surface to recharge the batteries and refresh our air.

(I hope you forgive me this lengthy post, but I'm still quite pumped up and exuberant about things. Between using the hydrophones to first set up the intercept and attack approaches, then finding a lost, dead-in-the-water battleship in heavy rain and fog, and having to use the observation scope with its lesser magnification, and using only 5 torpedoes in conditions like that and managing to sink both of them . . . well . . . :D . . . I'm a bit stoked and wired still)