[Bosje]

He stroked his bearded chin with his left hand, thoughtfully, indecisively. His right hand held the binoculars through which he had been observing the destroyer as it crossed their path on the horizon, some 8 kilometers away. Not much more than a faint speck through the thin layer of fog which floated on the calm sea. The submarine, in turn, was nearly invisible in the darkness of a winter's evening. If he wanted, he could just turn away, nothing would happen, nobody would know. But he had a burning desire to prove himself, to test his boat and crew and, most of all, to destroy destroyers.

The destroyer was still not aware they were there, its radar was transmitting but not returning a signal off the submarine.

He continued to stroke his waxing beard while the destroyer crossed his bow. He would never be able to out-manouver it if it kept going west at this speed, modest for a destroyer but still beyond the abilities of a U-boat. He couldn't bear to see it just sail away like this. Oberleutnant Hans Bremer, commander of the brand new U-1164, finally made a decision. 'Clear the bridge, we dive.' The boys from third watch preceded their commander down into the boat and the boat settled down at 20 meters for a thorough hydrophone check of their surroundings.

'Just the one contact, Herr Kaleun, fast screws moving away on bearing 350. Nothing else.'
'Thank you, Heinz,' the commander answered. He was not actually a Kapitanleutnant but it was the traditional title for one of Germany's U-boat commanders. The First Officer grinned and said: 'We're getting away nicely. Good one, Herr Kaleun.'
'The destroyer is the one who is getting away, 1.WO. And I am going to bring him back so I can sink him. Surface the boat! All ahead full, make your heading 300. All hands to action stations.'

He had only taken the dive to make sure there were no other ships around. He dared to take on a destroyer, provided that it was just one against one. Even so, daring to take on a destroyer in the first place was a clear sign of madness, as far as the other officers were concerned. It was December 15th, 1943. The hunters were now the hunted and this was not a happy time for the gray wolves of the Atlantic. Oberleutnant Hans Bremer, however, was not playing along. He was going to turn the tables or he would get his arse handed to him while trying. He worded that thought carefully, it was bad luck to think about dying.

The other officers on board, two of whom shared the commander's rank of Oberleutnant, had their own ideas about this endeavor. But Germans had always been big on discipline and the orders were carried out without a hint of mutiny. Now, it was too late for any second thoughts. The destroyer made a sharp turn towards them, alerted by either the noise or the sight or the radar profile (or all of those at once) of a U-boat, surfacing and turning at full speed, exposing her flank as she did so. Ten seconds later, Bremer ordered the boat to dive again. Part one of his little plan complete, now for the more uncertain part two. The battle of wits, commander against commander, hunter against hunter.