(U-51, Patrol 6, continued...)
As the convoy slowly but surely pulled out of range I reversed course and headed back to the scene of the carnage, releasing the crew from silent running so Their Lordships could begin the arduous task of reloading the tubes with our two remaining eels. Once that was completed we began our slow rise back to periscope depth. Helmut had reported a merchant lagging well behind the pack, and we found her soon enough. One of the medium cargo ships, the crates on her foredeck ablaze in testament to at least one of the explosions we'd heard. She was listing slightly to port and looked to be making a mere 4 knots in the general direction of her now disappearing companions. Another eel in her side halted her progress and then sent her sliding bow-first beneath the waves. Off in the distance I could see a cloud of black smoke at the edge of the horizon. Our third target, I thought, most assuredly on fire, but still making good enough time to stay with the rest of the convoy.
We plotted another intercept course, one that would take us out of visual range until we'd left them well behind us and also put U-51 back into attack position; with any luck we'd have our chance to deliver a final, fatal blow to the damaged survivor of our first attack. With only one eel left to play with, we couldn't hope for much more. At last the periscope revealed no lingering trace of the convoy on the horizon, and I gave the order to surface and again considered our options. A lengthy chase south and west would take us even further from home than we already were, and if the convoy continued on at her last known speed - we'd estimated 8 knots - we'd have to throw economy over the side to catch up. The LI was already grumbling about our fuel reserves; there was a limit to how long and how far we could continue our pursuit and still have enough to make it back to Wilhelmshaven. There were other options for refueling between here and there, yes, but our last time out had stretched into almost 14 weeks at sea after a resupply stop in Las Palmas, with barely a week in port before being sent back abruptly into the fray. No one, including me, would be overjoyed at the prospect of an encore of that performance so close on the heels of its immediate predecessor.
A quiet conference with the LI confirmed what I'd guessed at already; we'd need to overtake the convoy and attack by mid-afternoon at the latest, then head directly for home or else give up any hope of making it there without seeking out some resupply ship and then no doubt receiving orders to make full use of what they gave us before returning to base. As much as I disliked the risks involved in taking on a protected convoy in broad daylight - and especially if the good weather held, as it seemed intent on doing - the failure of the escorts to offer an effective defense the first time around gave me some hope of success.
By midday we'd outflanked the convoy and turned in for our attack run; at periscope depth, running silent, and with our fingers crossed that the Tommies in those escorts would do no better this time around. Our intended target was easy enough to find, even at the edge of visual range - it was the other medium cargo, still leaving a telltale trail of black smoke but easily keeping pace with the rest of the herd. It must've been the Granville whose death agonies we'd overheard in the darkness before dawn. Another quick sweep with the scope revealed both destroyers and the battleship chugging along in their expected positions, giving no indication that we'd been detected; perhaps our luck would hold out today as well.
Our one remaining eel was in the stern tube, and I lowered the 'scope as I passed orders to the helm that would put us in a good spot to turn tail and fire on our would-be victim as she crossed our path. The boat had barely begun its first slow turn towards its prey when a ragged whisper came back up the ladder: destroyer, bearing 050, closing, increasing speed!
Verdammt noch mal! I popped the 'scope as far above the surface as I dared and there she was - heading straight for us, and closing at what had to be top speed. No more luck for us today, at least not the kind that sinks ships; I could only hope that the kind of luck that kept our little tub from sinking wouldn't thumb its nose at us as well. Flank speed and dive, there was nothing else for it. If we could just get deep enough before...
(to be continued...)
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