[Bosje]

September 24th, 1940. U-93, grid BF13


-1:00 pm
We are running full speed on the surface in broad daylight with clear skies and a smooth sea. The rooster hasn't lost his brass balls just yet. We hope to intercept a convoy before the waters get too shallow and we'll be in attack position at nightfall. A big convoy according to the report, and only minor protection. I will test our theory from the 7th patrol convoy attack. Fire 2 bow shots and then close in while reloading, sinking as many as possible with remaining 5 shots. While we are running after them, I have a story to tell. The short version is that we sank a destroyer and then hit a mine. The long version is, well, long.


U-93, that's right. A new boat again. We had only completed 2 patrols with U-51, the Type VIIb which I liked so much. Then we had Feindfahrt 8. It started out well, we departed Kiel on July 6th and were assigned to patrol the entrance of the channel to catch anything that emerged into the North Sea. Before we got there, a report came in on an enemy taskforce cruising between Scapa Flow and the Norwegian coast so we took a small detour to see if we could get in range to take a potshot at it. After a couple of days hanging around their projected path, Karl found them. Multiple fast screws coming right at us! Heavy seas but broad daylight so we got at close as possible under the waves. 5 destroyers, no capital ships as far as we could see. I sent a torpedo at 4 different targets and then we turned tail. 2 minutes later we heard an explosion and the eerily collapsing bulkheads of a ship being eaten for lunch by good old Neptune. BdU still has to confirm it but The Duke simply put a destroyer kill in the log.


We then moved on to our patrol grid and after a day of not getting any contacts we decided to get closer to the English coast and perhaps have a look at the port of Lowestofte. As we were underway, a merchant appeared on the horizon. While we were setting up for attack, Adolf, my most experienced lookout who has been with us the entire year, called out a fire spreading on the merchant. She quietly went down as we got closer. This was of course a clear warning sign but instead of giving the whole thing some thought, we just joked that our mere appearance was enough to have the enemy scuttle their ships. As I was planning our approach of the harbor together with Otto, someone or something smashed me on the head and I made an involuntary flying trip through the control room. Next thing I remember I am lying in a bed in the aft crew compartment, along with a score of other men, all either bleeding or laying very still. I got to my feet and stumbled back into the control room to find Fritz (who is now Leutnant zur See and wearer of the Iron Cross) and boatswain Hasse shouting and working like men possessed, alongside 10 crewmen who looked like they were not injured. They were all up to their knees in water. I asked Hasse for a quick summary and this is what he told me:


'Hull integrity intact but heavy leaking and heavy flooding. All deck and conning tower vitals destroyed, batteries gone, radio room gone, compressor and engines damaged but probably not beyond repair. We are running on the surface and if we dive we will probably never come up again. Watchcrew gone except for Beckman. Gert is running the boat backwards because we have all forward compartments heavy with flooding. Must have been a mine, Herr Kaleun'


I let them all get on with their work while I tried to get my head organized. We were in a minefield which had caused the merchant to sink in my binoculars. We were running backwards the way we came and we had to just keep our fingers crossed that we wouldn't hit another one. We were still afloat and we still had propulsion but that was about the only good news. I had Otto set a course for both his best guess out of this mess and then for the shortest way home to Kiel while I went in search of Freiherr Beckman. I found him on the bridge, putting out a fire which blazed on the backend of the Tiergarten. He was taking care of things in his usual calm fashion. After a lot of hard work we managed to get the boat somewhat secured. All fires extinguished, all flooding stopped except for a valve in the control room which refused to stop spraying water onto the charts table. All pumps working again and the boat was holding together, doing 12 knots now back to Kiel.


The Duke (presently Leutnant zur See Freiherr Beckman) told me that he and the first watchcrew had been standing on the bridge, keeping an eye out for the RAF, when he was thrown several meters up into the air. The boat, he said, was actually lifted out of the water by the exploding mine, he saw this because he was flying alongside her. He landed in the sea and immediately swam back, dragging Gustav with him who had landed in the water close to him. Gustav was one of our new crewmembers, he was injured but still alive. Adolf my senior nco on the bridge, Robert our cook and Hans, my old hand from U-2 were never found. They will be sorely missed and wrathfully avenged, so I hereby pledge.


We limped back into Kiel, the boat and Gustav were taken care of by the relevant professionals and I was ordered down to Flotilla HQ to receive the due bollocking by the boss. Would I care to explain why I completely wrecked my brand new boat? I told him it was him who suggested I be more aggressive and that did not go down well at all. After the shouting he gave me a pat on the back for at least bringing the boat back. We had not lost a single U-boot that month and he was glad I kept it that way. I told him he needed to thank Fritz and Hasse, and the other officers and men who pulled us out while I was lying unconscious in some sailor's bed and that was that.


Repairing the boat would take a lot of work and we were getting started with the organization when I was called to HQ again. I was one of the veteran Kaleuns and my crew were considered to be among the best in the U-boot waffe. We have, after all, been out on war patrols for a year now. Instead of waiting for the boat to get fixed we were all transferred to France. Back to first flotilla which was now stationed in the beautiful Atlantic port of Brest. A brand new Type VIIc was docked in the pens there and we were to take her under our charge. They wanted every able crew to get stuck in to the Atlantic convoys as soon as possible and so, here we are. Aboard U-93, the rooster on the tower still smelling of paint and a decorated crew of veterans, still busy to get settled in the new boat.


Sailing from Brest is a wonderful thing. I love France, what a beautiful country. It would be the perfect country if only the French did not live there. But I guess I would be a bit arrogant and hostile too if someone just waltzed over our army and told us we were their private wine cellar from now on. The best thing about France of course is the direct access to the Atlantic. All we have to do is avoid the RAF in the Bay of Biscay and we are in the convoy lanes after just 3 days of comfortable sailing! Quite a diffent cup of tea altogether, compared to our 7th patrol which consisted of 3 weeks of dangerous traveling for 1 attack run on a convoy.


That was the story of Feindfahrt 8, our last adventure on board U-51 and the death of 3 of my men. I have not had much to smile about and we are all determined to make U-93's maiden patrol, our 9th Feindfahrt, something to remember for a long time. Both by us and by the Royal and Merchant Navy.


To that end we are now doing 18 knots and Otto tells me we are now just 2 hours steaming away from the convoy. I can not remember him ever being wrong so I am just going to go up the bridge, smoke a cigarette and tell the Duke to keep those excellent eyes of his peeled.




September 27th, 1940. U-93, grid BE31 (North Atlantic)


-5:00 pm
Horrible weather, visibility practically zero. Convoy very close, Karl hears them spread out to our starboard but we can't see a thing so we'll keep shadowing it until this weather clears up.


Before I told the story of U-51, I said I was writing that as we were running in broad daylight. I want to keep things slightly organised so I first have to finish my account of that run, the first attack in U-93.

We engaged the convoy in the Irish sea 3 days ago with some success. They slowly emerged out of the setting sun and we got off a contact report before going in for the attack. It was a bit too clear for a surface run so we crept in from long range and executed our 7-shot-plan which is now becoming our standard attack procedure. As we got closer at 4 knots submerged after the initial launch, I noticed a peculiar silhouette among the merchants on the far side of the convoy. An auxiliary cruiser! Not exactly the Prince of Wales but still a capital ship. The Duke confirmed my identification and gave Udo the good news, the house of lords worked like I never saw them work before. This one was going down, all 13000 tons of her. For Adolf, Hans and Robert. As soon as they had an eel ready I sent it after her from 2000 meters, it exploded on magnetic trigger under her bow. That must be where they keep the ammunition for the forward guns because she went up with an enormous bang! Excellent results. 2 large merchants went up as well but the big tanker and the third merchant we hit managed to stay with the convoy. 3 ships for 7 torpedoes, it could have been better but we are all pleased about the cruiser. Fritz gave a faint impression of a grinning cockerel and Gert came out of the engine room, looking like a transparent corpse, to join us in a shot of gin. Here is to the Royal Navy and to Adolf, Hans and Robert, may they all rest in peace.



September 30th, 1940. U-93, grid


-8:00 am
Out of fuel, that's a first. We are covering the last miles into Brest on the last fumes that linger in the bunkers and I am not overly worried because we have some batteries left as well to take us in on the electrics if it comes to that. Gert is giving me grumpy looks all day and he swears he will apply for a transfer if I keep mistreating his beloved diesels like this. I know that's just a bluff, he loves to show off and inside he is swelling with pride. Rightfully so because he and the engine room boys kept it going for days, plowing through the storm as we kept in contact with that convoy, hoping for the weather to clear up. We kept a close eye on the fuel situation and when we had absolutely nothing to spare for the return journey to Brest, I assembled all the staff for deliberation. We were just going to charge right through the convoy at first light. Visibility was no more than 500 meters so it wasn't going to be a good one. The Duke loved it but he was the only one. Time to put on my cocky grin.


I stood next to him on the bridge, at the uzo while he scanned through the horizontal rain for silhouettes coming out of the miserable grayness that engulfed the boat. There! A bow crashing into a huge wave just off our starboard. A huge mass of ship followed the bow and it took some quick manouvering to set us up. Emergency reverse and hard port rudder did it, we got off 2 shots at 300 meters and the torpedoes managed to arm in time. 1 down. Flank ahead again, into what should be the second column of the convoy. Another shape emerged off our port, running away from us. I took a quick guess and had Udo change adjust for a magnetic trigger at 12 meters. It was a good guess and she exploded in a ball of flames which looked entirely out of place in this wet, gray, terrible storm. It must be hell for those poor sailors but we were not exactly having an easy ride ourselves. We got off our remaining 2 eels as well but nothing hit its mark as far as we know. Then we bailed out of the convoy, having running straight through it and we disappeared into the storm again. I did not go down to listen to the escorts, I just walked away. If we can't see them, they sure can't see me, right?


That was 3 days ago and ever since we have been biding our time, waiting for the boat to cover the 1000 kilometers that separated us from Brest at a rate of 13 kilometers an hour. 2 torpedoes left but no fuel to find a target for them. Either way this has been a good patrol. U-93 is worthy of the rooster.


Leutnant zur See Vom Bosch,
Kaleun Type VIIc U-93