[Bosje]

The boat is taking a nosedive while turning slightly to port, damage control party ready to leap into action while the Lords are sweating like crazy in the forward compartment, reloading tubes one and two. I sit by Klaus as he tries to gather what is going on up top, with the homing torpedo and the escort. We took the slight turn to port, knowing that the escort would most likely follow us there. The torpedo is definitely turning, following the escort in it's wake. This is very discomforting for me, I feel detached from the goings-on, I do not fully understand both how the escort and how the torpedo are working their magics. Unbearable to not know the how and why. If we make it out of here, I will have to learn a lot more still. Stay with the program, as they say, or forever lag behind, at the bottom of the sea. 'Torpedo converging with the screws... torpedo hardly distinguisha...' BOOM! The explosion crudely interrupts Klaus while he was wording what he was hearing. 'QUIET!' I roar across to the control room: 'Hard to starboard, maintain speed and depth.' The boys started cheering but we do not yet know if the explosion had any effect. Still, the urgent sound of fast screws moving overhead has gone. Always the subject of our nightmares and now we have struck back. 'And?' I ask Klaus.


'Engines stopped, some rumbling going on, I think she may be on fire, Herr Kaleun.' I dare not yet declare it a victory but we are definitely looking good. 'Back to heading 285, maintain three knots, maintain 90 meters.' Slowly I start to grin, getting ahead of myself. And then we all hear the bulkheads giving way. 'She's going down, Herr Kaleun!' Now I allow the boys to cheer. Their elation releases the agony from all those long hours we spent trying to get away from the escorts, now we have a terrible weapon of our own, something to return the favor. The Ocean Liner is still surrounded by escorts of course, but we are no longer in immediate danger. Klaus tells me that the Liner and the warships are all sitting still in the water. I can't imagine why, but I am sure we will get a clear shot to punish that behaviour. Klaus listens to the Liberty and the other large freighter, somewhere aft to our starboard, struggling to stay afloat while we get ready to deal our next blow.


Two hours later, it is all over. My Second Officer is positively beaming as he finishes the entry in the log:


July 31st, 22:00 Engaged convoy grid AM41. 22:20 Large merchant, Liberty, sunk shortly after one hit each. 22:23 Engaged Corvette with Falke Torpedo. Sunk, torpedo detonation after running towards propeller for approx. 30 sec, homing device surprisingly effective. 22:30 HMT Aquitania identified within torpedo range, already listing and on fire. Cause unknown. 2 torpedoes fired, both hits. 22:35 HMT Aquitania sunk. No trouble from escorts.


August 1st, 00:14 convoy outside of hydrophone range. End battle stations, surfaced to outflank and re-acquire convoy for second attackrun. Interception plotted in 6 hours. Weather deteriorated, heavy seas and heavy rain. Visibility minimal.
-


And that is that, really. It all seems very dull and to the point when I read it back in the log, but I suppose it was not our most tense moment we ever had in this boat. Three big ships and one corvette sunk for seven torpedoes. Over 60.000 registered tonnes. And not once did we get the feeling we were in trouble, not once did the depthcharges come close. I am confused as I am washed over by a strange sense of anticlimax, even though this is our finest hour. Stupid how the mind works. All those poor soldiers on board the Aquitania, they were only doing their bit for their country. Much like us. I have the feeling that we were not sufficiently punished for what we just pulled off. And that feeling has no place at all in the head of a U-boat Commander. Straighten yourself out, Beckman! You have a boat and crew to bring back alive, so in actual fact this was a perfect attack! I guess I'll feel better about it once we make it back to Bergen. But for now, I feel like I am addicted to danger. Addicted to the feeling that, after hunting them, I become the hunted in turn. The navy backed away too easily and, stupidly, I have mixed feelings about that.


Maybe I simply feel insulted that those escorts did not give us a hard time at all. Hey we did just sink one of the biggest Ocean Liners in the world! And right under their noses, too. Whatever my personal feelings about all this, the crew and the staff of U-735 are looking at their Kaleun with a new sense of admiration in their eyes. They are all doing fine, the boat is doing fine, we shall undoubtedly be showered in laurels and medals. First things first, however. The boat is doing a decent fifteen knots, crashing into the heavy seas as we are running a wide turn around the convoy. This is not over just yet, I am putting us into the Royal Navy's sights once more. Maybe they will put up a better fight this time. Cocky and aggressive is good, Freiherr Beckman. Too cocky? Only time will tell.



The Duke