January, 1944 - U-105, Type IX.
It has been an unpleasant winter in Lorient. War prospects dim daily. The chances of victory seem a thing of yesteryear, a myth we once told ourselves. But still, the war goes on, as does our duty.
The crossing of the Atlantic was mostly uneventful - at least after escaping roaming Sunderlands that have made transit in and out of Lorient more eventful, to say the least. The North Atlantic is a killing ground for U-boats, now, so we skirted south of the Azores, engaging in a deck gun battle with a small merchant, and sinking her. Small prey, and even that is dangerous - but not worth a torpedo at such a critical point. Besides, our gunners are highly decorated veterans. I still trust in their accuracy, and rightly so.
But it is time to be daring. We arrive off the coast of South America, with ports in sight: San Fernando and the Port of Spain. Time to teach the allies that the Atlantic isn't their lake, yet. The northern entrance is guarded by two destroyers, but reconnaissance of the southern channel indicates only an elderly Clemson. Not expecting us, the Clemson is easily disposed of with a single torpedo directly into her engines, the depth charge racks making her explosive demise all the more satisfying.
Under cover of darkness, U-105 breaks into the shallows on the surface, and by daybreak we are submerged and hidden from roving aircraft. With the coming of night, we reconnoiter San Fernando and find...nothing! Not a single verdamnt ship. Has our daring been for naught?
But on the passage north to the Port of Spain - our lookout crew see a T3 tanker, riding at anchor! The allies must be overconfident indeed to leave such a prize undefended and a sitting duck. A pair of torpedoes are sufficient to break her back and send her down in pieces. But the crew has hardly begun celebrating their victory when a second T3 is spotted, to the north. This beast takes three, but her fate is sealed.
After that, the Port of Spain is merely icing on the cake, the U-105 blasting a Small Tanker at long range. But by now our antics are sure to have stirred the hornet's nest. As dawn breaks the next day, we are running the northern channel off - our anti-aircraft gunners getting some practice on a Catalina that decided to be a little too bold.
We escape detection by the northern guardians, and continue our run, blasting two small tankers on the lanes to Curacao, then finishing our hunt with a pair of T2s on the rich tanker route to the east of Cuba.
Happy new year, Amerikaners - the U-boat fleet is not a toothless dragon yet.
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