U-2 War Journal

[Bosje]

September 7th, 1939. U-2, grid AF87.


-9:40 am
Udo gave me a strange look 2 minutes ago, as I went to my bunk. I have left him in charge of U-2 for the upcoming half hour, all he has to do is steer the boat due east at full speed for a bit. Of course, strictly speaking, he is my Weapons Officer but Fritz is still asleep and I did not see any need to go to battle stations just yet. I have half an hour of time to kill and I decided to kill it by starting my war journal. I doubt I will be able to sleep much anyway and I shouldn't, considering there is a merchant vessel some 20 kilomets away from us.


I picked up this little writing journal about a week ago, when the war started. I do not know much about war but I am assuming that, as an officer in command of a boat and crew, I will not be at liberty to share or even show my emotions much, even though I am sure I will be scared, petrified or even mortified sooner or later. So, listening to the advice of my Naval Academy tutor who served on U-boats in '14-'18, I will entrust my doubts, fears and frustrations to this journal while I act the part of fearless and cunning commander in front of my men. Leutnant zur See Vom Bosch, most promising graduate from his class in the Academy, part of the elite on paper. Nice, all I can do from there is to disappoint, really.


So much for my first entry, it's time to submerge and listen in on my sonar contact.


-10:45 pm
Well, I am feeling disappointed but I had better get used to it; it is to be expected when one patrols the sea just off the Norwegian Fjords north of Bergen. As I went to periscope depth, to check on our contact, there was already a plume of smoke on the horizon right where it should have been. I positioned myself in textbook fashion for a kill shot with my last eel, but the red flag on the mast winked at me with a hint of blue lines. Not the red ensign after all, a simple Norwegian coastal freighter. I left it alone.


Several hours later a tugboat crossed my path, I let it sail away but the crew are starting to get bored. We are not a fleet submarine after all, we do not have the facilities to cruise around the oceans for weeks on end, looking for fat targets. We are a Type IIA coastal U-boat, fit for short aggressive patrols, put the 5 cigars into whichever hull we come across and be back home in time for tea and sausages. That seems to be the general idea, anyway. Well, the crew may be bored now but we are already successful on this, our first feindfahrt. This is our 5th day at sea but we already sent an enemy ship to the bottom. Perhaps the first kill of the war, who knows?


We were on our way to our assigned patrol grid when Martin got a radio message from a patrol craft, indicating an English Merchant steaming from the Skagerak to England. My boat is not very fast, at best it can do 12 knots, but after some calculations together with Otto, my navigator, we figured we should be able to get within visual range after 3 hours of steaming at full speed. As it turned out, we were right and a huge merchant appeared on the horizon almost exactly where we had expected it to be. We positioned ourselves for a textbook shot and at noon on the 5th of september, I fired my first ever torpedoes in anger. 2 torpedoes set up for a 3 degree spread at 90 degrees off her port bow. I had my third tube lined up, just in case,


I preferred to hang on to that fish though, because it was one of my two type 2 electric eels. At least 1 of the torpedoes hit home and the crew cheered but the ship seemed unimpressed. I was still positioned to fire the third torpedo if necessary and after 10, 20 seconds of nothing happening to the ship at all, I let it loose. Waiting longer would mean losing the advantageous position. It hit the merchant in the same spot, just afore the bridge and exploded but still the merchant ploughed on through the heavy swell, now zig-zagging but still doing at least 6 knots. That's all 3 of my tubes empty but I am not inclined to let my first ever prey get away without a fi...


Lookout reports visual sighting bearing 341, it should have been to my starboard so I'll have to finish this entry later.


-11:30 pm
It was another Norwegian, of course. I don't want to sink neutral fishing boats and tugboats with my precious last torpedo so I have decided to head for the English coast instead. We have been lying in wait here for 24 hours, as per our patrol orders, we have intercepted 3 merchants which we picked up on the hydrophones, all 3 were identified as insignificant Norwegian coastal ships and I have left them all unmolested. I could just go back to base with one solid kill in my log, but I want to spend this last torpedo, preferably on a fat limey. We have almost ¾ of our fuel tanks still full so we are just gonna make the crossing and look for targets near the British port of Hartlepool. This gives me plenty of time to properly finish my previous entry.


The merchant we hit was identified by myself and confirmed by Udo as a British C2 cargo vessel of around 6400 tons. It was surely damaged by my two detonating torpedoes but still floating and even sailing away from me. I ordered all hands to the house of lords, to reload tubes 1 and 2 with my last fish, but it was taking them forever. We were all quite tired and the windspeed was some 15m/s so they were not having an easy time. It had to be done and quickly, however, as I was not inclined to get my first ever prey get away like I was about to explain an hour ago. Meanwhile we ran at flank speed on the surface, trying to again get into a good firing position by the time tube 1 would be ready. My whole crew looked like they had been in a marathon but they did not complain, we were about to strike 6400 tons of shipping off the charts, after all.


Finally it was done, fire tube 1, jawohl Herr Kaleun, boom. It hit exactly under the bridge, just under the waterline. With a spectacular explosion the ship immediately broke in half, the stern end keeling over and disappearing in seconds, the bow end following suit soon after. The ship was gone even as we all ducked on the bridge to avoid our heads getting cut off by the shrapnel from the blast. Wow what a rush. I failed to feel sorry for the poor bastards, we had our first kill and a spectacular one it was, too. Even if it had cost me 4 out of my 5 torpedoes.


That was 2 days ago. No, 3 days as I realise, looking at my clock. It's 1am, september 8th. Well, I am off to bed now. My LI, Fritz, is back on watch to take the boat to the English coast with only a small crew of sailors on duty in the control- and engine rooms while everyone else is getting some hard-earned and much-needed sleep.




September 10th, 1939. U-2, grid AN54 (14 kilometers east of Hartlepool)


-10:50 pm
I hope this is at all readable later, the boat is vibrating so much it's hard to keep my writing steady. Or perhaps i'm just trembling a little. We are running at flank speed on a course due east, this time on our way back home to good old Wilhemshaven. I feel just like I felt years and years ago, when I was a little boy. I had just nicked a bar of chocolate from a shop and very exitedly ran away as fast as I could, not daring to look back to see if I was being followed. As I turned a couple corners I started to believe I had actually gotten away with it and with this strange mix of triumph and disbelief I ate the chocolate, hiding in a back alley. The guilt came later. That is exactly how I feel right now, a very naughty boy who is getting away with it, except this time I'm not expecting any feelings of guilt.


It all happened quite fast. Exactly an hour ago, at 21:50, we were at this same spot, only facing the other way. The English port of Hartlepool lay right in front of us, we could see the lighthouses dimly through the fog which crept over the water. It was a beautiful clear night, still is, and the sea is as smooth as a mirror. Adolf, my 1.WO, stood beside me on the cramped bridge. Herr Kaleun, you have a very mischievous look on your face, he said. I smiled and replied that I felt like a child in a sweetshop. We could not yet see the docks but I was sure there would be an good target for our last torpedo.
Well, Herr Kaleun, conditions are excellent for a surface run on an undefended port. We may even be able to use our 2cm gun, Adolf said. Hmmm, lets first check if it is in fact undefended, shall we? Periscope depth, ahead 1/3. Battle stations. Jawohl Herr Kaleun. Once back inside the boat, I told Fritz: LI, make it 15 meters at 1 knot, silent running. Then I looked to Karl on his sound station. Several minutes went by, I was about to give orders for a surface run into the port when Karl whispered: Warship, bearing 341, closing at medium speed. Damn, that was going to mess with my little party.


This, I figured, was a lone destroyer, probably very bored with patrolling up and down the English coast, and it was probably going to pass very close to our position. I turned theboat to meet it head on, while making it back to periscope depth, I then pulled up the observation scope and waited. I didn't have to wait long, there it was. A destroyer, at first glance V or W type, leisurely sailing along the shore. If I was going to fire my last tube at a merchant vessel, I would have nothing to defend myself afterwards and the destroyer would probably start to look for me actively. I only had about 10 meters left under my keel and little submerged speed or range to play with. Ok, so I would fire at the destroyer. It was an electric T2 so he probably wouldn't see it coming and even if I missed, chances were the enemy would never even know they had been fired upon. That was a longshot filled with 'ifs' and 'probablys' of course but I had been mostly correct in my assumptions to date, even back at the academy. Besides, I needed to boost my own morale.


The destroyer was going to pass very close, to my east, so I lined up the boat towards the southeast, waited for the destroyer to present a decent angle and I had Udo set up the fish. Flood tube 2, Torpedo depth 4,5 metres, magnetic pistol, set range 1000 meters, 10 degrees starboard angle, target speed 12 knots. I double checked it, Udo double checked it, it was all set up as well as could be. The crew held their breath in the red glow, Fritz looked at me and gave me a reassuring wink which I answered. Fire 2! It was so quiet in the boat that I imagined all of England hearing the hiss as my last torpedo sprung out of it's cage. 10 seconds, 20 seconds, BOOM... torpedo treffer! Oh yes, I have crossed fists with the Royal Navy and the first round very definitely goes to me! I raise the scope again to witness his fate when Karl shouts: Screws! Moving fast, closing, increasing speed! Bearing 240! **** **** what is this? Why has Karl not picked them up before? Were we all too focused on our target? We are now defenseless apart from the little bb gun on deck.


My first panicked impulse was to flank it out of there submerged, as close to the bottom as possible but before I gave the commands, I remembered something I once heard a veteran say: 'when you're suddenly in the ****, don't do anything at all for a couple of minutes, just smoke a cigarette. It seemed nonsensical but there was a very clear point in it. As the crew all had their heads turned at me in expectation of the emergency orders, I leaned against the observation periscope and lit a cigarette. They all looked at me in disbelief but a sense of calm came over the boat after the exuberant screams when we destroyed the destroyer. If the kaleun is taking the time to light a ciggy, it can't be too bad after all. I could only have gotten away with it after sinking the 2 ships as we had done, but I didn't do it for them, I did it for myself. Smoke the ciggy and consider all the information you have.
Karl, follow that contact, Fritz, 110 grad kleine fahrt. Maintain silent running, maintain periscope depth. Jawohl Herr Kaleun. Well if we can only hear it now, that means it must be quite far away. I certainly don't see anything in the scope. If I run too fast submerged, he'll hear us while we won't make much distance to show for it. He certainly hasn't got us pinpointed, he's just running to the scene where a comrade just went down. And it's smooth and dark outside. My cigarette was finished, I dropped the butt into the puddle that had formed into the observation scope housing from all the dripping inside and gave the good old hit and run commands. Blow ballast tanks, ahead flank on the surface, everything you've got, LI! Let's get the hell out of here. Jawohl Herr Kaleun. And congratulations Herr Kaleun, he adds with a grin to match mine. It is this grin which has been on my face for the last hour and I imagine it will still be on my face when we get home. If we get home. No, when we get home.


Fritz just knocked on the wooden panel outside my bunk. Yes? Herr Kaleun, I was wondering, a shot of rum for the crew? Not yet, Fritz, if we are still clear by dawn, then yes. Let's just keep running at full speed until then. As he went back to his station I called after him: and don't recharge the batteries yet, I want as much distance between us and that coast as possible. Very good, Herr Kaleun. This grin is giving me the cramps in my jaw but it's the most pleasant pain I have ever endured.




September 14th, 1939. U-2, grid AN95 (5 hours from Wilhelmshaven, the weather permitting)


-7:30 am
It is a beautiful day, the weather has been perfect ever since we left the English coast. Presumably, God is quite partial to his creations killing one another. We will dock on a very sunny late-summer afternoon, it should be a great welcome home after our first war patrol. As we watched the sun rise, 3 days ago, I ordered a shot of rum for the crew and announced we were going home. That went down very well. Like I said, we are only a small boat, with a small crew. Going to battle stations means every last man has a job to do if not several jobs, reloading the torpedoes means having all the watch crew and all the off-watch engine personal working their sterns off in the house of lords. Ok the boat is not supposed to reload during combat, standard procedure would be to submerge and maintain just a little speed and depth while the crew goes to work, but as we found out on our very first engagement, we need more than that. I plan to have Udo train a set party of crew until they can reload the tubes as fast as humanly possible, even in less than favourable conditions. I also plan to have an additional man for the sound stations because Karl has done a great job on this patrol but he is utterly exhausted after we track a couple of sound contacts for a couple of hours. I don't blame him but soon we should all be more efficient at and used to our wartime duties.


Also I am going to put Gottfried up for a medal. He shot down a jabo the morning after our adventure in Hartlepool. Despite the rum. Or perhaps because of the rum. He wasn't even on the watchcrew, he was just having a smoke as he came off his engine room watch. He spotted the planes before the watch did, leapt for the flakgun and he was putting shells into the hurricane before the alarm was even sounded. It's a good thing we had kept the gun ready to fire all throughout the night, washing a couple of ammo boxes off the deck was the least of my concerns in a crash dive. There was no need to crash though because the hurricane pitched violently left and right to avoid the tracers. I suppose it was a first time for him, too. By now I had been called to the bridge to decide our course of action and the first thing I saw was a great big black pill dropping from the plane, it splashed into our wake more than 2 boatlenghts away and the plane sputtered away with trail of smoke coming off its right wing. As the engine roar was quickly fading it suddenly stopped just before it should have faded away and we watched the smoketrail plummet down, hitting the sea with a visible splash somewhere between us and the horizon. Its mate had disappeared rather than seek revenge. 5 minutes later we dived, just in case. Ran at a 90 degree angle for the rest of the morning, also just in case, and resumed course back home at nightfall on the surface to finally charge our batteries.


I have to expect any subsequent RAF adventures will become more and more fruitful though, it is great to shoot down a jabo but I shouldn't push my luck. From now on we will have standing orders to crash dive upon aerial contact and we'll just take things from there. The days of waving at each other and trading Dutch brandy for German beer with fishermen are over.


For now, however, we are back home. Lookout reports the Wilhemshaven harbor heads coming up on our starboard and I have to put on my uniform for the cheering spectators. This journal will remain here and I will write again the next time I am forced to sit out some hours of waiting for contacts.


Leutnant zur See Vom Bosch,
KaptanLeutnant Type IIa U-2