The Magnificent Mishaps of U-1337

[Weiss Pinguin]

September 26th, 1939
Somewhere off the coast of Scotland


"She's definitely a merchant, Herr Kaleun." Manfred Reckhoff had been working the hydrophones, tracking the contact we had detected 10 minutes earlier. "Medium range and approaching. Not sure about her speed. Sorry, sir, best I can do in these conditions." We were at perischope depth, and a rather fierce storm raged overhead, not uncommon this far north. I knew anybody listening to a set of hydrophones would be having a fantastically fun time sorting out the noise.

Kapitänleutnant Felix Wagner patted Manfred on the back. "Excellent work. I'll need a range estimate, though, Reckhoff. I think it's time we tested how well our sonar works."

Manfred powered up the Sonderapparat, and fired off a series of sound waves at the unsuspecting merchant. The new sonar equipment, designed specifically for the experimental Type XXI, was supposed to allow our shiny new homing torpedoes to be fired 'blind,' while submerged. At least, that's what they told us. Just about everything on U-1337 was new and practically untested, except for maybe the toilets, but even they were polished and had a futuristic look to them.

As I pondered the issue of the polished toilets on our Elektroboot and how long they would stay shiny, Manfred concentrated on the data from the sound set. "Range is 1800 meters, sir, bearing 320. Still closing," He added as he concentrated on the hydrophones again.

Wagner went back into the control room to bring the U-boat into firing position.

"Sir, we don't even know if it's an English merchant," objected Werner Pietschner, our navigator. He was also quite good at math, so consequently he worked out firing solutions most of the time.

"Think," Wagner replied, "Who else could it be? Would a Dutch or a French freighter be this far north, off the coast of Scotland?"

"A Norwegian ship might," I mused.

"Heading northwest, between Scotland and the Shetland Islands?" A smug smile found its way onto to our captain's mouth as we all pondered what the problem.

Fifteen minutes later we were busy at work putting together a solution for a pair of unguided electric torpedoes, while the soundman tracked our target's progress. The T XI acoustic torpedo could only detect targets moving at 10 knots or more, and with the storm overhead, we decided the chances of a hit were too small to risk wasting one of the precious torpedoes. Besides, we reasoned, we might come across a task force or convoy later on, and every last torpedo counted.

"Los!" Wagner ordered with gusto. The men all stared at him in confusion as he stared back with impatience. "Los, you fools, before he gets away! Fire!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation as the control room came alive again.

The control room came alive as the torpedoes ejected into the cold waters of the North Sea. We all anxiously crowded around the captain to stare at the chronometer in his hands. The seconds ticked down while we all worried that our equipment had malfunctioned or the solution had been calculated incorrectly or the torpedoes had had faulty pistols installed or-

"-Torpedo impact, Herr Kaleun! Two explosions, sir, I- Hold on... I can hear her, sir, breaking up..."

I motioned for him to hand me the headphones. I listened to what could only be the sounds of a ship descending to its watery grave, or a choir of baboons making love to a sheet of metal. Either way, it struck me as the saddest sound I had ever heard.

Still, as we turned north and resumed our stealthy cruise, and I recorded the sinking in the logbook, I couldn't help but feel satisfied. U-1337 had proven herself in combat, and the crew felt invincible. I knew that could all change the moment a British escort detected us, but for the moment, we were unstoppable. After finishing my bookkeeping duties, I retired to my bunk to catch up on some unneeded sleep.



Several hours later I awoke in bed and realized that we didn't even know the tonnage of the ship we had sunk...






(So after losing two GWX 3 careers to apparent computer issues which I have hopefully pinned down, I decided to do something different, fun, and maybe a little cheap. Like starting a career in 1939 with the Type XXI and pretending it's an early, top-secret prototype. Or painting my face orange, with cheap paint.

I also decided to pester you with my war journal, because I'm generous like that )

[Lt. Sven Thomsen]

Nice, Herr Kaleun, you do have literary talent. Do you think of publishing books after the victory?


(And I must say that your U-Boat has the most appropriate designation for a SH3 player I've ever seen.)

[A Very Super Market]

Oh, you rotten cheat!

[Weiss Pinguin]

I do what it takes to win



September 26th, 1939
Still somewhere off the coast of Scotland


I sat lazily in my bunk, staring at my wristwatch and listening to the quiet hum of the electric engines.

20:35... It had been ten hours since we detected and sunk the assumed British freighter. Since then the ocean had been quiet as a grave. We had continued northwest after the attack, and we were now in the southeast corner of Grid AN14. The crew had been pumped up for hours, like a bunch of children who had eaten several cakes in a row and then been locked in a giant steel tube. Except we didn't have cake, of course.

While I was having my imaginary cake and eating it in my minds eye's mouth, the sonarman suddenly came alive.

"Contact, Herr Kaleun, bearing 350! Sounds like a merchant, moving slow and closing. Long range," he added, twisting his dial around to pin down the exact bearing.

Captain Wagner strode into the radio room and towered over the sonarman. I moved beside him and joined in staring intently at the back of the young crewman's head.

"Do you have a heading for the target?" Wagner inquired.

"Not yet, sir, give me several more minutes. Can we come over to the right some?"

Wagner nodded and gave the order. In a minute we were headed north-northwest, and the soundman was busy plotting the contact on a piece of paper.

Finally, he finished his scrambled doodling. "Bearing is constant, captain, but definitely approaching. I think she's headed straight for us."

Wagner grunted, and returned to the control room and began issuing a stream of orders. "Come left to course 270, reduce speed to 3 knots. Come up to periscope depth. Rig for silent running."

Several minutes later he was peering through the observation scope. "Mein gott... It's darker than the inside of your head, Winkelman," he jested, motioning to my cap. "Down periscope. Bring us back down to 20 meters, mein schatz." Wagner knew the helmsman hated being called that.

Felix popped his head into the radioroom. "Bearing to target?"

"Bearing is 23, sir. Still approaching." Now that the sonarman had the contact pinned down, he returned to doodling on his notepad.

Wagner nodded, and back in the control room he ordered the boat on a reciprocal course to the target. I stared at him. "What the devil are we doing?"

His left brow slowly levitated at my question. "We don't know how deep the keel on our target is, and we don't have any room left to manuever. This way we might score a hit on her bow, and in this weather it'll be less than 15 minutes before she goes under." With a smug smile he went over to the TDC and began adjusting the solution for Tube 5.

Several minutes later and countless meters closer to our target, he ordered the torpedo tube opened. "Feuer, fünf!"

We all listened to the loud woosh of the torpedo ejecting. Several minutes later we decided the torpedo had missed.

"I miscalculated? The great Wagner never miscalculates!" Our captain cried out in agony. As the sonarman fed us new data, I quietly began adjusting the solution on Tube 6. The merchant had apparently detected us at the last minute and turned south. I wondered if they had somehow heard our pinging.

Several minutes later we were moving west into a new firing position when the sonarman came alive once more. "New contact! Long range and closing slowly, bearing 010!" Everyone in the control room stopped for a second. Had our target gotten a message out to the Royal Navy?

As we pondered this new problem, our U-boat continued to creep into position. Finally, Wagner gave the order to fire. Many long seconds later Goldbeck reported an explosion.

"Torpedo impact! She's still going, though, sir," he added after several seconds of listening.

Wagner cursed and ordered tube one fired. This time a homing torpedo was kicked out into the dark water.

"We've got her, Herr Kaleun," Goldbeck gleefully reported a minute later. "Scratch one freighter!"

We were busy grinning and slapping each others backs when Wagner brought us back to business. "Excellent work," he said gruffly. "Now we can move on to our new visitor." He quickly fired off a series of orders: Reload torpedo tubes, come to course 340, increase speed to 6 knots, dive to 40 meters.

As we lept into action, I wondered if we were heading into a trap of some kind...


Edit: lol that was longer than I intended

[Spike88]

Give us more!

[Weiss Pinguin]

30 minutes later...

"Range to target is 1850 meters, Herr Kaleun. Course and speed are steady." We had been tracking our contact for 15 minutes, since identifying it as a merchant, and were now almost in position to fire. From over 1500 meters. At 40 meters. This is madness, I thought to myself.

The sonarman continued pinging the target. "Range is now 1600 meters." We were closing at 6 knots, which would have made enough racket to bother a deaf man. The Type XXI, on the other hand, slid neatly and silently through the dark water, thanks to her streamlined hull.

Meanwhile, the tracking crew was busy updating the solution for a pair of acoustic torpedoes. "We must close to at least 1000 meters to ensure they acquire the target," Prietschner said reminded everyone and no one. "Set boths tubes to run at one meter. Any lower and they might bounce off the hull."

Several minutes later we were finally ready. Wagner popped his head into the radioroom. "Range to target?"

"1100 meters, sir." The sonarman sent one final ping to confirm his estimate.

"Close enough," the captain mused. "Flood tubes one and two... Feuer, einz! Feuer, zwei!"

One minute and sixteen seconds later, we heard first one, then the other torpedo impact. After continuing on for several more seconds, Reckhoff, back on the hydrophones, reported that our target was sinking.

Once we were clear of the attack area and the excitement and worn off, I took the time to record both attacks in the ship's log. As I began on the first entry I wondered how large the ships we had sunk were. So far we had detected and sunk three ships, and we hadn't even rounded the northern tip of Great Britain. Hopefully we would have enough torpedoes to stir up some trouble when we arrived at our assigned grid...




Several hours later, while we celebrated a clean escape, our sonarman suddenly yelled out a warning: "Warship! Bearing 230, long range but closing fast!"




To be continued...

[Weiss Pinguin]

November 13th, 1939
the North Atlantic

I watched as the periscope quietly slid upwards, before grabbing the handles just as it broke the waterline.

"Nothing," I reported. "I can't see a thing, Herr Kaleun, too dark." I watched again as the periscope slid down into its well before walking into the radioshack.

The sonarman looked up at the captain and I. "Sounds like a tanker," he grinned. "Moving fast, though, and still a good distance away."

"Very well. Come left to course 140, ahead standard," he shouted into the Zentralle.

For the next 15 minutes we sprinted at 14 knots while U-1337 quickly closed the distance. As we slowed back down to 5 knots the sonarman reported the contact still a good distance away.

"Ping her," the captain quietly ordered.

5 sound waves later the sonarman reported the tanker at a distance of 3000 meters. Wagner quietly cursed under his breath.

"Captain, the batteries are running dangerously low. We won't be able to keep this up for much longer." Disappointment crept into my voice even as I talked.

Wagner sighed, and lightly banged his fist against the bulkhead. "Well, it's not as if we would be able to get off a shot at her stern. Probably American anyways," he added with a faint grin.

We stepped into the control room, and he gave the orders that would put us back on course. The crew was even more restless and agitated than before as we headed south again and dropped back down to 100 meters.

"Make revolutions for 3 knots," Wagner said before heading for his bunk. "We'll come up to snorkel in an hour. Wake me then."

With that, he went off to nap, and I went back to practicing my handwritten ABC's.


(Finally got around to playing SH3 again, lol)

[Weiss Pinguin]

November 17th, 1939
Grid BF41

We ran across two ships the other day, both an hour apart from each other. As they were heading in opposite directions it took a bit of sprinting and manuevering, but we made it, and both ships found their way down to Davy Jones' locker.

At the moment I was running through a column of R's when suddenly the alarm sounded. Crewmen jumped out of their bunks, the cook almost burned himself to death with a pan of scrambled eggs, and my pen went flying towards the navigator as I rushed to my post.

Two and a half minutes later the Captain clicked his stopwatch and scowled. "Ach... Too slow, mein schatz," he called to everyone and no one.

I sighed, and was stooping down to find my pen when suddenly the sonarman also called out excitedly to everyone and no one. "Herr Kaleun, multiple contacts... I've got three so far, sounds like there may be more." He took off his headphones and poked his head out of his cubbyhole, a wide grin on his face.

Everyone in the Zentralle stared at each other as Kapitänleutnant Wagner headed for the radioshack, motioning for me to follow.

"They're headed northeast, same as us, but they're moving at a good clip, and they've got a headstart." the sonarman observed, looking at us.

"Very well," the captain mused, "We'll continue snorkeling, and when the batteries are charged we'll sprint at 15 knots for half an hour on our present course. Then we'll get down to business."

We headed back to the control room to prepare.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[gord96]

great job! i am going to be playing this mod tonight!

[gord96]

haha what a great time!! January 1940 and I am sailing around in U-111. One of the KM's new Type X "Wunder" boats!!

Keep up the good story sir!

[Weiss Pinguin]

Grid BF41...

I watched as the periscope slid up from its housing and poked out from the cold, black water of the North Atlantic. We had just come off our sprint, and we were now in front of the convoy, somehow.

"Ach," the captain muttered, "I can't see a thing... Wait! There she is, the lead destroyer... Zig-zagging, looks like," he added after several minutes.

I looked over at the map. We had plotted about over 15 contacts, and more calls were coming from the radioroom. This was a big one.

I looked up, and was about to speak to the captain when suddenly the boat rocked violently, and began to dive at an increasing angle, as if a giant hand was propelling the boat downwards. Suddenly the engines ran up to full power, and the needle on the depth gauge spun wildly. Captain Wagner stared up at me, his face pale.

"Crash dive to desktop...." he fearfully whispered to-


A hand began to shake my shoulder, and I jerked up and yelled out a warning to whomever was waking me. "Runaway dive!"

The captain stared at me while one of his eyebrows began its ascent up his forehead. "What the devil did you eat before you went to sleep?"

"Ah, nothing Herr Kaleun... Euhm, just a nightmare. Ahem." I decided now would be a good time to let go of my blanket and get ready.

"We've just come off our sprint... Get in the control room when you can."

I nodded sheepishly as he left. The whole boat had probably heard me...



(SH3 crash-dived as soon as I was in position... Will have to try again... )