(Story) U-46 puts to sea again

[Skweetis]

I took a break to read this post, printed off up to thread page five from laughingswordfish.net, and now Im enthralled! can't stop reading! hahahaha

Ill be up to page 11 tonight...

Great work!

[donw]

Originally Posted by Skweetis

Great work!

...with no alternitive but to get better!!!

If all goes well, I plan to help our future "Best Seller" maintain a running web site...keep your finners crossed!!!

[Laughing Swordfish]

"Clear. Surface!"

As I dopped down from my observation scope, Otto had already set our dive planes up, I think he was quite enjoying the fact that he had a more experienced hand with the (actually very tricky) business of changing depth.

Reuben would now be standing by with the stokers, aft, waiting for the word to switch the electric motors off, and fire up the diesels.

You could risk it on the Papenburg Meter if you were sure off your sea and your instruments here in the Control Room.

But, situation depending,, we always waited for the call down from the new watch.

"Diesel vents clear, Sir!"

"Down electric motors, Diesels on. Ahead standard."

We knew U-711 was close by; we could hear her turning through the water.

It was Christian's turn. And as I followed his watch up, he was already pointing out to starboard.

"That's Walter, Sir"

"Thanks, Number One"

Before the light faded, we had quite a conversation by lamp.

Walter reported a few tracer dents off the bridge, and were we ok?

Cheeky monkey!

'Yes we are fine, U-513 gone; U-100 ok, and out working'

.."Auntie Beatrice?"

"Auntie B is well, and may be paying a visit. Keep your best shoes shined."

With that we turned away towards our patrol pattern, and U-711 did the same.

It's funny how even the remotest friendly contact takes on such a significance when you are at sea. The boys were waving wildly before I sent them below and resumed normal watch.

We must attack more ships,

But in the back of our minds, like the little boys we really are, we're hoping for, and dreading, the time when our formidable Great Aunt, hoves into view.....

Lt de Bunsen, U-46

[Stalker of the deep]

i thinks the swordfish has been sunk with all hands?

[Kpt. Lehmann]

Originally Posted by Stalker of the deep

i thinks the swordfish has been sunk with all hands?

I sincerely doubt that.

I am sure De Bunsen is just formulating his next plan.

[Laughing Swordfish]

Still alive and kicking kameraden.

Just been a bit busy.

Hope to get back to the campaign today.

Lt de Bunsen, U-46

[Laughing Swordfish]

It was a typical day in the Control Room. The soft murmurings of Otto or Reuben with their team; the routine trudge of the new watch bobbing and ducking their way to the bridge, the squelch of the off-coming watch giving a last weather and situation report before climbing gratefully into their bunks like zombies.

There were times when they'd been too tired to even take their wet things off, but at least now, after a good few patrols they know better. The bedding is damp and rank enough as it is already.

And of course, me, Willi, and one or other of the watch officers always bending over the chart table, with dividers, slide rule and wax pencil, or hovering outside Viktor's radio cabin.

We had taken one ship. 2,000 laiden tons by the look of her. Up from the West coast of Africa. Freetown would be my guess. Bruno spotted her miles off and we were at periscope depth and ready long before she showed us her starboard bow at 2,000 metres.

Even then we tracked her for the last hour or so of daylight, and put her down with one shot in the dark. And we didn't even surface afterwards.

Dirty work perhaps, and I was nearly in two minds to let her go. The Gibraltar Fleet must be coming out, and following pretty much the same route, and we didn't want to show our hand. Or I didn't.

But BdU had been unequivocal in their orders though, no great lovers of fleet actions, it had been 'Business as Usual' and we had been allotted our grids. U-100 furthest West, then us, and U-711 on her first patrol, closest to home.

We were hundreds of miles apart by now, like a goal with only three strands of netting to stop the football.

But that didn't stop us endlessly speculating about the Bismark. She'd already seen them off once, and reports had been frustratingly patchy ever since.

Surely Auntie B had to be heading South or South West, depending where she broke out. Scattering convoys before her, and drawing the British capital ships onto her guns and our tubes!

As Bruno said, as only he can:

"It may be quiet now, but soon the North Atlantic will be a huge buffet table!"

We laughed, changed onto the next leg of our patrol pattern, and waited some more..

Lt de Bunsen, U-46

[U-104]

more more more more!!!!

[Laughing Swordfish]

Another stray. Two masts, one funnel, lowish in the water, which is good, because it means she's carrying.

But not for long

"Los!"

That exhilarating hiss of the torpedo leaving tube one. The petty officers swearing and cursing as a new torpedo is winched up into position, fresh grease slapped on, and quiet and not so quiet instructions from all and sundry, down to thir vest tops, and everyone always an expert, in how best to reload.

"Shut up boys, or you'll miss it!"

The Coxswain always knew how to get their attention

"Twenty seconds to impact!"

'The Kapitan will nail her..'

'I hope he sends another one, so I won't have to sleep underneath you, you smelly old tramp..."

"Shut up boys! Let's see if the Kap has got this one..."

Seconds pass. The boys don't know what range we've launched at, or therefore the time of detonation

"Right, keep reloading Tube One, standby Two to Four."

"Captain to all. We remain at battle stations. We are pursuing a freighter of a good size, who is not enjoying life up here in the storm any more than us I dare say. Sorry men, that first torpedo should have hit by now, we're going to try and run ahead and get a simpler shot. Close all bow caps, and hold on to your hats. We're going into some very big waves."

Joachim comes bowling through to the fore-ends.

"Come on you slackers, get that tube loaded now! And swear and clang as much as you like, noone's going to hear you, or care in this ****ty weather, least of all me. Now check, arm, grease and load - give me that chain pulley here you idiot!"

..."Tube one reloaded, Sir"

We have now bashed through the waves for another hour. There'll be no planes up, and I have trimmed the watch right down to me and Christian. We think we have her silhouette in the distance, but it's impossible to tell in the wind and driving rain.

"Why don't we drop down and listen for her that way, Sir?"

"Because we might be a few knots faster on the surface, but she's riding the storm better than our little pencil of a boat. We have no beam to speak of, and are getting tossed around more than her.

"We have two things in our favour. The first is that she doesn't even know we've come knocking yet, even though we've shot at her once. She's making a straight course, and having enough trouble with the storm herself.

"The second is that we are slowly gaining on her, and it will take as long as it takes."

U-46 is thrown about in another series of jolts and surges, as this remarkably designed vessel pitches and surges in an out of every wave.

We have to relieve the watch much more frequently, and chain them on to the bridge. It has been known for an entire watch to be swept overboard by a wave when not clamped on to the boat, and other stories of an entire watch which perished when their bridge was engulfed by a wave so massive, that it effectively submerged the boat for so long that it drowned them all.

What must the new watch have thought when they climbed the ladder?

Shudder

But there she is, just before dawn. Puffing away, all 8,000 tons of her, and looking forward to breakfast.

And we've got ahead

"Come on Joachim, give us that firing solution, we have a near perfect 85 on the bow and range 900

"Yes, Sir"

"Los!"

'Standby tube four just in case."

"Bridge to Control, port to South 190, and Otto?"

Even as we turn away and gaze over the Wintergarten, a huge geyser of water and a rolling boom confirms the hit.

"Is she going, Christian?"

"Yes, Sir"

"Close Tube Four; diving stations. Bridge hands below.

"You do the hatches this time, Christian, and broadcast the kill to the crew. Tell Otto to drop us out of this storm, and cut speed. He knows. Tell Willi to give him our route, and then get youself some time in the sack. That's exactly where I'm going"

Lt de Bunsen, U-46

[U-104]

Good stuff. Love the entries discussing the disposition of the boats.

[Laughing Swordfish]

I slumped onto my bunk, and rubbed my sore eyes, making them worse.

So tired.

I looked across to my fold-down 'desk' and realised with a start that there was a red manilla folder still lying on it. The inked stamp on it - 'U-46: Geheime Befehlung'

Jesus, how long had I left secret patrol orders lying about?

I really must be getting tired.

These need to go back in the safe. I have a small lockable cubby hole for the purpose.

As I returned the orders, my hand brushed against a cloth bag at the back containing some hard object.

Curious and non-plussed for the moment, I pulled it out and opened the bag.

Well blow me, I'd quite forgotten I had one of these!

It was a Luger. A 9mm Parabellum automatic pistol. Parabellum - 'Prepare for War' I thought and smiled. They got that right.

I'd quite forgotten it was there, or in what circumstances I was supposed to use it. Repel boarders, or quell mutinies perhaps? Take a pot shot at a destroyer or jabo even? Or maybe it's supposed to be an easy way out if we're stuck on the bottom or going down and there's no hope? I grimaced.

Whatever, it was no use to anyone now. After at least a year of neglect and exposure to the damp and salt air of a U-boat, it was completely brown and seized up with rust.

I practiced a couple of quick draws in front of my tiny mirror. Hey, this is fun!

Otto, Willi and their Control Room gang were probably surprised, to say the least, to see their Kapitan swagger out of his cabin brandishing a pistol and yelling

"Yeehaw, cowboys, give me a shot of red-eye, bartender, and tell Black Jake I'll see him on the Main Street at High Noon!"

"You ok, Sir?"

"Just messing about Otto. I just found my luger. Look at the state of it. I handed it over to him. Take it up top and have Bruno chuck it over the side."

"Ok, Sir."

He took the pistol but hesitated.

"Sir..?"

"Yes, Otto?"

"I was just thinking, I've got some stuff for removing rust and so on, perhaps we could get it shiny and brand new again. It would certainly give us something to do.....?"

And so it was that the luger spent the next day soaking in a tray of some solvent of Otto's. Word spread and everyone in the wardroom and the CPO's all were clamouring for a bit to clean once we were able to break it down.

In the end when we divided up the disassembled parts, people had to team up and take it in turns to restore their own bit. Competition was fierce and the parts were jealously guarded. I even broke out the box of bullets to give everyone something to clean and polish. There was always someone off-watch diligently rubbing and oiling again and again. None of us really had much experience of small arms, but of course in the spirit of competition we all discovered we were each the absolute experts in the field.

Finally the day came when each gleaming and glistening component part was proudly produced at a ceremony in the Control Room, and Otto solemnly re-assembled the pistol. Everyone had done a fantastic job, and was bursting with pride as their piece was added.
The Luger shone like a mirror. It's action was slick and effortless, it's slight sheen of spotless gunmetal blue.

"Well I suppose we ought to give it a go lads" I suggested, to great cheers.

Over the course of the next day or so and as the situation or duty or weather allowed, every single member of the crew took part in the shooting competition at one time or another.

Any passing enemy plane would have been bemused to see a good proportion of a feared U-boat's crew laughing and abusing each other as one by one, they took turns in blasting away at some apple juice bottles towed 20m off the stern.

To be honest we were all pretty terrible shots, but it was huge fun. And for some of the stokers, it was the first time on deck at sea.

The winner in fact did come from the engine room, much to Otto and Reuben's swelling pride. Young Braun adopted the technique of screwing his eyes shut and squeezing the trigger!

His prize was to be honorary owner of the luger (although it was thoroughly and religiously cleaned afterward -everyone taking their original piece and tutting about the amount of carbon that had built up) and returned to my cabin for safekeeping. Ownership to be contested on our next patrol.

Braun's other reward was to dispose of the array of bottles we had trailing aft, and what better way to do that than get the boat's top marksman to smash them with the AA gun!

Under the intense supervision of Joachim, and Johann, our flakkie, in case he blew our stern off, those bottles disappeared in a great churning shower of spray, and no small expenditure to the Reich!

[Serverdaemon]

Dunno how... But it just keeps getting better!!!


S

[Bluewings]

I just love the way you write

But now that everybody had its fun with the Luger , it must go back where it belongs : on the Cpt. 's hip .

B. Goelf out .

Cheers .

[Laughing Swordfish]

In fact the men did get together and stitch together a rudimentary holster belt and cowbow hat out of some old canvas for me. And I looked quite the part in my checked shirt and Navy oilskin trousers as rodeo chaps.

They're trying to persuade me to wear it all when we come back in and take the salute in St Nazaire.

The Flotilla guys might get the joke, but the Party BigWigs who always congregate for a photo opportunity on these occasions are not known for their sense of humour. And nor, publicly, is Uncle Karl.

As for carrying the luger around with me, I've gone a year without even remembering it's existence, and it would get in the way when moving through the hatches.

Also I have far better ways of dealing with both the enemy and an unruly or wavering crewman.

Plus there are no more bullets left anyway. We really are terrible shots, and used the lot!

In my defence, when I was eliminated, I'm sure Bruno suddenly swung the helm on the Bridge every time I took aim.

Lt de Bunsen, U-46