U-2 War Journal

[Bosje]

took the opportunity to delete SH3 and get GWX, works like a dream

maybe LzS Vom Bosch has a brother, we shall see

[Jimbuna]

Originally Posted by Bosje

took the opportunity to delete SH3 and get GWX, works like a dream

maybe LzS Vom Bosch has a brother, we shall see

Ah GWX....now your cooking

[Brag]

Well written account. Congratulations Bosje

[Bosje]

thanks everyone

Freiherr Beckman was fished out of the gibraltar straits by a Spanish fishing boat and he has been promoted. on the way to his first command, he too purchased a small writing journal...

[danurve]

Neat journal Bosje.

[Schwuppes]

I love your Journals Bosje!

[Bosje]

Summer 1942, Norway


The train is shaking violently all the time, much like U-93 used to do. It makes writing quite hard. I wonder how Bernard managed to write in his war diary all those times he retreated to his quarters. He was my friend and I miss him a lot, Oberleutnant zur See Bernard Vom Bosch. All that remains of him and his boat are me and the worn-out old journal in my pocket. It has suffered greatly from the salt water and rough treatment it received since I found it among the debris as I was looking for survivors. There were none. We had been tracking a convoy near Gibraltar in very bad weather when suddenly shells started hitting the water around us. Before we could dive, the destroyer came charging out of the heavy rains, guns blazing. How he found us was a mystery to me until I recently started hearing spooky things of this new radio waves location device, called radar. Whatever caused him to find us, our boat got shelled intensely by this bastard, bodyparts of the watchcrew were flying all over the place as I was hurled out of the open bridge into the heavy swell. By the time I came to my senses, the boat was gone along with all my comrades. The destroyer was nowhere to be seen either, he vanished as quickly as he had appeared. All I found was my Kaleuns journal, stuffed it inside my jacket and started to swim for the Spanish coast.

Several hours later I was picked up by a fishing boat which dropped me off at their home port in Spain. There I was, on my way back to the fatherland. Shaken and distraught: Leutnant zur See Freiherr Beckman, known to his mates as 'The Duke'. First Officer and sole survivor of The Rooster. Now, 6 months later, still alone in the world and on a train to the Norwegian port of Bergen. After half a year of waiting, training and more waiting, I am now being given my own command. I am officially a veteran after the war patrols under Kaleun Vom Bosch so everyone has full confidence in my abilities, but it is an entirely different war now. Radar and far extended air cover as well as improved asdic have made life very unpleasant for us, the gray wolves of the Atlantic. But we are not defenseless and I was always one to enjoy the hunt. I do admit I am scared and I purchased a small writing journal of my own when I arrived in Oslo last week. It seemed to help my old Kaleun deal with his fears and I guess it won't hurt to vent my emotions through my pen, even if I am already well established as a cocky and arrogant but also aggressive and capable U-boot man. We shall see.

A brand new type VIIC boat, U-735, is waiting for me in Bergen to take her into commission. Our first testruns are scheduled for september 1942 and after that I will take the boat to war. This journal will be on board.

The Duke

[Bosje]

Autumn 1942, North Atlantic


War is hell, of course. Always has been, always will be. But at least in the old days there was kind of dignity about it. There is no dignity in washing the blood off the Flak guns and finding bits of flesh lodged between the working parts. I learned a lesson at the expense of my first watch crew.


Now, I am not enjoying the hunt anymore and the crew would be on the verge of mutiny if they had not been brainwashed into fanatical young idiots who know nothing except to blindly follow orders. My 1.WO is the only one who displays any level if independent intelligence and it is he who has lost all confidence in me, more than anyone. I am catching up on the new U-boot war but too slowly, men are dead and the boat has taken a beating. The enemy are miles ahead of where they were in the happy times and I need to learn the basics all over again. The boat is full of weird and wonderful machines and gadgets, we have a thing called the Biscay Cross which is supposed to tell us if radio detection rays are emitted towards us. I don't quite understand how it works but I do know it seems to work only half the time. Those bombers are often on us without warning and they need very little time to attack us after being spotted by the crew. Damn this, we are 2 weeks into our first war patrol and we can not even reach our patrol grid without having to dive every other hour.


The patrol started out quite well: we sailed from Bergen on a beautiful autumn morning, the boat performed wonderfully and morale was very high. The crew seemed to revere me as a god because I lived through the first year of the convoy battles under one of the aces. Our exploits are the very reason these kids joined the U-boot waffe. They are the new brand of warriors, straight out of the Hitler Jugend. My second officer is their ringleader and role-model, blinded by the faith in the final victory and desperate to get a piece of the glory. The good thing about that is that they are physically supremely fit and able. Even though they are inexperienced, their training must have been excellent. They can reload torpedoes faster than I ever saw before. I hope they will show the same discipline and toughness when we come under depth charge attack. The downside is that the boat sports a hideous swastika on the conning tower and all I ever hear inside the boat and on the bridge is propaganda-inspired nonsense which oozes from all of them. I am an aristocrat, my family were fighting Germany's wars long before national socialism was even conceived. I am proud to be a soldier for my fatherland but these nazis are driving me mad with their ignorant hollow words. Still, I am their commander and as such responsible for them. And I messed it up.


The alarm woke me up with a start, as I stumbled out of bed into the control room I saw that it was 5:45 am. Air attack during the night? I will not stand for that. 'DON'T DIVE!' I yelled. 'Hans, what have you got?' My 1.WO quickly reported as he was climbing down the ladder into the control room: '2 bombers, coming at us straight ahead! We need to dive immediately, Herr Kaleun!'
I did not even consider thinking about it. We had 2 twin 20mm guns on the wintergarten after all, and I still had to see the first plane put as much as a dent in a U-boot. Despite what I had heard about the recent RAF exploits I ordered my second officer onto the bridge: 'Kurt, get up there and get those guns manned and ready! Show those flyboys who's boss around these parts!'
He followed the watchcrew back up the ladder with an enthousiastic 'Jawohl Herr Kaleun' as Hans, my 1.WO, grabbed me by the shoulder. 'Are you insane? We need to dive NOW or they will kill...'


He never got to finish the sentence. All the boys in the control room involuntarily ducked as a huge roar grew louder very quickly. I could hear machine guns rattling and then a very sharp metallic staccato as bullets were finding their mark all over the hull of the boat, between the automatic firing a sickening scream. Kurt tumbled back into the control room, his face very white underneath all the splattered blood. 'Are they still alive?!' I roared as I made my way up the ladder. He wobbled his head, clearly in shock but otherwise unharmed at first glance. I took it as a 'no', closed the hatch as fast as I could and then, finally, I ordered the crash dive. It was not the end of the boat, water was coming in through all compartments but they were only minor leaks. My oberbootsmann got the boat all secured by the time I ordered the LI to level off at 40 meters depth. Then it was silent, I did not know what to say. I sent those boys out to be executed on the bridge and they were still out there, probably dead but even that I did not know for sure.


So that is how I learned to fear the new Royal Air Force. Day or night, they can find us. Sometimes we are warned about them in time, sometimes not. The crew are quiet and subdued, the officers do not revere me anymore and the boat is damaged. I need to know a lot more about the effectiveness of their radar sets, I need to know how deep my boat can still dive after that terrible attack, and I need to know if my officers will execute my commands the next time we are close to the enemy. The LI reports all systems operational but he is sure the hull is weakened and I decide on a very risky move to test the boat, the crew and myself.


'Oberbootsmann, get your damage control party to stand by. LI, take her down to 100 meters, but slowly.' Discipline has been thoroughly stamped into these boys; 'Jawohl Herr Kaleun'. But they are clearly scared. 'Steady boys, we need to see if she holds together at depth. Better to find out now than when the bombs are going off around us, eh?' That prospect doesn't help much to improve their spirits but at least it reminds them that I am the veteran here.


As the boat gets close to 100 meters she starts to complain. Creaking and squirming in a way that she should not be doing yet. I know we are already approaching critical depth for the battered hull. The LI is sweating as I tell him to go deeper but prepare for emergency manoeuvres. The Obersteuermann stands rigidly with his back to the charts table and the only one who seems relaxed is the 1.WO. He simply looks at me with an inquisitive stare. 'Deeper, LI'


As we pass 120 meters the boat lets out an eerie scream. I hear the boys in the bow compartment, some of them answering with a scream of their own. 'Hold her at 130 meters, LI' But as he starts to level her off at 130 meters, the boat sounds another scream, then a loud bang and then I hear water coming in.'Emergency reverse! Planes up for surface!' This should pull the boat back up but the hull is being slowly crushed by the pressure and the lights start to flicker. 'Blow all ballast tanks, NOW!' I have my eye fixed on the depth gauge while the oberbootsmann and his crew rush to secure all the leaks. The boat rises back up to 100 meters and the lights are working properly again, all compartments are reported secure, albeit in shaky voices and I clear my throat before I get onto the speaker. 'Well done boys, now we know what she can take. You all earned yourself a beer after your next watch, now let's find us a convoy.'


So after that adventure I know U-735 is still operational as a combat unit. Now the hunt is on, I need to strike hard at a convoy to show the crew what kind of commander they are blessed with, in spite of yesterday's tragedy. Hans is in control, I am getting some sleep. Until the next alarm, upon which we shall immediately dive.



The Duke

[msalama]

Thank you Bosje. Brilliant stuff from a talented writer this here. TBH I think you should have a crack at going pro if you're not one already, because judging from these excerpts you really seem to have what it takes

Thanks again Herr Kaleun, eagerly waiting for the follow-ups. S!

[Bosje]

A week later. Hans has the bridge watch and I join him to smoke my pipe. It's the middle of the night and there is a decent swell. Perfect conditions for a night raid on a convoy, if only a convoy would be near. We have not received any contact reports for a week and we ourselves have not had anything to report. We are in our assigned patrol area, south of Iceland, diving every 2 hours to listen on the hydrophones or diving away from radar signals. Those radars give me the creeps, their range is said to be some 10 kilometers, depending on the conditions, and I want to learn more about them. After all, you have to know your enemy to defeat him. I think if we keep our hull down in the waves, we can get closer than that on a night like this. Our wizard antenna can pick up their signals before they should be able to detect our boat, we usually get a nice early warning and we have not been attacked since that first terrible encounter. But that is not enough, we need to be able to run on the surface if we want to have any chance of intercepting the convoys. The days of surface charges into convoy columns are well over, of course, but the cat and mouse game is still there. Even if it is played at a new level. A plan starts to formulate in my head, as Hans tells me what he has learned of RAF radar. Then Jakob calls up from below: 'Radio message, Herr Kaleun, contact report!'


We sit in the officer's mess. The LI, Hans, Kurt, Obersteuermann Petersen, Jakob the radio operator and me. It is early in the evening of October 8th, 1942. The convoy is reported steaming outbound, more or less towards our position. Petersen has the interception plotted in 4 or 5 hours, depending on what speed we can maintain.
'Also, meine Herren, we are going to attack this one. Full speed interception. If we pick up radar signals on the way, we will keep running on the surface until they come close to 10 kilometers, with the decks awash but maintaining a speed of at least 10 knots, turning our tail directly towards the signal. We dive only when they get even closer than that. The sea is our friend tonight, the waves are as high as the bridge will be. Watch crews will be relieved every 2 hours. Let's make the most of our headstart. Jakob agrees they will have a hard time spotting us and he is the radio wave expert here', I smile, 'Any comments?'


There are none, they simply get it done. Only Hans seems less than happy but surely he realises that we are here, after all, to sink ships. 'Herr Kaleun, what if they have their radars turned off to surprise us? That is how that first bastard was on us without warning.' 'We'll just have to take it as it comes, 1.WO.'
Thats the best I can come up with. I hope to God that I am not horribly under-estimating my enemy. 'Ok boys, prepare for a long night. That is all.'


I am scared. They should just make a big flying bomb with a radar, which flies itself into the enemy ships. Yeah, like that will ever happen. It is down to us to sink them: stinking bearded boys inside a small steel cigar, trying to stay hidden from so many eyes. To hell with it, we are going full speed ahead.


Sure enough, after an hour Jakob reports a signal to our stern. We get low, keeping the signal right behind us as only the bridge sticks up out of the sea. We maintain a decent speed this way. Jakob constantly gives me his best estimate of their range. At around 9 or 10 kilometer away it seems to turn away to the east! 15 minutes later Jakob does not get a signal anymore. That's it: a first inclination of their restrictions. 10 kilometers in mediocre waves. Back up on top of the waves, full speed once again.


An hour later: another or the same radar is registering on our wizard tool. 7 kilometers, Jakob says. We dive, we are not attacked. Half an hour later we let it get as close as 5 kilometers. The entire boat is rigged for an emergency plunge down into the cellar on my command. I am still on the bridge, together with the third watch. 'Aircraft! Bearing 170!' 'ALAAARM!'
The boat takes a nosedive and drops down in seconds, I barely have time to close the hatch. The crew are doing an excellent job. 'Hard to port, level off at 40 meters, ahead 2/3'
Bombs explode somewhere off our starboard bow, where we would have been had we maintained speed and heading. Heh, these guys should learn to take a gamble every once in a while and drop their bombs anywhere but on the observed position, that's what I would do. 15 minutes later the plane is already gone and we are back on track.


The crew are visibly affected by the action. The excitement of the hunt starts to increase morale: they are being taken by it. Just like me, so very long ago. Hans is affected too, he is not as calm as I would want my 1.WO to be. But he seems to regain some of his confidence in me as we get ever closer to the convoy without a scratch. He served on coastal boots for about a year but he never saw much of the enemy, except the planes which he learned to fear so much. The rest of the crew are completely green, even if well-trained. I hope they don't fall apart when things heat up.


Midnight, we are at 20 meters and it is now down to Klaus on the hydrophone to find the convoy. Yeah there they are, a cacophony of screws, very long range but getting stronger. Back up to the surface for the final approach. Verdammt! Those escorts have radar too. Of course. 10 minutes past midnight, we are not yet where I want us to be. At least 4 radar sets are transmitting, still at very long range. God knows how many more escorts without radar. Decks awash, we creep to our attack position. First estimate on convoy speed 9 knots, coming straight towards us, the closest picket escorts about 15 kilometers away. Conditions are brilliant: a nice swell to hide our periscope and to mess with their asdic, visibility is quite decent despite the overcast. The hunt is on.


In spite of all his new tricks and toys, the enemy are still just guys, like us. I play the game of cat and mouse and the crew are executing my orders to the letter. This is still my territory, my game. We sneak into the convoy, slipping right through the escort screen. Things are happening very fast now: doubleshot on that fat merchant, range 2000meters speed 7 knots 20 degrees port. Fire tubes 2 and 3 on a 3 degree spread. LOS! Fast running torpedo impact depth 3, medium merchant bearing 10 starboard 1200 meters. LOS! Fast running impact depth 3 on the fat one right in front of us. LOS!
As the fourth torpedo leaves the tube, the first two find their target. A chain of enormous explosions rumbles across the waves, through the convoy, and as if a giant switch were flicked, dozens and dozens of searchlights suddenly turn night into day.
'Down periscope, 20 degrees starboard rudder, full speed ahead, maintain periscope depth. Mister Speaker! Start reloading tubes 2 and 3!'
As the obermechaniker of the forward compartment gets his crew together to reload the tubes, the men in the control room look at me in horror. Hans is the first to speak: 'We do not dive?'
'No we do not dive,' I say and I turn to Klaus to ask him what the escorts are up to. Before anyone can say anything else, 2 more torpedoes find their mark. A crack and a rumble and I start to grin. 'This is my turf, boys. Trust me.'
Christ I hope I am right on this.


The Duke

[Brag]

Ghasp.

[Bosje]

The escorts are running around like crazy but none of them are coming straight for us. This is the tactic I watched my old Kaleun use many times: stay close to the surface and run through the convoy. They will have a hell of a time finding us between all the merchants and we might be able to sink one more if the tubes are reloaded. Of course, that was back in 1940. These days we receive a radio message every other day of how BdU regrets to inform U-so and so lost at sea. But I have no time for such contemplations. Periscope up for a quick glance. No destroyers charging in, good. There, a gigantic shadow comes out of the shrouds of smoke and mist. Looks like a converted whale factory ship, must be tens of thousands of tons, right in front of us. To the port I can see a bow sticking out of the waves, our first kill. To the starboard fires are blazing on two more ships. All torpedoes found their target. I swing the periscope around, 'Flood tube 5.' A small merchant shows me her portside, perfect for a sternshot. 'Speed 8 knots, bearing 190, range 900, set depth 3 meters for impact pistol' 'Tube 5 ready' 'LOS!' A hiss and it is on its way. 'Steer starboard 20, ahead 2/3' As I line us up for the massive tanker in the distance, she is slowly but surely turning away from us. What is keeping the boys in the House of Lords? And shouldn't that last torpedo have hit by now?


I am doing mental arithmetic at a frantic pace to deduct where this girl will be in 2 minutes. 'Tube 2 reloaded and ready, Herr Kaleun' Excellent. 'Set for magnetic pistol, depth 11 meters. Range 2300, bearing 35, speed...6 knots' This is a longshot. 'Flood tube 2, fire when rea....'
It sounds like someone plunks one of the higher note strings on an enormous grand piano. My heart misses a beat and the whole crew goes perceptibly rigid. Asdic!
-PING- again. It feels like the soundwave alone can damage the boat. Klaus shouts out 'we are being pinged, Herr Kaleun,' which is quite redundant but he learned to do so. Discipline above everything.
'Fire that torpedo! AK voraus! Rudder zero!' I swing the periscope around, this is the price I must pay for my gluttony, I failed to pay attention to my surroundings while setting up the last shot. 'Cancel loading tube 3, close all doors, Alfons get your crew ready!' The boys jump back into action, the Oberbootsmann assembles his damage control party and I hear the torpedo leave the tube while I desperately scan the waves for our musical friend. My periscope is coming around to the stern and then I am suddenly blinded by a searchlight. Slightly port abaft, coming up through our baffles. No idea what class of ship, all I see is the piercing searchlight and a sharp bow splitting the sea underneath it, but I can be sure it is the type of class designed to kill us. 'Down periscope, get us deep as quick as you can, LI, maintain zero rudder.' I hear the LI calling all spare hands to the forward compartments, to make the nose heavier, while I leave the conning tower and join my horrified crew in the control room.


Now all we have is our ears. No exploding torpedoes so far, it was a waste of precious time after all. Chug chug chug chug chu chu chuchuchugugugu. You instinctively look towards the sound, which is pointless. But it means everyone is looking straight at the ceiling of the control room. She is right on top of us. A destroyer on her attack run, accelerating as she drops the depthcharges. 'Launch the bolt, hard port rudder, LI get us deeper!' The depthgauge is passing 60 meters when Klaus calls the splashes. 'Rudder zero, brace yourself boys!' The depthcharges explode behind and above us, but very close. The stern is pushed down by them and I hear all kinds of stuff falling to the floor or rattling in their racks, throughout the boat. The boys look terrified, eyes wide open, but this is nothing, they haven't got us yet. 'Ahead 2/3, LI level off at 100 meters, hard port rudder, damage reports!' 'All compartments secure, Herr Kaleun!' Now the destroyer is swinging around, we are presenting her our flank but the decoy should be a little distraction for her, somewhere behind us. This is going to be tough because I dare not take the boat below 130 meters. 'Silent running, port 20, LI keep it below 50 rpm.' I want to complete the turn to port, to present her our arse, but we are turning very slowly to stay silent. I stick my head through the soundroom hatch, only to see Klaus turn towards me, his face a ghostly pale complexion in the red lights. 'Fast screws closing rapidly from all directions, at least 4 warships, Herr Kaleun.' The Obersteuermann has put 7 marks on his mini blackboard, the depthcharge count. I expect the blackboard will prove too small tonight.
And so it begins, the hunter hunted.



The Duke

[Bosje]

Two tin cans take it in turns to blow the hell out of the decoy behind us. The blackboard is getting crowded with all the chalk marks. 30, 40 and still more are being dropped. But nowhere close to us, it seems we are slipping away. 2 more destroyers are circling around the site, we have to stay very quiet. I am building a mental picture of what is going on above us, based on what Klaus can whisper from his shack and I imagine the escort commanders up top doing the same. We do hear the occasional ping, out of spite I guess, but so far we are just all here, doing our thing. Waiting for the other guy to make a mistake.


'Screws closing fast, bearing 200' I can hear them even through the hull: a propeller churning through the waves behind us and getting louder very fast. Verdammt! Have they found us? 'Klaus, track him for me'
'Getting louder, coming up through our port side and closing. 220 degrees..235 degrees, 240 degrees, 245 degrees, 246, 247...248...249...now coming straight at us, getting very close!'
I close my eyes. He is going to be above me in seconds. But he did not come in a straight run. It was a big turn, a semi-circle ending exactly above me and starting somewhere behind us. Behind us where they are still bombing the empty sea, the decoy has long since died. Either this bastard is at the beginning of his attackrun and he already found us, or he is at the end of his run and turning to listen for suspicious sounds. He is now very very close, my mind is racing, the crew around me are closing their eyes, their faces tensely screwed together and their bodies involuntarily crouching, to make them feel smaller and somehow less vulnerable. The LI whispers urgently: 'Herr Kaleun?'
I make my decision: 'maintain 50 rpm, port 20 rudder, planes on dive.' As an afterthought: 'and don't let her slip below 120 meters.' I watch the needle of the depthgauge creep down, very slowly. Too slowly if the charges are already on their way. Any man would have ordered insane speed ahead by now, to get the hell away from under this bastard. The enemy, now almost on top of us, suddenly slows down, then stops. He is listening. Then he leaps forward once again, accelerating very fast and passing directly over us. Verdammt verdammt verdammt. No splashes though. I tell the LI to double the rmp to 100, getting us going at 2 knots for a couple of seconds. It will hardly move us at all but our position will at least change a few meters deeper and away to port. The needle slips past the 120 meter mark. 'Hold her there, LI!' Death awaits a few meters below my feet. If a bomb explodes near the hull now, we will probably be crushed instantly into oblivion. But nothing happens. I was right about the bastard above us, his turn ended above us by coincidence. '50 rpm, LI'


I turn towards Hans to explain my decision, he has to make the same calls some day when he gets his own command. But he is standing in a small puddle and a sharp smell of ammonia reaches my nostrils. He has pissed himself. The rest of the crew are huddled near the forward and aft hatches to the control room. They should be lying in their bunks now, being very quiet, but I let them be. 'Don't worry boys, they are just trying to scare you. Don't give them the satisfaction, we will pull through just fine.' But it took just one look to see that the enemy were, in fact, succeeding admirably. I give them a wink and continue my lesson to Hans, ignoring the piss. 'They are trying to push us, press us into making a mistake. If we had gone to full speed ahead just now, he would probably have heard us as soon as he stopped. And those other boys around would have heard us too. They lost us after the first run and we have been silent ever since. Always remember this: when you get below 100 meters, think first, then think again, and only then: act. Never give away your headstart unless you are absolutely sure that they have you. And then, once committed, give it everything you have: as deep and as fast as possible.'
The LI turns his head for a second, grinning. 'Genau wie Bumsen'. Some of the boys display a hint of a smile, then Klaus calls out: 'Fast screws closing, bearing 150 coming up on our starboard.'
There we go again.



The Duke

[Bosje]

We lost count of the depthcharges and it was a nerve-wrecking night. But it is over now. All the boys are sleeping, except the second watchcrews in the engine- and control rooms. U-735 has held together and the escorts have finally passed beyond the range of our hydrophone. I am convinced we are safe for the time being. The boat is floating at 30 meters and doing a modest 2 knots. It will not get us very far but our course is east, which means home. We will need a week to reach Bergen still but we can afford to take it easy, diving away from any contacts and running on the surface at night. We still have half our torpedo load but the boys have really had enough for this patrol and the boat is too beat up to go after this convoy again. I only attacked it to prove a point and I pushed it far enough. But I am feeling much better for it, at least there is something familiar still left in this war: the mind game with the escorts is as I remember it, although we both have improved toys to aid us.


The LI and Oberbootsmann agree that the boat will need at least 2 months in dock and it will be winter before we set out again. Most importantly however, the crew are combat veterans now. Less ideology and more common sense has been reaching my ears from their quarters, they are rapidly becoming U-boot men. Just as well because I doubt the enemy are sitting still. This war is getting tougher by the day. Now I too am going to sleep.


Oberleutnant Freiherr Beckman
(The Duke to his friends)

[Jimbuna]

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