U-2 War Journal

[Brag]

You've been busy, nice style

[Bosje]

Everyone is miserable. Our muscles constantly ache from the shivering. Cold cold cold. All I can think is cold, all I can breathe is cold. The food cold, the drink cold, my tobacco cold. No sign of the enemy for an entire month, while we are freezing our arses off in the Arctic. I was under the impression that here, at least, we had air cover and surface units roaming around, sending the Murmansk convoys to the bottom and informing us of the positions of the remaining ships, so we can finish them off. But there is nothing here, just cold. We are sailing up and down through an empty sea. Smooth as a mirror. Void of life. Cold, bored, colder still, balancing on the edge of insanity. What the hell are we doing here? I am actually hoping for a storm, just to give us something to do, something to take our mind off the cold. Morale is at an all-time low, hardly any fuel left: we go home tomorrow.

Contact! Finally our routine peek below the waves pays off. Just when I wanted to vacate this hell of ice. No merchants, only fast screws. We close in at flank speed. Radar detected. We go below and sneak our way to a position that will hopefully prove adequate, they are moving fast though, we will only have one shot. Now we must slow down or they can hear us. Through the periscope: a large superstructure. Later: A hull to go with it. A sleek and beautiful hull. A German hull. Heavy cruiser, Graf Spee or something similar. I consider killing it but I find I am not completely insane. Yet.


We are on our way home but I am still desperate for something, anything. We take the slightest detour with the last drops of fuel: The Faeroer, the waters are fully controlled by the enemy. I have probably gone mad, I don't care.


Radar contact. Dive, listen. No merchants, just warships. Deja vu. If they are German again I am going to shoot them with my Luger. I can see the officers start to worry about me. They think I lost my wits and they are right. I should be relieved of my command but Hans is nowhere near strong enough to carry this boat on his back. Certainly not after the past couple weeks. I slide over to Klaus in his shack and listen with him on the earpiece. Fast screws, lots of them. Old and worn out engines, still working like crazy long after they should have been scrapped. I recognize that sound, vintage destroyers. My enemy. I wake up out of the madness: this is actually it! The enemy! I need some coffee and I need to kick the crew into action. Battle Stations! Hans on the observation periscope, I on the attack periscope. Let's have a look at our prey. It is the first morning of 1943. Happy new year, mister Churchill.


Klaus breathes from his shack: 'Capital ships, heavy units!' A second later I see them: Battleships. I do not recognize them. They are not English, I am sure of it. What the... 'Hans, can you identify them?' He flips through the pages of the ship identification book frantically, but he is taking too long. They are steaming very fast and they will be almost on top of me in seconds. 'To hell with it! Flood tubes 1 through 4! Down periscopes.' I make a quick estimation: 'line up tubes 1, 2 and 4 for a 3 degree spread, impact pistol depth 5 meters, target speed 21 knots.' A second later: 'Up periscope.' The attack periscope shoots up and down for half a second, I only catch a glimpse but it is all I need. A fourstacker is headed right for me and the rest of the image consists of an enormous battleship, begging to be destroyed. 'Range 800 meters bearing 340, fire NOW!' I am afraid I am too late, the torpedoes need to make an very tight turn to port to even catch this big old lady, the taskforce is steaming so fast. The destroyer is going to pass over our heads any second but I am sure they are not yet aware of us, the taskforce was on a straight course. A perfect keel formation on the battleships. 'Full speed ahead, go deep!'


We dodge under the destroyer and then pop up again to periscope depth as the torpedoes strike home. Two explosions followed by a roaring crescendo: we must have hit her rear turret magazines. The fourstacker drops depthcharges like a startled dame drops her purse: a reflex, not even close. Periscope depth, hard to port! I still have two torpedoes left, let's make the most of them. No point in staying hidden now. Up periscope! A quick full scan. The battleship is already gone, nothing left except burning water. Complete annihilation. Then I see the fourstacker and I see the flag she is flying: Yanks. Strange, I never even considered we would encounter an American battlegroup here, that's why I failed to identify the battleship. Ah well, it doesn't matter now. A light cruiser presents herself squarely to my sterntube. It will be an impossible shot but I try it anyway. Tube 5, LOS! One torpedo left, tube 3. This is a new torpedo, it can run in a ladder pattern, nobody knows if they even work. I make a complete mess of the calculations which have to be done inside half a second, I set the eel loose so that it will hopefully catch one of these escorts in the flank while they go after us. If it actually works it will be pure luck rather than skill. And we dive.


I am not comfortable, I do not know this enemy. This is the first time I get anywhere near them and they know exactly where we are. But the boat is ready for the game: she has been fully repaired and we have a new toy. Something called Alberich coating, it is supposed to mess with their Asdic. 'Starboard 30, ahead 2/3, dive deep!' A quick word to the boys: 'We got her: a big old battleship. Now it is their turn. Be ready for it.' Nobody cheers just yet. The next series of depthcharges explodes. Roughly where we launched our first eels, we are nowhere near there anymore. 'Schleichfahrt, level off at 100 meters.' Obersteuermann Petersen gets the chalkboard ready, Alfons prepares the damage control party and the rest of the crew go and play dead in their quarters. Let's see how the Yank plays this game. Whomp! And another series of rumbles. The cruiser? There is no way to tell. Intelligence will confirm the kill, perhaps. Some day. For now, I must focus on getting out of here.

[Bosje]

Strange, we made an awful noise after hitting that battleship. But the escorts insist on depthcharging our initial firing position. We are slipping away, deep and silent, slowly passing 100, 120, 160 meters. No hurry, let them waste their amatol behind us all they want. I can't believe the Yanks are this incompetent. Maybe we should reload the forward tubes, turn around and engage them. But no, let's not tempt fate too much. Fifty marks on the board so far, all behind us. As we are listening to the cracks of the depthcharges, the boys start to relax. Already they are getting used to it. Suddenly the boat is pushed to the right and down. What the hell? A single depthcharge exploded quite close. Are we about to be exterminated? No screws are heading for us on an attackrun though. Alfons reports all compartments secure and for now, I put it down to pure luck on their part.


Indeed, that single explosion was the closest they ever came. Perhaps a stray charge out of a K-gun. Half an hour later Klaus reports all contacts sailing away to the north at high speed. We stay submerged for the rest of the day and we begin the short stretch home at nightfall. Three days later we dock at the Bergen pens, heralded as heroes because BdU has already received confirmation that two American capital units have been sunk near the Faeroer on new year's day. As the crew are lined up on the deck, waving and cheering, Hans turns to me on the bridge and whispers: 'You are a mad fool, stubborn as an ass, those wild attacks of yours will some day get us all killed, but you are one hell of a hunter, Herr Kaleun. Congratulations.' I take it at face value as Alfons chimes in, s******ing: 'Maybe we should paint an ass on our conning tower.' I grin and say: 'I don't mind, anything but that damn swastika will do just fine.'


Oberleutnant zur See Freiherr Beckman
(aka The Duke)

[Jimbuna]

Well done....a nice read

[msalama]

Man, you write good. Please keep them coming. S!

[Jimbuna]

Looks like we have a spam bot folks

[Bosje]

The boat gently splits the mild swell as we navigate our way out of the fjords, which are rather beautiful this time of year. A layer of ice and snow covers the world and it takes some effort to remember that there is a dirty war going on. I turn around on the bridge and the spell is broken as I see the wintergarten. New guns. C38 20mm rapid firing automatic anti-aircraft cannons, on 2 mounts. They sport a steel shield to somewhat protect the gunners and we are supposed to have a better chance of fighting it out with the enemy planes. Enthusiasm still fails to register with me, I suspect I am still hungover.

It was a great party we had on our return in early January, celebrating my Iron Cross and the safe return and the kills and the American incompetence and the birthday of Hans and being alive and everything. The next morning I was dealing with the aftermath, forcing down hot coffee and catching up with some paperwork, when a knock on my door distracted me. I grumbled something and Hans came in. 'Yes, 1.WO?' 'Excuse me, Herr Kaleun, but you are going to want to see this.' I followed him out to the sub pens and when we arrived at our berth we immediately saw the yard workers in overalls doing all kinds of things to U-735. I walked up to the supervisor as proudly and purposefully as my hangover allowed and inquired just what the hell they were doing to my beloved boat. He replied that we were being issued the latest in active radar, air defense and active sonar systems, flotilla orders, priority assembly. We were to sail again as soon as possible and as well equipped as possible. I assembled my staff and we spent the rest of the month drinking some more.


The war in the Atlantic is reaching a climax. We are suffering heavy losses and so are they. The convoy battles these days are horrible engagements, involving dozens of U-boats and dozens more escorts. The merchant navy is gradually decimated, everyone realizes they can not take much more. Likewise the price we pay is too high, we can not sustain our losses. The next months will probably decide everyone's fates. Meanwhile they give me new guns which is futile, I will still dive from the big two- or four engined monsters which roam around the British Isles. They give me active sonar which will immediately give away my position to any escorts, if I ever use it. They give me active radar which will also give away my position if I ever use it. Utterly useless toys, therefore. Except perhaps in rare circumstances when I am going after a lone fishing boat through heavy fog. Since we are here to go after the biggest convoys, not lone fishermen, I am less than enthusiastic about it all. I am also unhappy with our patrol orders. We are to sail all the way around the British Isles to grid BF42, south of Ireland. That is where the convoys from Freetown and Gibraltar pass through on their final stretch to England. Fat targets and even fatter protection from escorts and aircraft. This is not going to be an enjoyable ride.

The Duke

[Bosje]

Our regular dip into the cellar resulted in a sound contact. A single ship, slow screws. We are going to have a look. Jakob is the man responsible for our radio waves. Not only the radio but now also the radar. We are going to test this device. I am curious who picks up the contact first: the human eyes of the watch crew or the electronic eyes of the radar.


Before long, Jakob gets a signal. Shortly after that the watch crew spot her. It is a beautiful clear day, I am pleasantly surprised by the effectiveness of this radar device, even though we can not use it all the time for fear of enemy radar detection devices. We approach the contact, it is a small fishing boat. I feel sorry for her. I feel even more sorry for her when I order Karl to open fire with the new 20mm cannons. We issue a warning salvo to allow the crew to abandon ship and then we sink her. The two barrels can spray an amazing amount of good news into the fisherman in a matter of seconds. She starts to burn, fuel bunkers go up with a bang and she is gone. I get the uncomfortable feeling we are going to be paid back for this savage-ish act. But the log reads 'Radar and guns highly effective against small single targets'.


Later that afternoon we get a contact on the radar warning receiver. Aircraft. We do not further test the guns, we dive. As we go down, Klaus reports fast screws to our west, spread out far between and all of them getting closer. No merchants, just warships. What is this? Did the fisherman get off a radio message? Did a destroyer force find the survivors? Payback already. We do not take any chances, we go deep and silent. They never find us, we stay deep all through the evening. Around midnight we surface and continue our way towards Rockall Bank. My intention is to hang around the bank for several days in the hope of catching inbound convoys from Halifax. I still can not believe they want us all the way south of Ireland. Surely the boats from Lorient, Brest and St Nazaire can take care of that area? Surely we are of more use in the North Atlantic? But BdU are using all available boats in a concentrated effort. As the Iceland-Greenland airgap is being closed they want us to try our luck on the southern convoy routes. Orders are orders and I am going to make my way there, but not before sinking my share of ships in the North Atlantic where I am most at home.



The Duke

[Jimbuna]

Keep it coming Kaleun...rivetting stuff

[Bosje]

Rockall Bank used to be Gefundeness Fressen but these days the Allies are playing it tight. We got a contact report on a convoy but after searching a 60 kilometer area for an entire day after what should have been an accurate interception... we got nothing. A day later the convoy was found, probably by a Condor. We missed them and they were now well within the heavily protected waters of the Northern Canal. Shallow waters, too much of a risk. Besides we can't afford to burn the necessary fuel for another interception, we have a long way to go still. Verdammt. We deliberate in the Officer's Mess. How did they slip past us? For now, we put it down to sheer luck.


Four days later, we are leaving Rockall Bank and heading for our patrol grid, sailing south and keeping the airbases as far to our east as possible without actually going all the way out into the middle of the Atlantic. Fuel is an issue on this patrol. We get another contact report on a convoy. We turn around and go in pursuit. We reach the projected path of the convoy, they should sail through this area somewhere in the next couple of hours. Every hour we dive at the end of a 40 kilometer leg, as we zigzag across their path. Every hour I join Klaus in the sound shack and I feel he is getting increasingly ill at ease as he is forced to repeat: 'No sound contacts, Herr Kaleun.' My already icy manner is getting terribly cold over the next hours. Where in the hell are these bastards? Have they increased speed and are we already far behind them? Have they changed their course so drastically that they are passing us far to the north or south? Have they slowed down and are we actually sailing away in front of them? All we can do now is travel along what is hopefully their course and speed, waiting for perhaps a contact report from another of our boats or aircraft.


Nothing. We can not afford to waste any more time and fuel here, we have lost the convoy. Back on course towards BF42 and the crew take extreme care to not get in my way. This morning, Robert tripped and spilt burning hot coffee over my legs as I was glossing over the charts with Petersen. I gave him an unfair bollocking and he is now doing two consecutive shifts in the bow torpedo room, greasing the eels. Jakob calls out: 'Radar intercepted!' We dive away from the airplane long before he has any chance of picking us up in this lovely swell and I am more agitated still for being forced to flee while not causing my enemy any trouble. Then, finally, thankfully, Klaus gives an excited cry: 'Sound contact, very long range and moving away! Merchant, quite fast!' I hit my shin on the hatch as I race over to him but ignore this painful reason for further grumpiness. This is what I needed, the hunter in me quickly awakens and silences the icy hardcase with the horrible mood. I join Klaus as he happily tracks the contact for a couple of minutes.


Ok, this girl is sailing away from us, moving fast and at a very long range. Aircraft are about, radar sets turned on. It is early in the morning of February 14th so we are looking at a daytime surface interception of a contact in enemy controlled waters. Hans is not going to like this but he is not in charge. I hope that this girl turns out to be a straggler from that convoy, perhaps catching up after engine trouble. If so she will deliver us neatly onto the convoy's path. We start our run, catching up while running around her out of sight. Even at full speed this is going to take a while. We dive from radar contacts every so often and we keep our own radar turned off. We also maintain radio silence. I am not about to give away our position now that we finally made contact. Every time we dive I give Klaus a chance to listen out for any sign of the rest of the convoy. He never gets anything. Looks like this is just a lone merchant after all, traveling at high speed. Still, better than nothing.


The hunt is far from easy, she is doing 14 knots and heading straight for the Southern Canal into the Irish Sea. We are burning a lot of fuel while running after her and we are getting awfully close to the heavily guarded and shallow waters as we get ever nearer the English Ports. After hours and hours we are alongside the girl and we get our first look: A small tanker, Dutch flag, low on the water and running at what must be her top speed. As soon as we get our first proper fix on her, she messes it up as she suddenly starts on a zigzag. Hans mutters a curse at this but I tell him to relax. It means she effectively slows down by covering a lot more ground than necessary, making it easier for us to get ahead of her. We have all the time in the world to get a good fix on her exact zigzag pattern so it should not be too much of a problem to get a couple of torpedoes in her side either way.


An hour later we are out of visual range, ahead of her, and we dive. Now we simply listen and have the odd peek through the periscopes while she has no clue as to what we are doing. The zigzag translates in a speed of 8 knots, reaching the end of the northern leg every 3 or 4 minutes. We simply put this data into the vorhaltrechner as if it were her actual speed and course and we check the settings 15 minutes later. They add up, she is exactly where the instrument says she should have been. The fix is accurate and we launch 3 torpedoes on a 5 degree spread from what will be 800 meters by the time they all meet each other at the edge of the northward leg. Two of the eels hit her exactly abeam at the bow and stern, almost simultaneously and a rather horrible fire starts to postpone the darkness which should be covering the sea by now due to the approaching dusk. Klaus has never got any hint of the convoy during all of this, I give up on finding them while Hans puts the 4000 ton kill in the log.


The next day we are almost at our assigned patrol grid. We still have enough fuel to make it back to Bergen, provided that we do not chase after any other ghosts anymore. We spend the day submerged. Listening at the odd patrolling warship and waiting for any merchants to sail into the hydrophone. The majority of the boys are sleeping or hanging about, we are not getting any abuse from aircraft of warships and I am pleased to find out that The Irish Sea is so far proving a lot more peaceful than I had anticipated it to be.


The plan was to surface at nightfall and cross the final stretch to our patrol area but at 15:20 the boat is rigged to action stations. A convoy has steamed into Klaus' earphones. I listen with him as an incredible number of screws get ever louder, spanning an increasing arc to our southwest. They are heading right for us, all we have to do is sit very very still.



The Duke

[sunvalleyslim]

great story with a lot of effort on your part thanks..........

[Schwuppes]

I can't wait for the next chapter!

[Bosje]

'Oh wow, look at that frigate.' Hans has his eye on the observation periscope. I am looking through the attack scope and I see what he means, I'm not even sure it is a frigate. That is one amazing paint job. 'Oberbootsmann to the control room,' Hasse joins us in seconds. 'Take a look at that closest escort, Hasse.' He has a look and whistles through his teeth, 'That is quite gucci!' 'Hmm, isn't it? I want that for our boat, take care of it when we get back to Bergen, will you?' 'Very good, Herr Kaleun.' I keep looking at the frigate for a bit longer before I finally lower the scopes. We can't let them know we are here until after the torpedoes are launched, but I find it hard to stop looking at the ship's camouflage. Broad diagonal bands of a murky black cut across the hull which is otherwise the exact same rainy gray as the Atlantic. Your eyes just keep on being tricked as the ship moves in and out of the waves. Highly effective camouflage and, as my Oberbootsmann remarked, highly stylish too.


First things first, however. We are in waters no more than 200 meters deep and we are about to engage a heavily guarded convoy out of Gibraltar or Freetown. Alright, time for business. Up attack periscope, I get a range and bearing on the nearest fat target, an Empire type freighter. We get more data on the same target over the next couple of minutes and we put the convoy speed and heading down at 8 knots on 50 degrees. The Empire will be a priority target, a large cargo ship is right behind it and one column further north I select an ore carrier for destruction. Another ore carrier will pass our stern once we get inside the convoy and I have the stern tube loaded with a pattern running torpedo. We work out the details for the ladder while we position ourselves for the first 3 targets on the bow tubes. The ladder is a strange contraption but if it works, the ship will have no chance. The torpedo will just keep going across her path until it finds the hull. The picket ships look like they do not have a clue, the convoy lanes slowly come up and several minutes later, the bearing reads exactly 0 when I put the crosshairs on the Empire.


1 and 2 los! I turn the periscope a handful degrees to starboard. The ore carrier in the distance is being overtaken in my view by the Empire, a simple matter of projection. I should have fired one at her, first. Now I have to wait before I launch the torpedo, hopefully the first eels will slow the Empire down, leaving a clear path for this torpedo. Now, 3 los! I swing around to port, the large cargo is now almost in front of me. 4 los!


The periscope has been up for more than a minute straight, but we still have the rear tube with the pattern torpedo to take care of. Range now 2000 meters, fire on 30 degrees starboard rear angle, legs to the east at 800 meters. Fertig! Los! I swing around again as the boat starts to wobble a bit. The first two torpedoes have hit and the shockwave is strong enough to affect the boat. I am blinded by a ball of fire where the Empire used to be and swing the periscope further to port. Crack, whomp, rumble. The large cargo goes up in a chain of explosions after the torpedo hit what must be a hold full of ammunition. Almost time for the ore carrier in front of me. Nothing happens there. I swing around once more, the ore carrier behind me is being struck near the bow, on the far side of the ship, her starboard side. The ladder pattern worked, then. She quickly starts to dip her bows ever deeper into the swell. That is enough exposure, down periscope. Reload tubes 1,2 and 5 with our remaining pattern torpedoes.


The crew are used to my seemingly foolhardy tactics and they get to work on the torpedoes right away. Hans mutters something about being a fool but we have not really been given a hard time by any escorts yet. Maintain periscope depth, ahead 2/3, steer heading 50. We are going to stay right in the middle of the convoy and hopefully get 2 more with those fascinating pattern eels. Only the third torpedo, aimed at that far away ore carrier, seems to have missed. We have 3 ships going down around us and the escorts don't seem to be anywhere near yet. Maybe some day I will choose this time to dive deep and sneak away. This is not that day.



The Duke

[Bosje]

Two escorts are dancing a tango on the waves at the spot where we launched our first salvo, I can see them several hundred meters to my starboardside. The one I am worried about is the destroyer coming up behind me. Not heading straight at me yet but pretty soon he may be able to hear the reloading operation in the House of Lords. What to do, what to do. I keep having the uneasy feeling of being on a very long, very exciting, very fast wild ride. Something new awaits around every corner and unless you anticipate and adjust, you run the risk of dropping out of the ride. It is by no means an innocently safe ride. I still love it though, more so than the rest of my crew. They can not hide the despair as I give the order: 'Ahead standard, new depth 30 meters, maintain zero rudder.' We are not yet done with the convoy, 2 tankers are trying to run away ahead of me and I want them destroyed. 'Tube 1 reloaded and ready, Herr Kaleun.' 'Destroyer increasing speed and heading right for us, bearing 195' ''Tube 5 reloaded and ready, Herr Kaleun.' 'Fast screws increasing speed and turning this way, 2 escorts bearing 84'


-Ping-


'60 meters, LI.' 'New Depth 60 meters.' 'Hasse, get ready with the damage control party.' Klaus does a good job at conveying the urgency: 'Destroyer on attack run, Herr Kaleun!' 'Ahead flank, LI!'
The destroyer is almost above us now, I try a new move. 'Blow the tanks, planes up for surface, try to control the ascent at periscope depth, quick!' We hear the destroyer through the hull, Klaus calls splashes and the boat rises very quickly to the surface. The idea is that the depthcharges explode underneath us while we get ready to launch these ladder pattern eels at the convoy, before they run away. 'Full port rudder, hold her at periscope depth, LI!' 'Tube 2 reloaded and ready, Herr Kaleun.' The trick worked, the charges explode under us but they force the boat upwards even more, the depth gauge reads 9 meters which means the conning tower is sticking out of the waves. Verdammt! If these English boys are sharp we will get some incoming shells from their artillery. 'Periscope depth, verdammt noch mal!' Poor Anton is working like crazy to try and control the boat. Not an easy task, considering all the different forces which are now at work, the boat moans under the stress. 'Rudder zero.'


Still, it worked well enough. The destroyer was too surprised, I suppose. We were back under before the shells were flying. She is now ahead of us and has to make a wide turn before she can give us any further trouble. This is the bit of spare time I needed. 'Attack periscope up, ahead 2/3, flood tubes 1 and 2.' A second later: '1.WO, I want the eel in tube 5 to run a ladder eastwards, from this exact position after launch, work on it.' Meanwhile I take a look at the tankers which are now quite a long way ahead of us. '50 degrees starboard angle, distance 2500 meters, 800 meter legs to the starboard, torpedo speed fast, impact pistol 3 meters.' 'Tube 1 flooded and set.' '1, LOS!' This really is a pathetic longshot. '30 degrees starboard, otherwise identical settings.' 'Tube 2 flooded and set.' '2, LOS!' The bow doors are closing up again as I give the destroyer a courtesy glance. She is almost done swinging around, we do not have much time. '1.WO are you ready with the settings?' 'Jawohl Herr Kaleun, 60 degree port angle, 800 meter legs to starboard, depth 5 meters on magnetic pistol, slow running. If we turn to starboard we can stay under it for as long as it runs.' 'Very well, make it so.' I let Hans fire off my last high-tech torpedo while I concern myself with the boat. 'Ahead flank, hard starboard rudder, get us deep quickly, LI. 80 meters crash dive.' The torpedo leaves the sterntube as the boat takes a nosedive and I hear the boys in the control room breathe a sigh of relief as they realize that the Kaleun is finally done with his foolish acts of tenacity.


'Launch the decoy, ahead 2/3, steer due east, gradually take her down to 160 meters, Anton.'
The LI acknowledges and so the stage is set. With the added prop of a torpedo running around making sharp turns, like a hare in flight, right above us. Good luck with that one, mister English destroyer Captain.



The Duke

[Bosje]

The two escorts which were off our starboard bow have now joined the party. Minutes pass and the only thing exploding so far are the depthcharges. All torpedoes missed. It pisses me off. Time and time again I expose the crew and the boat to extraordinary danger, all to get the opportunity of firing two or three additional torpedoes at my enemy. But all it ever accomplished is some frightful depthcharge attacks. They can find us easily, even when we are running very close to the surface. In the old days, their sonar could not even reach that shallow. I remember those early convoy battles where we went straight into the convoy after the first salvo and had a good time sinking whatever crossed into our sights, an almost mocking attitude towards the escorts which never really had a clue. I miss those days. I am pulled out of my contemplations by some more pinging. They are trying to get a fix on us and they are trying hard. But we gave them the slip, the decoy distracted them long enough for us to slip down deep and we are now creeping eastwards at 1 knot, never doing more than 50 rpm. Petersen's blackboard is full with marks but none of them came dangerously close, all we sustained was some very minor leaking when a valve gave way in the diesel engine room, that bit of damage has long since been fixed.


After only two hours, the escorts give up. So another success, proudly written down in the log:
-3 merchants sunk, estimated total tonnage 20.000 tons. Two torpedoes left in the external compartments, one forward one aft. Heading to patrol area after nightfall for 24-hour (token) presence.-
A decent patrol so far, all in all. But I wonder how much more I might have accomplished if I still had those three last torpedoes, running around the convoy at night and setting up for another surprise salvo. Ah to hell with it. 'Secure from action stations, well done boys. A ration of rum for all hands after the first watch.' 'The boys cheer, I go to sleep.



The Duke