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 )