The third patrol - Max FernzÃ¼r

Ula Jolly · 11-06-05, 02:14 PM

He was Austrian as well, that new ensign. Just arrived from 5th Flotilla, with medium grades. Was this some sort of message from Fregkpt. Cohausz? Surely not, Max thought to himself as he observed an auxilliary warship go from dock, and leave to the western outlet. Four nautical miles from Bergen, the western outlet split into a northern and a southern.

The warship was hardly anything meant to scare anyone. Near the stern stood an anti-aircraft gun, manned by two Germans. Most of the superstructure was wooden, because the ship was low in the water. The skipper and rest of the crew were Norwegians, more than probably forced into service by men that practically held a gun to their head. Some German guards made a jump in the boat five seconds before the ropes were all tossed, and the forty feet long boat cruised into the afternoon.
Max looked to his watch, and let out a weak but audible "Scheisse". It was the sixth of August, and the sun was hardly showing signs of retreat, even though the clock was nearing six in the evening. He had said goodbye to Austrian sunsets many years ago, but Norway was proving worse than he imagined it.

The sound of feet marching to the sub pens was distinctively wet. The rain had lasted for many, many days, and only now was it clearing up. Max straightened his jacket and hat before he made entrance. The greeting in the moist and dark pen was on vacation; apart from some dozen workers, all or most of his crew had remained in the sub. He was the only one that needed the last bits of air, but he didn't worry much. It gave him time to be alone, and with spending so much time alone in a tube with fifty men, solitude was sometimes desired.
His eyes ventured again over his tube. His tube. And his men. A radar had recently been installed, and so he had needed an additional man on his crew to operate it. He didn't have much faith in it, but would allow it to make an attempt. It didn't look very good on the boat, but certainly added some... character? Certainly distinct. And maybe it would provide for some protection for his watchcrew during air attack.

Could he have disappointed the flotilla's commander? Four months... no, five months had passed since he arrived, two patrols had he completed. Neither was very successful. Only five torpedos had been fired, and none except one had hit. In return, that hit was a fairly good one. If only the ship had been something of more importance than a minelayer. An empty minelayer, even. Upon spotting an empty minelayer heading home, one better think thrice about where to put one's feet.

Greetings and salutes were passed to and from Max and different members of the crew. He had been out for only half an hour, but now they all knew the departure was nigh. Max looked only briefly to the Austrian, Franz BÃ¼low. The young man gave a nod, and started the process of taking them out of the zig-zagging straits with aid from their navigator. They would go north from Bergen, between AskÃ¶y and Meland further north and straight west from there. They would make a detour north of Scapa and north of the Hebrides, before their patrol zone near Iceland was reached.
The captain had two novices with him that were being trained for helmsmen, and one officer to watch them both. The officer was named Ulrich Friedburg, and was only waiting for his own boat. A skilled man in gunnery, who would be likely to leave them within a few more patrols. The two novices were truly novices. He had found they lacked even some basic knowledge, but that could be blamed on the lack of quality in personell trained in Kiel. He himself had received training in Hamburg, after having served on a torpedo boat and two destroyers.
The day would pass, no faster nor any slower than any other day on patrol. The next day peaked only with a message from BdU, reporting a task force heading for the Irish Sea, far beyond their patrol zone. They were being sent towards Iceland, sector AE75.
Very few on board the U-431 suspected that the journey there would be hellish, and that they would never make it to their zone.

(To be continued

)

11-06-05, 02:14 PM	#1
Ula Jolly Samurai Navy Join Date: Jun 2005 Location: Norway Posts: 567 Downloads: 0 Uploads: 0	The third patrol - Max FernzÃ¼r He was Austrian as well, that new ensign. Just arrived from 5th Flotilla, with medium grades. Was this some sort of message from Fregkpt. Cohausz? Surely not, Max thought to himself as he observed an auxilliary warship go from dock, and leave to the western outlet. Four nautical miles from Bergen, the western outlet split into a northern and a southern. The warship was hardly anything meant to scare anyone. Near the stern stood an anti-aircraft gun, manned by two Germans. Most of the superstructure was wooden, because the ship was low in the water. The skipper and rest of the crew were Norwegians, more than probably forced into service by men that practically held a gun to their head. Some German guards made a jump in the boat five seconds before the ropes were all tossed, and the forty feet long boat cruised into the afternoon. Max looked to his watch, and let out a weak but audible "Scheisse". It was the sixth of August, and the sun was hardly showing signs of retreat, even though the clock was nearing six in the evening. He had said goodbye to Austrian sunsets many years ago, but Norway was proving worse than he imagined it. The sound of feet marching to the sub pens was distinctively wet. The rain had lasted for many, many days, and only now was it clearing up. Max straightened his jacket and hat before he made entrance. The greeting in the moist and dark pen was on vacation; apart from some dozen workers, all or most of his crew had remained in the sub. He was the only one that needed the last bits of air, but he didn't worry much. It gave him time to be alone, and with spending so much time alone in a tube with fifty men, solitude was sometimes desired. His eyes ventured again over his tube. His tube. And his men. A radar had recently been installed, and so he had needed an additional man on his crew to operate it. He didn't have much faith in it, but would allow it to make an attempt. It didn't look very good on the boat, but certainly added some... character? Certainly distinct. And maybe it would provide for some protection for his watchcrew during air attack. Could he have disappointed the flotilla's commander? Four months... no, five months had passed since he arrived, two patrols had he completed. Neither was very successful. Only five torpedos had been fired, and none except one had hit. In return, that hit was a fairly good one. If only the ship had been something of more importance than a minelayer. An empty minelayer, even. Upon spotting an empty minelayer heading home, one better think thrice about where to put one's feet. Greetings and salutes were passed to and from Max and different members of the crew. He had been out for only half an hour, but now they all knew the departure was nigh. Max looked only briefly to the Austrian, Franz BÃ¼low. The young man gave a nod, and started the process of taking them out of the zig-zagging straits with aid from their navigator. They would go north from Bergen, between AskÃ¶y and Meland further north and straight west from there. They would make a detour north of Scapa and north of the Hebrides, before their patrol zone near Iceland was reached. The captain had two novices with him that were being trained for helmsmen, and one officer to watch them both. The officer was named Ulrich Friedburg, and was only waiting for his own boat. A skilled man in gunnery, who would be likely to leave them within a few more patrols. The two novices were truly novices. He had found they lacked even some basic knowledge, but that could be blamed on the lack of quality in personell trained in Kiel. He himself had received training in Hamburg, after having served on a torpedo boat and two destroyers. The day would pass, no faster nor any slower than any other day on patrol. The next day peaked only with a message from BdU, reporting a task force heading for the Irish Sea, far beyond their patrol zone. They were being sent towards Iceland, sector AE75. Very few on board the U-431 suspected that the journey there would be hellish, and that they would never make it to their zone. (To be continued )