(Story) Hechler's war

[DanBiddle]

Some of you may have read my patrol reports in U-24, and how my character was promoted to staff duties. I started a new career the other day, and here's the first part of his patrol.

I appreciate any comment and criticisms, as I know I'm nowhere near the standard of Laughing Swordfish and Miss Behavin'.

Cheers!

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The sea rose and dipped in an endless, formidable swell. There were no foaming white crests, so typical of the Atlantic at this time of the year, but the deep troughs gleamed slightly in the early dawn light. A mist had gathered, but was already being scattered and dispersed by the undulating water. It was mid January, and the crisp Atlantic wind cut through the air like a knife. Gulls and other sea-birds lifted on the successive swell, seemingly immune to the mind-numbing coldness of the water. They scarcely noticed the steep swells, obviously used to the Atlantic’s harsh climate.

It was 1940, and war had started to encompass the world, and soon no region would be left at rest. The Atlantic was the prime battleground, the Wermacht had yet to be unleashed on continental Europe, and Germany’s U-boats were alone in carrying the battle to the Allies. The gulls which floated silently were, as usual, the first to sense something different in their domain. They were not alone. The remnants of the mist let not a sound through, yet the birds noticed the slight tremor through the water, a tremor that caused a mass exodus to the relative safety of the sky.

Had there been an onlooker he would have been surprised at the suddenness of the shape. First a shadow, then, breaking from the mist and damp, dawn twilight, a silhouette, the unmistakable, harsh lines of an ocean-going U-boat appeared, cleaving through the swell with a sharp white wake foaming from her fore plates. She crept on at reduced speed with a presence so unique, and such a bone-chilling viciousness that she really did embody a wolf of the ocean. One of Germany’s Grey Wolves, the hunters, striking suddenly, without warning as their torpedoes wreaked havoc with Britain’s merchant navy.

No figures explored her heaving deck, and the only movement was the steady, careful sweep of the horizon as the bridge lookouts performed their thankless task of searching sky and sea for enemies. The weathered plating of the conning tower rose with them, only the number, U-32, broke the monotonous grey plating. It was the only identifying mark that set them apart from so many. Each watch member was fully aware of the cost of carelessness. In these harsh waters there was scarcely a second chance, and many of their compatriots had been dispatched to a cold, unmarked grave in the depths of the North Atlantic.

Below the bridge, 51 officers and men were scattered through the hull, some on duties, others sleeping in cramp, damp bunks resting before they themselves would go on duty and their bunks taken by the watch going of duty. Oberleutnant zur See Dieter Hechler lay alone in his curtained off bunk, savouring the precious few minutes of solitude. He was outwardly relaxed from long practice, yet his mind was active, noting the rise and fall of the boat, the noises and mutterings from the watch in the control room next to his small refuge.

He had held this command for only 12 days, and this was his first patrol. This was not to say he was without experience, for he had been serving in U-boats since the start of the war, and Hechler had been second-in-command on Schultze’s boat, and experience that had taught him a lot, and not just in naval warfare. Hechler had prospered under Schultze’s wing on U-48, and had soon been earmarked for promotion, eventually being given U-32 from the luckless Paul Büchel.

He wore an old, worn fisherman’s sweater, and flannel trousers. His jacket hung on a hook next to his bunk, along with the white cap. They would show his authority and skill at a glance, yet in this branch of the Kriegsmarine, authority and respect were earned, never given as granted, and he still needed to win over his new crew. Hechler was 25 and one of the youngest U-boat Commanders in the war so far. His dark, ruffled hair was at odds with his rank, and frequent comments from superiors had done little to limit its unruliness. His blue-grey eyes were the key to his character however, and his feelings clearly shone out through them. His doubts, joys and mirth were clearly visible, even when the rest of his face was a careful mask of self-control.

A hatch banged, loud and sharp, clearly heard throughout the ship. Hechler made himself relax muscle by muscle, postponing the inevitable. A slight movement outside the green curtains, and a hand dragged them slowly back. Hechler saw Heinz Rehburg, one of the control room watch crew looking at him. A young man from Bonn, Rehburg had proved himself to be a reliable seaman, and was destined for promotion if he had enough luck to survive for a few more weeks.

Rehburg nervously opened his mouth, “Leutnant Rahn requests your presence on the bridge, Herr Kaleun.”
“Very well, Rehburg, I’ll be up in a minute.”

He watched as the curtain was drawn back across before reaching for his cap and binoculars. He grimaced in the mirror. He examined his appearance as a subordinate. He looked presentable enough; the Captain, calm, unflappable. With a last glace around his cabin, he drew back the curtain and walked the scant feet into the control room. The crew would greet him with varied feelings. He was replacing their old Commander, this was Büchel’s crew, and many hadn’t transferred their feeling across to him. They would greet him with relief, doubt, dislike even, but he would be accepted as Commander. His cap did that, showing his authority at a glance.

Hechler nodded to the crew in the control room before briefly glancing at the chart and walking across to the ladder leading up through the conning tower to the bridge. As his head rose through the hatch, he could see the watch crew stiffen, and before he had fully climbed onto the bridge, Rahn was turning to greet him.

Dietrich Rahn was the First Watch Officer, the second-in-command, and Hechler liked him. A confident man of 22, Rahn had managed to prove his worth under Büchel, and had risen to 1WO after Büchel and his XO were dismissed from the ship. Hechler had heard it was shattered nerves that had sealed Büchel’s fate. Hechler dismissed the thought as the turned to Rahn.

“Convoy, Herr Kaleun! On the port beam. Looks large, fast as well sir. We haven’t managed to get an accurate course for them yet, but we’ll have that soon.”

Hechler raised his binoculars to his face and peered over towards the east. Surely enough there were countless thick black smoke columns rising above the horizon. Rahn had said they were fast. A fast convoy heading south – this was a valuable convoy. Most likely tankers and maybe even a heavily armed surface escort Hechler thought. The Graf Spee was a costly reminder to the Brits, and Hechler doubted that they’d let their valuable escorts sail without heavy escort from now on. The convoy stretched across half the horizon. Rahn was right – it was a big convoy.

“I want revolutions for 15 knots, set a course directly for the convoy until we can work out the course.” Hechler remained looking at the convoy.

“Jahwohl, Herr Kaleun!”

Hechler felt the lurch as U-32’s diesels jumped to the faster speed and the deck plates started to vibrate under his feet. He could guess at the activity going on below decks. When living in such close proximity to one another, new traveled fast, and the pounding diesels would have alerted the whole crew that something was up. Hechler heard whispered comments being passed down the ladder. Hechler remained impassive, motionless, watching the smoke columns without the aid of the binoculars now. Slowly, the sky was brightening, and more detail could be learnt of the convoy. Her course was clear now, the convoy was traveling a straight course, with only very slight zigzags to try and throw his aim off. Hechler turned to Rahn and gave his orders, “Alter course, steer one-eight-zero, increase speed to 17 knots!”

Hechler turned and climbed briskly down the ladder into the control room once more. He looked around him at the many faces crowding the compartment. He stared impassively at them, his features betraying nothing, before smiling and announcing, “Battle-stations men! We’ve a convoy to hunt!” turning around once more he headed towards the bow.

“Hartmann!” Hechler cried, as the Radioman darted from his little hut and stood to attention in front of him. “Prepare this message to BdU: Contact Report. Convoy sighted grid square BE36, Large, speed 12 knots, general course 205 degrees. Suspected tankers and possible heavy surface escort. Am setting up attack, and will remain in trail. UH. Is that clear?”

“Jawohl, Herr Kaleun!” The radioman headed back to his hut, and presently Hechler heard the tap of the Morse key. He turned and walked back to the control room. The room was emptier now, with most of the crew holed up in battle-stations. Hechler spotted the Chief, Leonhard Krystoflak standing next to the helmsmen, watching the progress as U-32 thundered along parallel with the convoy, rushing to move into an attack position. Krystoflak turned and looked at Hechler, one eyebrow raised. He was a veteran of eight patrols already, and had been decorated several times. He knew U-32 like the back of his own hand, and his confidence in the ship was unbreakable. As Hechler saw the Chief’s expression, he motioned him over.

“We’re attacking a convoy, Leonhard. It’s big and fast, probably with plenty of escorts. I want you to be ready for a submerged attack and then be ready to shut off for depth-charging. Things may get a little hot around here soon.” Hechler watched as Krystoflak nodded and turned to go back to dials. A strange one, Hechler thought. He had been least responsive to Hechler’s authority, and whilst he obeyed every order, Hechler could feel the dislike Krystoflak harboured towards him. He shook his head. You couldn’t win them all over, he thought. Hechler turned and headed for the ladder, remembering that Krystoflak had been very close to Büchel, which probably explained his animosity towards his new commander. Hechler shook the thought from his head as he climbed up onto the bridge once more.

The change in light was amazing, Hechler thought. He had been below for a scarce ten minutes, yet already light was starting to spill over the horizon to the east. At least they would be attacking from the dark side of the convoy. He turned to Rahn.

“How goes it, Dietrich?”

The First Watch Officer grinned back at him as the U-boat rose on the waves then fell into the troughs with an almighty crash, sending spray hurtling across the bridge. The ride was exhilarating, Hechler thought. It was no wonder the bridge crew were mimicking Rahn’s jubilant expression. Rahn opened his mouth to reply before quickly ducking as a massive burst of spray crashed over the tower, soaking Hechler through.

“We’re ahead of the convoy now sir and they’re remaining on the same course. We’ve been able to observe the individual ships as well now sir. There are 5 columns, each 10 ships long, as well as some ships clustered at the back of the convoy, but these are mainly stragglers – small merchants mostly. The centre column is made up of large tankers and a Southampton-class Light Cruiser. The other two inner columns have some smaller tankers and large merchants as well. We can only see one escort – a destroyer on this side of the convoy. It looks good, Herr Kaleun! It’ll work for sure!”

“Good work, Dietrich, I agree. We’ll alter course in five minutes and run in on the convoy. I want to slip inside the outer columns and launch attacks at the cruiser and the tankers. BdU will probably want us to remain in trail as they guide other boats in. I don’t see how they’ll catch this one though, it’s going pretty fast.”

Hechler rested his hands on the bridge as the submarine pounded through the waves, watching as they altered course and the convoy came ever nearer. The could make out the ships without binoculars now, and Hechler saw that Rahn’s analysis had been correct. The convoy was lined on the outside by medium sized merchants, with plenty of smaller one to the back. Couldn’t keep to the pace, Hechler smiled to himself.

Anton Stein, one of the portside lookouts saw his captain smile and was amazed. He was a cool one, he thought. Going into battle with a heavily escorted convoy and he was smiling. Amazing. Nonetheless it was with a lighter state of mind that Anton Stein headed into combat. If Hechler was smiling it would be alright, he thought. Hechler’s harsh voice crashed into his daydream, “Seaman Stein! If a destroyer runs us down from port, you may be certain that I will personally fire you out of the torpedo tube! That thick skull of yours is bound to sink a tin can like that!” Stein hastily put his binoculars back up to his eyes and scanned the horizon. He grinned to the other lookout. Hechler never missed a trick, but they all knew that his harsh words were merely covering his own feelings about the attack.

Hechler took one last glance around him before ordering the boat down to periscope depth. Despite the darkness on this side of the convoy, they would be spotted before long, and Hechler didn’t relish the thought of a gun battle with a light cruiser. Of course, this wasn’t a proper cruiser, like the Admiral Hipper or the Prinz Eugen, but those guns would still make mincemeat out of a U-boat. He climbed down into the conning tower, shutting the hatch tightly behind him. As U-32 slipped below the waves, he raised the attack periscope clear of the waves. The convoy was clearly in his view, and Hechler immediately picked out the cruiser in the middle column.

Proceeding at slow speed, they had crept past the outer column without any trouble at all, and Hechler lined the cruiser up in his sights. She was about 10,000 tons, he thought, and even at 12 knots she looked formidable and foreboding as she sliced through the waves with a fine moustache of foam sliding aft from her curved bow. Hechler looked away from the scope and turned to Rahn, who crouched in the small tower compartment next to him, ready to alter the setting in the Torpedo computer.

“I want two torpedoes, both set at 3 metres depth, impact pistol. Better make them fast running too. Cruiser is just over 1000 metres away, speed 12 knots. I’m aiming both shots along the hull. Ready?” Hechler was answered by a nod of the head. He looked back into the scope again, judging the speed of the large merchant in the next column, waiting until the torpedoes would definitely clear it. He kept looking through the scope. “Flood tubes one to four, open all bow caps.” Hechler waited as the orders were passed, and finally, “Tube 1, Fire! Tube 2, Fire” Hechler watched as the torpedoes streaked away from the U-boat, then moved his periscope down to the next ship in the column, a large tanker.

“10 degrees left rudder! Rudder amidships! Rahn, tube 3 and 4 5 metres, impact pistols, fast running. Prepare for a stern shot as well.” Hechler waited until the computer was set, then ordered tubes 3 and 4 to fire at the tanker. He quickly moved the periscope back to focus on the cruiser. He could identify her as HMS Glasgow now, and as the stopwatch clicked down, he saw her suddenly increase speed and try to alter course.

Hechler watched as the first torpedo slammed into the hull aft and the Glasgow seemed to stagger sharply before resuming her course. Her speed seemed to be coming back down, and even as Hechler watched the bow wave start to decrease the second torpedo also slammed into the hull. There was a bright flash under he funnels and a massive welter of water was thrown into the air above the ship and she was momentarily hidden to Hechler. He heard some other explosions, but it was far too early for the tanker to be hit, and Hechler was puzzled for a moment until the spray died down and all became clear. His torpedo had hit something vital on the Glasgow and there were many fires and explosions rippling along her hull. He could see seaman jumping off the ship to escape the lethal firestorm and the Glasgow was already very low in the water.

Hechler heard another explosion, and quickly shifted his view back to the tanker. There was some spray falling back to the sea, and Hechler could see that the tanker was slowing. After another 5 minutes he knew that the other torpedo had either missed or had misfired. A massive explosion rent the air, and shock waves were felt throughout the hull. Hechler transferred his gaze rapidly to the position of the Glasgow - a massive explosion had ripped her in half, and she was already plunging rapidly to the bottom with an indescribable roar of rent steel, smashing bulkheads, explosions and the sea rushing in to fill the void. Hechler saw the stern cant upward, the cruiser’s four screws pointing to the sky as Glasgow began her last plunge to the bottom of the Atlantic, already becoming a vast ship graveyard.

Hechler could see the tanker slowly approaching the Glasgow’s last position, moving but damaged, and he ordered a quick reversal in course, keeping the periscope trained on the tanker. “Quickly, Rahn! Set up tube five as we did for the other four! Tell me when you’re ready!”

A few seconds passed before Rahn replied, and Hechler quickly ordered the last torpedo fired at the tanker. As the boat shuddered with the release of another torpedo, Hechler spun the periscope around quickly, trying to see if they were discovered. He looked in horror as he saw a Destroyer bearing down rapidly at them from port, the lookout in the crow’s-nest pointing straight at Hechler. Hechler instantaneously slammed the periscope down and dropped down the ladder, as a shocked Rahn followed. As he landed in the control room, Hechler shouted out brief orders:

“ALARM!! Quickly Chief, all ahead flank, take her down to 100 metres, make a hard turn to port and shut-off for depth-charging!” Hechler saw the jubilant faces rapidly changing to disbelief and shock, and then just as rapidly to fear as the sound of racing screws echoed through the hull. Sub-consciously Hechler grabbed hold of some piping and saw Rahn do the same. The soundman poked his head around the corner as he yelled, “Depth-charges in the water sir!” Hechler saw the crew grab hold of anything built into the boat as he shouted “Hang on, men! This one’s going to be close!” The Navigator, Striezel already had his chalk board out ready to note the number of depth-charges.

The hull was violently rocked one way and then the other as U-32 was straddled by two very close depth charge bombs. The huge roaring of noise, shattered glass and the lights cutting out caused mass panic to the crew. Terrified faces greeted Hechler’s gaze as he ordered damage reports from all sections. Hearing the destroyer moving away, Hechler rapidly ordered quiet in the hull, and the boat shut down for silent running. Terrified as they are, the crew manage to keep quiet as the shockwaves from the depth charges die down. The lights are eventually restored.

The soundman turns back to us once again. “Destroyer, bearing 020 degrees, closing fast!” Hechler heard the report and realised that the destroyer had turned and was heading in to attack once again. “Hold on, men! Here she comes again!” As the screws became louder and louder, and the destroyer came closer and closer, Hechler saw his crews faces screwed up in total fear. As the noise reached its climax and appeared just overhead, the boat filled with nothing but the high pitched whirring of propellers, and Hechler could hear nothing else but one small voice sobbing out “Oh God, oh God!” The navigator looked across the compartment with a grave face and announced, “Six depth charges in the water, sir”.

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There's the first part - I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Anyone guess where the name comes from

Cheers,

Dan Biddle