(Story) U-104

[David I]

Mantibrutalis,

Keep them coming!

You English is just fine for the task at hand (even adds a bit of flavor).



David I

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 28th December 1940, U-104, 200km south-east of Ireland.

It’s the second day of our patrol and already we have 2 marks on our sheet. The watchboys spot a large merchant when we were nearing Ireland, and after getting a bit closer, they spot a smaller one ahead of it. Eventually, after getting close enough to recognize the British flags, the captain chose to make a use of our deck gun. From what I heard from down here, I can say that we were the only ones firing – the enemy had no guns. I hope the watch saw it, because if not… then the captain just risked that they were not armed. Anyway, that’s about 7500 tons on our nameless boat.

On the other hand, we didn’t spend that much ammunition, the captain slowed down when we were close enough (I really can’t tell how close), so the gunner could take precise shots. He even instructed the three freshmen, who had joined us in Lorient, to observe and teach them a bit of real shooting. Both ships were probably down before we closed in, at least I think… There seemed to be some kind of ammunition on one of the ships, the fireworks were very loud even down here.

The captain was satisfied, so he ordered to make for the open sea and head directly to our patrol area. Some of the crew expressed the fear of incoming planes to investigate the missing ships, but the captain didn’t even take notice. Guess he had some sixth sense, because we weren’t attacked. Anyway, this is going to take a few more weeks. I hope this soothed his bloodlust – I want to survive. I often think about the dead of the Cloverleaf and of Karl. Even the Cloverleaf wasn’t lucky enough for this captain…

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 31st December 1940, U-104, somewhere in the Atlantic.

Finally we are closing to our patrol area, which hopefully marks the half of our trip. The weather is still very calm, although cold. The days are very short, but it doesn’t make much of a difference down here. Despite great visibility during the short light time we are given, we haven’t met a single ship. Occasionally the captain has a “sense” that something is near, so he takes us under for half an hour, stops the engine… and spends the time asking Max (the hydrophones guys) if he’s sure that nothing’s near.

I spend my free time with our medic, playing cards or listening to his stories from the 1st Flotilla. He is not one of the Cloverleaf’s crew, but he served on two other IIAs. He doesn’t want to talk about his time on the U-14, apparently that boat claimed quite a few lives. Anyway, he got transferred to the 2nd Flotilla, because his proven skills were needed on one of the new “better” U-boats.

The crew is in better shape now, the calm sea and very uneventful patrol took out most of their worries. Just the captain isn’t very happy. He even gave me a “personal” message to BdU, about how they must have left out some contacts in our vicinity and so on. I didn’t send it though – it was quite rude and offensive, and it wouldn’t help anybody either way. Despite his anxiety, he makes a good captain – he reminds us to check the equipment often (mostly the torpedoes), so we should be in a good shape if we meet something.



Note – By this time I probably should state the setting I use on realism. I am too lazy to learn the targeting system entirely, although from time to time I set things myself – for the fun of it. So I am using Automatic Targeting and Weapon Office Assistance (whatever that does). I am using Map Updates (never tried without it) and External Camera, because I love explosions. I use it sparingly though, not to reveal anything I shouldn’t see, so I don’t spoil the fun for myself. Everything else is ticked – 81% Realism.

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 2nd January 1941, U-104, somewhere in the Atlantic.

We reached our designated patrol area yesterday in the morning. Captain said he knew there was prey close, so he set up quite a fast patrol route. For 24 hours it looked like we were burning fuel for nothing, then BdU sent me a contact very, very close to us. The message said it was a British ship, slowly moving away from us west.

It took just 15 minutes to find it – the captain spot it first, even though there wasn’t much light in the morning. Again he insisted that we get close and personal with our deck gun – the ship was moving away, and our batteries wouldn’t be enough to close the distance before they would be empty. Again, there was no return fire. But there was fire. Loads of it. At least the men who were up there said so. With more 5000 tons on us, we were pretty happy to look forward to the way back home.

But – we weren’t going home. The captain explained that we were supposed to be on a major shipping lane, which has to bring us some prey for our yet unused torpedoes. So we’re sailing along the supposed shipping lane towards Canada. The crew isn’t very happy about that. I am not very happy about that. We were ordered not to engage American ships, so what is he hoping to find here? I hope he finds it soon – I have never been this far from home. I never wanted to be on a tiny tin can in middle of the Atlantic. We are sailing away from the patrol area – in the wrong direction…

[Kelly621]

Keep your reports coming...one of the lasting qualities of SH3 is that it fires our imagination

Kelly621

[Aarnoman]

Keep them coming MantiBrutalis! Very enjoyable to read so far

[MantiBrutalis]

As experienced by Herbert Krauss, 4th January 1941, 7 AM, U-104, somewhere in the Atlantic.

I hear the captain shouting orders in the command room. Anytime now we will breach the surface. I can almost feel the merchant some 200 meters behind this wall.

I look at Arnold sitting on the other torpedo: “How many do you reckon?” “Should be a small ship. About 30?” “I bet they can sink her in 20,” I say. Nothing to do for us torpedo loaders. We sneaked up upon a small merchant we met, took us an hour under water. In this darkness, we couldn’t be sure about their flag, so we ended up pretty close.

We hear a hatch open, many legs rushing up the ladder. The few of us without work to do remain still and listen for the action up there. Few others begin to feed rounds up to the conning tower.

Bam! “One.”

I can hear two pairs of feet running from the tower to the deck gun, each man with a huge round in their hands.

Bam! “Two.”

There is some kind of a commotion suddenly, everybody up there stops and hesitates for a moment. We can hear the captain shouting: “Don’t just stand there, get that spotlight!”

Bam! “Three.”

Arnold smiles: “I told you, 30 rounds. They gonna waste a few trying to knock out that light. They could make it in 20, if it wasn’t blinding them.” “20, if they can pack –“ Bam! “- them all under the waterline.” “No way.”

We didn’t fire a single torpedo this patrol. Just maintenance for a week now, kinda boring.

Bam! “Five.”

“You think the captain will have enough now and head home?” I ask. “No way, he won’t leave these ladies unused,” Arnold says while gently rubbing his chair-torpedo. I just want to head home now, we aren’t even doing anything.

Bam!




Note - I seriously had a nightmare last night, with car accidents and stuff. And suddenly, in the middle of it, some random guy pesking me for my terrible past tences in this story. I am really sorry if I ******* English up from time to time.