Personal Diary of Gerhard Linden (Long!)

Enchanter · 01-13-07, 07:51 AM

Personal Diary of Gerhard Linden 19 December ’40 - 30 December ‘40

Once again U-49 proved her mettle upon the waters around the English coast.
Sailing from St. Nazaire, we plotted a course to take us to the Eastern coast of Britain. At this stage of the war, things have changed vastly from our early days!
Once rife with both shipping and enemy attack craft, the Channel was devoid of life. Only the ghosts of dead merchants echoed across the lonely waters.
Transiting the Straits at night, we ran her surfaced at full ahead, with a sharp watch on the conn. We spotted several Elco boats but they never managed to detect us. Occasionally, I dived to periscope depth and brought the boat through a lazy circle to detect any contacts. In particular I wanted to know of any warships in advance of our position. Twice we detected warships, but both were far removed from our track. Passing by Portsmouth, we detected a C2 making a dash for the open ocean. She never made it. In darkness, we approached her submerged and prepared for the shot. Our torpedo skills have improved immensely. Honed, no doubt, by the numerous convoy runs we have attacked. Smoothly we set up a solution, fired and watched the torpedo slam into her. Then we fired our second shot. This too slammed into the ship and I prepared to pull alongside her to surface and deliver a coup de grace with our d/g when I heard sonar report a warship inbound on our position. Rather than risk a confrontation so close to the enemy’s ports, I decided to leave the area. Turning our stern to the stricken cargo ship, we fired an aft tube and obliterated her. We exited the scene before the enemy warship arrived, surfaced a little later and continued our run for our patrol zone.

Moving north from Dover we then encountered another C2, again submerged we released our first torpedo and re-plotted for our second shot. As we began to do this, the first torpedo detonated prematurely. Unphased we fired our second torpedo and this time we were rewarded with the weapon slamming into the after section of the boat. Following our already established ‘two-shot policy’, I ordered the boat surfaced and the d/g manned. A few shots aimed at the command deck sent the enemy ship to the seabed.

Entering our patrol zone, we established a step ladder pattern and slowed to one third. Periodically submerging and surfacing to detect merchants. We were rewarded towards the end of our patrol with the discovery of a C3 Merchant ship. Serendipitously, she was steaming directly into firing position. A novel luxury, I had the boat submerged and stopped. We waited in that position like a deadly viper, waiting until the captain of the C3 obliged us by steaming his ship perfectly into our sights. Long a skeptic of the salvo firing, the weapons officer and I discussed and decided to use a salvo shot. I was far more confident in both his and my own skills with regard to targeting now that we’ve gained so much experience. I was also confident that a missed shot would be circumvented by a surface action, as the weather was extremely accommodating. Kals voiced the hope that we would miss, and I sent him scurrying from the command room with a glare. We established our shot, opened our tubes and released. Our excellent position, only 600 m from the ship was key to this shot. The torpedoes slammed fore and aft on the target, and she came to a dead stop within 100 meters of the position we had struck her. Maneuvering the boat alongside at a range of 1000 m, I surfaced manned the d/g and opened fire with amour piercing shells at the boats hull. After some time, the cargo ship exploded spectacularly and sank beneath the calm waters.
Later that evening we encountered two separate Coastal merchants, which I ordered destroyed with the d/g to preserve torpedoes. As we prepared to leave our patrol zone, we happened along a trawler. In a moment of malevolence, I ordered the ship sunk, deciding to take full advantage of the beautiful weather. Standing on the forward deck as Kals fired at the ship, I calmly remarked, “A beautiful night to be a German U-Boat is it not Kals?”
“Ja Herr Kaleun,” he answered, sending a shell into the trawler, “but a terrible night to be a trawler I am thinking yes?”
With a good chuckle at the observation I watched as the trawler was sent to the sea bottom. That same day, the 26th of December we had a belated little Christmas. First a lumbering C3 crosses our path and she is sunk again with another successful salvo, and some gentle prodding from our guns. Then as we decided to turn for home, I get a radio report of a fast moving vessel ahead of us. I try to intercept, but the mysterious vessel is too fast. Curious, I engaged in a long stern chase until we sighted our quarry on the horizon. A T2 Tanker sped her way up north. With a happy grin we gave chase, Fritz liking us to pirates of old who’d give chase in the stern quarter. Except that those pirates had not the advantage of naval gunnery to the caliber we possessed. Ordering the d/g manned, and determined to see some fireworks, we pumped amour piercing shells into the after deck of the tanker. With a spectacular explosion she slipped beneath the waves. I intend to explore this particular method of downing the T2 in the future.
Following the tanker kill up with a costal merchant sunk with our aft torpedoes, we returned to course. Destination: St. Nazaire. With two remaining torpedoes, one bow and one stern, we headed for home. Soon I received news of a cargo ship heading towards us. Setting the watch and sailing directly at the intercept, we were surprised when we missed our fateful rendezvous. Submerging, I established a sonar contact, surfaced and gave chase. The weather had turned from placid to storm in a matter of minutes, and our visibility in the dark howling night was perhaps 200 m. Suddenly the hull of a C2 cargo ship loomed above us starboard side, barely 50m from my bow. Ordering a turn to port and cutting engines to slow, we went undetected as our stern came around and a torpedo was fired. A single torpedo crashed into the boat and sank her. Jubilant at the extremely efficient handling of our boat and weapons we made for home.

The English it seems, were content to allow us in, but our activities on the Eastern coast made them determined not to let us out! No fewer than 5 destroyers patrolled the narrow Straits of Dover and we were constantly harassed by Elco boats. Nevertheless, the inclement weather precluded any engagements, and the crew of U-49 finally returned home with no less than ten kills! Our skills are steadily improving and the torpedoes are becoming far more reliable.

At our awards ceremony, I promoted four men, and awarded my Navigation Officer his Iron Cross 2nd Class. Fritz earned his First Class at the same ceremony.

The sight of the base demoralized us slightly, as she had been victim to a dedicated raid by the RAF. Although the sub pens and hospital area were unscathed, the town surrounding the base had been badly damaged. Suzanne spoke of her fear, seated in the air raid shelter, and the anger at seeing the damage.
“I think,” she later said, “I finally understand how you feel in your boat, submerged, waiting for the depth charges to hit.”
A few days after my arrival, two letters arrived that brought the war home for both Suzanne and I. My parents had penned a letter informing me of the bombing of Kiel. The devastation was total, but my parents home had escaped destruction, being so far removed from the city. My father wrote of the sight of the explosions on the horizon as the bombs struck my home town. Suzanne received a letter too, but her family had suffered far more than mine. I arrived at Suzanne’s apartment that evening to take her to dinner and was greeted with the sight of her sitting on the sofa in the lounge. She had not gotten prepared to go out. Her hair was loose, framing her perfect features like a red-gold halo, her eyes brimmed with tears and streaks marred her cheeks. She held a missive in limp hands. She looked at me as I entered the room and a tear ran down her cheek. Without words I sat beside her and lifted the letter out of her gentle hands. Tears came unbidden to my eyes as I read.
Her family home, a home she had grown up in, the home of her family for five generations had been totally obliterated in the raid. The bookstore, part of her family’s heritage was no more, consumed in the fires of the raid. Her parents had no place to live. At the time of the letter, two weeks prior, they had taken shelter in a ‘displaced persons’ camp. Her mother was stricken with grief, her father, whose hand had written the letter, felt she would not last much longer. Her sister was missing, no one had seen her since the raid. She was presumed lost. Many hours later I roused to find Suzanne’s head on my shoulder, a patch on my uniform damp from her tears. I held her hand in mine, her other hand balled into a fist pressed against her stomach. She stirred too and looked into my eyes, into my soul.
“Filthy, disgusting, war!” was all she said, and lowered her head onto my shoulder again. Then and there I knew what had to be done. Gently I stood, and pulled her to her feet. She looked at me confused, and I began leading her out to the door. She protested, she was a mess, she couldn’t face the club, but I pulled her along firmly, a parent with a reluctant child. Fritz was busy in my office when I entered it, updating the manifests and charts, his surprise at seeing me was only outdone by his shock at seeing Suzanne. With a curt nod, I sent him scrambling for coffee, and I seated Suzanne across from me at the desk.
”Why are we here?” She asked, her voice timid, but I gave no answer, I knew she would never agree to what I was about to do, wouldn’t wish the burden on anyone. A phone call to the dispatch center had me routed to Kiel’s base. The line crackled and popped as the duty officer answered. I asked to be routed to the general area dispatch, and a confused officer connected me to Kiel’s local switch. Then I gave the number for my parents home. I glanced at my wall clock, 2 am. Oops.
My father answered the phone, worry etched in his voice. When he heard my voice he immediately asked, “Suzanne?”
“Here with me Papa, I need you to do something for me, for Suzanne.” Her eyes widened as she realized what I was doing.
“Anything.”
“Her family was displaced in the bombing, they need a home…”Suzanne began to rise, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment.
“The homeless shelter?” My father was ever efficient, even at 2 am.
“Ja.”
“It shall be done, tell her…” The phone was ripped from me by the furious storm that was Suzanne. She glared at me as she spoke briskly,
“Pa, it is not…” A pause, she glanced at me, the fury in her eyes dimmed a notch. “But…pa…no…” Her words were as cotton beaten against a rock. “Pa…ja……ja pa…hullo ma….ja…he is….ja…no…” I began to smile. She may have browbeaten me, but she’d never beat my parents combined. I knew that. Finally she handed me the phone.
“Hello Mama. Ja, she is. Furious. You may lose a son in the next few minutes. Ja mama, I can run fast. Thank you. Thank you both.”
I replaced the phone on its cradle, and faced the wrath of Suzanne. It wasn’t all that bad…
Her hands on her hips she glared down at me. Her tiny, beautiful foot tapped a tattoo on the ground as she measured her ire. Her eyes were tiny slits as she regarded me, much as one might if they discovered a stain on a blouse. I stood, hoping the height advantage would serve me somehow in the coming battle. For steady minutes she said not a word. I breathed in to say something, I still can’t remember what, and Suzanne threw her arms around my neck, holding me tightly against her.
“That is the rudest, most obnoxious, noble, beautiful thing anyone has ever done!”
I stood shocked.
“Thank you my love.” She was crying into my chest, her arms around me in an embrace. I found my tears had mingled into her soft hair. I kissed her forehead and looked into her eyes, saying words I never dreamed I’d speak.
“For you, light of my life, anything. Everything.”
We stood like that for long minutes, my mind and my heart reaching decisions I hadn’t even contemplated. Finally I looked into the eyes of the woman I loved and kissed her, her tears and mine salty upon our lips.

Gerhard Linden
U-49 Kapt.

01-13-07, 07:51 AM	#22
Enchanter Bosun Join Date: Jan 2007 Location: South Africa Posts: 66 Downloads: 21 Uploads: 0	Personal Diary of Gerhard Linden 19 December ’40 - 30 December ‘40 Once again U-49 proved her mettle upon the waters around the English coast. Sailing from St. Nazaire, we plotted a course to take us to the Eastern coast of Britain. At this stage of the war, things have changed vastly from our early days! Once rife with both shipping and enemy attack craft, the Channel was devoid of life. Only the ghosts of dead merchants echoed across the lonely waters. Transiting the Straits at night, we ran her surfaced at full ahead, with a sharp watch on the conn. We spotted several Elco boats but they never managed to detect us. Occasionally, I dived to periscope depth and brought the boat through a lazy circle to detect any contacts. In particular I wanted to know of any warships in advance of our position. Twice we detected warships, but both were far removed from our track. Passing by Portsmouth, we detected a C2 making a dash for the open ocean. She never made it. In darkness, we approached her submerged and prepared for the shot. Our torpedo skills have improved immensely. Honed, no doubt, by the numerous convoy runs we have attacked. Smoothly we set up a solution, fired and watched the torpedo slam into her. Then we fired our second shot. This too slammed into the ship and I prepared to pull alongside her to surface and deliver a coup de grace with our d/g when I heard sonar report a warship inbound on our position. Rather than risk a confrontation so close to the enemy’s ports, I decided to leave the area. Turning our stern to the stricken cargo ship, we fired an aft tube and obliterated her. We exited the scene before the enemy warship arrived, surfaced a little later and continued our run for our patrol zone. Moving north from Dover we then encountered another C2, again submerged we released our first torpedo and re-plotted for our second shot. As we began to do this, the first torpedo detonated prematurely. Unphased we fired our second torpedo and this time we were rewarded with the weapon slamming into the after section of the boat. Following our already established ‘two-shot policy’, I ordered the boat surfaced and the d/g manned. A few shots aimed at the command deck sent the enemy ship to the seabed. Entering our patrol zone, we established a step ladder pattern and slowed to one third. Periodically submerging and surfacing to detect merchants. We were rewarded towards the end of our patrol with the discovery of a C3 Merchant ship. Serendipitously, she was steaming directly into firing position. A novel luxury, I had the boat submerged and stopped. We waited in that position like a deadly viper, waiting until the captain of the C3 obliged us by steaming his ship perfectly into our sights. Long a skeptic of the salvo firing, the weapons officer and I discussed and decided to use a salvo shot. I was far more confident in both his and my own skills with regard to targeting now that we’ve gained so much experience. I was also confident that a missed shot would be circumvented by a surface action, as the weather was extremely accommodating. Kals voiced the hope that we would miss, and I sent him scurrying from the command room with a glare. We established our shot, opened our tubes and released. Our excellent position, only 600 m from the ship was key to this shot. The torpedoes slammed fore and aft on the target, and she came to a dead stop within 100 meters of the position we had struck her. Maneuvering the boat alongside at a range of 1000 m, I surfaced manned the d/g and opened fire with amour piercing shells at the boats hull. After some time, the cargo ship exploded spectacularly and sank beneath the calm waters. Later that evening we encountered two separate Coastal merchants, which I ordered destroyed with the d/g to preserve torpedoes. As we prepared to leave our patrol zone, we happened along a trawler. In a moment of malevolence, I ordered the ship sunk, deciding to take full advantage of the beautiful weather. Standing on the forward deck as Kals fired at the ship, I calmly remarked, “A beautiful night to be a German U-Boat is it not Kals?” “Ja Herr Kaleun,” he answered, sending a shell into the trawler, “but a terrible night to be a trawler I am thinking yes?” With a good chuckle at the observation I watched as the trawler was sent to the sea bottom. That same day, the 26th of December we had a belated little Christmas. First a lumbering C3 crosses our path and she is sunk again with another successful salvo, and some gentle prodding from our guns. Then as we decided to turn for home, I get a radio report of a fast moving vessel ahead of us. I try to intercept, but the mysterious vessel is too fast. Curious, I engaged in a long stern chase until we sighted our quarry on the horizon. A T2 Tanker sped her way up north. With a happy grin we gave chase, Fritz liking us to pirates of old who’d give chase in the stern quarter. Except that those pirates had not the advantage of naval gunnery to the caliber we possessed. Ordering the d/g manned, and determined to see some fireworks, we pumped amour piercing shells into the after deck of the tanker. With a spectacular explosion she slipped beneath the waves. I intend to explore this particular method of downing the T2 in the future. Following the tanker kill up with a costal merchant sunk with our aft torpedoes, we returned to course. Destination: St. Nazaire. With two remaining torpedoes, one bow and one stern, we headed for home. Soon I received news of a cargo ship heading towards us. Setting the watch and sailing directly at the intercept, we were surprised when we missed our fateful rendezvous. Submerging, I established a sonar contact, surfaced and gave chase. The weather had turned from placid to storm in a matter of minutes, and our visibility in the dark howling night was perhaps 200 m. Suddenly the hull of a C2 cargo ship loomed above us starboard side, barely 50m from my bow. Ordering a turn to port and cutting engines to slow, we went undetected as our stern came around and a torpedo was fired. A single torpedo crashed into the boat and sank her. Jubilant at the extremely efficient handling of our boat and weapons we made for home. The English it seems, were content to allow us in, but our activities on the Eastern coast made them determined not to let us out! No fewer than 5 destroyers patrolled the narrow Straits of Dover and we were constantly harassed by Elco boats. Nevertheless, the inclement weather precluded any engagements, and the crew of U-49 finally returned home with no less than ten kills! Our skills are steadily improving and the torpedoes are becoming far more reliable. At our awards ceremony, I promoted four men, and awarded my Navigation Officer his Iron Cross 2nd Class. Fritz earned his First Class at the same ceremony. The sight of the base demoralized us slightly, as she had been victim to a dedicated raid by the RAF. Although the sub pens and hospital area were unscathed, the town surrounding the base had been badly damaged. Suzanne spoke of her fear, seated in the air raid shelter, and the anger at seeing the damage. “I think,” she later said, “I finally understand how you feel in your boat, submerged, waiting for the depth charges to hit.” A few days after my arrival, two letters arrived that brought the war home for both Suzanne and I. My parents had penned a letter informing me of the bombing of Kiel. The devastation was total, but my parents home had escaped destruction, being so far removed from the city. My father wrote of the sight of the explosions on the horizon as the bombs struck my home town. Suzanne received a letter too, but her family had suffered far more than mine. I arrived at Suzanne’s apartment that evening to take her to dinner and was greeted with the sight of her sitting on the sofa in the lounge. She had not gotten prepared to go out. Her hair was loose, framing her perfect features like a red-gold halo, her eyes brimmed with tears and streaks marred her cheeks. She held a missive in limp hands. She looked at me as I entered the room and a tear ran down her cheek. Without words I sat beside her and lifted the letter out of her gentle hands. Tears came unbidden to my eyes as I read. Her family home, a home she had grown up in, the home of her family for five generations had been totally obliterated in the raid. The bookstore, part of her family’s heritage was no more, consumed in the fires of the raid. Her parents had no place to live. At the time of the letter, two weeks prior, they had taken shelter in a ‘displaced persons’ camp. Her mother was stricken with grief, her father, whose hand had written the letter, felt she would not last much longer. Her sister was missing, no one had seen her since the raid. She was presumed lost. Many hours later I roused to find Suzanne’s head on my shoulder, a patch on my uniform damp from her tears. I held her hand in mine, her other hand balled into a fist pressed against her stomach. She stirred too and looked into my eyes, into my soul. “Filthy, disgusting, war!” was all she said, and lowered her head onto my shoulder again. Then and there I knew what had to be done. Gently I stood, and pulled her to her feet. She looked at me confused, and I began leading her out to the door. She protested, she was a mess, she couldn’t face the club, but I pulled her along firmly, a parent with a reluctant child. Fritz was busy in my office when I entered it, updating the manifests and charts, his surprise at seeing me was only outdone by his shock at seeing Suzanne. With a curt nod, I sent him scrambling for coffee, and I seated Suzanne across from me at the desk. ”Why are we here?” She asked, her voice timid, but I gave no answer, I knew she would never agree to what I was about to do, wouldn’t wish the burden on anyone. A phone call to the dispatch center had me routed to Kiel’s base. The line crackled and popped as the duty officer answered. I asked to be routed to the general area dispatch, and a confused officer connected me to Kiel’s local switch. Then I gave the number for my parents home. I glanced at my wall clock, 2 am. Oops. My father answered the phone, worry etched in his voice. When he heard my voice he immediately asked, “Suzanne?” “Here with me Papa, I need you to do something for me, for Suzanne.” Her eyes widened as she realized what I was doing. “Anything.” “Her family was displaced in the bombing, they need a home…”Suzanne began to rise, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “The homeless shelter?” My father was ever efficient, even at 2 am. “Ja.” “It shall be done, tell her…” The phone was ripped from me by the furious storm that was Suzanne. She glared at me as she spoke briskly, “Pa, it is not…” A pause, she glanced at me, the fury in her eyes dimmed a notch. “But…pa…no…” Her words were as cotton beaten against a rock. “Pa…ja……ja pa…hullo ma….ja…he is….ja…no…” I began to smile. She may have browbeaten me, but she’d never beat my parents combined. I knew that. Finally she handed me the phone. “Hello Mama. Ja, she is. Furious. You may lose a son in the next few minutes. Ja mama, I can run fast. Thank you. Thank you both.” I replaced the phone on its cradle, and faced the wrath of Suzanne. It wasn’t all that bad… Her hands on her hips she glared down at me. Her tiny, beautiful foot tapped a tattoo on the ground as she measured her ire. Her eyes were tiny slits as she regarded me, much as one might if they discovered a stain on a blouse. I stood, hoping the height advantage would serve me somehow in the coming battle. For steady minutes she said not a word. I breathed in to say something, I still can’t remember what, and Suzanne threw her arms around my neck, holding me tightly against her. “That is the rudest, most obnoxious, noble, beautiful thing anyone has ever done!” I stood shocked. “Thank you my love.” She was crying into my chest, her arms around me in an embrace. I found my tears had mingled into her soft hair. I kissed her forehead and looked into her eyes, saying words I never dreamed I’d speak. “For you, light of my life, anything. Everything.” We stood like that for long minutes, my mind and my heart reaching decisions I hadn’t even contemplated. Finally I looked into the eyes of the woman I loved and kissed her, her tears and mine salty upon our lips. Gerhard Linden U-49 Kapt. __________________ Hasta la wookie...baby.