The Laughing Swordfish

U-46 is a type VIIC with 7th Flotilla out of Kiel, it's August 1940, and this is our 9th patrol. We have the Happy Swordfish painted on our conning tower, the lads swear it brings us luck

Up to now they've been right. We've had a couple of narrow squeezes but come through ok so far, and put a bit of tonnage on the board. Mostly off Norway and north and west of Ireland.

Two patrols ago we lost Ernst, our flak gunner, north of Scapa. Where did that bomber come from? No time to dive, but he stuck to his gun and nailed him. But took some tracer in the chest in doing so. By the time we got him below, there was nothing we could do for him. Certainly saved our bacon that time, but there are already signs we're not going to have it all our own way for much longer

Last time out we bagged a destroyer in a running fight. The boys were cock-a-hoop afterwards, but as the Chief says, "That's one less to worry about, but let's not make a habit of it!"

Now that our stubble-hoppers have the frenchies on the run, we're hoping for a move to one of the Biscay ports. For the seniors it will mean not having to make the North Sea run around the British Isles anymore; the boys are only thinking about the champagne and mademoiselles!

We're on our way to AM53 now, a lively stretch of water, with lots of opportunity to get our feet wet!

Hope to see you back in the Mess soon

I inspect my young crew on the fore deck. One or two are looking pretty green in every sense of the word.
Last night was a massive booze-up. A lot of our 'Lordships' in the fore-ends are regarding me with bright-eyed confidence. We sank a destroyer on our last patrol with a stern shot from long range in high seas, whilst busily running away. It was a petulant parting shot, that somehow hit home
A sheer fluke, but now they think I'm a genius
Now I have to take them out again, and bring them back in one piece
"Maybe the Hood or Ark Royal this time, Herr Kaleun!"
I smile at the cheeky remark and send them below to patrol stations; the First Lieutenant has reported U-46 ready for sea, but there is still much for the CPOs to do
Cast off bowlines, ahead standard both!
Otto, my Chief, is the last to go below
"Young pups!" he mutters as he lowers himself down the hatch
This is his eighth patrol. A good man to have in a tight corner, and I'd be worried if he wasn't pessimistic everytime we went out, balancing the youthful exuberance of the hands
I duck below the string bags of sausages and fruit hanging from the control room piping. The Quartermaster and Navigator is already poring over the chart table
We're going back to the Clyde approaches, some juicy targets to be found, for sure, but it's the Royal Navy's living room, and we're not terribly welcome there
"Be ok again this time, Sir?"
Our Second Lieutenant ventures a wink
U-51 and U-107 have both failed to report in. That can only mean one thing. Good men, all of them
U-46 begins to purr out of the bunker
Back on the bridge I stand majestically as nurses wave enthusiatically from the dockside
No nurse can save us now
Only me
Back below, the Second Lieutenant is checking the signal flares, and spare binoculars
"Yes, Number Two, everything will be fine"
I close the green curtain on my cabin, and hope to God I'm right...

U-46 limps back into Kiel

Four white pennants flap from the periscope, there is only one torpedo left in the stern tube. We are trailing a little diesel oil, the deck plating is ruptured, and the port side of the bridge and saddle tank is buckled

Below amidships, wooden beams support the hasty repairs to the pressure hull. The last of the welding has just finished, and the bilge pumps are just about coping

I have broken out a case of beer, and the crew are responding with their usual young bravado, but it's easy to see they are exhausted, and not a little shocked

The patrol to the Clyde approaches had started well enough. A relatively easy passage across the North Sea, even pausing to dispatch a British trawler with the deck gun. One warning shot across the bows to let the crew row clear, then three into the waterline.

"Nice shooting!" remarks the second lieutenant
"Hardly the Ark Royal" is the Chief's laconic reply
"Well at least there's no kippers for Winston's breakfast tomorrow" comes the cheerful rejoinder

We hail the survivors, fishermen from Hull, and pass down water, food , cigarettes and a navigational fix

"I wonder if they got an SOS off?" muses the First Lieutenant.
"Don't even think about it" I growl, but we dive anyway to be on the safe side

Later we pick up an unescorted coastal tramp. The sea is so bad it takes three eels to send her to the bottom

"The torpedoes probably cost more than she did" grumbles the Chief. "We're running at a loss"

I smile. Otto is only happy when he's pretending not to be

We reach AM53 on the 10th of August, and start our search pattern across the approaches to Clyde. The weather is atrocious, and the lookouts certainly earn their pay

"On today's menu is the U-46 house speciality!" announces the 2nd Lieutenant one evening in the wardroom. "Soup in the lap!"

We take the boat down for a trim dive and to rest the crew

Then the excited face of Hans appears around from the Sonar Room, his phones dangling from one ear

"Slow screws, many, bearing 276, medium range, approaching!"

Convoy!

With a clatter of plates and cutlery we hasten to our stations. and I bring us up to periscope depth. Can't make out the mast heads yet, but Hans has given us a good fix. They're coming right at us

We figure on a reciprocal course that will put us in a 45 degree attack run by nightfall, and blow to the surface full ahead both

Alarm!

A destroyer puts us down. We go into the cellar and rig for silent running. An occasional peek an hour later convinces me he has lost the scent. We blow again and move in. We get off a contact report but don't expect any help, as far as I know we are the only boat in this vicinity

Flooding tubes 1-4

The big fat guys are right in the middle. The Tommies are screening the convoy with neutral ships. But it looks like the nearest escort is the other side of the convoy

The fox is in the chicken coop!

And look, there's a big tanker on the outskirts. "Flank speed, master sight to bridge!"

We put two in her. She must have been full of aviation fuel. Went up with a hell of a bang

A smaller merchantman goes down too, and we cripple a larger cargo ship, I think

Alarm! We've upset them again

A bit tricky, it's shallow here. Took a bit of a pasting but wriggled out the back of the convoy ok. A lot of cursing going on in the torpedo room as they struggle to reload. "Quiet, Men!" the coxswain shouts before realising he should be whispering himself!

Come up again. The convoy is no longer in sight, but we've a fair idea where they've gone, and Joachim on the weapons desk reports all tubes reloaded.

"One last go, Number One?" I ask, and then we're thrashing through the storm eastwards again in hot pursuit

We get ahead and drop down

When we come up, we're slap bang in the middle of them. Too close for comfort really. The range is too short, searchlights are playing everywhere, and our firing solutions are rushed. A couple of duds, one wounding shot, and one that glanced off

Then it happened

"Brace! Brace!" screamed the Watch Officer

We watched in horror as a large cargo ship loomed up on our beam out of the rain at ramming speed

The collision nearly capsized us, and certainly made a mess of the boat. With a great crunch we were hit full on, but the momentum of the merchant actually pushed us off his bow

I didn't need to flood tanks, we were going down anyway

We had serious flooding amidships, and every available senior rushed to damage control.

It was touch and go for a while, but Otto managed to stabilise our depth, and eventually I got the report that all leaks had stopped

At dawn we could see the big cargo ship we had hit last night. It was burning, but wouldn't go down. We had one torpedo left, but we were in no condition to mix it with any destroyers hanging around

Time to creep home

"That was a patrol and a half" murmured the Chief and then promptly fell asleep where he sat

"That will be all Kapitan Leutnant"

With those words, the Great Man dismissed me

I snapped to the salute, hoping that the CinC hadn't noticed the oil and salt stains on my white cap cover, and turned about smartly, pausing only to glance at the operational map busily being updated by some (very pretty) young naval clerks

So few boats, such a big ocean

The debrief hadn't gone so badly. My fault that we'd popped up right in the thick of things on the second attack run of course, and got the boat rammed.

But we had torpedoed the Devonshire Rose, a 10,000 ton tanker. And that had brought a smile to old Doenitz's face. It goes down well in Berlin, I suppose

Our Quartermaster, Willi, was more pragmatic at the time:
"Less tankers means less fuel, means less bombers" without lowering the binoculars one inch as he scanned the horizon. The Tommies are starting to bomb Germany now, and he has a young daughter growing up in Hamburg

I hovered around the receptionist's desk to file my report, but Heidi wasn't there; just some boot-faced old woman who sees a lot of front-boat commanders come and go, and clearly doesn't expect to see them again

Not for the first time, I wondered whether it was better to have a girl at home or not.
A lot of the lads just go whoring, I know. But I've seen Otto and the coxswain looking over cherished and well-thumbed photographs on patrol. The look on their faces is sometimes unbearable. But they're home on leave with them now, while I'm still here in Kiel overseeing the repairs, and keeping the kids out of jail

U-46 is tied up, more welding sparks fly all around her, and dockhands swarm in and out

The First Lieutenant makes his report:

"Decking repaired, Sir. Bridge casing not as bad as we thought, but needs a couple of days. The 88 and the 20 both back in action. Port saddle tank rupture repairs in place, soon have it as good as new. Electrics fine. Pressure hull a little longer, the dock mateys reckon still about 30% damage. We have a spot confirmed with the harbour master booked for a check dive. New torpedoes greased and loaded and full provisions, fuel and water ordered. Fuel lines checked and functioning"

"Thank you Number One. How long?"

"Three weeks, Sir"

A phenomenal effort, but BdU want's us back out in one. Big ocean, too few boats.

"Is Kurt here? Wilhelm?" I name a couple of the other crew members who, drenched to the skin, got us out of our last jam

"Yes Sir, working below"

"Summon all hands on deck, please Number One"

With as little ceremony as possible I hand out the gongs and the uboat clasps. Kurt is to pack his things and go to damage control school. I want him qualified before we sail again, if there's time. After all, he's already showed promise by keeping us alive, and he can always make a living as a plumber after the war

We'll head for Konigstrasse tonight. First beers on the Captain!

When I slump on my bunk back at the barracks there is a thick brown naval envelope waiting for me from BdU.

Not sailing orders already?

I shake the contents loose

The Old Man doesn't miss a trick

An officially stamped slip from CinC Kriegsmarine saying:

"You might need this" signed *Onkel Karl"

A brand new white cap cover drops into my lap......

The coxswain reports all men reported back from shore leave. The men are all sporting a tin laughing swordfish badge on their regulation caps. All are smiling and ready to go again. Marvellous what a hot bath, a cold beer or two, and the company of a 'friendly' girl will do

The last was Kurt, running back breathlessly to the dock with a very heavy kit bag

"How was Damage Control School, Kurt?"

"Good, Sir. But they seem to be missing some specialist tools, that aren't issued to our Flotilla"

Despite his best efforts, his kit bag clanked suspiciously as he lowered it down

After our last prang, the Number One and the Harbour watch have performed miracles. Otto, the Chief, has been over everything twice with a fine toothed comb. Even he smiled once, and that's good enough for me

I opened our new patrol orders this morning. No transfer to France, but in a way we're going there all the same

BF12. That means the South Western Approaches to England, North of the Bay of Biscay

Only Otto knows. He likes to conserve fuel on the way out. And I like to have some left for some hard running when we get there

Now Ernst is gone, our new flak gunner is going to have to be on his toes. I've ordered extra drills on the 20mm as soon as we are in open sea. Otherwise he'll be learning on the job

Bernhardt from U-217 has just come back from the same area. He looked tired, red-eyed and was drinking schnapps too fast last night

"Look to the skies" was all he mumbled

It was Heidi who passed me my orders this morning, not that other battle-axe. She smiled at me. Does she do that to all the Commanders, or is there any hope?

A succession of orders and the diesels kick in. The band starts up, and we dutifully stand to attention. Hard to tell whether she's standing on the dock. I'm told that she doesn't like to see the boats go off, only when they return; but I thought I caught a glimpse of blonde hair right at the end of the quay...

Now I have other pre-occupations. U-46 and 51 men are going back in

I wish I had her picture, though.......

U-46 chugs endlessly across the North Sea

Nothing to see in any direction. I suppose that will soon change

We are lounging in the wardroom, half listening to routine conversation from the Control Room, when the coxswain appears with young Muller, the most junior of the ratings. He is grinning like a Cheshire cat, and the twinkle in his eye makes even Otto put his engineering manual down

This should be good

"Beg to report, Herr Kaleun, a serious breach of naval discipline!"

"What on earth can it be?" I keep my side of it up with something like a straight face

"This miserable specimen has gone 17 years without shaving. Only today I have detected this bum fluff on his chin." (Conveniently forgetting the two days of stubble on his or our own sea-reddened faces)

"Hmmm"

There are indeed a a few tiny wisps of hair breaking through

"Get the medic here, I'd better hear his judgement"

The poor boy is twisting his cap nervously in his hands

"I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean, .... it's just that...."

"Quiet boy!" joins in Otto with mock solemnity. "Let's have the Doc take a look at you. Where would we be if this sort of thing was allowed to go on!"

Oscar comes in and studies the offending chin, scratching his head owlishly.

"Definitely a case of failing to shave on active duty. It's the Barber's Chair for you, my lad!"

Muller is gleefully sat down on a crate of cabbages by two burly seamen who are in on it.

Oscar, who's brother is in the paratroopers and has loads of little souvenirs as a result, brandishes an old belgian bayonet, and makes a great show of sharpening it

"Cover his eyes!"

While the terrified Muller is blindfolded, and soap and water applied none too gently to his face, Oscar swaps the bayonet for his own razor (one of the few on board who bother to bring one - but he's the medic)

A couple of deft strokes. The razor disappears and the bayonet is back in his hand before the lads whip the blindfold off

"Here Lad, keep this. You're a proper seaman now, but no more shaving until we're home"

Muller's young face is now beaming with pride. We can hear the laughter and back-slapping in the fore-ends for quite a while

The First Lieutenant, not much older himself, rolls his eyes.

"We'd better find a ship soon, before we all go crazy....."

We're up near Hartlepool when we we first come to action stations

Everybody jumps to it again.

It's a another bloody trawler. The sea is too rough again to engage with the guns. I make the decision that there are bigger fish to fry, with our 14 precious torpedoes.

We actually wave to them as we sail past. In the darkness, I think they must have thought we were Brits...

It's been a couple of days since Muller's first shave. I happen to be on the bridge when he calls out

"Aircraft, two, fore and starboard bearing 20 , Sir!"

The Watch Officer is instinctivley reaching for the crash button before I stop him

"Have a another look, Christian. It's a minor miracle you rarely see. The Luftwaffe have come out to play"

Sure enough it's a couple of Condors, at high altitude.

This is enough excitement to bring the Chief out of the depths of his engine room. I hand him some spare binos, which he blinks into

"That's the life up there" he murmured

"I wish we could see what they can see" I replied

"Or at least hear from them once in a while. We could get a lot more done"

We've heard there's a big aerial punch-up going on over Southern England and London, which seems to be absorbing all Goering's attention, and not going too well by the sound of it.

But a few spare recce planes would make all the difference. A U-boat's low silhouette helps keep it alive, but it's hard to see anything from down here.

"Good eyes, Junge!" I clap Muller on the back. "Keep them peeled!"

The Condors are already out of sight as I go below.

Around the Northern tip of Scotland we get our first proper contact. Everyone shakes out, cursing, from their bunks or hammocks.

Even this is a coastal steamer

The sea is still running high but we manage to put a text-book shot into her, and turn away on standard

"She's still making way, Sir"

I look again to see the fire being fought, and although she is pitching and rolling badly, the little freighter is still making a gallant fight of staying on course.

"You know what we have to do, Number One"

We come around again and the job is finished. Nobody feels terribly heroic on the bridge. In this weather it's hard to imagine many survivors

"Do you think the British will give us a second chance if the time comes for us, Men?" I shout against the wind.

"When they're plastering us with everything they've got at 50m, should we just apologise and ask to go home?"

The younger hands studied thir sectors with a new intensity

Coming down the west coast of Ireland, we were bounced by a lone destroyer.

First we knew about it was the shell fire. One of which bashed in our port bow casing and sprung a valve.

The First Lieutenant was most righteous in his indignation, as we scampered below, to the trilling of the alarm bell

"I've just had that fixed!"

He fell down the ladder on top of the crew rushing forward to help push the boat down.

There was some very un-officer-like language.

If I'd sounded harsh with the second watch, this was a salutory lesson.

"Deeper, Chief. Give me 100 metres. Hard a-starboard to course 80, then bring her level at slow speed. I want accurate damage reports!"

I could already see Kurt going forward with his newly acquired bag of tricks

Everyone looked accusingly at the Second Watch Officer still in his wet oilskins and badly shaken

"Right out of a fog bank, Sir. On us before we knew it. Almost as if they knew we were there!"

We're looking at the depth gauge and willing the needle around.

There is the distant crump of detonations.

"Hah! Rubbish!" cries the Quartermaster. It's his job to check the depth charges off. But he's doing this more for the effect on the lads.

"Miles away!"

He knows that the destroyer's surface speed relative to our submerged little amble, gives him plenty of time for another run, if he can find us

All stations are reporting in. All good aft. It must be hard in the engine and battery rooms, they never have much of a clue as to what's going on

Kurt emerges from the fore-ends, soaking wet and still clutching a big spanner, with the CPO who is looking after him.

"Beg to report, Sir, we took a little dent but all leaks stopped" he grinned

Another succession of bangs, this time closer, rocks the boat, but nothing worse.

I turn to the Chief.

"Let's go quiet now, Otto. Can you you put us down a little deeper? Steer 170, that should show her our arse......"

The next day the destroyer has gone.

......"Surface stations!"


Now a new development

Radio Message from BdU

We are to curtail our patrol and put in to St Nazaire after all. All boats from 7th Flotilla to arrive as current operations allow. U-46 will be one of the first.

"You don't seem pleased with the news?" remarks Otto in the Wardroom

I shrug, and quietly think of Heidi back in Kiel

St Nazaire looks like any other port when we sail in to dock, but there is no curbing the excitement of the young Lordships, most of whom have never set foot in any other country but Germany.

There is a stern, but utterly wasted, lecture on the dangers of fraternisation from the Number One; the lads are itching to get into their best rig and go out on the town.

Soon they may just be itching

The Chief shakes his head. "Join the Navy and see the world!"

"Better let them make the most of it," I murmur, "I reckon we'll be out again soon enough. Someone tell Dieter not to lose his trousers this time, though"

I report to the makeshift headquarters with our very modest tonnage from the last patrol, and some slight repairs to be done.

Sure enough we're expected to turn the boat round and be back out in double quick time. Other boats from 7th Flotilla are due in soon.

"Keep your roughs in order, Leutnant" says a poker-faced base-rat of a captain, as he sourly sifts through the endless paperwork. "We'll be needing them for the invasion of England soon, once we've put paid to the RAF"

I look around hopefully in the chaotic beehive of our new home. The majority of Flotilla Command, and a certain blonde receptionist are not here.

Otto, me and some of the other officers not still stuck working on U-46, go out for a quiet beer.

"So, next round in Portsmouth, Sir!" my Number Two grins confidently

"Don't be too sure" I reply, although it's a nice vision.

As we stroll back through the main square, we see a pair of Kriegsmarine No1 Dress trousers dangling from the top of the statue in the middle of the fountain.

"Have Dieter report to me first thing in the morning" I sigh.

The grand music of the military band seemed to subside a little, when everyone saw the state U-46 was in when we came back into St Nazaire from our first patrol

Even our youngest blades, normally waving and cheering every time we dock, were too tired to do more than accept the garlands thrown around their necks as we tied on.

I sensed all they wanted to do was kiss dry land again, and I don't blame them.

I refused to be towed in, but really we should have been.

Even out of the open sea, U-46 was listing and responding very noisily and sulkily to every ministration that Otto could coax out of her engines. Our pressure hull hadn't let us down, thank God, but almost everything else was smashed, right down to Willi's favourite lucky blue cup.

Observation scope wrenched out of action, decks awash despite full pumping when we came back to the top, and getting the exhausted off-watch hands to bail. Two of the fore tubes out of action. All the perishable goods had to go over the side, they were the first to perish in the counter-attack, I'm afraid. All valves and seals made as good as possible, due to some desperate work from Kurt and the others. Some batteries cracked, but not too bad. The hint of chlorine and the water under foot, reminded me of a summer camp at a swimming pool in Baden....

Every piece of glass in every bulb and guage shattered. The Control Room PO fixed up the main ones to get us back.

Electrics severed or shorted in several places, but the stokers rallied round and patched that up.

Top side, it looked like we'd been chewed up and spat out. Which, in a sense, we had been.

Up top everything seemed to be either dented or missing, including the AA gun, or most of it. The Wintergarten rail was still hanging off. No longer a safe place to sit.

U-46 wouldn't be appearing in a propaganda film any time soon.

Deck compass skewed hopelessly out of true. Only time I saw Willi lose his temper with his sextant, as I asked him for a navigational report. He just flung his hand out to our starboard bow, into a great grey heaving void of sea, and yelled "France is somewhere over there, Sir!"

He got us home, though.

"Sorry, Sir" he said later "But let me show you something....."

He lead me down from the conning tower to inspect the exterior damage.

"Pretty knackered, I'd have to say" I shrugged

"No, look, please, Sir"

He was pointing at our Laughing Swordfish emblem painted on the tower.

"There isn't a scratch on her"

It was true. The paintwork was completely unscathed

"Same on the other side" he grinned,

"This is a lucky boat!"

On the way back, we helped stick Willi's blue cup back together. Ridiculous really with everything else that needed to be done, but everyone found an excuse to search for the one last missing piece.

It was the Doc, Oscar, who found it, inadvertantly dislodging it with his boot from the scuppers when the boat rolled out of a wave.
There were great childish yells of joy. From me included.
The beer bottles had all been broken, but Oscar himself produced a bottle of brandy from his cabinet, as Willi joyfully glued the last bit in place.

It hadn't been a bad patrol - three decent sized ships no longer going to Southampton or Bristol. But at the same time we'd been beaten off a major convoy three times, and taken a serious hammering into the bargain.

Plus, I'd bent the boat I'd been issued with. And I had to miss our usual reports in. The antennae were shot away in the first chase. Everyone seems amazed we're here at all.

I walked unsteadily down the gangplank, probably stinking to high heaven. Thinking only of a bath and a few hours grace before I have to face the music.

"Herr Kapitan Leutnant!"

I turn

"You are to report immediateley to BdU at Kerneval"

I stand there open-mouthed.

"I am to be your driver, Sir"

It's Heidi.

And I can see she has been crying......

I climb into the back of the staff car, suddenly conscious of my appearance.

My God, she must think I look like a wild animal

I take a quick peek at myself in the rear view mirror. Bloody hell, I do look like a wild animal! I run a hand self-consciously over my stubble, whilst the other rakes through my salt-stiffened hair.

German military discipline dictates that she may not speak to me, unless I say something first.

Say something! Anything, you dumkopf! The lowest, most coarse seaman on the boat would know what to say now; but no words will come.

Long minutes pass. Longer than any depth charge run.

Finally, lamely:

"It's good to be back"

"It's good to have you back, Sir. " She turned briefly and flashed me a smile that melted my heart

"I thought...that is... we thought, we had lost you a week ago"

Did she blush as she turned to concentrate on the road?

Before I can think of my next bit of dashing repartee, the wheels of the Mercedes are crunching to a halt on the gravel before a very imposing chateau. I show my papers to a stony-faced, steel-helmetted sentry who is noticeably wrinkling his nose at me.

"I'll take the Leutnant through" says Heidi, firmly

"I shouldn't say this, but aren't the SS so pompous, Sir?"

I can't answer. I have caught a whiff of her french perfume, and am lost

"This is the Admiral's office, Sir"

A sudden rush of impetuosity. The same madness that has brought U-46 so many kills, but also come close to getting us sunk

"You don't have to call me 'Sir' all the time. I wonder... that is....maybe...."

"Yes, Sir?..."

"Um..."

The massive oak doors swing open

"Come in Lad. I'm sure we have lots to talk about!"

'Uncle Karl' Doenitz's eyes study me intently as I am ushered into his room. The doors close on Heidi still stood there in the hall. A picture I'll never forget.

"Well, I'll say one thing for U-46," Doenitz said as he leaned forward from his leather-backed chair

"You may be keeping our dock hands on overtime, everytime you come in, but you seem to be putting theirs.." he gestured vaguely at a map of Britain, "..right out of business"

Now tell me the whole story....."


"It's in my report , Sir"

"Damn the tonnage reports, Boy; I can read! I like to see your ships go down, more than anyone else! I want to know what the Tommies are up to. The only other commanders who can tell me are at the bottom of the sea!

"You're the first to be in contact with a convoy since your flotilla moved to France, and pretty banged up too. How did they get to you? What escort strength do they have? What weapons are they using? Detection devices? Tactics? Tell me Leutnant!"

It occurred to me in that instant, that, while in command of U-46, I was defenceless and blind and unable to communicate when submerged. For all his power over the entire U-boat fleet, and for all his maps and authority, the Admiral was in a very similar position back here at Kerneval.

I began to give my personal report, and cast my mind back:

We were in Area BE. No aircraft interference out of the Bay of Biscay, but then we did submerge during daylight hours, particularly when the weather showed good flight conditions.

Our test dives proved ok, electric motors also working efficiently.

"No aircraft then?" Doenitz interrupted

"No, Sir"

We picked up a sonar contact and investigated, running hard south. Out of the patrol area.

It was a merchant, British, not even bothering to zig zag.

("Only a fool would venture out on his own, these days!" smiled my Number One, watching it intently")

(- "Yes, just like us." came Otto's typical reply)

She went down without a fuss. Two shots under the bridge and first funnel

She was the 'Belaron' of 8,000 tons. Carrying sugar from the West Indies, by all accounts.

That put the lads in a good mood. Our account was opened, and with two torpedoes gone, there was more room for them to live in.

We gave the survivors steering directions, to either Portugal, or Ireland. One of the look-outs shouted down "Don't sail to France, Englischer!" He got a clip round the ear for that. When the job is done, it's no joking matter.

However, two days later it was Kellermann's
The cake was just being proudly produced when we were called to action stations by Willi, on the watch.

We soon caught up with her. Another lone merchant, chancing her arm, who was about to be caught out on the home run.

"Maybe this one's carrying tea." said my my irrepressible Number Two. "At this rate we'll soon have the British Empire on it's knees!"

We began our attack run, and acquired our firing solution.

I called Kellermann forward.

"Press that button there, and shout 'Torpedoe Eins, Los!'"

We got Kellermann up on the bridge,and handed him some binoculars, as the stop watch ticked round.

Right on cue, Willi points him in the right direction, and says:

"Happy Birthday, Rudi!"

That ship wasn't carrying any tea, that's for sure. We didn't plan it that way but she went up in a massive ball of flame, with tracer and explosions soaring out in every direction.

An ammunition ship, reckon about 7 or 8,000 tons

"Now look what you've done, Kellermann. What a mess! How are you going to blow out the candles on that little lot!"

The time for joking was pretty much over, soon after.

Still south east of our patrol area, we came across a destroyer. Couldn't tell what type at that range but we were still a good distance off, and in that sea he'd be more likely to pick us up submerged than surfaced.

I turned the boat about and ran for it at full revs.

"Did he come for you?" asked Doenitz.

"Yes Sir, in a bee line! And gaining"

"How?"

"I don't know, Sir, I think he might have been a picket ship for the convoy we later found, and we'd got in the way of the dog and his sheep. He may have just been returning to station. Anyway he had us"

I remember the bridge watch looking at me now, casting anxious glances at the destroyer coming closer. But there were rain squalls about, and I had wanted to hide in one whilst still having the option of surface speed.

"Battle stations. Prepare for emergency dive " I gave the Control Room.

"Apart from the Second Leutnant, bridge hands below"

Within minutes, the game was up.

SPLASH! a salvo of shells landed incredibly close to the boat for a first shot.

Splinters raked our stern.

I'd overplayed my hand

ALARM!!

The 2nd Officer, who hadn't flinched up to that point, needed no further bidding. He was rattling down the ladder as I took one last visual fix of the destroyer. Just in time to see another flash from a forward turret. Otto already had the boat dipping down, and I didn't want to be left behind.

"30 starboard, keep going down!"

"Level at 50m, slow speed. Everybody else, shut up!"

It's not long before we hear those screws churning ever louder

"Stand by for flank speed, right full rudder, on my command!"

"Depth charges in the water!" Hans whispers from the sonar cabin.

"Now Otto!"

True to form, the destroyer lays it's charges over our last known position. There are a couple of booms. Also true to form, Willi the Quartermaster winks at anyone who will catch his eye.

"Two wasted!" he says, but they seem to be watching me.

"Amidships"

Now, having gone hard-a-starboard, and if I've guessed him right, my friend is sailing one way and we're creeping off in the opposite direction.

Of course, if the skipper up there has gone to starboard for his next run as well, and they must be pretty keen the way they came at us, then we'll end up back under his keel, with all that entails.

Actually the person everyone listens to is Hans. His sonar phones are the only sensory input they have, and it's nature, I suppose, to concentrate on who's trying to kill you, rather than who's trying to keep you alive.

And it's Hans who is the hero, as it turns out.

"Fast screws moving away. Fading"

Well, at least they know better than to clap and cheer just yet.

I get Otto to drop us another 20 metres and look at the charts. The Old Hares can smell a convoy

We weren't completely unscathed, when we surfaced as it turned out. The radio antenna is missing. We can't talk to BdU or any other boats. Operationally, we can't call in, either to direct any boats to a convoy, or to yell for help.

More importantly for the married men on the boat, U-46 will be presumed lost at sea if we don't meet our reporting schedules.

The mood is glum, until the First Officer reports excitedly from the bridge

"Smoke on the horizon , Sir!"

We scramble up. Sure enough, it's a convoy. But it's broad daylight and we are well astern.

..."So would did you do next, Leutnant?" asked Doenitz....


... "You might have shrugged him off, but how did he know your position so well?"

Doenitz was pacing up and down the office now

'What have they got, that we can do something about?'

'Continue your report Leutnant'...

"...Fast running to the south east and then a hook back north on the convoy's expected route, Sir. Hoping to appear back in it's path.."

'Very good, Leutnant.."

"Can you now explain why the perfectly good boat you have been entrusted with is now in pieces, and not seaworthy!?"

I swallowed hard.

"We were bumped again, Herr GrossAdmiral."

My mind cast back:

We'd set an interception course. I didn't want to lose contact, so ordered Willi to keep tight to the convoy. It wouldn't be the first time a boat had lost the enemy in heavy seas.

It was a risk I thought worth taking, to hit them before they get into better patrolled waters.

Soon, Christian has slammed the button and kicked his bridge watch down the hatch

Alarm!

and we're back in the game.

"Another picket ship, was it?" probes Doenitz......

"No Sir, unless they can detect us on the surface, I must have just not given them a wide enough berth"

"Go on" he prompts..........

- It was a corvette. Flower class, so Christian breathlessy told me.

Dumped it's first two barrels over our wake

"Hold on tight lads, this is going to be close!"

CRASH! BANG!!

U-46 is rocked one way and then the other.. The lights go out temporarily, and then restored. It reminds me to order all non-essential lighting turned off.

The coxswain has read my mind and is passing down the boat, telling the boys to keep the noise down. Whispered, to be fair, but not in naval academy language.

"Hard to 276, deeper to 100 metres, cut to slow speed". I'm trying to skip off to the West and see if they lose interest

I catch young Kurt heading aft. A huge wrench poised in his hands like a stone age weapon.

"Small problems, we're going to have to live with quietly. They can hear us. If anyone so much as sneezes on this boat now, someone upstairs in the Royal Navy will say 'God bless you'. And then give us the Mother and Father of all remedies

KABOOM! KABOOM! KABOOM! KABOOM!

The boat pitches violently again. The men are thrown all over the place.

My little display of sang froid is slightly ruined by the jet of water that is streaming down the back of my head

"Ok, Kurt you can start with that valve just behind me."

Crump, Bang, Crump, BASH!

That last one was right on the button. Damage reports are coming in from all stations. He must still be sitting right on top of us

More depth charges rain down

"It's going to be today, isn't it?"

"No, Otto," I reply. "Always tomorrow"

Hans pokes his head round again.

"Fast screws, new bearing 341.

A second escort is joining the hunt.

Otto shakes his head, and put's us deeper....


"How did they play it?" asks Doenitz

"They took it in turns, Sir. One would make his attack, and then stand off and search for us on asdic..

(I remembered the bone-chilling sound of the asdic, as it pinged out and made that rattling noise against our hull. The startled, alert and plain just scared faces of the Control Room Crew)

"Then the other one would go in on the bearing given to him by the other, I guess. It was pretty relentless"

(In U-46, I ordered deeper and a fast change of course as the screws above thrashed louder)

Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang.

We were tossed around like dolls. One of the dive plane controllers had a deep gash on his forehead. He thought the blood was seawater and wiped away impatiently, all eyes on his wheel and guages.

Engine room taking water!"

"After Quarters taking water!"

Kurt and the boys from damage control hurried aft.

I twisted and squirmed, spurted ahead, slowed down, with each attack going slightly deeper. Always tring to get far enough away from our tormentors, or at least. find a blind spot between them. All to the crash of depth charges that were sometimes off the mark, but other times blew fuses and sprung leaks. Damage Control was running fore and aft for each new emergency. We were taking a battering. All the time looking for a way out

Willi reports that we have only 10 metres left under keel. "Well the last thing we want is to scratch the keel!" I tell him. But of course we couldn't afford to hit bottom now
"Bring her up 10, please, Chief, and pump out when the next salvo comes."

It's been over 4 hours now. Willi is serene as ever, at his chalkboard. He has almost run out of room to log the depth charges.

"They're nearly out of fireworks, boys! This is a lucky boat. They can't sink us!"

Finally Hans gives me the report I am waiting for. The destoyer has slowed, probably to reload or take another fix. The Corvette hasn't come round in time.

There's a gap! "Let's risk it, Otto! Steer 162, open her up to quarter speed! We're going to slip out to the south east instead!"

We wait with baited breath before Hans tells us there is no pursuit.

There was a heated debate in the wardroom afterwards.

"We can't go in again, Sir, we've taken about 40% damage to the hull."

"Our job is to sink ships, Otto. While we're afloat and still have 11 torpedoes and the engines are working, that's what we'll do! Willi, set me a course to outrun the convoy by tonight."

The Chief stared at me for a long time..

"Yes, Sir, of course. I'll re-check the diesels and batteries. He disappearred aft, and I didn't see him for hours.

In a sense, I was right. We found a large cargo ship straggling behind the convoy, the next night, probably engine failure, which is fatal. And we sank her

But we were put down several times more, and depth charged twice again when trying to regain the convoy. Took more damage too,

I've been pushing the boat and the crew too hard.

Ruckmarsch!

'So you headed back to base?' mused Doenitz....

"Yes Sir"

'With nine torpedoes still in your belly?'

"Yes Sir"

'Enough fuel for two more weeks at sea?'

"Yes Sir"

'I should have you and all of your crew shot for cowardice!'

"Yes, Sir"

'Why don't I, then!"

"Because not a man on the U-46 is a coward, Sir. U-46 took a pasting, Sir. It's a miracle we kept her up. We were out of radio communications for all of the battle, and she was slowly leaking.
She couldn't respond below, and we daren't risk her below 60 metres. We tried two more times with a badly damaged boat that can't manoevre, and with a flick of an English finger would send us straight to the bottom!"

Are we already throwing tubs like that at the enemy!"

Jesus, I've really done it now........I'm shot for sure.

Doenitz just stares at me.

After an eternity..........


"You'll do, young man"


Doenitz reaches for a crystal decanter.

''You'll join me, Leutnant?'

"So what you are saying, is that one of the escorts fixes you with asdic.."

Yes, Sir

"While the other runs in and peppers you, is that it?'

Yes, Sir

"And then they swap over?"

Yes Sir

"Damned methodical - But you cut away?"

The system isn't perfect, Sir. Either their drills slipped, or there was a technological error, or one of the ships lost us for a second and we took our chance to run

"U-46 is looking a bit sorry for herself?"

It took four hours, Sir. One more escort joining in, and it would probably have been all up for us.

"How did the first destroyer find you?"

(If it's possible, Doenitz's eyes narrowed even more)

I think the English have radar, Sir. It was too much of a coincidence for them to jump us like that. They can't be reading our codes. Either that or they were very, very lucky..
"..lucky like a swordfish, you mean..?" Doenitz smiled.

"You've hardly touched your cognac, Leutnant"

Doenitz freshens my glass. Then watches me with a steely gaze as I gulp some down.

"You must understand that I have to ask these questions. Three big cargo ships are good, and you seemed to have followed the right agressive spirit. Perhaps give the escorts a little more leeway next time, hein?"

Yes Sir

"Look at the map."

We look at the 'Bird Table'. A huge horizontal map of the Atlantic.

There are a smattering of little u-boat models, each with a pennant bearing their number. It still seems pitifully few.

The BE sector is empty. That's where we were.

"When a boat doesn't report in, it is presumed lost, and it's pennant removed by one of the girls." Doenitz continued.

"One of my staff refused to remove your pennant even though you were a week overdue"

"I had to reprimand her of course, but It seems she had more faith in you than I could afford. We normally throw them away"

He opened a desk drawer, and plonked a pennant down with a bang on the port of St Nazaire.

It said U-46. And it looked to my startled eyes as if it had lipstick smudges on it.

"How many patrols have you done Leutnant? How many ships have you sunk? How many enemy have you killed? How many life or death decisions with your own crew have you made?

I was still staring at the lipstick on the pennant.

"I... I don't recall,Sir"

The Admiral topped me up with his finest French brandy.

Who do you think volunteered to drive you back, once that minesweeper had escorted you back in, and told us you were alive?

"Out of all those decisions, I couldn't think of an easier one to make, or a question to ask, than the one that is waiting for you outside those doors."

As the Admiral's office shut behind me, Heidi instantly looked up from the paperwork on her desk smiling.

And I shuffled nervously towards her....


I approached her desk, desperately rehearsing every line

Before I was even half way there, a blond , strikingly handsome man, still in his leather flying jacket beat me to it. His Luftwaffe uniform was immaculately pressed underneath.

"Shall we go, Heidi? We have the first dance, don't you remember, I made you promise two days ago?"

"Yes Gustav," She cast an anxious glance at the stinking, dishevelled tramp that was me.

"I must attend to the Kapitan-Leutnant, first though"

The pilot turned to face me.

"Oh, one of your sea bed-crawlers." He sneered. "And where have you been hiding when the real war has been going on, Leutnant?"

He stroked the Iron Cross at his throat. I had the sudden urge to tighten it for him. Mine, with the clasp, was still in the baggage from Kiel.

'Sinking English ships, strangling their war effort, and without much help from you fly boys!"

"And if you mean by a real war, killing civillians and bombing them out of their homes...."

"...I'm a fighter pilot. An Ace. How many planes have you shot down?"

"One...."

It wasn't much of a retort. But I was immediately thinkng of Ernst.
He'd stood there and manned the gun when we were caught out on the surface. Me and Christian desperately and clumsily manhandling him down the hatch afterwards, blood spurting everywhere. And then the sad, slight shake of Oscar's head from the Med Bay...

"Pah! That's nothing!" Gustav exclaimed

My fists clenched, and I took a step forward.

"Sirs! Please stop! Remember where you are!"

Heidi's cry stopped me in my tracks

"Come Heidi. That dance you promised me"

Gustav took her by the hand and led her out of the Chateau.

She turned her head at the door and gave me a pleading look.

And then I was alone.

I filed my logs and reports with another young clerk.

"Get me the duty driver, corporal"

"Where to, Sir?"

"Home"

"Sorry, Sir, where's that?"

"St Nazaire. U-46 quarters. That's home."

"Why so grumpy?"

Otto throws himself down by my side in the Chat Noir with two bottles of beer and some iced champagne

"You're a fine one to talk, Chief"

The bars in St Nazaire are doing a roaring trade; some of the other 7th Flotilla boats have come in, and everyone is having a fine old time. I can't seem to join in somehow.

Otto looked at me quizzically

"It's Heidi, isn't it?"

'What do you mean? Who's Heidi?'

"Do you think there's a single secret left in the U-boat service , Sir?"

I take a pull at my beer

'Oh you mean that Heidi, Otto' and force a smile

"Yes that Heidi. We're not all daft, dumb and blind you know!"

'Well you can forget the rumours, Otto. She's seeing some Fancy Dan of a Messerschmitt pilot, and no room for the likes of riff-raff like me.'

'It's not like you to give up so easily Boss, and here's something that might cheer you up....

He pulled a despatch envelope from his pocket...

"What? New patrol orders so soon, U-46 is nowhere near ready...!"

'It was sent to the address of the boat. I opened it in your absence, while you were ashore, sulking. Take a look, Sir

I shook it out, still in a temper.

It was a photograph of Heidi

Not in uniform, it was a red summer dress and she was posed by a lake. Obviously taken and kept from not long before the war. She looked beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

On the back was written

'Schnell nach Heimat kommen, mein Liebe'

Below it, at first I thought it was a heart with an arrow though it.

But it had been written with something of a shaking hand in lipstick. a lipstick I recognised from our pennant back at BdU.

It was a swordfish.

And it was smiling at me.


I gaze at Heidi's photo for a long time.

I glance up. Eyes narrowed.

'This wouldn't be the lads' odd idea of some kind of joke, would it, Chief ?'

"No sir" he beamed..

My heart was soaring. She cares!

Heidi cares....

I reached for my beer bottle, but it was long empty. I hadn't remembered drinking it

'So why the happy mood, Chief...?'

'..and why the champagne, my friend?'

"I finally got a line through to Frankfurt today, Sir. "

'And...?'

"She thought the U-46 was lost, Sir. Hell of a job convincing Gertie it was really me..."

Otto's eyes misted over. He was staring , not at the gaudy walls of the Chat Noir, but right through them. All the way back to Germany..

'And...?'

Otto popped the cork and champagne foamed all over the table.

"..And I'm to be a father, Sir!"

'You salty old sea dog, you!' I exclaimed

The champagne was soon gone, and I beckoned another bottle over, whilst Otto described the peace-time plans for his child.

After the third bottle, I remembered myself.

'But Otto, why are you still here? I'll sign a leave chit and...'

"No, Sir. We have to turn the boat round, and finish the job. Then maybe I can go home again. The lads are working hard on her, but you know I have to give her the once-over. Noone else will do."

'Sounds like we both have a reason for coming back from the next one, Otto......'

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. Me and Otto had a lot of champagne.

U-213 and U-122 had made it back to the flotilla over-night.

Max and Freddy. The inseperable twins.

They and their very happy crews joined the party.

They weren't twins of course, but they always seemed to be tasked together; and always, from whatever part of the sea they were sent to, always seemed to make it home at the same time.

Max had put down a large tanker, but then had been shrugged off a convoy of the Northern Approaches in no uncertain manner.

Freddy had sunk a couple of medium-size merchants and had to turn away with engine problems.

'Much damage on the U-213, Max?'

"A little. But then I saw your boat when we docked in the next bunker"

He looked at me with that quizzical eye that he had in naval cadet school.

Freddy joins in, still unconsciously wiping the oil that doesn't exist from his hands.

"Yeah, the U-46 looks like it could do with a little work on it"

I turn at him.

'You know our paintwork , Herr Kaleun Friedrich! Do you Freddie?'

"Do you see any blemish on the Laughing Swordwfish, gentlemen?"

"No destroyer or plane has put a mark on our Swordfish, and the crew are very proud of that"

That's how we stay up.

Because the men believe.....

"...and what do you believe in, my friend?"

Max smiled.

'The crew believe in the Swordfish. I believe in the crew'

"So you believe in the Swordfish too!" cried Freddy

"And the workings of her!" My Chief suddenly interjected

'Yes, Otto. The Boat, the crew, and the Swordfish. But it doesn't hurt to have a bit of luck'

"Looking at the condition of U-46," Freddy observed, you haven't had much of that!"

'The boat's back, and I'm here drinking with you rascals. What more luck do you need?', I smiled

"You to get the next round, Kamerad!"' shouted Max...

The boozy conversation turned to superstitions and strange talismans.

Maximillian got us started

His U-213 famously sported a big pink oinking pig on his conning tower

"A few patrols ago, a couple of the lads tried to smuggle a piglet on board, in a sack, as a mascot."

'What did you do?'

"What could I do? The U-213 isn't a farmyard. We couldn't eat him, there'd have been a mutiny. So every time we submerged when the chips were down, Winston (we called hem Winston) had to sit with our medic. He had a hypodermic and a scalpel and knew what to do if Winston started making a noise....

"It couldn't have been much fun for a pig, but bless him, he never let out a single squeal. Even when the depth charges came.

"Tell him the best bit!" urged Freddy

"Oh Yeah!" grinned Max.

"We came across a lone freighter, but couldn't identify it. It was a Swedish neutral as it turned out. I can't remember whose idea it was, I was looking at their commander up close through the binos, and he was doing the same to me."

We got Winston up on the bridge and gave him my white cap to wear. We hoisted him up and held the binoculars to his face, while we all ducked down, while I kept an eye from the back of the Wintergarten.

That skipper's face was a picture! They must think we really are all Nazi swine now!

'Brilliant, Max'

"Yeah, Winston shat all down the watch officer's waterproofs as a result. That was the icing on the cake!"

'What happened to Winston' I enquired

"Well we tried to get him a Naval service number, but BdU have no sense of humour. Apart from that blonde girl at reception. ..Heidi..do you know her? Max asked slyly.

'Doesn't ring a bell' I replied, blushing furiously

"Well anyway, Winston is reposing on my Uncle's farm in Westphalia. He's got my iron cross round his neck, and some of the boys from U-213 regularly go to visit him when we put in.

"God, I hope nothing happens to that pig."

Max took a swig of his champagne, and fell silent.

He wasn't talking about a pig anymore...

Freddy took a long swig, and smacked his lips with relish.

"Sailors are a superstitious lot, aren't they?"

"You know that the U-122 has the Ace of Spades for an emblem, right?"

We nodded, leaning forward.

"And you know Kurt, my weapons officer?"

"Yes," I replied

"A good man" said Max

"Yes, well he's been getting edgy lately. His wife is expecting, you know?"

Otto leaned forward too with renewed interest.

"Well when we've been forced down, below torpedo depth, and the Tommies are closing in, there's not a lot he can do. He would take a pack of cards into the Wardroom and cut them again and again"

"Why?" asked Otto.

"He reckoned if he could draw the Ace of Spades, we'd come through it ok"

"Well we took a bit of stick from that destroyer to begin with, but we started to draw clear. I think maybe their asdic wasn't working efficiently. And we'd got behind him.

"Just as we're putting a bit of water between us and the destroyer, Kurt bursts back into the Control Room clutching the Ace.
'It's ok!' he says, 'I found it! They can't touch us now!' Crazy!"

"Anyway, Kurt was convinced that it was his lucky Ace of Spades that had saved the day. A lot of the Control Room hands believed him. And so a myth was borne.

"Well, it was good for morale. 'Whatever floats your boat' as the Amis would say!"

Friedrich smiled, and took another long pull before continuing

"Well, if I was to allow the ritual to go on, I wanted a better chance. When we were back in, and Kurt was busy supervising the reloading, I sent the coxswain off to the casino. He came back with 52 identical packs of cards.

"Between us, we sifted out every Ace of Spades, made a whole pack of them, and substituted them for Kurt's pack in his locker.

'And he hasn't twigged, yet?' I asked, intrigued

"No, he thinks he has mystical powers! Everytime he cuts an Ace out of the pack, and everytime we come home safe!"

"Sooner or later, we'll be rumbled, and then hopefully Kurt will realise that we have to make our own luck.

"It's funny, though."

Freddy drained his glass.

"It started off as a joke, but now I'm starting to believe in it myself.."

I had the usual motley assortment one by one to attention for Captain's Orders each morning.

The first three sent ashore to the doctor in shame. Pubic lice. The deck hands with the laborious task of shipping the new torpedoes in, jeerered and scratched their groins in mock sympathy

A tearfull young lad who missed his Mother, and was worried that the crops might fail, without him back on the farm.

The last two for fighting. With each other. One a stoker, and the other on second watch. Ridiculous tribal differences between the seamen and the engineers.

"Lehmann, you will chip the rust off the deck gun, clean it and oil it to launching ceremony standard. Franz, you will do the same on the flak gun

"The first to finish will train his gun on the other, and settle it that way"

"But Sir, if you're on the bridge, and even if we could rotate that far, you'd be in the way, stopping us from shooting each other."

"Precisely, Lehman. Now the pair of you, get those guns cleaned"

At last! The U-46 is cleared for sea.

A short run to BF17 again. That should give us plenty of diesel to use on station as it is only off the south western approaches to the Irish Sea and the Bristol Channel.

The boat is now absolutely seaworthy, and the crew are ready to go, if a little chubbier and more hungover than last time. We were a long time in port getting over the last one.

Freddy and Max, Peter and Stephan in his new Type Nine are forming some sort of screen outside the western end of the Englisch Channel. They were escorted out yesterday with a destroyer air cover. Wolf Packs, we're calling it. Our job is to mop up behind, take any opportunity targets, and reinforce the line if one of my kameraden chance upon a warship trying to steal up from Gibraltar. We also have to relay or produce the neccesary weather reports for BdU. We're still keen to get good Met reports for a Channel crossing.

It sounds like a good plan. Why do I feel both exhiliarated and listless, eager to go, but still feel like I'm sitting on the substitute's bench at the same time?

Damn, I am sitting on the bench! I'm still moping on my bunk when Christian, the First Officer pokes his head beaming through the curtain.

"It's customary for the Captain to take the salute out of port, Sir!"
One look at my face and the grin disappeared, as did he.

His face is replaced moments later by my faithful friend, Otto.
"Why so glum, Sir?
She is up there, you know."

I beat Otto to the bridge ladder. I could hear him laughing behind me.

Keeping a straight face, the 2nd Watch Officer was already handing me my favourite Zeiss binoculars and pointing me towards the edge of the dock.

There was Heidi. Heidi who never saw the boats out, in case they never came back. There she was this time. waving frantically as she saw the white cap being plonked on my forgetfull head by Otto.
Heidi who in that moment, I knew I would swim back across the Atlantic for, if I only knew she would have me...

At that moment in my young life I never felt happier, prouder and more alive. It snapped me out of my reverie.

"Harbour watch below! Patrol Stations for First Watch! Christian, get those charts out again.
Let's sink some ships!"

"Ok, that's it. Good shooting, Joachim."

I step back from the voice tube to the Control Room. A good 6 or 7,000 tons, I thought, as I watched the merchant's back break, and it's bow half begin to accelerate downwards.

"Greedy skipper" said Willi.
"Had to make his run or pay late delivery penalties. Couldn't be slowed down to 4 knots in some of the convoys. Tchah! Don't they know there's a war on?"

"We killed some more people tonight, Willi", Otto rebuked gently.

Willi spat again.

"Did you see what was strapped on deck, Otto? Sherman tanks. Brand new, American-built tanks. They're not even supposed to be in the war, and yet they're supplying British ships with military hardware to kill us.
It'd take a month of Sundays for my brother's regiment to see off what we've just done in one torpedo"

"Enough Willi. We've done our job, let's leave it at that."
I send him and his watch below, it was a long stalk anyway and about time they were relieved.

Willi and his tired men troop down the ladder, there's hot coffee laid on for them, as the first watch take over again, some still wearing the infra-red goggles to protect their night vision.

Otto and I stay up. We squat down in the Wintergarten. Backs against the new railing and sea boots braced against the flak gun for the gently rolling sea.

I have already ordered a reciprocal course from the last known position of that C2-classified merchant.

"Let's have good eyes again, First Watch" I order.
"Don't want to be caught red-handed at the scene of the crime, do we?"

A torpedo rating allowed up for a smoke, chuckles as he crouches at the rear end of the bridge opening. His cigarette cupped in his hand. He sizzled it out on the wet bridge plating, before flicking it overboard. Then with one look aft, made himself scarce below.

"Willi's right you know, Otto"
"Yes"
"With every ship we sink we really are defending our country"
"Yes"
"You know that they would sink us without mercy"
"Yes"
"They've tried often enough"
"Christ, yes"
"So we have to see it through"
"Yes, Sir"

There was a long silence. The night sky had cleared, and the stars were out. Shining peacefully.

"Sir?"
"Yes?"
"The reason we have to see this through..."
"Yes?"
"Is for men to return to their families. And children."
"Yes"
"And also other loved ones"
"Yes, Otto...."

The Second Officer was first down the bridge ladder, swearing like a docker.

I was next, followed by the rest of the lookouts clattering disconsolately down.

My cap flew angrily across the control room, bouncing sharply off the head of one of the blameless diving plane hands and landing on the top of a sack of dried apricots, by the chart table.

"That was terrible! Absolutely f*****g abysmal!" I shouted.

A sheet of cold Atlantic seawater followed the last man down, dowsing my bare head, and further improving my furious temper.

I gave a quick shallow dive order and a return to our monotonous course. The two plane hands spun their wheels and looked intently to their front, not daring to look round. A number of the crew who always gather in the Control Room during an attack were already backing out sheepishly through the hatches, in case some of tonight's fiasco attached to them somehow.

Hans poked his head round from the sonar cabin. I knew what he was going to say: something like "Slow screws bearing East, drawing away"

He took one look at my face and ducked back again, silently.

"I want all tubes reloaded now. Double check the warheads, percussion pistols and arming devices. ..Not you Joachim.."

I barked at the Weapons Officer,

"..Shake the coxswain out of his bunk, he can supervise it.

"All the officers in the Wardroom , right now!"

It was a tight squeeze. All the officers were bunched up and staring down intently at their own little patch of table.

"Well that was a bloody shambles!" I yelled.

"Five torpedoes gone, and for what?"

"We've just been given the run around, the cream of the Kriegsmarine, by a little coastal steamer. It's now laughing at us all the way back to England."

"What do you have to say Joachim?"

Joachim clenched his jaw and sighed. His exhausted stare never once leaving the table.

"At least one, maybe two of those eels porpoised , Sir. When they jump out of the sea in those waves, it can throw off the arming device. Judging by the wake and the firing data. They hit ok, just failed to detonate. One just sank after 200 metres" he shrugged.

"The others... "

He seemed to struggle to find the diplomatic words

"...perhaps didn't run square on to the target, Sir"

I felt my anger and frustration subside. I knew what he meant. It was my responsibility to obtain and check the optimum firing data before having it relayed downstairs. It was quite likely that the other two, if they would have exploded at all, had simply glanced off obliquely, as the freighter zigged and zagged desperately with a surprising amount of manouevrability.

I'd been too impatient as the night wore on, compounding other failures with those of my own.

"Yes well, she did lead us a merry dance didn't she? Probably have a few war stories to tell when they get back. Slippery little devils...

"But we have to be sinking these tiddlers as a matter of course. Show them whose Boss, and make every Tommy think twice about leaving port."

A few sad nods around the table

"But not tonight, though, eh?"

"Let's sleep on it, Menschen."

"It's not as though those torpedoes are coming out of our pay packets after all!"

I forced a smile and got a few grimaces back in return.

Otto, who had manned the Control Room during my outburst, was standing in the wardroom opening, as the officers trooped wearily out. Joachim, I noticed, making straight for the fore torpedo room.

"You haven't got anything to prove, Sir. You know that. We'll bag some more in the next couple of weeks, but it's not white pennants she's looking for, it's your white cap back at St Nazaire."

"0h yes, my cap", I murmured, feeling foolish.

"On your bunk, where you should be. See you in the morning, Sir, we'll still have a patrol to do."

Viktor had his feet up, and was avidly devouring his latest American detective pulp thriller, in the radio room when I poked my head in.

They really were pulp, with the damp and mildew on board, and the times they changed hands, our literary collection was always dog-eared, but still worth the 20 pfennings a day, that I'm led to believe, but couldn't possibly condone, that our radio hand charged as the U-46's Chief Librarian.

Word might have it that he had been known to tear out the last page or two of a whodunnit, and charge an extra mark for them.

"Zu befehl, Herr Kaleun!"

Viktor tried to snap to attention in the confined space and only added to his confusion.

"Take it easy, Viktor" I smiled.

"What is the book of the month?

He offered me the limp paperback.

It's appeal was obvious to the Lordships in the fore ends.

As far as I could tell, amid the oil stains, grime and thumbprints, the front cover depicted a voluptous redhead on a bed, with a heaving bosom, a low-cut green silk evening gown slit to her stockinged thigh, recoiling in fright from an unseen man but clearly wearing a trenchcoat, a fedora hat and wielding a large pistol from the shadow thrown from the doorway.

"And they say that we Germans don't appreciate culture, eh, Viktor!"

"Well they appreciate the front cover, Sir"

"And so they should Viktor"

Viktor was a bit of a loner, and some say had a shady past. Volunteered for U-boat service to get out of prison, so they say. Learnt his morse code (and he was an infallible 20 words-a-minute man) just from tapping on the bars of his cell.

But you can't believe everything you hear in the Kriegsmarine.

I know it would have been passed to me, but I can't help asking anyway.

"Any new word from Wolfpack Greif?"

"Not since my last report, Herr Kaleun"

That last summary had Max come in with a 5,000 tonner confirmed; Freddie bitching about aircraft every other day. Stefan with teething troubles in his new Type IX, but last heard still on station. The new lad hadn't come in on time. There could be a lot of reasons for that, but I had already got Willi to plot a contingency on the charts for filling that northern picket.

And now perhaps the real reason for my visit to the funkraum.

"Anything from BdU, Viktor?"

It wasn't unknown for them to send coded personal messages from time to time. The birth of Prien's daughter being one from Uncle Karl that was still widely celebrated in the service. - 'A u-boat has been launched without any torpedo'

"Anything at all?"

"Nothing, Sir" Viktor shrugged apologetically.

"Very well"

I cast my eyes over the small cabin. Next to the Enigma machine was a canvas satchel. The lumps in it, I knew were lead weights.
The code books were placed neatly by the satchel, and there was a 3 kg engineers hammer alongside the keyboard.

Our eyes met.

It was Viktor's job to see to it that none of his stuff fell in to enemy hands, at the peril of being last up the ladder, and then to dump what he couldn't destroy, over the side.

He was only being professional, but it struck a pessimistic cord with me.

"Good Viktor.." I said "..Good"

"But don't let the lads see that gear"

"We're never going to need it you know.."

"No, Sir"

I started through the hatch to the fore torpedo compartment for inspection, but turned at the bulkhead.

"Oh, and Viktor..."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Don't tell me what happens with the redhead, ok? I want to read it for myself. But I can tell you how the War will end...."

"Yes Sir...!?"

"It's a happy ending, but I can only reveal it when whe're back in St Nazaire, so keep 10 francs handy, when we're back safe again. That's the Captain's going rate these days!"

It was Viktor's job to see to it that none of his stuff fell in to enemy hands, at the peril of being last up the ladder, and then to dump what he couldn't destroy, over the side.

He was only being professional, but it struck a pessimistic cord with me.

"Good Viktor.." I said "..Good"

"But don't let the lads see that gear"

"We're never going to need it you know.."

"No, Sir"

I started through the hatch to the fore torpedo compartment for inspection, but turned at the bulkhead.

"Oh, and Viktor..."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Don't tell me what happens with the redhead, ok? I want to read it for myself. But I can tell you how the War will end...."

"Yes Sir...!?"

"It's a happy ending, but I can only reveal it when we’re back in St Nazaire, so keep 10 francs handy, when we're back safe again. That's the Captain's going rate these days!"

I duck through from Viktor's lonely radio vigil into the bow torpedo compartment. Essentially the barracks of the boat for most of the hands who 'hot-bed' it here.

"Kapitan on the Deck!"

Joachim and the petty officers snap to attention. The Lordships do the best they can after their own way. (ie they condescend to put down their skat cards, or lift themselves up from their torpor) All the men, including the seniors are stripped to the waist, or wearing oily, begrimed, once-white vests. Even in that heat, the seniors are still wearing their caps of rank, or quickly don them.

"At ease, Menschen"

All of them, I know, are exhausted. They have just finished overhauling for the third time every torpedo that needs to be winched in and out of its tube. There are tools, forgotten scraps of meals and hardly touched cups of coffee everywhere.

Since that last debacle, the Lordships' pride has been stung.

"My report, Sir!"



Joachim reels off the laborious efforts to inspect every eel. dismantle, clean and re-calibrate every detonating pistol, arming and magnetic device, every steam tube or electric system on every torpedo.

Each one is like a mini submarine in effect. And some would say just as short-lived. But almost as complex.

"Very good Joachim."

"Thanks to you, men, we'll have better hunting next time."

Amongst all the grease and turmoil, I spot a white barracks bedding sheet that has been hung up and kept spotlessly clean.

I turn to a young rating.

"What's that for, Helmuth?"

"Begging your pardon, Sir, that's for cutting up into pennants for when we hit the next convoy"

I was momentarily at loss for words. This was Loyalty. Not what the Party Big Wigs would have us believe

"That's a big sheet, boys," I gulped.

"Hope my aim is better next time, at least!"

Shouts of demurral and other cheers rang out, only interrupted by the opening of the hatch by the steward. climbing through manfully with a case of beer.

"Thought you might like to wet your whistles lads. One between two mind, we surface in five minutes" And then, gesturing at the four sealed torpedo loading caps,

"Let's have a go with this damned things!"

"Red light on!"

Second Watch started gathering by the ladder in the Control Room.

Putting on wet and clammy oilskins. Muttering sleepily.

"Periscope depth, if you please Chief?"

Quiet commands were issued to his control men
I clambered up and had a sneak preview.

Nothing in the sky, and with the shake of Hans' head I was confident that that there was nothing on the surface either.

"Surface stations"

"Bring her up Chief. Tell the Cook to bring some hot coffee forward"

I turned to Willi.

"Up second on the ladder, Quartermaster, and take one of your ensigns up with you. Let's get a good star fix"

Bruno is organizing the ready-use AA shells, he's my 2nd Lieutenant
A young man, don't know why they call him Bruno, other than I've never seen a frightened bear called Bruno.

"Surface"

U-46 kicks upwards again, just on her dive planes. A little ballast blown, and she surfaces magnificently. The Chief is watching his dials but I know him too well, to know he's smiling.

Young Bruno, Willi and the lads are already through the dripping conning tower hatches, and binoculars in place on every quarter.

I can afford to saunter up after them. Watch Willi take his fix, and instruct the midshipmen in astral navigation

Except I can't.

Now that we're on the surface and the weather seems to have abated.

Viktor is working hard on the Morse key and scribbling hard on the note pad on his table.

Viktor is scribbling furiously.

His detective novel cast impatiently to one side, as I hover in the radio room doorway.

I don't know how he knows it, length of message, character groupings, or the Morse 'signature' of every sender anywhere.

Everyone high or low, Navy, Army or Luftwaffe, 'leans’ on the key in an individual manner. Struggles with one character, booms through with the next set, Morse keying to the highly trained listener is like listening in on a highly privileged party line.

They have to be decoded yet, but Viktor has already sorted out the wheat from the chaff.

"Damned weather report requests!" He exclaimed, with a sweep of his arm, various bits of paper were consigned to the far reaches of his tiny working space.

"This one, Sir!"

He waggled a lone finger at me, catching my eye

"U- 469! SOS in Clear!"

(Young Stephan on his first patrol with 7th Flotilla)

I turn to shout for Willi, our Quartermaster and Navigation Officer, to find he is already poking his head over my shoulder.

"Plot for U-469's last position. Tell the Chief to stand by for flank speed. More to follow. Move!"

Willi dashed away.

Now Viktor is writing fast. Ignoring his Kapitan, both phones clamped to his ears, staring at the receiver as if it was speaking to him personally

A few low oaths, and the odd muttering as he pencils down the codes, cursing foully against his damp paper

I wait there powerless until he has finished.

"U213, I'd know Wolfie anywhere......"

(That's Max's boat, Hundmann is their signaler.)

"Well, what!" I yell

Only Viktor in his position, and at a time like this could have got away with it.

"Quiet, Sir! It's a long message. Let me hear it all!...."

The other seniors and officers are congregating in the control room as if by some unspoken summons.

I am sifting through the messages that Viktor has punched through the Enigma machine for me.

U-213 saw them first. Got off a full salvo by all accounts. One confirmed, cargo only, estimated 8,000 tons, one tanker hit observed, but still making way.

Then just repeated "L ..L ..L ..L.. L"

'Laufen'

Our pre-determined code for a boat trying to escape

(Run, Max, Run!")

I thought of Max and his lucky pig back home. He would surely make it again this time? No way of knowing, of course, and that was the worst.

He had managed to give us the last course and speed of the convoy he'd attacked. It seemed to be coming up parallel to the Portuguese coast, and then just risking it due North West and strike for home.

Oscar came past from what we call the Medic Bay, and spotted me staring at my map of the Atlantic.

"Basically just a big bit of blue paper."

He said cheerfully

"It's a testimony to the ingenuity of mankind, that we can chase each other around and kill each other on it." he continued

I fixed him with a stare.

The last desperate report from U-467. Young pups out from Kiel too soon, still twisted in my hand.

It read simply:

'Bombed. Unable to maintain depth. Sinking. Abandoning boat. BE SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS SOS......'

Their grid location wasn't that far from us, since I'd been loitering near the lad's position on the northern end of the screen, from the beginning

But to intercept the convoy instead, meant an immediate turn South

Maybe they had got out in time, or at least some of them. But maybe they drifted away, or drowned or froze. Maybe the Brits are picking them up. Maybe they're waiting to pick the likes of us up and bag us too? It's a thousand to one chance.

Oscar can always read my thoughts.

"If it was us, Sir, I'd hope for any odds to be fished out".

My last message was from BdU and of course it overrides all others.

"Attack and destroy convoy. Act decisively!"

Well the last bit of that crumpled message sheet could be construed as having been obeyed.

"Otto, full ahead both, new bearing 350. Yes, Willi we're heading North, give me that search pattern again. Coxswain, stand the Third Watch ready, and flak gun. Have some dry clothes ready. Oscar you'd better clear some room just in case. Tell Bruno to have the covered lamp ready, I'll be up in a minute. Break out flotation aids, dinghies and whatever. Tell the Cook to fire up his stove. Get Hans up We may not need his sound gear, but we might need his bunkspace. Willi bring us in on that search. "

I grin at Oscar, as he goes about his business.

"Enough mayhem for you Oscar?"

A harassed seaman stumbles groggily past on his way forward.

"I hope someone does the same for us" he grumbles bitterly

Oscar smiles and let's him pass.

"That's the whole point, isn't it Herr Kaleun!"

"Shut her down to quarter speed, Chief" I murmur into the pipe

"We don't want to come all this way and then run the silly buggers over"

We have both 2nd and 3rd watches up. Some of the 3rd watch, rudely awakened, are manning the fore decking and preparing for, basically, man-overboard drills. Once the gravity of the situation has been explained to them by the Coxswain, they are bent silently and diligently to their duties.

"We're in the right place, Willi"

"Yes Sir"

It will be a miracle

The ocean is flat for once and the sky is clear. Dawn is soon approaching. As much as we want to rescue our kameraden, we don't want to share their fate. I notice more than one hand concentrating more on the sky than the sea.

"Anything, Bruno?"

My Second Lieutenant shrugged and shook his head, then returned to his binoculars.

"Well we've done our best.......

"Light on the port stern!"

It was Johann, our new flak gunner, hastily traversing to engage.

"Hold fire, boy!"

All the seniors are crowding into the Wintergarten, making use of the 20mm irrelevant in any case.

"What did you see, Junge?"

"Just a glow, like a flicker, over there", he pointed in a most un-nautical way.

We followed his rough steer. Peering into the early morning dark.

"Stand by to crash, men!"

"There it is again, Sir!"

And this time we saw it. Maybe only 500 meters off.

Damned fine reckoning by Willi.

"Bruno, tell Otto hard to port, cut to electric motors and steer 197, slow speed and gently does it. Expose the signaling lamp to them, but don't light up the whole of the bloody Atlantic."

It was a rubber dinghy, in fact two roped together by their resourceful Chief, and with a few half-dead souls gibbering and clinging to life by the side.

Twelve in all. Hauled out of the water by 3rd Watch and ushered below. Two needed to be carried down for Oscar to work on

I could hear the coxswain from up here calling for hot drinks and dry clothes

The Chief made sure all his men were on board, before giving me his best salute

"Your Commander?" I enquired.

"Gone, Sir. Stayed with the boat. Brave in the end"

He shook his head tiredly

"The other officers too. The ones that made it out. Lt Hoffmann made way for the lad with the broken arm. He just slipped away. I suppose he was more injured himself than he was letting on.

He looked on the verge of tears

He patted his chest pockets and came up with a cylindrical double tube. Both empty.

"Funny, Sir. I was just lighting up my last cigar when you happened along"

"Full ahead both Otto. Take her round. Be quick, we've got about an hour of daylight left. Second watch go below, if you can find room. Look after our guests first. Third watch, well done. Now you're on overtime. Assume bridge station"

A clattering of men up and down ladders. Me included.

"Get us back south Willi. Plot us to intercept that convoy if we still can. There'll be hell to pay if we miss it.

I pass aft from the chart table.

"How's it looking, Oscar?"

He has two seamen from U-467 lying head to toe on his bunk. A third is occupying the privileged position of Willi's bunk.

"Could be worse, Herr Kaleun. One broken arm. One with concussion"

He gestured vaguely at the bodies on his bed.

"They'll pull through."

He grabs our cook on the way through with a tureen of hot soup, and spoons some into the gasping mouth of the third man.

"This one, hypothermia, just needs a bit of thawing out. Went for a bit of a swim, didn't you boy!" He coaxes more soup encouragingly.

"Thanks Oscar, all in good hands."

I follow the cook through the hatches to the fore-ends where the Lordships have done their best to make the other survivors comfortable. And where they receive their soup like a benediction.

Twelve left out of over fifty. It doesn't do to dwell on what those last few moments must have been like.

"Allies in ordnung, menschen?"

"Jawohl, Herr Kaleun!"

It was a brave but tired response.

"We're turning round to hit the bastards back!"

And this time, it was a huge cheer.

"Come on, Viktor!"

I was being unnecessarily harsh to a radio operator that I hadn't relieved for (Christ, how long?) many hours.
He was bent over his Morse key and note pad.

Nothing, even in contact with the enemy, must be sent in clear apart from an emergency.

The emergency for U-467 and U-46 had temporarily been suspended. Neither for one reason or other in contact.

We were not in contact with the enemy and had to wait.

Even on the special u-boat frequency of the hour

"Hans, get round here! Now!"

His eyes were red-rimmed, but he responded immediately round the corner from the sonar room.

"Ja, Herr Kaleun?"

The boatswain came up with some men he had shaken out of their bunks. to relieve key posts.

"All under control, Sir. Messages are coming through, and you have the first important ones in your cabin. The men are working at their stations, and the survivors are tucked away. All stations report the boat in good trim. The ration account has been balanced, plus twelve, and the Chief reports bilges pumped clear. You know he doesn't like full ahead, but...permit me, Sir..?

"Yes, Coxswain?"

"Even Otto is going full ahead with a vengeance!"

Again I was aware as a young officer, how much I relied on my seniors for their no-nonsense approach to getting things done.

Even though they literally can't see what their Officers are doing up there.

"Anything from U-213?", they ask in the Wardroom

Nothing

"No" I reply

Impatiently rifling through the messages, as if I haven't read them three times already

That's Max. He can't die. Someone will eat his lucky pig

The ward room is silent.

Nothing from U-213 for nearly two days since reporting contact, attacking and emergency diving.

"He might have stayed down longer, and then...."

"Yes, he might have stayed down, Bruno. A lot of boats do."

I glare at my Number Two, but it's not fair.

I shouldn't have snapped.

Everyone in 7th Flotilla had mates on U-213.

"Lads! What do we know out here! We've been presumed sunk before, just because our radio mast was shot away, and we got back in. ...."

(Not a good idea to remind them of that patrol)

"Old Max has probably got his feet up in the Chat Noir already, worrying about us."

Literally my Ace Card was played.

The Ace of Spades.

"And anyway, we’ve heard from Freddie at last.."

"..that Slacker!..."

"..his bunch of fish food..

"..The famous skat players....!

etc... (I knew I had them when they were outraged by the success of another rival boat, especially manned in Kiel from roughly the same outcrop of fresh young officers that turned me out at Kiel)

"Yes, men. U-122 has reported in. Took a decent-sized tanker too. (Been in the thick of it by all accounts...) And reckons to have crippled three or four more, seen falling back from the Convoy, and one or two peeling off in our direction. If we really annoy the Chief, and burn his diesels. We'll be in the area in an hour....

It's a fair point from the Chief.

We use our own crew has human ballast when we're crash-diving

Now our boat, supposedly racing forward into action, but with our new friends, is now just starting to plunge slowly.

"Too many men forward, Sir," says Otto

Again, I can't think of everything.

Most of them are even greener than the youngsters I already have.

I get Christian and the Coxswain to form a 'Fourth Watch' from the best of them who can be called upon to fill in where needed, and the lads are distributed as best as possible under Petty Officers around the Boat.

Otto complained that I hadn't sent him any qualified engineers or electricians.

I had to take him to one side and tell him that no one from that end of the U-467 had made it out.

"But their Chief escaped"

"Good luck to him, Otto, he was probably at his battle station, on his Captain's right shoulder. Where you've always been for me!

"But the Captain drowned"

"Yes Otto. The brave lad did. But if it comes to it on the Swordfish...."

"Yes Sir..?

"I'll still be up that ladder before you from a standing start...."

"No chance....!"

We both eyed each other and then surreptitiously eyed the distance to the ladder

The resulting unseemly dash between the Kaleun and his Chief to the ladder was only halted by the big frame of Willi, perhaps only naturally perturbed by two senior officers racing to get out of the boat all of a sudden.

"What's going..."

..Was all that he could get out, before a more important announcement was made.

Down the pipe.

"Ship sighted, Starboard 30, long range, Kapitan to Bridge!"

"That was quick, Sir!" the Second Lieutenant said admiringly. As I stumbled breathlessly onto the bridge

"Never mind that, Flank both. Action Stations. Gun Crew up! Break out the 88s. Life jackets and helmets on deck.

"Steer east then hard starboard , Bruno. Look at your quarters men !" I yelled out at the lookouts.

"Clear the Gun for action!..... Load!"

"I reckon she's a steamer maybe 3,000 tons, don't you Bruno?

Like a good U-boat man, he and his watch have still been covering their patch

"I'd say so, Sir"

The minutes tick by. The merchant is blissfully unaware.

But the range is closing.

Fire!

The first shell, well we never saw. I don't think the enemy did either. They kept sailing serenely through our next two shots too

"Can we at least see a splash, you idiots!"

Joachim, our Weapons Officer, was beside himself. He went down on deck muttering furiously that he was going to throw them all into the infantry when we got back and so on.

If the situation wasn't so perilous (I'd already given a warning to dive) it was quite a show.

"I think they've spotted us now, Sir. Target increasing speed and changing course." said Bruno, resignedly.

I remember Joachim throwing his helmet into the sea, but at nearly the same time the gun depressed rapidly and fired.

An orange explosion appeared seconds later on the ship's stern waterline. The ship stopped dead. It was starting to go stern first.

"Close the gun down! Get the men back in. All of them Bruno, and steer away" Periscope depth. Enough is enough."

Joachim was strangely silent about his triumph in the wardroom afterwards, but I'd already eavesdropped a couple of versions from the men in passing.

They ran to:

An Iron Cross for the Weapons Officer for his heroic intervention

or a Wooden Cross for forgetting that the elevation locking pin was still in, and needed to be bashed out with a hard object like, maybe, a steel helmet

The final word has to go to one of my unter-offiziers who just grunted:

"Well if he's packing us off to the Army, then I'll have him as our sniper, the lucky swine."

"Is this your girl, Sir?"

"No... Yes,.... No."

The Chief of U-467, being the last senior, is a guest of my cabin, and has seen the picture of Heidi, pinned above my bunk.

U-467 was a new boat, with a new skipper. Both gone now.They won't have picked up the rumours yet.

He's here to be debriefed by me, but already he has me flustered.

"It looks like that pretty blonde girl, Heidi, who used to do the rosters, back at U-Boot Schule..."

"Yes , well" I stammer,

"We're here to hear about the loss of your boat"

Rueben is his name. a boy sailor just like me before the War.
Ran away to sea, hoping for a job on one of the big Hamburg Liners. Ended up tramping round the Baltic, or do even more menial jobs on bigger ocean going vessels.

The Navy was recruiting hard in the late Thirties, it sounded like an adventure, and he found himself in submarines. It was an exciting time everywhere in Germany, but particularly at the docks and shipyards.

Apart from the odd patrol in a Type II 'canoe', he had badgered the command at Kiel and been given his first operational boat, as an engineer.

"None of my lads knew one end of u-boat spanner from another, Sir"

"What happened, Francks?"

He sighed.

"Very inexperienced crew, Herr Kaleun. The Kapitan, too. Keen as mustard though.

"The worst combination, Sir."

"They came out of the Sun. Two of them. I don't know if we even got a shot off. I doubt it...

"The first two bombs straddled us. We were lifted out of the water.

"I think at least one of the watch was flung overboard by the blast, but I do remember the Kapitan going back below.

"I followed him down,

"Too late to dive, and too late to defend ourselves

"The second aircraft managed to put one over our stern.

"I'd like to think it was over quick for my men in the engine and electric rooms. We'd sealed that bulkhead. but still the water was gushing through.

Rueben was re-living this terrible experience, in front of me.

"Out! Out!"

While I can't imagine an orderly queue at the ladder, I can imagine Rueben, ankle deep in control room water forcing his men topside to take their chances of getting out of U-467 while the going is good. And making sure there's some rubber dinghies untied and then re-tied.

"But your Commander? Where was he?

'Refused to order abandon boat, Sir, with the water swirling round his feet.

I did it, and saved a poor dozen.

He hangs his head.

And I slap it.

"Rueuben! You kept another eleven men alive. Remember that!

Reuben looks at me.

Sir, when we get back to 7th Flotilla..?"

"Saint Nazaire, yes?

"Our boat and most of it's crew is gone

"Yes"

"I'd like to serve on the U-46, Sir?"

"I could tell the bow was already out of the water by now, and we we were sliding backwards fast."

Rebeun Francks continued in a dull monotone.

"I won't lie to you, Sir, I wanted to get up on the bridge like the rest of them. It ocurred to me to save myself. But the last of them were wounded. Sepp had a broken arm and God knows what else. He couldn't make it up the ladder on his own. Me and his mate forced him screaming up the steps."

I looked back on the third rung to see my Kapitan, the code satchels around his neck, and Schmidt, our signaler unconscious under one arm. The water was up to his chest

"Come on, Sir!"

Go, Chief! Get out! Go!"

"She took a sudden lurch by a wave from her broken stern, which momentarily righted the boat on her forward axis, and then I found myself climbing for my life.

By the time I got to the Bridge, I didn't have to jump. The sea was there to greet me.

I splashed around until one of the hands hauled me alongside. Maybe the young lads were pleased to see me, but I was much more pleased to see them!

We lost a lot of boys who jumped into the water, but once we'd married up the two surviving dinghies, and collected as many as we could clinging to the side.....

Well morale was better, but it was a chance in a thousand that we'd be picked up at all, let alone by our own people.

We were there for hours, when I decided to light up a cigar and pass it around. It would have been a shame to let it get wet, before the end....

"A miracle" I smiled.

"Never give up the cigars if you join my boat, Reuben!"

"These days, we need every puff or glow of luck....."

Whatever the terrible twins of Max and Freddie had done further south, and they had clearly gone in again and again on their own at the southern end of Wolfpack Grief; for some reason at least a column of that convoy, and maybe the wounded ones, or some who had the jitters, sheered away further north. Hoping for a more direct route home.

They fell right into our path. Or driven onto our guns, like some boar hunt, by Stefan finally managing to wheel south himself.

We sank another three in two days. Our gunnery this time was spot on. No big shakes. Between one and three thousand tons each. They all count I suppose, and Joachim was pleased enough with his deck crew; but I can't say I enjoyed it much. All three had to be done in broad daylight, and we felt vulnerable while it was going on.

So much so, that I incremented the watch just to look upwards; and while normally there would be a joyful crowding forward to watch the kill, Bruno summed it up on the last one, without ever taking his eyes off the sky, by saying:

"Has he finished yet? Permission to dive, please, Sir?"

Perhaps it was having the reality and possible finality of their profession brought home to them, by taking on the U-467 survivors (although our own last few patrols should leave them in no doubt of that) that has added some tension

But the Lordships have a point to prove with their torpedoes. And they want to slam them into at least one big one before we go home.

So do I. Friedrich in U-122 is dogging them from the south, but he has only 3 torpedoes left. A bit of depth charge damage, but then Freddy is always complaining about something. Stephan in his Type IX, although he's also taken one chance freighter, has been dogged by mechanical problems, and his U-358 is sloughing east-wards at best speed to form the new 'back-stop'

So Freddy is the contact boat in U-122, he hasn't been shaken off on their south-southwestern quarter, and the poor sod is getting most of the attention by all accounts, but he keeps pushing the reports out when he can.

U-46 is now hammering along on a southeasterly bearing to head them off at the pass, as the Amis say in the Westerns.

While Stephan in U-358 is running a wider course eastwards, to try and catch them if they break north.

What could possibly go wrong over that vast stretch of sea....?

"Quiet, please, Sir! It's very faint."

Viktor is hunched over his Morse key, almost willing the message to come through. One earphone hanging off so I can at least strain to hear.

..-

Even I know that is 'U' for U-boat

"What call sign, Viktor?" I urge impatiently

He holds up the palm of his hand to silence me. The other has a pencil poised for the next feeble dits and dahs

---

..

-.

-.-

OINK!

"Ha ha! That's Max, the cheeky monkey!"

"U-213 has come back up, lads! The Pig has surfaced!"

There are cheers as the news spread through the boat, and some of the seniors crowd around Viktor's radio cabin for news.

Viktor painstakingly compiles the rest of the report.

It's clear that U-213 has incurred the wrath of the Royal Navy. Their signal is weak, something must have happened in their radio room. Now well behind the convoy, and only one stern torpedo left

I get Viktor to acknowledge immediately, and order a run back to France which should keep him parallel with Friedrich for most of the way.

There was no SOS, and Freddie in U-122 is closest to him, and has also confirmed that he is hearing Max. We can't turn back to help. U-46 is in the best position, out of the four boats left, to take another dig at the convoy, that Max and Freddie have set up for us.

If me and Willi have calculated right, we should start to see their smoke stacks to starboard anytime now....

"Smoke, Sir! To the Bridge please!"

And we have them.

The remnants of the convoy plugging away on roughly the same North Easterly bearing that Freddie last gave us.

In my haste up top, I look more like a tramp than a U-boat commander, a thick knitted hat perched on my head, my once expensive lambs wool jacket, still unfastened, and doing nothing to hide the wear, tear and stains of weeks at sea.

But Christian and I have them, and are already now scouring the silhouettes through our binoculars to pick out the best ones.

The first row 4,000m off, behind our starboard bow, in ragged formation, maybe fifteen, but yet determined on the home stretch. And a clouded moon.

Yes, we have them.

"Battle stations. Flank 180. Flood all forward tubes."

"That C3-type cargo, second row, second column, Sir"

"Yes Christian. And that tanker on the nearside in the row behind. Two apiece. Any escorts?"

Christian frowned.

"None that I can see, Sir, but they'll be around somewhere, spoiling for a fight, and they don't have so many to look after now.."

"Ok, we won't go charging in this time, so let's make the most of this set up"

"Aim for the crane nearest the bridge on the first one, and the second torpedo should break open the aft cargo hold."

"For the tanker, just aim forward of the bridge, where the superstructure levels out, with the next two, that's where the fuel is."

We turn into our attack run, and watch with baited breath as the range drops and the angle on the bow becomes more and more favorable. I'm concerned that the cargo ship may get herself masked by a smaller ship in the outer column, but even more anxious to avoid being trapped by any destroyer screen.

"Extra hands, stand by to go forward"

Like with a crash dive we will have to compensate for the sudden loss of weight in the bow with a sudden salvo from four tubes. That is for Otto to work out below, and he would like to balance the boat without unnecessary pumping of his trimming tanks from aft to forward, when he has other things to think about.
Plus it's always handy for that emergency dive.

At 2,000m the figures look right, and we're still undetected. Not a great range to be firing at, but the hell with it, the ships are broadside on, and look big enough through the sight at least...

"Nummer Eins!"

"Nummer Eins!" is the tense answering pipe from Joachim

"Los!"

"Zwei, Drei und Vier, Los! Los! Los!"

There is the temporary upsurge of the bow and the white bubbly snakes of the torpedoes as we are already turning about.

"10 degrees on the rudder to North-North East! Kapitan to Control Room, get the boys reloading fast, all spare hands."

I turn to Christian who already has the stopwatch in his hand.

"Well Number One, this is were the fun usually begins...."

"Look to your sectors, men!" I shout to the First Watch.

"No nasty surprises!"

Francks, late of U-467, has come up to lend a hand, enabling Christian to join me in the Wintergarten staring hard over our stern at the receding convoy, like two excited schoolboys waiting to see a fireworks display.

"How about tube five Sir?" Christian asks.

It's tempting, and I normally would. But tonight I have decided on more caution.

"Let's keep a little knife in our sock, eh, Christian? Just in case things turn rough"

He nods. If we are forced down with all tubes empty, which we have been before, it would be an act of desperation to risk the noise involved in reloading underwater, for some means of striking back, with escorts prowling and listening overhead. And the stern tube has proved useful before in that situation. At least it's good for crew morale to know that we still have some teeth, even when the depth charges are dropping lazily down, and we seem to be trying to dodge snowflakes.

"Time enough yet, Sir" he grins

We watch and wait. To ease the tension, I murmur "Keep the stopwatch running even after the eels should hit, Christian. I want to time those lazy good-for-nothings below to reload all four in one hour."

"Ten marks say they don't make it, Sir"

"It's a bet!" I smile back...

"Should be round about now, Sir"

We peer more closely. After the last debacle when that steamer gave our torpedoes the slip, this just has to go right.

The first we knew, was no more than a flicker of light and a spray of water high over the merchant's bow. But there was no doubting the second orange ball of flame just under her bridge.

Moments later, two dull booms rolled out across the ocean towards us.

No need for a bridge announcement, we can hear the muffled cheers from below, as the sound carries through the water quicker than we can read them the scores.

"Look, Sir! She's crash diving just like us!"

Christian is almost hopping with joy.

"Steady, Number One. There were some brave men on her. Eyes on the tan..."

...Before the words were even out of my mouth, there were two vivid flashes on the second target, and a vast explosion as the tanker went up. The noise, when it reached us was like two gigantic cracks of a whip. Followed by something like a continuous peal of thunder.

Moments later there was no sign that the merchant had even existed, but a thick cloud of smoke to show where the tanker had once been.

Star shells were firing randomly over the convoy, adding to the whole surreal spectacle.

"Destroyer!" yells Dieter on the Port Aft Watch. For once, not caught with his pants down, as he so often is in port.

"Port and stern! There! There! There Away!"

We quickly follow the direction of his outstretched hand, jabbing urgently in the direction of our most hated enemy. I hadn't expected them to be on to us so soon.

I have just enough time to note that Francks has rushed over to confirm it visually to me with a fist raised where I can see it, and the thumb pointed down. A fairly universal sign for 'enemy'.
If he had been thrusting that thumb up and down at least three times, I knew it would be time to crash dive the boat. But he meets my eyes and holds steady.

Vital in the atrocious weather that U-46 has encountered, when even close conversation on the bridge has been impossible, but I have to admire his attention to his bridge watch training. Drills that I know Bruno and Christian are constantly trying to hammer into the heads of their watch teams.

Tonight, though, the sea and weather is calmer, so he follows up his signal with a fuller report.

"Destroyer confirmed, Sir! Two stacks, one forward turret observed, too early to identify" (He hurried on to the more important stuff) "Range 2,500. Bearing 200 from us. Speed 25 knots and slowing. Now playing searchlights to port and starboard. Estimated intention, survivor rescue "

I blinked at this perfect textbook recital. This man is good.

Looking back astern, I can see that the destroyer (it might be Hunter class) has indeed slowed, and there is no sign of pursuit. But there's fat chance of picking up any survivors, I'm afraid; certainly not from the tanker, and the big cargo-man sank too quickly. Besides, it's cruel but crazy to stop anywhere out here for long. Is he trying to lure us back in? Maybe giving time for his sonar people to get a fix with the engines running slow and more quietly, like we sometimes do?

Anyway, I'm not going back with just one stern tube loaded. Better to wheel round and hit them again tomorrow night with everything we have left.

"Tell the helm to maintain course, please Francks, then hand over to the First Officer. You and I will go down. I need to look at the charts.

There are raucous cheers as we clatter tiredly down.

I poke my head into the fore-end torpedo room first

"We're pretty much out of trouble lads, and we took two big ones tonight, a tanker full of juice and a big old merchant that didn't know what hit her; I'd say 19,000 tons the pair. The tanker went up with such a bang that the First officer swears they could hear it back in Germany - even your deaf old mother, Grun!"

"Anyway, damned fine shooting boys, all four hit and went off perfectly"

Their chests swelled with pride, as if they'd done the aiming, instead of actually the hard bit of loading and daily maintenance.

"But get those bloody torpedoes loaded! We're going to take another swing at them!"

There were congratulations too for Joachim, our weapons officer, particularly for some remarkable shooting, and Willi for navigating us there into such a prime position in the first place. Francks got a slap on the back for the way he stepped up on the bridge of an unfamiliar boat. And it would have been Otto too but he was asleep having handed over minutes before, but my thanks to him go without saying.

Stephan is ordered to converge down from the North, as is Freddie from the South. If we can't hit them all at once, then we'll bite away like piranha fish, however we can.

Now at last I can get some sleep.

It seems like only minutes later that the shrill ringing of the alarm bell snaps me upright again.

I'm not dreaming. The rumble tumble of the crew rushing forward, the clanging of the conning tower hatch, Bruno shouting, Otto making himself heard over everyone to give orders to his planesmen.

And the unmistakable tilt of the boat, my boat, the U-46, now diving hard and steeply downwards....

U-46 is still nosing down as I stumble desperately across to the control room. Still wearing my leather over-trousers and sea boots, but the red and white plaid cotton shirt was the last thing I still had that was still remotely dry.

"What is it Otto? Otto??"

He doesn't answer immediately. He is busy issuing orders, for a bold move to starboard, the full right rudder, glancing at dials, and generally cuffing any seamen foolhardy enough to get in his way

Francks is there too, staring at the Papenburg tube, with a hand on the shoulder of each of our young planesmen, murmuring reassuringly to them. Although his hands seem to be trembling.

The depth dial is 20 meters and dropping.

Bruno is sitting in the corner, staring ahead without seeing. "Halifax...Halifax.." was all that he had breath for.

"Otto?"

"Yes, Sir. Bomber. Low cloud this morning."

He gestured at Bruno

"According to the Second Officer, they were just as surprised as we were"

"Is Bruno ok?"

"Yes, Sir, just fell down the last few rungs, knocked the wind out of his sails for once."

"Damage to the boat?"

"Anytime now, Sir. He's bound to circle back. Hold on to something....."

"Wasserbomben!" Hans yells from sonar, yanking off his phones to protect his ear drums

"We maybe have just enough water"' muses Otto, for all the world as if he is contemplating some laboratory physics experiment, rather than the lives or deaths of the 63 men we have on board. We've survived depth charges before, but never this shallow.

Francks, who has already lost his Kapitan, his boat, and 39 of his shipmates to air attack, has his eyes firmly shut.

'Kaboom.... KABOOM!"

U-46 reels away from the explosion, we're all flung about a bit however much we were trying to anticipate it. There is a temporary loss of power, quickly restored. A few minor cuts and bruises, and not a few flapping hearts, but they don't give out wound badges for that. Reports indicate no serious harm done, just a couple of tiny repairs to make; a valve here, and a pipe there. Kurt and his damage control gang look almost disappointed. Almost, but not quite.

We level off at 40 meters, and cut speed so that we can hear, and not be heard. There might well be a surface follow up

"That last one was close, Sir"

"Not close enough my friend. But you did all the work this time, Otto, well done"

"Well, we're all in the same boat, as they say, Sir"

"Fine, but it was still a hell of a way to wake me for breakfast, you old rascal. Do you think the cook will bring the pair of us something hot to the wardroom, if we ask him nicely....."

"Of course, the thing about airplanes, is that it's all or nothing. The chances are they'll get you first time,"

Otto pauses with his fork to his mouth,

"Just look at U-467. She won't be the last. Nearly us today. But if we can get past that, we're pretty much clear.

"Your destroyers on the other hand, are a lot less quick. But quicker by far than us. They know time is on their side. Bit by bit they'll wear us down, because they'll damage us enough, or wear us out enough, that at some point we must surface, or worse, can't"

"They haven't caught us yet, Otto"

"Maybe tomorrow"

"I've told you before, Otto. Tomorrow is a fairly fictional concept while we are at sea."

"But when we get back home, Sir?"

"A lot of tomorrows, Otto. A lot of them"

Of course the dilemma now presents itself.

Coming to periscope depth, and using the observation scope, I can see enemy planes routinely patrolling overhead. Bruno reckoned it was a Halifax that bounced us. I think on the evidence, it was more likely a Liberator, from what I can see. But either way, the RAF have plenty of twin-engines up there waiting for us.

Staying down is slowing us down during the day. I had hoped to sprint forward, and take another poke in the darkness that the next night will offer, but we risk losing them while submerged.

Stephan is making a wider loop to the North, and doesn't have 'eyes on' yet. Freddie is making best speed to the South, but I suspect his boat and crew are pretty banged up already. They've already done their bit and it would be a bonus if they could make it in time. Max, that wily old fox, should be limping back to France by now. I can't realistically expect him to rejoin the hunt.

So we are the contact boat and losing time with every minute and hour that passes. All the time what's left of the convoy is creeping closer to the safety of the Cornish coast, and we can expect things to be much more hairy next time we go in. Even if we can regain them and assume another good attacking position.

Then Hans gives me a secondary sonar contact.

"Heavy screws bearing North, Sir! They sound labored."

I steer a course to give us a visual.

Sure enough it's a C3 class merchant, that has broken free, or got lost in the night. Even at that range I can see she's sporting some torpedo damage, which has to be the work of Freddie or Max.

Doesn't seem to have lost too much speed though. I wonder whether Stephan will pick her up; but the sea is still very big and he has his orders to out-race the convoy.

I look at the charts with the Navigator. Time is slipping away.

"The hell with it, Willi. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Give chase!"

Pretty soon we're on her tail. But there isn't a torpedo solution We only have her stern and can't catch up any more from down here.. If we're going to do it, it's going to have to be under our guns on the surface. However it is broad daylight, just after lunch in fact, and I have the feeling that the pilots of RAF Coastal Command have brought their sandwiches...

"Take us up Otto, but be prepared to crash at a moment's notice. Joachim I want the ready-use 88 shells and no messing about. A quick kill and then back in, you understand?"

"Yes Sir!" replied my Weapons Officer as he summoned his crew and set them about their tasks as U-46 started to rise.

"Go! Go!" I urged as we broke surface.

The gun crew didn't let me down, beating the watch crew upstairs much to the chagrin of Christian who prides himself on the speed of his boys.

The first ranging shot wasn't bad either. One or two more and we'll hit her in the engine compartment. Christian's team weren't idle either, earnestly scanning the sky and horizon.

And a good job too. We'd just got off a second much nearer shot, when the alarm came.

Only a dot in the sky, but growing bigger, and coming faster than any seagull. Well done Christian.

We managed to get everyone back in, because Otto wasn't messing about, and the boat was already slanting rapidly down.

This time the charges were well off the mark. But they were on us like a ton of bricks, and again we lost distance with the evasive action.

Well, we tried three more times to surface and re-engage. Each time we were forced below by aircraft. It was as if that merchant had her own personal aerial bodyguard

We were having to run with the electric motors flat out just to keep up, and every time we surfaced we were thwarted from the air. It didn't play so well with the survivors from U-467, who had already taken one dunking from an aircraft. And even Otto was back to his pessimistic best.

"Don't you think you're being a little stubborn, Sir?"

"She sinks tonight, Chief. If it takes forever we'll have her. As soon as it gets dark and the RAF bugger off, we'll scoot round ahead on full diesels and nab her from there. I know I'm caning your engines, but bear with me."

Sure enough, we dogged her long enough, that in the night we were able to burst ahead in a loop on the surface, and one well-placed torpedo did the trick, around midnight.

I hate rejoicing after a kill, but I was pleased to finally nail that one.

"BdU for you, Sir"

Victor hands me a message form.

Apparently our small rescue has created quite a stir back home, and they seem more excited about that than the convoy we have been decimating. Propaganda, I suppose.

Anyway we are to break off, and head back, and under all circumstances to deliver the 12 remaining crew of U-467 back to base, where no doubt the cameras are waiting.

To be sure, there were no complaints when I delivered that news to the boat.

"Set us for St Nazaire, Willi"

Otto winks at me.

"Can I have one of my tomorrows yet, please Sir...?"

The lads are busy cutting up white triangular victory pennants from that white bed sheet, for our return.

Francks is sharing my space the best he can. But to be fair we have both been busy over the last couple of days. The Bay of Biscay is far from safe if you're not on your toes.

"I meant to ask, Reuben, what was the emblem of the U-467 before she went down?"

And so it was that when U-46 guided herself up the river towards St Nazaire, intact for once, that alongside the Laughing Swordfish emblem, was a sheet draped on either side painted with the five Olympic rings of the U-467. Their crewmen had pride of place standing to attention on our foredeck, and I think I spotted one or two of them bubbling.

We'd found another white cap cover to give to Francks. Against regulations of course, but he was the senior surviving commander of his boat and crew, and deserved to see them into harbor in style. He took the salute alongside me on the bridge, his eyes moistening on his craggy face.

Otto was hopping up and down with excitement, of course, just desperate to get the first train to Frankfurt and his pregnant wife.

I suppose there's no prizes for guessing who I was looking out for.
I caught a glimpse of her, waving frantically near the military band, and it made my heart leap into my throat.

"Christian," I whispered.

"Dock the boat for me this time will you?"

"I want to be first ashore..."

For one mad moment, I thought I would bound down the gangplank like a latter-day knight jumping from his trusty white stallion, after killing the dragon or black knight, sweep Heidi into my arms, (just like in one of Viktor's trashy paperbacks) and profess my love, the crowd would cheer and the rightful King would smile benignly and instantly pronounce.....

..But my faithful steed was a modern day Type VIIC U-Boat, battered and rusted by the sea. I'd completely forgotten how the landlubbers always recoil from the stench as they catch the unique aroma of over 51 unwashed men locked in a steel tube for weeks mixed with god knows what that had rotted, and the venting out of diesel fumes, when all the hatches are open. The swagger on to dry land became a stagger too, without land legs.

I suppose I looked like something more fit for the chain dogs from shore patrol to arrest, than a conquering hero.

But for all that, I was a hero. Cameras were flashing or reels turning. The crowd of soldiers, nurses and every other branch of auxiliary service only kept at bay by stern-faced soldiers enforcing a cordon.

I looked around bewildered for a sight of Heidi, but she was now lost in the throng, but of course she couldn't either get near or be seen.

A moment ago, I was in total charge of my little world, and now, in the reality we dreamt of, I wasn't.

It must have been Bruno who formed the two crews up on the quay, and urged me to the front of the parade.

Because Doenitz himself had come over to St Nazaire to see us dock safely. And was now approaching me.

In his way, he returned my salute and grasped my hand whilst leaning closer out of earshot.

"Well done, my boy"

He whispered.

"I know very well that you and your men are tired, and I'll sort that out later, but for now what's happening is just as much another part of the war effort. Now introduce me again to the men for the cameras. I know most of them anyway, but particularly the men you pulled out of the drink from U-467.

He winked.

"It's good to see you back lad, but the nation needs to see a miracle, and it won't do any harm for our lot either to know that they may not always be stranded, hein?"

"Not quite a miracle, Sir. We only saved a handful, and that was a stroke of luck because.."

"Shut up Lieutenant! The Fuhrer has decreed it a miracle, and so it shall be!

We have more to talk about operationally, but that will have to wait. There are apparently more important things"

"I'm sure you have other things to think about.."

Did the Admiral wink at me just then?

"But for now, let's smile nicely for the Volkerische Beobachter, and their other Goebbels' friends in the news industry, and do this parade, Lieutenant"

Finally the charade is over. The band marches away, the crowd disperses, and even the propaganda merchants are told to leave us alone for their own sake.

The Boat is docked with a skeleton watch who will be relieved regularly, by men from U-711 (another new 7th Flotilla boat yet to go out, and are well rested comparatively)

But I insist we have at least some good men from U-46 in charge of things at all times

This should make certain everyone gets ashore at some point, and to put it euphemistically, 'freshens up' (That means ages under the shower, particularly for the engine crew) and then perhaps even more hopefully: take 'just some "light refreshment" in the local cafes and hostelries' that the fawning local mayor proudly announces are to be had in his fair town of St Nazaire.

I know they'll go off the leash for a night or two, but that's for another day

More importantly, I scribble a chit, written hastily against Otto's back, and my Chief is smuggled by the coxswain (by whatever means, I don't want to know) towards the train station, and home to his wife and impending child back all the way to Frankfurt.

He hardly mentioned it since we were last back here, and he stepped in brilliantly when we were dive-bombed that time, but as soon as we broke off from the convoy and started heading home, I noticed he was starting to spend a lot more time than he never had before around Willi and his chart table. Starting to count the hours and minutes.

God speed, Otto.

Most importantly of all, there was no sign of Heidi, after the excitement had died down. I had pinned my hopes on seeing her, as much as I'd pinned and gazed at her photograph in my cabin over the last few weeks.

Duty calls, I suppose...

But I'm sure she was waving from the flagstones...

Or a certain Luftwaffe pilot....

In the event of course, neither me or Reuben Francks, the senior survivor from the other boat that we, oh, so heroically rescued, are to see any off this.

We are promptly whisked away by staff car. Me with my full diaries, logs and reports; Reuben with nothing.

And now we stand in the well appointed office of our Uncle.

It is Francks' turn first to face the grilling, having lost his Boat, his Kapitan and most of the crew.

He is awestruck at first by Kerneval, as I was (and still am), but he stands his ground resolutely.

"Did you fight back, by any chance?"

"No, Sir. I don't think so. The flak was manned but the first we knew it, was the bombs. There was no alarm or sound of firing from us. And none of that bridge watch survived , Sir"

"So how many ships did U-467 sink, before you went down?"

(Doenitz through and through. Straight to the tonnage)

Reuben hung his head slightly

"None, Sir, we had no contacts on that edge of the Pack at the time

"Well that's not a good return, it'll only improve the British batting average. What about your codes? The enigma machine and other security items? Don't tell me they are in English hands?"

I could visualize, only from Reuben, for he was the last to see them, young Peter, the Kapitan, hopelessly trying to save his wounded signaler at the bottom of the bridge ladder; yet urgently ordering his Chief upwards to save himself, that no outstretched arm could help.

Those damned precious items and the man he'd gone back for, draped around his neck. The water swirling in around them.

"Our boat took pretty much everything with her, including the codes and our Commander, Sir" Reuben blinked hard.

"Ah, yes, your commander", Doenitz replied relentlessly

"What about Kapitan Sepp?"

"A brave man, Sir. A boy really. Fair to his men, and pretty good with his boat. But he had no combat experience, Sir, neither did they. He was sent out too soon, and.."

I'd put a restraining hand on Reuben's shoulder in the hope that he would shut up.

And he did. Doenitz's frosty glare and silence saw to that.

"And how would you tell me to give more combat experience to our crews, my friend, other than to send them to attack the enemy? How many boats and men should I keep training in the Baltic until they alone think they are ready for battle?

"I'm sorry, Sir..

"Don't be. I have a high regard for my men, all of them, to the lowest stoker, to speak their mind if they have something useful to say. And sometimes even if they haven't. It sounds like with your opinions, I should transfer you back to the Kiel or Wilhelmshaven depots, they could use of a man of your combat experience. You might tell them how easy it is to get sunk on your first patrol without firing an eel or a shot in anger...

"Sir! I respectfully request that I am assigned to the next front boat as soon as possible!" blurts an outraged Reuben.

Doenitz rising from his desk smiles, and pours three glasses of brandy.

"Well, we'll see"

And I suddenly realize that the Old Man, although his sea days are behind him, still knows how to score a torpedo amidships with his men

"And what about you, Lieutenant. How is U-46? Back in one piece for a change, I see"

My turn.

I recounted our patrol, and a list of confirmed sinking’s and estimated tonnage.

Even he nodded approvingly, leafing through my log as I gave my report.

"No opportunity to identify the names of the ships any more closely, Sir."

"Aircraft?"

"Much busier than before, Sir. Didn't dare to hang about too much on the surface"

I caught a wry grimace from Reuben.

"Nearly got jumped once ourselves, and the last 8,000 tonner took some chasing. She had constant aerial cover during daylight hours.

"The surface escorts seemed a little less organized, and didn't give us so much trouble this time. I think hitting them from different angles paid dividends. The credit for that should go to U-122 and U-213, they had the first contact and bore the brunt of it. We just mopped up."

Doenitz nodded.

"Any news from them, Sir"

"U-122 should be making her rendezvous with a couple of e-boats we've sent out for the purpose of escorting her in. Signals from U-213 have been patchy. We think he's hurt. But the girls are listening out for him even now. U-358 is still in good form, and in fact took a straggler just this morning. I'm bringing him back too. All in all, Wolfpack Grief gave the Brits quite a hiding!"

Doenitz sipped his Remy Martin and smiled.

"But of course, your duty doesn't finish here, my boy"

"Sir?"

"Let's just say that the air raids over England haven't gone quite according to plan."

He sipped again meditatively

"Not to put too fine a point on it, the Luftwaffe has sustained huge losses in trying to gain air superiority. The verdammt English won't quit just yet. We've suffered huge plane losses, while you've been having fun at sea. Between us, Operation Sealion, the last piece in the jigsaw, isn't likely to happen. You might have noticed that a lot of our landsers have been entrained and moved back East. I'll say no more, but there's something even bigger in the wind.

"You'll also know that we've lost Kretschmer, Prien and Shalke all in the space of one convoy attack"

I agreed sadly. The U-boat grapevine is second to none.

"For whatever we do next, our leader requires a propaganda coup, something to inspire the nation in the light of these losses.

"Yes, Sir" I replied bewildered.

"You and Francks, here, are that inspiration...."

"I don't understand, Sir, I..."

"In short, Lieutenant you are both to return to St Nazaire, and climb into your best dress uniforms. You will then be taken to Berlin by special train for a special presentation"

"You mean, Sir....?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, and take it from me, when you get there, there is no smoking or drinking in the presence of the Fuhrer....."

"Now finish up your drinks and get started, don't you suppose I have other boats coming in all the time"

I coughed nervously.

" Sir,..is... that is...er..I was hoping to see..."

Doenitz drained his glass and ushered us out.

"Ah, yes my Heidi. You foolish boy"

"0f course, I can't be seen to approve of my Kapitans fraternizing with the lower ranks.."

No, Sir. Of course not, Sir"

"But she has paid special attention to the fortunes of your boat. Although I can't think why. You both smell like a couple of dead seals. Let me think now...."

"No, she's not here. Had to go immediately to Abbeville, after you docked."

'The Boys from Abbeville' The famous ace fighter Geschwader based in Northern France. I'll never be able to compete with them.

"I see, Sir."

Doenitz must have noticed my crestfallen face, and became grave.

"It's for a memorial service for a couple of their pilots. We always send someone, I can't remember who went down this time, there's been too many; but she volunteered to go. Now get yourself off to Berlin and enjoy yourself. A spot of home leave will do you good!"

And so we walked out towards the duty driver. Both more bewildered than when we walked in....

The trip back to Germany was slightly surreal.

Me and Reuben just wanted to sleep, but were constantly awakened with snacks or champagne, by endless train stewards with swastikas on their armbands.

"Thank you, leave it and go!" I finally snapped.

We finally got to Berlin, our train, much to my shame having taken precedence over all civilian trains, several troop trains and even one with red crosses on a white background, displayed all over it, which had to pull over to let us pass.

Another bloody band was playing at the Bahnhoff, more speeches, and the smartest of the Liebstandarte SS received us very correctly and escorted us off to our temporary quarters on the Unter Den Linden with their polished boots. Thank God we didn't have to goose-step.

"Is this what you imagined your homecoming would be like, Reuben?"

He offered me a tired smile, and I could have bit my tongue. This couldn't be to his liking either. But shipwrecked in the Atlantic, I suppose he couldn't have hoped for any homecoming at all.

Soon we are courteously taken through a labyrinth of identity checks, to be kept waiting for two hours in the ante room of our Great Leader. There is a hive of activity, Staff officers and clerks are scurrying back and forth with sheaths of papers and rolls of maps. Very senior officers are pacing up and down on the carpet, waiting impatiently to be seen.

Us two u-boat scruffs sit quietly by. We know too well our own depth.

Reuben turns disconsolately to me:

"Now I really could use a cigarette , Herr Kaleun."

"Couldn't we all, lad."

We both looked up and snapped to attention. It was General Guderian. The Victor over France. Some of the Army boys say that he rides his panzers as fast as Indian ponies.

"Sir!"

"At ease gentlemen," he nodded towards the huge oak doors.

"You're next. But don't be long. There's a lot going on...."

We are ushered in, and the doors close behind us.

Any number of staff officers are there, poised readily with notebooks or files in hand.

We see him. Hunched over a huge 'bird table' of what seems to be Eastern Europe. Demanding reports and map overlays angrily from a harassed staff.

The orderly coughs politely

"Officers of U-46 and U-467 to see you, mein Fuhrer"

The crowd of lackeys parts, and we get a better look.

In a drab dun-colored tunic and trousers, with an SS Eagle on his left sleeve, a diminutive man turns from the map table. A lock of lank dark hair falling down from his forehead. And that unmistakable moustache.

"Yes, yes of course, our heroes of the deep!"

He pumped our hands with great excitement. Whatever land war forgotten for the moment.

"And which of you saved the other?"

"Well, Mein Fuhrer..." Reuben started..

"..Never mind, never mind! The German people salute you! Bring me those medals!"

He pinned them onto our chests. The Oak Leaves. A huge honor, but I couldn't help noticing as the Aide de Camp tidied away, that there was a whole box of them.

Obviously heroes of the Reich come cheaper by the dozen.

"Great work against the English. Soon we will send our finest battleship to smash their naval power, and you will all be home soon. Now we have bigger fish to fry!"

A number of the staff tried to intervene discreetly at this incaution, but Hitler would not be stopped.

"England was never our enemy in the long term, oh no! We have sent her running back to her shores, and you must keep it that way. But here....!"

He made a grand gesture at the map. Stabbing his finger at Moscow.

"Here is where Germany's destiny lies!

"Russia, mein Fuhrer?"

"Yes, Russia, Lieutenant! We have only to kick in the doors and the whole rotten building will come crashing down! At dawn tomorrow, the Bolsheviks won't know what hit them!"

"Yes, my Fuhrer"

We were clearly not meant to hear any of this, and were even kept under armed guard by OKW until H-Hour was reached.

Reuben turned to me

"Russia?"

I pulled a small face.

"Well maybe we can pull it off. We have done so far"

"What about that stuff about going home, Sir?"

"Trust me, Reuben, I reckon that we'll still be dodging destroyers this time next year. And when it happens we can explain that we have it on Herr Hitler's authority that we shouldn't be there. Now, what are we going to do with the rest of our leave? God help me I'm already missing U-46 after this madness. Any ideas...?

My parents are not around anymore.

Neither are Reuben's. But his Uncle still has a house in Hamburg. and since that’s where we both hail from, and we have the use of a staff car, I suggest that we should go there, and revisit our old stamping ground.

Reuben is strangely reticent about the idea.

But we arrive there all the same.

His Uncle, Fritz, is not a little shocked to see two decorated naval officers at his door, but soon recovers his surprise and embraces his long unseen Nephew. His welcome to me was more reserved, and did I notice some silently mouthed communication between Nephew and Uncle, which I was not supposed to see?

Soon we are sitting down to a hearty meal of mutton and sauerkraut. (I thought it should normally be knuckle of pork, but it still tasted great)

Towards the end of the meal, and the wine is being poured, there is a definite bumping noise from the attic.

Uncle Fritz has closed his eyes, and Reuben is staring at me intently.

"Damned mice, Sir."

"Damned big mice, Reuben", I tried to joke.

"Sir..." Reuben sighed,

"You know my name is Reuben; my Uncle's real name is Isaac."

He swallowed some wine.

"Does that give you a clue, Sir?"

"Yes. Yes it does, Reuben..."

Uncle Isaac laid down his knife and fork.

"Yes, I am a Jew, obviously my family and friends, too, Herr Lieutenant."

"I suppose it is your duty to report us to the authorities"

"But I am German, and served as a young machine gunner on the Western Front in the last war. I never dreamed then that it would come to this. Reuben here is half Jewish on his father's side. My brother who fell on the Somme, fighting for his country. Despite all that's going on, I'm proud that Reuben is fighting for his country too, and we're very grateful to have him back in our arms. But we have been trying to survive the last few crazy years, until things become normal again. You must do your duty, but our lives depend on you."

I didn't know what to say. I had heard rumors of course, but never imagined it was like this.

Isaac fell silent. Reuben just stared at me, his body language told me that he would use his very cutlery to defend his family against the rifle butts and truncheons of the Gestapo, if need be.

I rose from the table. And took off my tunic.

"You don't have a rodent problem in your attic, Herr Francks. You have some human people up there who I am sure would be more comfortable down here joining us for supper. I'd be delighted if they would join us, even though I won't ever be able to remember meeting them..."

It was time to take the train back to France.

Germany had frankly scared me, but I had a particular reason to get back to St Nazaire, and not just the strange umbilical tie that I felt for U-46 when I was parted from her for too long.

"How will your Uncle cope, Reuben?" I asked as the train rattled back through Belgium.

There had been four young children, three girls and a boy, all heart-breakingly young, none fully understanding what was happening to them. Their parents, and an elderly couple, all of whom had initially regarded me with trepidation and fear, to my shame, when they were enticed down from the attic.

"I don't know, Sir. My Uncle does his best, but there's no ration cards for them. They don't exist anymore."

"Well, we always have some tinned food left over from each patrol. It's not food fit for a King exactly, but it would be a shame to see it go to waste. Maybe next time we come in you could see your way clear to getting rid of it for me. I'm sure the coxswain would lend you a hand; he's good at that sort of thing."

"Thank you, Sir, for everything. But you mean...?"

"Off course, Reuben. If I have anything to do with it, you'll be sailing with our boat, the next time out."

We changed at the Gare du Nord in Paris.

Reuben stared wistfully out of the window.

"In all my travels, Sir, I've always wanted to visit Paris, but now..."

"..Now, I just want to get back to the Boat Pens.."

"Me too, Reuben, let's keep pressing on."

Eventually we are arriving back in St Nazaire, and of course the first port of call is the Chat Noir where we know our boys will always end up.

An oily haired 7th Flotilla Desk Captain is there insisting on a presentation and speech, but is given short shrift. The U-46 lads are all around, with raucous cheers, and they get first priority.

It's so good to be back.

Even better is Freddie and his seniors from U-122, absolutely legless at the Bar. He took at least four, and holed at least three more which between me and Stephan who is also there, we took the credit for finally putting down. According to him, the reason U-46 had such an easy time of it was that the Tommies ran out of depth charges stalking his boat. He's always complaining but he may be right. Anyway it's great to see him again.

"And what about Max?" I hardly dared to ask.

Freddie frowned.

"Not so good"

He looked at the drop in my face and laughed

"I only mean he's round the back throwing up! He'll be here in a minute!"

Sure enough, Max came roaring back into the Club, blaming a bad bottle of champagne and then ordering two more.

After much back-slapping the story emerged from U-213's patrol.

Max had spotted the convoy first and got off a quick contact report, but instead of shadowing, he had drove right into them. He took three on his first run. He had to lose a couple of destroyers, who in his words "were very upset". He managed to break off, but suffered serious damage, including to his radio room which killed Braun, his signaler, *and buggered up the radio".

"We went in next night, but we could only send Morse by my Quartermaster touching two bare wires together, and he hardly knows the code at all. That's when we last spoke to you. I got him to send 'Oink'!"

"Anyway the boat wasn't handling well at all, and we only nabbed a small one on the second night, and then they gave us quite a kicking. Nearly lost her then...."

Max paused, and I could tell he was back in his Control Room re-living those desperate moments.

"I've never dived so deep. The boys didn't fancy it much," he grimaced. "Anyway we finally shook them off, and then it was time to haul our sorry arse home. It wouldn’t do to not get back" he smiled

"This is Reuben Franks", I replied.

"He did make it back, but not his boat unfortunately"

"Yes, we heard about that. Welcome home Reuben" Freddie said solemnly shaking his hand, and Max followed suit.

"He's going to be serving on ours next time"

Which reminded me.

"Is Otto back from leave, fellows?"

"Yes", said Freddie,

"He's over there..."

"Hello Otto!"

We embrace as old friends do, before I sit down.

"How was it in Berlin, Sir?"

"I wouldn't have wished you there, Otto. It's more crazy than Kerneval. Err..I hear there's a new Eastern offensive underway, but I've been on a train for the last few days. What news?"

Otto grinned.

"They tell us that our Armies are rolling up Ivan at a great pace! We'll soon be in Moscow, and then we can all think about going home for good"

"Yes, well, Otto, my friend, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Otto placed his glass down, and looked at me quizzically.

"What do you mean , Sir?"

"How was Frankfurt, Otto? How his Gertie and the baby she's carrying?"

He beamed.

Fantastic, on all counts, Sir! When she opened the door to find me standing there, well....."

Otto's words failed him for the moment. I could only imagine his homecoming. Only imagine. There is no one waiting for some of us, well not for me; and the only time I have experienced it was a kind old man who lived in fear of a knock at the door from someone in German uniform.

I shuddered and yearned at the same time.

"...And the baby's fine Herr Kaleun, we are hoping for a girl....or a boy...and....."

Otto burbled happily on

"Otto, I've been thinking that you've done more than enough of your bit"

"What, Sir?"

"That you can maybe take a shore-based job, now that you have a child, and it wouldn't be fair for you to go out again."

Otto's eyes opened wide

"What , Sir"

"There's an opening coming up in Flotilla Headquarters, and they need someone with some sea experience, let's face it - we've both said the same - and it would be safer, and..."

"Are you trying to get rid of me, Sir?"

"No! No, Otto. I need you on the U-46, you know that, but you also know now things have changed for you, and I thought if I could get you off active duty and spend more time with...

" No! No, Sir! Don't do it. This is my boat as much as yours! you can't discharge me!"

Otto had risen from his chair and dashed his glass to the ground

"No one knows the engines and the Control Room as well as me. And it's that Reuben isn't it? You're replacing me with an upstart who lost his boat and wants to take mine!"

(Actually mine, I thought, but I admired the sentiment, and me and Otto were a great double act when at sea)

"I just thought you might want to get out of it while the going's good, Otto. It's going to get pretty rough from here on in. And I'm giving you the chance"

"No, Sir!" he repeated wildly, but then looked at me silently for a while, as I impatiently waved curious officers away.

Otto subsided into his seat, and eventually continued

"We're still at war. How could I go home to Gertie with the job half-done. I'm not superstitious like Willi, but I do believe U-46 has one of the best run boats in the Kriegsmarine, at least in my department. And we have a good chance of seeing it out. By staying with our boat, I'll have the best chance of fighting for Gertie and the baby's security and future. You need me Kap!"

"Yes I do, Otto, but I had to offer you the choice. You're still my Chief, my friend, and I'm very glad to hear it if you're sure"

We were bent over the table towards each other as the drinks came, and everyone else was waved away while we discussed who should make way for Francks, who would be a definite asset to the boat and come under Otto's wing.

It was going to be old Wofram (all of 32 years) who had made a couple of minor maintenance mistakes, but was actually starting to suffer from respiratory problems from the confined space of the engine room.

Just as we agreeing on that, Otto looked up from the table. He suddenly drained his glass, and said

"Time for me to go, Herr Kaleun"

I looked up surprised at his sudden departure and followed his gaze.

Heidi

Suddenly standing over my table; and then without a word, bending forward and kissing me....

When Heidi's lips met mine, and held there longer....

... these were dreams I'd often had on the night bridge watch. Always truly alone as Commander especially when under attack.
Heidi had always been in my thoughts,

For all my bellowing on the Bridge or in the Control Room or wherever, I couldn't think of a thing to say.

She kissed me again this time on the cheek with her hand cradling the other side of my head.

"Welcome home, my hero"

".. well I'm not really a hero, you see..."

"You're my hero you idiot! You always have been. Can I sit with you, Sir?"

Desperately keeping up some semblance and pretence of protocol, as she sat down so close to me, I attempted to introduce myself.

"Well, you know that my name is Kapitan Lieutenant de Bunsen, I stammered. That seemed rather stiff, but I was new to these things.

"My first name is Raoul, it's not a German name, but.."

"I know. But everyone calls you Rolley in 7th Flotilla."

"Do they! Why?"

Because of your attempts at skiing on leave from Kiel, when there was more snow on you than on the slope down in Bavaria!"

"Well yes, but my crew never call me that."

"No, Rolley, not to your face"

I laughed.

"Heidi, can I just say how much I have....

"Yes Herr Kaleun?"

"Well I guess you can call me, Rolley"

Heidi laughed, but leaned closer.

"Er..it,s just that I'd really like to take you...

"Yes?"

Suddenly there was a commotion at the door. No uncommon occurrence at the Black Cat. Couriers from Kerneval fighting their way through drunken sailors to deliver dispatches.

Heidi dropped her head.

"I thought we had more time"

She looked up at me apologetically, as yet another brown envelope was thrust in my lap for me to sign for.

And placed her beautiful hand over mine that was trying to open the envelope.

I looked at her bewildered

"It means that a major naval operation is underway. and all available u-boats are to join the operation."

"Well I was only with the Fuhrer a couple of days ago, what can it be.

"We both have to go. As she stood up I noticed for the first time the swordfish badge on her coat that she must have got from one of the lads.

"Well what is it, Heidi!"

"My darling, the Bismarck is sailing"

And then she was gone.

Hell of a night.

Heidi

But our best battleship is coming out to take them on

But Heidi actually kissed me!

I shook my head. It's time to go fishing again.

It's supposed to be an officer's car, but I'm cramming in as many of my men as I can, and taking their beer bottles off them as I can, and then insisting he goes back for the others.

My mind is racing. The Bismarck. The greatest, sleekest and most powerful ship the world has ever known. We know she's been biding her time in Norway. Now it won't be us just carrying the fight. Well, she must come round from the North. I guess excitedly that when she breaks out into the Atlantic, whatever scattered convoys, or even better, the odd capital ship may fall into the path of the likes of us.

And Heidi kissed me!

"First Officer, report the Boat and Crew!" I demand on racing along the pens, until we get to ours"

The hasty parade we're having is not quite battleship standard.

"All fifty one men reported in, Sir!"

"The U-46 is ready for sea!"

In an aside, Christian whispered,

"I think some of them might be drunk, Sir"

"I'd say most of them, including me, and this has just interrupted the most ....Never mind Christian, go to see us off properly, but give me at least eight clear eyes upstairs. I’ve got some orders and charts to go through. I want good navigation down the estuary, you know the course. Wake me if you need me but in all events when we come out into the Bay, or daylight is approaching, or any other emergency including the cook making coffee."

And so the U-46 puts to sea again.

Well we're out.

The Bay is the feeding tray for the Birds of Prey that periodically come round for a nibble, or often a swoop.

"I don't like this, Bruno" I murmur,

"The sky is too clear"

I looked across at U-100, with much better mounted AA guns than us, and he could sense the same unease.

"Clear the bridge, Number Two. Too much daylight. We're going below for a while.

Looking across at U-100 he seemed to have made the same decision. His semaphore lamp winked at me briefly, and then I saw
his men disappearing below in an orderly fashion.

"Tell Otto to put us down to 12. Get Viktor up here. We need to relay the message on."

We had U-513 away to our starboard, yet another 'green' boat, and U-711 beyond her. The idea being that there's safety in numbers getting away from France.

The first we knew of it was the 'punch, punch, punch': the repetitive noise of a 20mm answering to the call from the heavens.

Then I could see the tracer arcing up seemingly lazily at red intervals, from U- 711, previously just a distant speck on our starboard flank, and now fighting for her life.

That dot in the sky, they were firing at was turning into a Sunderland.

"As quick as you please, Bruno. I should think we may be paid an unpleasant visit in the next thirty seconds. Tell the Chief to drop us like a stone!"

Most of the watch were halfway down but my Number Two didn't need to be asked twice. I could hear him yelling at Otto even as I clamped the last two lids and slithered (less gracefully than I would have wished) down into the Control Room.

"What is it, Sir?"

"Bloody aircraft, Willi, what did you expect? The Good Fairy?"

Suitably chastened, Willi resumed his battle station by the chart table. It won't use much of his pencil lead to work out our progress at this slow rate.

He lifts his chalkboard. Another of his jobs is to mark off the number of depth charges dropped.

Most of the surviving boats do this. It's not all about crew morale, and striking out all the ones that haven't killed us. As a guide for me, it's good to know as a commander how many my friend up there has chanced his arm with. Unless it's changed for better or worse, and she might have already dropped some somewhere else, I can get a feel, or hope to, for when she might be giving up the chase, maybe even take a pop back at her? It's happened once.

Yes damn it, there are too many possible variables. But you know what Willi is like for his lucky mascots, and if there's anything that holds the boys together in the preliminary stages of a depth charge attack, it's Willi confidently holding his little blackboard. He nearly ran out of chalk once or twice though. (but as he pronounced proudly):

"I may run out of chalk for the depth charges, Kap, but I'll never get it wet!"..............

"I think we should be ok, boys but keep us going down. A nice straight line, please Otto"

There are three other boats in relatively tight formation who are probably swimming about all over the place. It wouldn't be good to collide with one of them underwater now, however freaky the accident might seem. It has happened in training in the Baltic.

"Hans! Give me good sub-surface reports"

I think we have ducked away in good time; as Otto says, it's all or nothing if they catch us on the surface. But I'm concerned about the others. U-100 seemed to be heading down before , or at least the same time as we sought sanctuary.

But the other two 'younger' boats were slower off the mark in diving before it turned nasty. At least U-711 was slugging it out with them on the top.

"What do you think, Sir?" said Christian, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and trying to find out about this new threat.

It could be either or both of them, Number One. I don't think they dived in time. At least the picket boat, U-711 put some flak up. Maybe they managed to drive him off, but...

...I tailed off. It couldn't have been nice for those youngsters to see their senior commanders of the Pack vanishing beneath the waves But that's what it's like out here. The Devil takes the hindmost.

"... Well we'll soon know, Christian, you know what a depth charge sounds like surely. And we've sunk enough ships for you to be familiar with the noise of a vessel breaking up underwater. Sorry to be morbid about it, but..."

Hans interrupted us.

"Depth charges, Sir!"

And with the loud crack, boom and unforgettable sound of rending metal, even from a kilometer away at most, from the expression on Christian's face, I could see that he was listening to the sound of his own death...

"Hans?"

"Two other sets of screws below the water, Sir, both U-boats, one to port approximately 400m"

(That'll be U-100. Well done, you old salt)

"Another one, further off to starboard, hard to tell the distance yet"

He grimaced wryly,

"There's other noise interference"

It didn't take the brains of Einstein to know what he meant. It was clearly audible. The mournful song of a vessel going down. The odd final crack of bulkheads giving way, the background noise of air escaping, and worse, the keening whine of metal breaking open, like a whale's song. A song of anguish. A mortally wounded whale.

We'd heard it often enough, and even cheered at it. This was one of ours, and everyone was quiet in the Control Room.

"Well they didn't dare come for us this time, menschen! And anyway we're always too quick for them"

I attempted to lighten the mood.

A few forced smiles around the crew.

"Level again at periscope depth, Sir" reports Otto

"Anything from the other boats, Viktor?"

"Nothing, Sir, I doubt if they had time"

"Can you transmit and receive from this depth?"

"Should be able to, Sir"

"Try and raise the other two boats periodically. They might still be too deep at the moment, whichever one made it."

"Red light on! Prepare to surface at my command!"

I'd checked the charts again with Willi, and Hans had given me regular sonar reports. Remarkably, U-100 had kept a rough station with us underwater.

That's Goelf in her. Bernhardt; or Bernie to his mates in the Club, which is everyone.

I was surprised when he came out with us, I thought he was sunk, or more likely locked up long before now. Bernie was a bit of a maverick. And that's saying something in the U-bootwaffe.
A habit of speaking his mind, when senior officers are talking rubbish, and had his own table at the 'Cat', but it had been empty for a while. Popular in the Flotilla for his infallibly jolly attitude, and good to his men, he could still kick them into action when needed.

So that's two of us. Where, or who is the third out of the four we started with?

"Call Wolfram in, Coxswain"

I rubbed my forehead. It had all happened too quickly from a table with Heidi, back to the sea.

Much too bloody quickly.

"Cap off! Stand to attention!" barked the Coxswain enjoying himself.

"Wait outside, Cox, and be ready to bring in the unteroffiziers"

Wolfram stood before me. He coughed nervously. In fact he couldn't help coughing all the time.

"Hello Wolfram. How is it going with you?"

"Very (cough) well, Sir, (cough) Am I in any trouble, Sir, Because if it's about that oil valve check, I...?

"No, of course not, Wolfram. Just a chat. Tell me, you live in Magdeburg don't you?"

"Yes, Sir"

"The Cathedral there is quite something isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir, (cough) Magdeburg is a beautiful City and..."

"...And you have quite a family back there, nicht wahr?"

"Oh yes, Sir, three girls (cough) and two boys. They both want to join the Army and..."

"Quite so, Wolfram. How would you like to spend more time closer to them? Get some fresh air for once, and go home to them more often?

"I would like (cough) nothing better, Sir, but I belong here, Sir, on the U-46!"

"Yes, Wolfram, but you have done your duty, nobody could have done more. I'm recommending you for your outstanding service to take up a training post back in Germany. We need good men like you, and so does your family. I know we're at sea now, but next time we put in at St Nazaire, I want you to be ready with your kitbag and rush off home to your wife and kids. We'll deal with the paperwork. What do you say?"

"Thank you , Sir!

"Good. Now look to those engines, because we're not home yet"

"Yes, Herr Kaleun"

"And another thing, Wolfram, I wouldn't like to hear that this had got about amongst the boys who are staying on, otherwise I might have to rethink my decision. You'll do you're duty while we're still on patrol or the Chief Engineer will want to know the reason why, and so will I!"

"Yes (cough), Yes, Sir!"

I looked at my watch. I'm hoping to surface soon.

"Next, Coxswain!"

Otto and Reuben cram themselves into my cabin.

Reuben makes some effort at coming to attention, I wouldn't expect more than a shuffle of feet from Otto.

Those drill pigs were the bane of his life back in the depot; probably why he never made officer first time. Much more happy with machinery, which is why the instructors picked on him and called him an 'oily rag'

Anyway.

"What the devil do you mean by stowing away on my boat, Francks? And what do you mean by concealing it, Chief?"

"But, Sir, you said..."

"Never mind what I said. There are procedures. Have you any idea of the paperwork this will involve? The number of clerks who will be scurrying about because of this?"

"No, Sir"

"No Sir

"No!" I thundered

But I couldn't keep it up any longer.

"And I couldn't care less, either!"

"Welcome aboard again, Reuben. I trust the Chief here is showing you the ropes, and don't let him kid you or me that we're down to our last liter of fuel. He's a devil for that. It may take a bit of sorting out at BdU when we get back, but I'm prepared to do that exceptionally in this case."

Otto smirked at this, (as if to say, 'any pretty young clerk in particular?')

"What are you smiling at, Chief?"

He straightened his face as best he could.

And my show of temper was running out of steam, but with one last gathering of bluster.

"Well you'll have to hot bunk it between you. Wolfram is leaving us after this patrol, and then with a bit of re-arranging, you'll have your own pit, Reuben"

"Yes, Sir"

"Yes, Sir"

"We're going back in one piece, with everyone on board, and with some tonnage on the board, alles klar?"

"Yes, Sir!" they chimed

"Well what are you waiting for? First Watch have been stood under the ladder in their oilskins for the last half hour! One of you surface us, and the other be ready to start the diesels, we won't win the war by putting along down here all night!"

"Sir!"

And then they were gone. Bending through the boat to their stations.

A good old squint through the observation scope, and then

"Surface!

"Well, this is what it looks kike lads,"

I had Christian, Otto and Willi with me in the cabin

Doenitz's sealed orders to me were unequivocal.

"Uncle doesn't believe in capital ships, you know him, he's a U-boat man, and we should be thankful for that. Our job is to be merchant tonnage. And that's what we'll do..

But if the Bismarck breaks out, and starts making a mess of the Halifax convoys, or starts drawing the big ships of the Royal Navy on to her, guess where the U-46 will be, if we can!

"Can you all keep quiet! Now I've lost it, and I'll have to ask for a repeat, you idiots!"

Viktor was yelling at the assembled company of every off-watch officer, including me , who had gathered round his radio cabin. But to a man we all backed off, chastened.

The dits and dahs flew through the air to his pencil, for some minutes.

"How's Kaiserslautern getting on against Bremen in the quarter finals?" ventured Bruno.

"Shut up, Number Two!" I growled.

"What is it Viktor?"

He was busily punching the keys of the Enigma, oblivious of any impatient officers standing around him.

"One moment, Sir", but his eyes were gleaming with excitement

"Looking big, Sir!"

"All right gentlemen, and you , Bruno. Wait in the Wardroom. We'll know soon enough"

But I hung around Victor's cabin myself like a naughty schoolboy.

Viktor finally thrust the message triumphantly in my hand.

"Sorry sir, but I hope it was worth waiting for"

I took it into my cabin, and read it.

Made the short journey to the expectant officers of my crew.

"Gentlemen, the Hood is sunk, and the Bismarck is out!"

"The Bismarck and the Prinz Eugen smashed her to bits, lads, no contest! Also sent the Prince of Wales scurrying away with her bum spanked!"

"Pass the word. Never mind wolves, my friends, we have a charging rhino out in the North Atlantic!"

Huge cheers as the news was passed.

Me Willi and Christian looked at the map again.

She may have just boldly struck out in the wide gap between Scotland and Iceland. God knows we've had to do it often enough, but we're no bloody great battleship.

Or maybe she was crafty and went through the Denmark Straits, the northern side of Iceland?

Either way the Northern Fleet managed to find her, and she gave battle and won!

That has really thrown the cat among the pigeons.

We’re still a couple of whole grid blocks from where Willi and I think she might be. But well placed for any eventuality, including the sailing of the Gibraltar Fleet. Wouldn't that be something if I could get Otto his Ark Royal!

Something I didn't read out, though. Bismarck took a hit in her oil bunkers, and we are already hearing repeated orders for auxiliary fuelling ships (and we have precious few of those) to report in and make their way to the North East Atlantic...

We reach our dispersal point, and amid much waving of caps, and ribald humor over the blinker lamp, Bernie and his U-100 takes off further West into the unknown.

He's always keen to get away and come to grips with the enemy.

We're both very alive to the fact that the presence of the Bismarck is going to make the North Atlantic even more interesting than usual, this time.

Good hunting, Bernie.

We hang around for a day in a small box pattern. We're not far from our designated patrol area anyway, and I want to see which, if any, of the other two boats makes the RV.

In a way it was gratifyingly difficult to spot a fellow U-boat, even when you knew it should be there. But also disconcerting; the Sunderland didn't prang them both surely?

Viktor hadn't been able to raise either of them on the radio, and apart from a listening watch, I'd forbade him to transmit any more signals apart from essential traffic.

Finally on the dawn of the day after the appointed RV, Oscar came up for a 'breath of fresh air' and immediately lit a foul-smelling cigar.
A fine example from the boat's doctor.

But as he tossed his match into the sea, he craned his neck almost casually and said:

"What's that, over there fellows?"

Sure enough there was a long low dark shape about 2,000 meters away, in the bright early morning sun

Willi was mortified, as this was his watch; soon he, Reuben and I were training our Zeiss binoculars on her.

"She's one of ours" Reuben stated, and we concurred.

But Willi regained ground by identifying her. He was an expert at conning tower emblems!

"It's a bear, the Berlin Bear!"

That's young Walter, the little bugger!"

So it was. A couple of lamp signals, and some nifty helmsmanship from Willi, and we were pretty much in hailing distance some few minutes later.

U-711, and her young crew had survived their first action. Their watch and flak gunner had been on the ball enough to at least shoot back, and once caught on top to see it through. Whilst the U-513 it seems had been caught hesitating between the option of diving or fighting. So that when she did submerge, it was too late, not enough depth and a clear wake, for a Sunderland that had already sheared away from the flak her fellow boat was sending up; U-513 was a much easier target, and she and her crew will never have the chance to learn from their mistake.

The crew of U-711 were cheering happily, like the boys most of them were. Not much younger than my lot, but a world of experience away in the year or so that separated them.

"Ok, Willi, let's not have a big reunion party. The sun's up, and we're both asking for it up here"

"Tell Walter to go down to periscope depth too, and keep his distance.

Slow speed and maintain course. We'll surface again at 20.00.

"Sir! Clear the bridge men!"

As the lamp blinked one last time, amid some last waving and exhortations with a plunging downward thumb signal for U-711 to submerge also, we trooped below.

"Plucky kid," said Reuben, as we reconvened round the chart table.

"Yes Reuben" I smiled wryly, “That’s one of the things we do have enough of at the moment"

"Clear. Surface!"

As I dropped down from my observation scope, Otto had already set our dive planes up, I think he was quite enjoying the fact that he had a more experienced hand with the (actually very tricky) business of changing depth.

Reuben would now be standing by with the stokers, aft, waiting for the word to switch the electric motors off, and fire up the diesels.

You could risk it on the Papenburg Meter if you were sure off your sea and your instruments here in the Control Room.

But, situation depending,, we always waited for the call down from the new watch.

"Diesel vents clear, Sir!"

"Down electric motors, Diesels on. Ahead standard."

We knew U-711 was close by; we could hear her turning through the water.

It was Christian's turn. And as I followed his watch up, he was already pointing out to starboard.

"That's Walter, Sir"

"Thanks, Number One"

Before the light faded, we had quite a conversation by lamp.

Walter reported a few tracer dents off the bridge, and were we ok?

Cheeky monkey!

'Yes we are fine, U-513 gone; U-100 ok, and out working'

.."Auntie Beatrice?"

"Auntie B is well, and may be paying a visit. Keep your best shoes shined."

With that we turned away towards our patrol pattern, and U-711 did the same.

It's funny how even the remotest friendly contact takes on such a significance when you are at sea. The boys were waving wildly before I sent them below and resumed normal watch.

We must attack more ships,

But in the back of our minds, like the little boys we really are, we're hoping for, and dreading, the time when our formidable Great Aunt, comes into view.....

It was a typical day in the Control Room. The soft murmurings of Otto or Reuben with their team; the routine trudge of the new watch bobbing and ducking their way to the bridge, the squelch of the off-coming watch giving a last weather and situation report before climbing gratefully into their bunks like zombies.

There were times when they'd been too tired to even take their wet things off, but at least now, after a good few patrols they know better. The bedding is damp and rank enough as it is already.

And of course, me, Willi, and one or other of the watch officers always bending over the chart table, with dividers, slide rule and wax pencil, or hovering outside Viktor's radio cabin.

We had taken one ship. 2,000 laden tons by the look of her. Up from the West coast of Africa. Freetown would be my guess. Bruno spotted her miles off and we were at periscope depth and ready long before she showed us her starboard bow at 2,000 meters.

Even then we tracked her for the last hour or so of daylight, and put her down with one shot in the dark. And we didn't even surface afterwards.

Dirty work perhaps, and I was nearly in two minds to let her go. The Gibraltar Fleet must be coming out, and following pretty much the same route, and we didn't want to show our hand. Or I didn't.

But BdU had been unequivocal in their orders though, no great lovers of fleet actions, it had been 'Business as Usual' and we had been allotted our grids. U-100 furthest West, then us, and U-711 on her first patrol, closest to home.

We were hundreds of miles apart by now, like a goal with only three strands of netting to stop the football.

But that didn't stop us endlessly speculating about the Bismarck. She'd already seen them off once, and reports had been frustratingly patchy ever since.

Surely Auntie B had to be heading South or South West, depending where she broke out. Scattering convoys before her, and drawing the British capital ships onto her guns and our tubes!

As Bruno said, as only he can:

"It may be quiet now, but soon the North Atlantic will be a huge buffet table!"

We laughed, changed onto the next leg of our patrol pattern, and waited some more..
Another stray. Two masts, one funnel, low in the water, which is good, because it means she's carrying.

But not for long

"Los!"

That exhilarating hiss of the torpedo leaving tube one. The petty officers swearing and cursing as a new torpedo is winched up into position, fresh grease slapped on, and quiet and not so quiet instructions from all and sundry, down to their vest tops, and everyone always an expert, in how best to reload.

"Shut up boys, or you'll miss it!"

The Coxswain always knew how to get their attention

"Twenty seconds to impact!"

'The Kapitan will nail her..'

'I hope he sends another one, so I won't have to sleep underneath you, you smelly old tramp..."

"Shut up boys! Let's see if the Kap has got this one..."

Seconds pass. The boys don't know what range we've launched at, or therefore the time of detonation

"Right, keep reloading Tube One, standby Two to Four."

"Captain to all. We remain at battle stations. We are pursuing a freighter of a good size, who is not enjoying life up here in the storm any more than us I dare say. Sorry men, that first torpedo should have hit by now, we're going to try and run ahead and get a simpler shot. Close all bow caps, and hold on to your hats. We're going into some very big waves."

Joachim comes bowling through to the fore-ends.

"Come on you slackers, get that tube loaded now! And swear and clang as much as you like, no one’s going to hear you, or care in this ****ty weather, least of all me. Now check, arm, grease and load - give me that chain pulley here you idiot!"

..."Tube one reloaded, Sir"

We have now bashed through the waves for another hour. There'll be no planes up, and I have trimmed the watch right down to me and Christian. We think we have her silhouette in the distance, but it's impossible to tell in the wind and driving rain.

"Why don't we drop down and listen for her that way, Sir?"

"Because we might be a few knots faster on the surface, but she's riding the storm better than our little pencil of a boat. We have no beam to speak of, and are getting tossed around more than her.

"We have two things in our favor. The first is that she doesn't even know we've come knocking yet, even though we've shot at her once. She's making a straight course, and having enough trouble with the storm herself.

"The second is that we are slowly gaining on her, and it will take as long as it takes."

U-46 is thrown about in another series of jolts and surges, as this remarkably designed vessel pitches and surges in an out of every wave.

We have to relieve the watch much more frequently, and chain them on to the bridge. It has been known for an entire watch to be swept overboard by a wave when not clamped on to the boat, and other stories of an entire watch which perished when their bridge was engulfed by a wave so massive, that it effectively submerged the boat for so long that it drowned them all.

What must the new watch have thought when they climbed the ladder?

Shudder

But there she is, just before dawn. Puffing away, all 8,000 tons of her, and looking forward to breakfast.

And we've got ahead

"Come on Joachim, give us that firing solution, we have a near perfect 85 on the bow and range 900

"Yes, Sir"

"Los!"

'Standby tube four just in case."

"Bridge to Control, port to South 190, and Otto?"

Even as we turn away and gaze over the Wintergarten, a huge geyser of water and a rolling boom confirms the hit.

"Is she going, Christian?"

"Yes, Sir"

"Close Tube Four; diving stations. Bridge hands below.

"You do the hatches this time, Christian, and broadcast the kill to the crew. Tell Otto to drop us out of this storm, and cut speed. He knows. Tell Willi to give him our route, and then get yourself some time in the sack. That's exactly where I'm going"


I slumped onto my bunk, and rubbed my sore eyes, making them worse.

So tired.

I looked across to my fold-down 'desk' and realized with a start that there was a red manila folder still lying on it. The inked stamp on it - 'U-46: Geheime Befehlung'

Jesus, how long had I left secret patrol orders lying about?

I really must be getting tired.

These need to go back in the safe. I have a small lockable cubby hole for the purpose.

As I returned the orders, my hand brushed against a cloth bag at the back containing some hard object.

Curious and non-plussed for the moment, I pulled it out and opened the bag.

Well blow me, I'd quite forgotten I had one of these!

It was a Lugar. A 9mm Parabellum automatic pistol. Parabellum - 'Prepare for War' I thought and smiled. They got that right.

I'd quite forgotten it was there, or in what circumstances I was supposed to use it. Repel boarders, or quell mutinies perhaps? Take a pot shot at a destroyer or jabo even? Or maybe it's supposed to be an easy way out if we're stuck on the bottom or going down and there's no hope? I grimaced.

Whatever, it was no use to anyone now. After at least a year of neglect and exposure to the damp and salt air of a U-boat, it was completely brown and seized up with rust.

I practiced a couple of quick draws in front of my tiny mirror. Hey, this is fun!

Otto, Willi and their Control Room gang were probably surprised, to say the least, to see their Kapitan swagger out of his cabin brandishing a pistol and yelling

"Yeehaw, cowboys, give me a shot of red-eye, bartender, and tell Black Jake I'll see him on the Main Street at High Noon!"

"You ok, Sir?"

"Just messing about Otto. I just found my lager. Look at the state of it. I handed it over to him. Take it up top and have Bruno chuck it over the side."

"Ok, Sir."

He took the pistol but hesitated.

"Sir..?"

"Yes, Otto?"

"I was just thinking, I've got some stuff for removing rust and so on, perhaps we could get it shiny and brand new again. It would certainly give us something to do.....?"

And so it was that the Lugar spent the next day soaking in a tray of some solvent of Otto's. Word spread and everyone in the wardroom and the CPO's all were clamoring for a bit to clean once we were able to break it down.

In the end when we divided up the disassembled parts, people had to team up and take it in turns to restore their own bit. Competition was fierce and the parts were jealously guarded. I even broke out the box of bullets to give everyone something to clean and polish. There was always someone off-watch diligently rubbing and oiling again and again. None of us really had much experience of small arms, but of course in the spirit of competition we all discovered we were each the absolute experts in the field.

Finally the day came when each gleaming and glistening component part was proudly produced at a ceremony in the Control Room, and Otto solemnly re-assembled the pistol. Everyone had done a fantastic job, and was bursting with pride as their piece was added.
The Lugar shone like a mirror. It's action was slick and effortless, it's slight sheen of spotless gunmetal blue.

"Well I suppose we ought to give it a go lads" I suggested, to great cheers.

Over the course of the next day or so and as the situation or duty or weather allowed, every single member of the crew took part in the shooting competition at one time or another.

Any passing enemy plane would have been bemused to see a good proportion of a feared U-boat's crew laughing and abusing each other as one by one, they took turns in blasting away at some apple juice bottles towed 20m off the stern.

To be honest we were all pretty terrible shots, but it was huge fun. And for some of the stokers, it was the first time on deck at sea.

The winner in fact did come from the engine room, much to Otto and Reuben's swelling pride. Young Braun adopted the technique of screwing his eyes shut and squeezing the trigger!

His prize was to be honorary owner of the Lugar (although it was thoroughly and religiously cleaned afterward -everyone taking their original piece and tutting about the amount of carbon that had built up) and returned to my cabin for safekeeping. Ownership to be contested on our next patrol.

Braun's other reward was to dispose of the array of bottles we had trailing aft, and what better way to do that than get the boat's top marksman to smash them with the AA gun!

Under the intense supervision of Joachim, and Johann, our flakkie, in case he blew our stern off, those bottles disappeared in a great churning shower of spray, and no small expenditure to the Reich!
__________________
The shipyard certificate says 90 meters, but of course, we can go deeper.

In fact the men did get together and stitch together a rudimentary holster belt and cowboy hat out of some old canvas for me. And I looked quite the part in my checked shirt and Navy oilskin trousers as rodeo chaps.

They're trying to persuade me to wear it all when we come back in and take the salute in St Nazaire.

The Flotilla guys might get the joke, but the Party Bigwigs who always congregate for a photo opportunity on these occasions are not known for their sense of humor. And nor, publicly, is Uncle Karl.

As for carrying the Lugar around with me, I've gone a year without even remembering it's existence, and it would get in the way when moving through the hatches.

Also I have far better ways of dealing with both the enemy and an unruly or wavering crewman.

Plus there are no more bullets left anyway. We really are terrible shots, and used the lot!

In my defense, when I was eliminated, I'm sure Bruno suddenly swung the helm on the Bridge every time I took aim.

"We can't send this to BdU, Sir.."

"Why not?"

Viktor sighed. And glanced at his piece of paper

"Because, Sir:

'Where is the Ark R and where is Auntie B, what are our KM idiots doing about it?'

isn't going to go down too well, I'd guess"

"Nor, Sir, is this doodle of a little Alpine house, and this man and a woman having a picnic with 'Ich liebe Heidi' scrawled underneath. That's hard to translate into Morse, Herr Kaleun."

"Give me that here, Viktor! That's just some doodling and scribbles, the message form is on the reverse side"


"I'll re-write it. Step across the gantry"

" U-46 to BdU. DTG (put in the time and date when you send it, Viktor?)
In patrol box BE as ordered.
U-513 confirmed lost with all hands by enemy air action.
U-100 and U-711 proceeding to designated patrol areas.
Last heards as my previous message.
Two merchants sunk by U-46 of 2,000 and 8,000. Could not ascertain name of ship, or type of cargo due to weather, but laden and heading NE.
11 torpedoes ready, and all other weapons systems and crew intact
Request new ops area or permission for independent action, to anticipate the big ships. Ours or theirs. U-46"

"Well that's better, Sir,"

"Thanks Viktor, I'm glad my message to the Gross Admiral has your approval"

I took my cap off and ran my fingers through my hair

Some medicinal rum should have been forthcoming, but of course He had a better supply than me. I'm not supposed to know about it, and they can store stuff in ingenious places.
(I'm thinking now of the time when a depth charge ruptured a couple of pipes in the Control Room, and the hands were incredibly quick to see to it)

(It's a busy time to say the least, when you're being depth charged , and the crew were very conscientious in stemming this particular flow with their mugs)

Only later I learned, that an illicit bag of schnapps had been burst behind one of our air pipes by the Royal Navy. Christian told me much later when he found out himself, after me, him and Otto were busy saving the boat. We had already gone past 220m down.
"Are you annoyed , Sir?"
("Of course I'm annoyed, Number One! Where was our last tot? I had a throat as dry as Rommel's boots!")

Anyway,

"Sit down Viktor. Pour a couple of shots and talk to me"

"This thing about Heidi..."

"Sir, the crew have known for ages; she loves you, and that was obvious to any of us who had to go to Headquarters, the other crews in the Flotilla know too, and they're taking bets on you against that fly boy from Abbeville."

"You're running a book, aren't you, Viktor?"

"Not any more, Sir, the whole of U-46 wants their money on you, I can't place enough of it out with the Luftwaffe ground crews and the army at odds to make a turn"

"Get back to her, Sir"

"By that you mean, don't take any risks with the boat, and get us all back in one piece, isn't that it?"

"That thought hardly crossed my mind, Sir"

The green curtain swayed, and I could catch a glimpse of Viktor's famous paperback collection, rocking back and forth on his shelf.
Most were trashy detective novels to be sure, but I happen to know there were some extremely romantic stories of love in the 18th century that he never lent out.

"We'll all be getting back safely, Viktor, but one thing at a time..."

"They are fast screws, Sir. Someway distant. Bearing North-Northeast about 280 on our port bow."

I grabbed one of his earphones. And listened as Hans rotated his sonar wheel.

He's always right of course. We all in our tasks have to be right all of the time.

"Destroyer, Sir"

"Steer 350, and give me my periscope please, Reuben. Bruno get your bridge watch together, and get some soup down them from the galley, ready to go up in thirty minutes. Rouse Christian and Willi. Don't wake Otto, he's only just got his head down, and ease us up on the dive planes. He's very tetchy if we use up compressed air unless in an emergency.

"In an emergency we're all blowing air out of one valve or another.." Bruno muttered as he went to rouse his watch.

"Get on with it, Number Two!" I laughed, as the murmured orders in the control room and the gentle tilt and swing of our boat obey my and Reuben's commands.

Back to the Sonar desk.

"I know it's a destroyer, Hans. But only one? Nothing bigger beyond it?"

We had been waiting for more news on linking up with the Bismarck.
The reports we received were fragmented. She had clearly come in for a bit of attention after sinking the Hood, and some damage to her oil bunkers were clearly going to curtail a long voyage.

Plus we could make out that she had been attacked by destroyers, cruisers and planes. So the element of surprise perhaps wasn't there, but she'd obviously swatted them all away.

The last we heard was a sustained attack from bi-plane torpedo bombers. One of which may have scored some damage impeding her movement into the shipping lanes.

Ironically, as Joachim pointed out, those torpedo bombers are called swordfishes.

And now we're not receiving anything from our people. I suppose I'm starting to fear the worst. Auntie B has huge guns, but she can't hide as well as we can.

So, while we would always duck away from a destroyer contact, we might be close to a surface battle, or who knows what, and we must close in.

"Twelve meters, Sir! Periscope depth"

"Thank you Reuben"

And I swing my cap round the other way, and take a peek...

It took me a while to acquire the destroyer through the scope. It was still a long way off, and although we had set us to converge, we were still in any ASDIC blind spot.

Destroyers don't hang about on their own. It looks like a tribal class, which usually escort capital ships, and are used for fleet actions.

There!

For a second, I'm sure I saw it. A Flat Top!

"Joachim! Christian! Get here and have a squint! It's hard to spot at this range and with the sea, but I think we have a Carrier here on this bearing?"

Christian stared endlessly, rotating the scope in small sweeps, before, swearing in frustration.

"I can't see it, Sir"

"Let me see." Joachim, as our weapons officer is uncanningly good at spotting and recognizing enemy warships and planes.

For a long time he was silent, as me and Christian paced behind him.

Eventually he let out a long low whistle.

"Better wake up Otto after all, Sir"

"He's always wanted to sink the Ark Royal

"You're right, Sir, it's Her"

By now all three of us are cramming round the eyepiece, like the little boys we once were.

"Battle stations! And do wake up that slacker of a Chief Engineer . He'll want to see this. "

Ever since Ernst took that tracer in the Wintergarten, I've had a sense that Otto and a lot of the seniors have wanted some revenge.

Well, a U-boat on the surface is no match for a bomber, traveling at 500 times our speed, and with that fatal third dimension of the air. And I have always dived rather than giving battle, given the choice.

Ernst and that brave pilot managed to kill each other, but not us.

My Chief and Ernst went way back. It took him hard at the time when we pulled Ernst down bleeding and mortally wounded, and in the still of the Control Room, as Oscar pronounced Ernst dead, Otto swore vengeance on all enemy aircraft

And now we maybe have the chance to redress the balance.

Otto is breathlessly on my shoulder.

"Take a look my friend. She's still a long way off, but getting bigger by the minute."

"That's her, Sir!"

"You see anything smaller dotted around her, Otto?"

"Destroyers, Sir, and quite a few of them"

"Yes, Chief and that’s our problem. They shouldn't be able to see or hear us yet. But to get into a decent attack position is going to involve getting north of them.

Before I talk to my Number One on the tactical considerations, can you pull U-46 out of a hole once again, because we're bound to take some punishment whatever we do."

Otto's eyes gleamed.

"We're here for moments like this, Kaleun"

"That's good enough for me, Chief. We're at battle stations and I want our best people up. See to it at your end of the boat. Don't worry I'll call you forward when we get a good shot at her.

"Christian! Willi! Around the chart table now! Viktor! Get off a contact report! Steer further north, Reuben, surface the boat and flank speed. We need to get ahead of them!

Bruno, have your men under the ladder, I'll be up later.

Joachim, get the fore ends and tubes cleared for action.

This could be history we're writing here, tell the boys it's the Ark Royal!"

Bruno's boys were up on the bridge like squirrels as soon as we'd equalized pressure and the last hatch opened.

Even Otto, usually so miserly with his diesel, was now running the engines for all they were worth. And getting a suspiciously higher speed than he claimed the U-46 could ever do before.

We had to race ahead, whilst keeping a respectful distance, but still stay in long range visual contact. In other words we had to copy the zig-zag of the task force (and Joachim thinks he can also see the battleship Renown amongst the screen of destroyers), whilst not losing them. but not being seen.

A tricky game, but Bruno, at his best, kept us in sight of the Tommies now starting to be silhouetted even at that distance by the setting sun, as we gradually seemed to creep ahead, and constant recalculations of two courses and two speeds brought us closer to a reckoning at dusk.

BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM

We instinctively ducked in surprise. Who the hell was firing at us?

BAM BAM BAM BAM

"Flugzeug! Rot Eins Da! Da! Dahinter! Folgen nach Grun Zwei. Links! Links!"

BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM

It was our own Jurgen on the ball, blazing away with the 20mm and calling out the enemy aircraft's passage near the stern of the boat.

It was a swordfish. A funny looking bi-planed torpedo bomber. We could see after our initial surprise that the torpedo it once had under slung was gone. And it also had problems of it's own. Jurgen must have clipped it with a couple, or it was already hanging on from some earlier tussle. Either way it dragged itself up higher away into the sky (it must have been looking for the Carrier against the sunset just like we were)

"Damn it!" I shouted

"It's ok Sir, good old Jurgen soon saw him off!"

"Yes, Holtz"

"But it's all his big brothers we have to worry about now..."

"We can expect company, lads, but hold your nerve. If we dive now we'll lose them."

"Damned good eyes, Jurgen! He won't be back in a hurry!"

(Although his friends will)

Jurgen turned round briefly to acknowledge and then was back clearing his gun and kicking the empty 20mm cases over the side, slamming a new magazine on, and calling for the next ready use ammo box to be broached and a Number Two to stand by.

Excellent.

"Bruno, keep going full pelt. Steer out of their pattern to the North East, and then we'll exaggerate back to the North West. I'll be up again in a minute.

Of course below decks everyone is desperate for news, and men always fight or perform better if they have some idea of what is going on. So through the pipe:

"Kapitan to all stations. We are in contact with an enemy carrier force. We reckon it's the Ark Royal, it's long range yet, and this is going to be a long night."

"That noise you heard was Jurgen in the Wintergarten shooing away an old British crow!"

There were loud cheers.

"It does mean that we have to be quick on our toes, men. Let's not mess about."

More cheers, and everybody seemed to be up.

"Christian, take some extra men up on the bridge for air watch". And (in a whisper) "Double the hands available for damage control."

"Reuben, get aft and look after the engines; Otto, you have the Control Room while we're up top."

"Joachim, I don't need to tell you we'll only get one run at this. Get off and do your thing. But I need your finger on the button the very second the time comes for those eels"

"Coxswain, make all checks, and stow kit securely, if anyone want's to go to the heads now is the time, before you lock it."

"Willi, I've pushed us out on a wider tack, but I expect some pursuit already after that brush with the plane. Can we run ahead in time, and cut in. Let's check the chart."

Willi smiled and looked at me.

Crazily superstitious most of the time, but always cool in action. A china graph pencil in one hand as he sharpened it with a bosun's clasp knife with the other.

He held up the pencil.

"This is all we'll need to sink her, Kap!”

It was an edgy night, but not for long.

We'd seen a picket destroyer, and glimpses of the carrier, Otto bless him was running his diesels into wire wool just to edge us ahead into an attacking position.

Maybe we got too close on one tack, they knew all along after that torpedo bomber came limping back, that they had a u-boat out there. Maybe they were refueling, or loading ammo, I don't care .....
"...as long as they're not cleaning the rust of the depth charge runners, Herr Kaleun!"

"Yes, Christian," I grinned.

Of course the skill was to keep into contact with the Carrier at arms length and get ahead until nightfall, while being pushed out all the time by the escorts, who weren't sure who else had turned up for the party and didn't want to be drawn into a feint and lave the big ships open. Stephan last heard seems to making modest claims like us, Bernie in his charging U-100 will hate to have missed this show if he could get back on time, because he last reported even further West.

Willi comes up with his watch.

"Want to get below, Kap, you're no good to us frozen?

"Thanks Willi, maybe I will have a cup of cof...

"ALARM!"

The boys are flying down the ladder and only really using it to break their fall. Johann and his mate come flying through us after the watch from the gun, his mate still holding the last bracket of AA shells.

"Throw them away , Neumann!"

"But Sir, we.."

"You're blocking up the hatch, in a submerging U-boat which is not now watertight, boy!"

Otto as efficient as ever already has the bows down.

The first shot that zips across our bows is from the starboard.

We make sure everything is clanged shut and everybody put to battle stations. We're already crashing to 50 and that won't be enough.

"Damned destroyer nearly outflanked us, lads!"

"Aren't we supposed to be stalking them?"

"Otto, Christian, it now makes sense to make your circle to port. We've now found ourselves inside the outer screen, I know it's an impossible range, let's just get up to 13m depth so we can see.
We have at least one destroyer up our stern, and presumably more to come. between us and those ships.

"Otto for God's sake give me periscope depth, and flood tubes one to four"

"Joachim give them a salvo, meter spread, maybe a tail shot if we're lucky, because we're not invited here.

A violent hiss of the tubes and surge of the boat, but I knew, and the officers knew, at this range and with our torpedoes, it would be a lucky hit on something

That destroyer was now very close, at least one.

"Close bow caps! Hard a-port to 190"

Let's at least sneak out to the south if we can't outrun them to the North, and hopefully box round. And hopefully the escorts will lose interest quicker.

"Deeper, Chief and slow.

Joachim is still standing watching the red and black dial of his stopwatch

"It's ok Joachim, my decision, and it was really a long shot or nothing.

And then the ever louder churning of propellers start to come.

Even the cook comes running through.

"Is it true , Sir , did we manage to sink the...

"Get back to your station, Kuki, seal your galley hatch and dowse your stove.

"Do you think we got her...? breathes Christian running forward and Bruno walking back.

"I doubt it lads, that noise you hear is not the sound of an aircraft carrier splitting in two. The tilt of the boat should give you some idea, and perhaps the next loud bang you'll hear will be not theirs , but ours.

"Now stop messing about and go to our evasion drill....

"Here she comes, Herr Kaleun!"

"Depth 60 meters, steering hard on the port wheel, running to bearing 295 Sir!"

"Brace, men! hold on to something."

"Full speed and turn hard to starboard, now, Otto!

"Depth charges in the water, Sir!

"Now drop her Chief!"

Spin her like a wheel helmsman and give me 260.

We start to sink lower, and hopefully work our way around the back.

One desperate salvo didn't hit, but we are now the contact boat, and there is a major task force (Force K, as we intercepted)

"New escort approaching, Sir!"

A few charges go off mildly to our stern

"To hell with them boys, they're guessing. "

"So are we Kap?"

"We never say that, Number One...."

KABOOM!.. KABOOM!.. KABOOM!..KABOOM!

"Steady men!"

U-46 rolled to port as if reeling from a punch.

"Damage reports!"

"All contained, Herr Kaleun!"

This from Kurt, my young damage control expert, who scampers up and down the boat with all his tools and his gang and never tells me the nature of the problem, only that it's fixed.

"Otto we're still descending?"

"Yes Sir at 58 meters"

"Level off on the dive planes, lets show them where to put their bombs."

"Otto, be ready to crash on their next run, hard a dive and hands forward, and all Reuben's got in the electric motors. Full starboard on the helm, At my command!"

Everyone else was utterly silent except for the steady thrashing of the escort growing louder above us

Now! Chief! Now..!

Hans has thrown the headset down and stared into the Control Room.

I wink at him. He's a good man.

"Drive us down and away, Otto,. Now!"

U-46 cants down, and like the swordfish she is, turns away from the destroyer's run, hopefully just at the right time.

The roar of the propellers reach a crescendo, and then subside.

"What? Not a single depth charge? That's insulting!"

came from Walter at one of the Control Wheels

Everyone laughed.

"Quiet everyone!" I whispered.

"Either he's very stupid or very clever. Keep going down Otto, there'll be another one coming."

Otto looked at me.

"I'm sorry Chief, it was a long shot. It was that or nothing. But it's my guess they have Auntie B in the noose. "

"What we're going to do is duck round the back of that Task Force, get ourselves clear and reload tomorrow night."

"We're being hunted Sir,"

CRASH! BOOM! CRASH! CRASH!

The second and the third were the worst.

It wasn't close enough to breach the hull, but it was strong enough to swat us sideways in the water, and ironically the next charge blew us upright again. I guess that must have been what happened, at the time we were rattling about like split peas in a tin. Oscar wanted to be busy with cuts an bruises, but we had no time.

"Hold your depth, and hold your nerve men, your Kapitan does not want to get his feet wet today!"

It brought a wry smile from brave men.

"Christian, what I'm trying to do is wriggle out from under this, and pop up somewhere to the west of them and reload."

"So let's keep the noise down on the boat and make ourselves scarce.."

There were some brave nods amongst the men, but while we were being quiet, the enemy didn't have to.

And we could hear the growing throb of their propellers even now.

"Deeper"

"Eighty five meters, Sir.

"Very well. Slow speed, and a good hard sprint at my command"

However many times we hear it, there is nothing quite like the sound of an approaching destroyer. That relentless chugging beat that grows ever louder as danger approaches.

The trick is not to show our hand too early, but wait until they are committed to their attack run.

You pointlessly gaze upwards sometimes. As if you can see through the pressure hull and the destroyer coming some 260 feet above our heads. The reason you do it, is just to avoid the stare of the men who have their eyes fixed on you, and trust you with their lives. Willing you with every ounce of their soul to make the right decision, and to make it soon, because that destroyer is almost here.............

"......Flank speed! Bow planes to dive! 30 degrees to starboard on the helm!"

"Wasserbomben!"

...BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

"Hah! Not even close!" cries Willi, chalking another six of them off, as if for all the world, he knew all along they would never hit us.

And that is the greatest trick of all.

Always deeper, always changing direction and speed.

The last four runs weren't easy but they weren't the worst.

"Only scary for a first timer, eh, Willi?"

"The only first timers are those escorts up there, said Willi loudly so that the crew can hear him.

"Those jokers couldn't sink a pebble!"

"Let's get up and see who sinks who!"

There is an enthusiastic murmur around the Control Room.

I see Walter and a couple of the lads taking off their woolly hats and souwesters and perching their side caps jauntily on their heads. The tin swordfish as prominent as it can be.

And so to loud cheers, despite themselves....

"Periscope depth, Chief! U-46 is going back in!"

"Is it safe, Hans?

"Well, Sir! There's plenty of warship noise at a distance"

"What about our friends, the destroyers?"

"Moving away at high speed ; it's hard to tell Herr Kaleun, there's a lot of explosions going on, it's like I can hear other torpedoes running in the water very faintly. Do you think..."

"What I think, Hans, is that the Bismarck is fighting for her life, and we may already be too late. Keep me posted, lad!"

As I duck back into the Control Room

"...50 meters.."

" Never mind that!. Just get us leveled off at 12 or 13 , now Chief!"

"Joachim, take all the hands you need forward to reload those tubes. Go noisy. Report to me when we have any tube ready to fire

Otto blew his precious ballast tanks

Now I can see what......is going on.

There are large black dots in the distance, occasionally silhouetted by the crash of their guns. British battleships and cruisers

But the constant plumes of water, smoke and flame in one spot on the horizon

"Lads, they've caught Auntie Beatrice! The Bismarck!"

We have to...

"...Sir, I have to report that all our forward tubes are inoperable.

Joachim sighed.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but one of those depth charges blew off or buckled our bow caps"

"Anytime we load, we risk flooding the boat. I'm sorry Sir, but there it is..."

"Can it be fixed?"

I already knew the answer

"Not in the middle of the Atlantic, Herr Kaleun"

"But we still have tube 5 to show our arse to them with?"

"Sir, I have to report that we used a lot of the parts from the rear tube to try to bring the fore tubes back into action"

"Joachim, can we not fire a single torpedo, at a British Task Force who are too busy bullying one of ours, to strike back?

"No Sir, we can't. The offensive capacity of the U-46 has been removed beyond repair at least in the latest battle situation"

"Stop standing to attention, Joachim, I'm sure you did all you could. Short of surfacing and taking on the Rodney or Prince of Wales with our 88mm peashooter.

We watched helplessly, taking turns on the periscope, as the Bismarck sank in the distance, really only a plume of smoke amongst salvoes of shell splashes and strikes. She'd clearly fought back hard.

Torpedo strikes, and more shells, then Auntie B starts to go.

Oscar , our Medic, takes a squint.

"There's our lads in the water, Kap!"

"We can't go in, Oscar. You must know that."

"Because ....?

"Because the Brits are on the scene, and aren't a bad lot at following the rules of the sea. And they have the room and facilities to look after survivors (after all we've sent them a few of their own), but if they get a sniff of the likes of us, they'll be off like a shot."

Oscar, the best thing we can do for our comrades in the water is to leave them to dry captivity. But we'll hang around anyway"

"Slow speed, Otto. Steer us to 47........

"Keep looking Bruno"

We've now scoured the area several times since the last Royal Navy vessel has left.

It's daft really. I have doubled the watch to look out for lurking destroyers but half the crew are roaming on the deck casing hoping to spot one of ours. We'll never all get back in time if we need to crash.

I can't risk the boat.

"Boatswain, send two thirds of these blokes below. Have them ready for a turn on deck in three shifts, the ones you take below will be two and three. Have at least a petty officer in charge of them at all times.

"Yes Sir, anything else, Sir"

"Tell Kuki it's ok to make loads of hot coffee or soup for everyone, and also do what you have to do to get some dry blankets and clothing ready, also any inflatable’s...I was waving my hand vaguely, he was smiling and already moving.

U-46 is only inching through the water. The Doc is on the bridge, peering anxiously.

"We'll give it a bit longer, Oscar, I promise"

The water lapping against our hull is black with oil and the flotsam and jetsam of a sinking. Even several clearly dead bodies. Funny how we never cared about it so much before.

Myself, Oscar and two other hands have dropped down to the main deck.

"Watch your quarters, men! Ships and planes! Ships and planes!"

It was encouraging to know that Bruno was keeping his watch on their toes

"Don't forget us if you dive, Number Two"

"You know the rules, Sir!"

Yes, the old Kiel mantra.

(Last man down the hatch buys the schnapps. For everyone behind him, the salt water is free)

Oscar turns and smiles.

"He's a cheeky little....

"...shush, Doc...!

"...Did you hear something, just then...?"

Even Bruno turned serious, and was staring hard out of our starboard bow.

"There it is again" says Oscar.

"Hilfe...Hilfe mir, bitte...bitte...bitte...Hilfe...."

Some very good helming from that rascal, Bruno, on the bridge.

He nosed us around, and then me, Oscar, Dieter and Kals were hauling him onto the deck

"Gently, lads!" Oscar whispered.

Even he gasped, when he got the man on board.

The left foot was missing below the knee, the right leg shot away completely.

"How could he..."

"...Shut up Kals! Fetch me my bandages, and straps, any straps at all!"

Oscar leaned over closer. I could tell the poor fellow was saying something, and Oscar was murmuring something back.

By the time Kals had reappeared with bandages and straps, Oscar had already lifted his head

"Nein, Kaleun... forget it Kals"

We took his tags and any other personal effects, and I had Christian put them in my locker.

Oscar being a man of learning, said most of the words, in what was a hasty sea burial.

"Prepare to dive. Let's get out of here till nightfall, Reuben"

"Doc?"

"Yes Kap?" he paused his trudge back to amidships.

"About that lad....

"His name was Muller.."

"How? I mean what...."

"Kap , the cold water played a part, and the human body's own amazing systems and will power. I think it was dragging him out that actually killed him. He bled like hell then. All washed off now; that's one good thing about u-boat maintenance. There wasn't a chance."

"What did he say?"

"Just this Kap"

'..Danke...'

"He didn't want to die alone. And at least we could do that for him"

Yes Oscar, let's look to the living, we're going home.......

The steward was clearing away the plates a day later in the ward room .

Still dangerous waters, but we were heading back to St Nazaire.

"Why so glum, Doc?"

"That Bismarck boy... Muller...."

"What is it, Oscar? He died and it's war and...

He told me some more on that fore deck,

"He was supposed to be manning one of the secondary 5.9cm turrets. They were firing to the end. As the youngest he was sent to fetch more shells, or life vests or even a drink of water, I don't know...

He told me that even as he struggled back across the deck a new salvo of shells hit her.

The Bismarck was starting to go over. He got to his turret to find that the doors had been so damaged by the explosion that they had buckled and his chief, and all his young shipmates were still inside, pounding against the steel and screaming. They couldn't get out.

There must have been another salvo which blew the lad clear.
I'm sure that he never knew his legs were gone, right to the last

But those poor lads, sinking in an iron coffin, how....

"Shut Up Oscar! You're just making it up!"

One look in his eyes told me different

"And you're frightening the children. Let's just get them all home again eh?"

We have another boat coming in at the same time.

We are to RV with him in the Bay. It's the U-125, a different flotilla, but Josef Hink's boat if I'm not mistaken. I reckon he has been plundering further south, and he and his men are ready for French beer just as we are.

"The Eagle's Head.... That's the U-125 all right. Look at that! They've already got their victory pennants up, and...."

"Let them, Christian. Where are ours?

Soon we and U-125 are blinking lamps at one of our minesweepers in the estuary. It appears that Josef's boat has taken a little damage, so he and his crew are going to be guests of 7 Flotilla for a while.

It turns out that another boat, returning from operations further west in the Atlantic, came across the same scene but literally had no torpedoes left. They picked up a handful of survivors. All with their own legs.

We're now nosing our way up the river to the St Nazaire Pens,
Amid all the jolly waving, there's one or two of us searching hopefully for a certain face on the dockside.....

"There she is Boss..."

Bruno is grinning and I follow his pointed finger.

There is a pretty blonde in naval staff uniform, waving and jumping up and down, trying to get forward past the guards.

I'd know her anywhere.

"Let me guess, Herr Kaleun. You'd like me to dock the boat, and put the crew on harbor stations, sort out the watch, prepare the paperwork with the harbor master, and get the tube caps repaired and the boat replenished and refueled, and...."

"Yes, Bruno. If you can do all that in the next five minutes, I'll be eternally grateful. But just give me those five minutes..."


Now I am striding down the ramp..

Now I am pushing past some astonished navy big wigs..

Now I am holding Heidi in my arms.

And now at last, she is kissing me....

"Don't let go...."

"I won't, Heidi..."

"Every time, they thought you weren't coming back, I wouldn't believe it."

"I know, Heidi."

"I always believed though..."

....and she clutched me tighter

"...believed you'd come sailing up the estuary...."

"Honestly, Heidi, it's that belief that keeps us alive. Look at Otto there. He'll be off to Frankfurt tonight if I have anything to do with it. His wife is expecting a baby, you know."

"There's Reuben and my coxswain."

They have skirted around the parade and are both struggling with kitbags full of what could possibly be tinned navy food. There's going to be some happy faces in an attic in Hamburg, if they can make the train.

"What about them?"

"Well nothing really. But those people look after me as much as I try to look after them."

"I want to look after you, Herr Kaleun..... Rollie"

The boys on the deck and up on the tower are cheering like mad, and I'm blushing like my first kiss in kindergarten.

"Heidi, you know I always....but never quite......"

"Psssht! I certainly do now."

"....do you have to go out again...? I could find you a shore job with the flotilla, and then we......"

"Heidi, you know I ........"

And then I am whisked away, to Uncle Karl's stern but perhaps not totally disapproving gaze.....

"Don't go. Please don't go"

"You know I have to, Heidi. Senior people are looking.

"It's just a debrief, and we're not banged up too much. Our Uncle Karl is going to want to know about the Bismarck, and after that we can.."

"...I have to leave for Normandy. Today."

I stood with an open mouth

"I’m sorry darling, I just do."

And then she tore herself away from me with her hands to her eyes. Pushing through the press of the crowd and gone.

"Sir?"

"..what?"

"Car for Kerneval, Herr Kaleun. If you please.."

I allowed myself to be ushered into the staff car, but all the time staring into the distance at what I had just let out of my hands.

"...She just seemed to just be turning in a wide circle, and firing with any guns that brought to bear. It didn't make sense, Sir."

"We had a report about a jammed rudder, that they couldn't fix, Lad."

Doenitz leaned back in his chair slightly.

"At least you got some torpedoes off. Our friend Goebbels is going to have to stop claiming we've sunk the Ark Royal so publicly now. Unless.."

He rose suddenly and poured two glasses of vodka.

"Unless I send you to Gibraltar after her..?"

It must have been the burning in my throat that made me splutter.

"What's the matter Lieutenant? This is Russia's finest. Our generals are doing very well by the way, but here we are in France, and they send me cases of this low-grade panzer fuel. I have to get rid of it somehow!"

(Well, give it to Max in U-213 or Bernie in U-100, or my own Dieter who'd set fire to something with it ) I think to myself.

But Uncle Karl has already poured another two.

He looked at me as I drank the next glass. Seeming to be thinking about his next words.

"Not Gibraltar for you Lieutenant, and you know why?"

(Because it's suicide) "No, Sir"

"Because Germany is trying to do everything at once. We have conquered Western Europe, and here we are on the French Coast.
But our planes have failed to defeat the RAF. So while we can piss into the English Channel, we can't cross it. Now we are in Greece and all those places, and Libya, the Army is getting a sun tan and we have too few boats to cover all their operations, assaults and supply routes. All the time making new enemies. Now we are invading Russia. Huge tracts of ground, and captures, but we only have a fraction of it, not even one fifteenth, before we take Moscow. Soon America will be joining the War with all that entails."

"I see, Sir" (not seeing at all) but raising a new glass.

"So how do you think the Amis will get here, when they come? How will they supply the Ivan’s?"

"Well, the North Atlantic, Sir"

"Precisely! Which is where we must now fight and win this War! Not in side shows, or other adventures. But against the commerce and military transport that will soon be arriving every day!

I need you Lieutenant, and your kameraden in the other boats to fight aggressively and decisively against the enemy with every torpedo and in every way. It has to be my way. Our way. The loss of the Bismarck , the Graf Spee and the Blucher has told us that.

The Uboatwaffe will protect Germany! Don't you agree, Lieutenant!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Excellent. But I can't help thinking there might be something else on your mind?"

"Well, Sir I was hoping.."

"A member of my staff, blonde hair perhaps? Only a Woman Corporal, but a most promising one. I've noticed it before and you must understand that I cannot formally condone such a liaison, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, Sir" I replied crestfallen.

"If you bunch of pirates only ever did what was condoned back here, we wouldn't get anything done out there"

Doenitz sighed.

"Well she's up at a place near Abbeyville."

"Abbeyville?" I protested. "But that's the Fighter Base"

"So they tell me, it's near there. But you're on dry land now, boy."

He pressed a last tumbler of vodka into my hand .

"You don't always have to duck out of sight every time you see a pilot you know. Now get over there. My duty driver is waiting...."

I clamber into the soft leather front seat and immediately the car is pulling away.

"Here we go, Sir!" and off we roared.

The driver turned to face me.

I'd seen some sights on the last mission but this was a shock so close.

His face was neatly divided in half by two scars, not those cosmetic, neat dueling scars that the Prussian officers give each other, but two deep almost parallel diagonal wounds running from his right eyebrow across a broken nose to the left corner of his lip.

He noticed my look

"..oh that , Sir, a bit of bayonet fighting around Eben Emael, when I was with the 4th. That big Frenchie and me both ran out of ammunition in the tunnel. He went for the face...and I went for the chest."

"Range of 2 centimeters, Sir, not kilometers"

"The rest of the lads will be tearing up Russia by now, while I'm here on coastal duties.

I had nothing to say as this gefreiter expertly shook out two English 'Victory' cigarettes from his pack, lit them both and passed one to me.

I was warned once never to mix it with the infantry, back at Kiel.

Besides I liked his style.

"What's your name, Driver?"

"I'm Paul, Sir."

No rank, no surname, this guy could almost be a u-boat man.

Well I'm..

"Rollie, Sir. Everyone calls you that at base. You're the U-46 just in, the girls all listen out for you all. And I hear everything.."

I suppose you boys have quite a tale to tell...

The Driver looked at me sourly.
He steered expertly around a corner and turned across to me.

"We did ok, Sir"

In three weeks they had sent the enemy running

Paul had clearly got to grips with the Frenchies and his facial scars spoke of some sort of military argument. He caught my look again.

"It wasn't all fun and games, sir.

Paul flipped his cigarette butt out of the window, having lit another one from the glowing ember.

Unheard of behavior for a private soldier driving a staff car.

The next thing he'll be offering me a damned drink!

..."Care for a toot of proper German schnapps, Sir?"

The insolent lander was offering me a hipflask with one hand as he took a sharp bend at speed with the other.

Despite myself I smiled, but there were limits, and besides I was suddenly very tired.

"Not just now, I'm going to catch a quick nap. Old Uncle Karl certainly knows how to put away the vodka" I mumbled.

"Hah!" Paul turned at me and gave me a broad grin. It was terrifying. With those scars it looked like his face was splitting open like a baked potato.

"Water, Sir"

"What..?"

"The Admiral was drinking water from a different old vodka bottle. He's done that to the last three skippers who've come in, so the girls tell me. At least you made it to the car on your own Sir!"

I gaped dumbfounded, and then joined in his laughter.

"Get some sleep, Sir, I'll wake you up when we're nearly there..."

"We're nearly here, Sir.."

"..What...?"

Paul, my driver was shaking me roughly with his right arm.

"I said that we're nearly here , Sir"

"How long have I been sleeping... I must.."

"Better take a pull of this, Sir, and out came Paul's flask, and this time it's fiery spirit charged down my throat. And then the rasping gasp of the V cigarettes.

"Almost as bad as the French horse sweepings, they call cigarettes.

My driver elaborated on his theme of inter-army tobacco rivalry.

"Of course when the Amis come, the market will drop right out of this stuff, and that dreadful Yak dung the boys are smoking in the Ukraine."

"They've got proper smokes with filters, that real cowboys have , and they get issued them everyday, and every soldier has a pack in every pocket. Just think of that rate of exchange, Sir, four packets of decent American cigarettes for one Mauser bullet; how can we lose with those market forces!"

"Well smoking is supposed to be bad for us, so I heard."

"Why, Sir..?"

I tilt the flask once more.

"Anyway the signs say Abbeyville, but I can't see any fighter airfield, and to be honest I think we should..."

"We're here, Sir"

A low red brick building in some small grounds. No planes. no guns.
The odd chirping of a bird, but no planes or mechanics, just some odd figures mooching around in the distance.

"Off you go, I'll be waiting here, Sir.

I stumbled out of the Mercedes, and walked bewildered across the lawn.

And almost bumped into the wheelchair.

The poor guy in it had been burned.

His hands and most of his face including his eyes were wrapped in bandages. He sat rigidly in his wheelchair; his dressing gown an unimportant adornment. On a hook at the back of the chair was the man's worth. A Luftwaffe pilot's tunic to prove it.

And suddenly I knew.

"Gustav?"

His head jerked up at this approach.

For the first time I looked up from the chair to the tear-stained girl pushing it.

"Hello Heidi"

"Ah, this must be my friend from the U-bootwaffe. It looks like you were right after all kamerad. Sea water is good for you. Especially when you are on fire over the Channel."

I looked helplessly at Heidi.

She looked helplessly at me, and then blurted some excuse about needing to go and fetch a nurse for Gustav's dressings.

I squatted down by his chair.

"Gustav? How was it?

He smiled. It was pretty much the only facial expression to be seen.

And then he spoke softly. The arrogance and bitterness fading away with every word. The constant raids over Britain had seen to that.

"We took quite a few, you know. Do you have anything painted on your boat,?

"Yes; a Swordfish. It was painted so that it was laughing. The crew like it and if they think it brings them luck, then it will"

"Falcons"

"I'm sorry Gustav..?"

"My wing all had screaming falcons with talons outstretched on their fronts. It's funny, I suppose. Our falcons weren't laughing, and they certainly aren't now. I'm the only one left."

"Three Hurricanes and two Spitfires, I shot down. My lads did equally as well, but one by one, over the days..."

"...how many men have you lost on your boat?"

"Only one actually, Ernst, and...dare I say it, he was killed by an enemy aircraft."

"Well I have lost everyone I started with, and more" Gustav replied

"We've had our losses, too, and ours tend to be final for everyone aboard!"

Gustav thought for a moment.

"You know, one of our 109's ditched in the sea on the second day. A young lad, and only his third flight ever. We saw him go in, and we saw him struggle to release the cockpit cover, but we were flying overhead and we couldn't help him. He drowned alone.

"Look at me now... I'm burnt a little, but I swooped and soared in the skies, I shot down six of them, but if one of them had got me instead (instead of that damn rookie when I was out of ammunition), it would have been over quick in a big ball of flame.

"But I could never go underwater in the boats. And die like that, with all those depth charges going off.. I could never go like young Tischmann did"

"Well we're still here, Gustav, but sometimes the Allies do make us spill our coffee from time to time

The part of his face that I could see, smiled.

"I think I was abrupt with you before..."

"Think nothing of it, Gustav"

"I was so confident, and now look at me. The last one left. Give me your hand, Herr Kaleun"

"As a pilot I had many girls, but Heidi was a challenge to me. She never gave in to me. Even when you were at sea, she could talk of nothing else but you and your men on the U-46."

"They say I'll see again, but never fly again

"My mind has changed since AdlerTag, and I don't need my eyes to see that it's you that she really loves"

"If we know one thing, kamerad, it is that life is short, and must be grasped and squeezed tight. Take her, go to her, but don't make any long promises"

And then Heidi came back with a nurse over the lawn...
And I went to her, walking faster with every stride.

And she came into my arms.

"I couldn't leave him on his own, Rollie, he has lost so much and been in such pain."

And then she said the words that I had only dreamed about like in Viktor’s cheap radio room paperback thrillers.

"But it's you that I want, Rollie. You, that I have always wanted. You. Just you"

And then we were holding each other tight, and we were kissing.

And it shouldn't have been me who was crying.


I carried Heidi back to the car where Paul was lounging against the bonnet.

"About time, Sir. We'll still get back to the Chat Noir if we hurry. And believe me, Sir, me and the lads are used to high speeds over France."

"Well drive, Paul. Drive! Me and the Corporal will be taking the back seat.

"Drive as fast as you drove up here, Paul.."

"Yes , Sir"

"But don't look back in the rear view mirror"

"No Sir...!"

Back in the Chat Noir.

The usual raucous scene where I would normally stride in as U-Boat Kapitan, this time I am shy.

"Why did you want to come here of all places, Heidi"

"Because this is where you belong... Darling, now let's just go in.

A huge cheer went up as Heidi and I entered the room, all the crews were there,

Bernie and some very dazed U-100 crew.

Young Stef from U-177 who'd fought off the jabos on the right flank as we came out of the Bay while we dived. that last time, now in great favor, and had taken a decent ship, and being feted and quite nonplussed by it all, the young lad.

Max at the bar looking more like his lucky pig every day. His boat always comes back with pennants and damage, a bit like ours

"So you made it back again you old rascal, any more of those schnitzels and you won't fit up and down the hatch"

"Now, where's Freddy.....

"Never mind that Rollie, your band is playing..!

Burly torpedo men from U-217 suddenly grabbed me and lifted me onto a small dancing stage.

Artificers from U616 stripped my Cap from my head and forced it onto my left hand

Max is about to hoist Heidi bodily up there too, and before I can protest, a body of men appear, and fend him off.

They are my own men from U-46, Oscar, Christian, Otto, Kurt, Viktor even, and Hans, plus a medley of the fore-ends ratings. They escort Heidi up on to this plinth as solemnly as if they were on ceremonial parade (which none of them have ever been)

With the consequence that there are too many drunken sailors, trying to look after Heidi each trying to be more correct than the other, and they start barging each other.

It works easiest if Heidi and me are standing below the stage and all the other assorted u-boat men stand on top.

I start

"I don't know where you lads got this idea....

"We knew ages ago, Sir!

"We all did!""

and I am enveloped with laughter from the entire 7th Flotilla ashore.

I turned to Heidi

"It's true what they say, I have always loved you, Heidi, but didn't know how to say it"

She clutched me tighter and in front of the whole Chat Noir, gave me a long kiss, to a huge applause from the men.

I have to say, lying on my bunk or on those bridge watches, I hadn't quite fantasized it like this, but then I never held out any hope at all.

There was much beer and champagne drank and spilled. Heidi was only a corporal, but she was VIP to all the other Kapitans there, and their crews.

I was fetching a bottle or two for my own lads in U-46, in celebration, when a brown manila envelope with a Kriegsmarine Adler embossed on it, is rushed into the middle of the party by dispatch rider, that I must sign for.

Heidi tears herself away to be with me in a relatively quiet corner of the Club.

"What is it my love"

"Well I expect you've seen one of these envelopes before, Heidi?

I folded the message

"We're going straight back out, Never a break hein!"

Heidi looked at me earnestly

"I knew that the 46 was to be turned around quickly, I just thought...."

"What?"

"...I just thought that maybe you wouldn't have to go this time? That there are some shore-based jobs I know about, and you've already done your bit, and then we can..."

"No Heidi. Look at those guys."

I pointed to various members of the U-46 crew all drunk as monkeys, and Dieter had dropped his trousers again. Jorgen was having his face slapped by the barmaid

"Well I admit they're not much to look at, but they're brave boys and good at what they do. I have to be there with them, please don't ask me to give them and my boat up"

"But..."

"No 'Buts' please Heidi. You know I have to go"

"But..."

"Shush, Heidi, they can't kill us, we're the lucky swordfish and now that I have you to come back to, I'll be twice as sure to bring everyone back in one piece.

I snap my fingers and eventually the crew stagger around me.

"Party's over lads. It's time to stick it to England again.

There is a cool breeze as we purr out of the pens and down the St Navaire river.

Seagulls dip and soar, cawing in our wake.

A butterfly lands on the lip of the conning tower, thinks better of it and takes off again.

Today I am noticing these things

Bruno has the bridge, and he is always smiling.

"What's up Number Two?"

"You're in love, Sir. It's a rare and beautiful sight!"

"You cheeky monkey!" I make a half-hearted attempt to cuff him, but the rest of his watch are also grinning.

He's never talked about it, but any good Kapitan knows these things. His own love is a girl called Abbie who was crippled in a climbing accident at the outbreak of the war, he sends her most of his pay towards her medical bills. I don't let him go to see her nearly as often as I should. Next time I will. And there will always be a next time. That's what we tell the juniors, at any rate

Heidi was definitely there, waving frantically on the dockside, Heidi who never sees boats go out, in case they never come back.

We'll be coming back, I promise

But before then we have a job to do

"Call up the flakkie and the ready-use 20mm shells, Bruno, we're almost out into the Bay, you know it can get quite lively here.

If in doubt, crash the boat and get everyone in, rather than slug it out on your own. If you need extra eyes, pinch someone from Christian's watch. Konrad or George would be a good bet"

(Those two are the most sober - it was a hasty deployment)

I sniffed the air

"I can smell the sea again, Bruno"

"I smell English ships, Kap!"

U-46 has put to sea again

"Bruno, I've been meaning...."

"Flugzeug hoch und links! Jabo!

All eyes train the skies, another dot growing bigger. Already too big.

We should dive rather than give battle to aircraft. Too late, he came out of the sun.

"Stay up and fight him, Bruno, send Wolfram and Karl below now, put George on ammunition handling."

"The whole boat on action stations"

'Already done, Sir

"Look, he's circling. He's caught us out and had his chance. Now he's hoping we'll panic too, and give him a nice clear shallow wake to bomb, like U-513"

"Loaded and ready, Sir! Tracking!" cries Jurgen.

"Good work in the WinterGarten, boys. It could get hot, and then keep steady and send those shells right up into his face, don't spare the Reich's money on my account. I'll try to send the boat on an even keel, to give you a good shot, but we might be dancing around on the helm as well!"

"Tell the Doc to stand by, and beef up Kurt's damage control team"

'So you think he'll come, Sir?'

"I hope so, Bruno."

'But why, Sir?'

Because if he doesn't attack, he's constantly reporting our position and course to the Royal Navy. and we'll have a destroyer on our tail before we know it. And another fresh plane taking over. It seems like the worst thing, but it could be better if......

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

Jurgen and George's 20mm tracer arced up to meet the plane that was clearly now beginning it's attack run. Not a chance of hitting it at that range, but at least the die is cast.

An earnest voice from Otto through the voice pipe

"Are you coming down, Sir? Permission to dive the boat ?

"No Chief, just give me everything hard to port on the diesels.

"Lads, the bastard is coming around again. I'm turning the boat as quick as I can, as soon as you get a bead give him all you've got!

Sure enough that plane had circled in front and wanted to take us head-on, so as to avoid the flak, and was now getting bigger again. But U-46 had turned to show her teeth, and give our gun a chance.

Johann and George desperately swiveling the Gun round.

The roar of the plane getting louder.

It's tracer stitching red across the ocean. It's bomb bays open

"Duck down, Bruno!"

Thump Thump Thump Thump Thump Thump, Bang, Bang, Thump, Thump

We peered over the lip of the bridge, now riddled or scarred with tracer bullets, to watch this plane pull hard out of it's bombing dive, desperately trying to gain height, but with black smoke pluming out of one of it's engine cowlings. Showing it's belly in a labored ascent as Jurgen kept pumping his flak into her. Even after the Lugar competition, I couldn't have missed that target.

The plane struggled away before exploding quite spectacularly.

"Second Watch back on deck to clear the AA Gun for submerging. Be quick about it, I don't want to be up here too long and neither do you.
First Watch stand by to take the bridge, but we'll be down a few hours till nightfall, Christian, all other hands stand down from action stations. All to diving stations Well done Second Watch and Jurgen and George particularly.
If you were wondering what all that noise upstairs was about boys, we've just splashed a Liberator! We're not going to make a habit of that sort of match, but this time our Swordfish won!"

I come down and toss my cap happily across the chart table. and my Navigator always puts it to one side and turns.

"I know what you're going to ask, Kap. You ask it all the time.

"Where the hell are we, Willi?"

"There we are. Right here. Ten times a day, every patrol"

"You're crazy, you know that Willi?"

"Come on Boss, let me go up. I have to know"

"There were a lot of bullets, Willi..."

"So I have to see for myself Herr Kaleun."

I looked at him

"It's important Herr Kaleun."

I sighed.

"I suppose I'd better see for myself. Let's go."

I shouted up the ladder

"Kapitan on the Bridge!"

"Jawohl Kaleun!" Is Christian's answering cry.

"How are things Christian?"

"Good, Sir but too quiet"

"Well find us something before dawn will you, then come down for breakfast.

"In the meantime, me and Willi are going to take a stroll around the deck, so don't dive without us."

"It's the paint work again isn't it Sir?"

"It means a lot to him, Number One"

"Kapitan and Navigation Officer on Deck!"

I joined Willi on the decking.

"Ready Willi?"

We walk around to the starboard side of the conning tower. The green laughing swordfish is still there. There are a couple of bullet scars around her. But she is untouched.

The port side is completely unscathed. Willi reaches out his hand and touches the emblem. A smile spreading over his face. I follow suit.

"You see, Willi? They can't ever sink us; we're a lucky boat.

He nods, and smiles, never taking his eyes of the swordfish talisman.

"Willi....."

"Yes Sir?"

"You know it's not really the Swordfish that makes our luck."

"Yes it is, Sir"

No it isn't Willi! It's you and Otto and Reuben and Christian, Bruno and Oscar the cox and the cook and all those other reprobates I have below.

Every single one of them - you definitely included - help to keep us alive, do our job, and get us home.

I clapped Willi on the shoulder.

"I believe in the lucky swordfish too. They'll never harm us while I'm on board, and while the fish is still smiling"

Willi laughed

But my real trust is in you guys. I couldn't do it without you.

I slapped the Laughing Swordfish emblem.

"If they put a bullet hole in her or chip the paintwork, Willi, we'll just re-do it and sink more ships."

"They can't touch our Swordfish, Sir"

"Ok Willi. We won't let them. Let's go in and see if Kuki has anything on the stove?"

"Close bow caps. Good shot, Christian"

"Only about 2 or 3 thousand tons, Sir"

"Still asking to be sunk mensch!"

I let my Number One conduct the whole attack. It was straight out of the book, with a near perfect right angle torpedo solution.

"What do we know about her?"

"Checking now, Sir"

He eased U-46 in amongst the flotsam.

He hailed down for water, biscuits, and cigarettes, a small bottle of rum appeared from somewhere.

"Sir, will you take the Bridge for a moment?"

"Carry on, Number One"

Christian and two of his watch dropped down onto the decking. I steered the boat on lowest speed towards the survivors, and their boat.

"Cut engines!"

Even from here I could see they were shocked, and scared of us.

First Watch pulled them alongside.

Christian went to put them at their ease. God knows there's not much we can do for them having sunk their ship, But we can at least offer them some sustenance, and they are on a major shipping lane so they have a fair chance of being picked up.

Then it happened.

A man with a beard

Also a Master's cap. It happened so quickly.

He pulled a pistol and shot Christian.

"Jesus! Boys! Drag him under cover! Get Oscar up here right now, Christian's been shot! Fetch my Lugar!

Peter and Heinrich, both unarmed, are hauling Christians body away. The other two members of his watch, Dieter and Kals have raced to the AA gun and are trying to bring it to bear, but fortunately the boat is at an angle that won't allow it. Otherwise they would have killed everyone in that life boat.

At the same time Oscar is racing up the ladder with his bag.

The Brits in the boat are in pandemonium, they realize that their captain's actions might have put them in jeopardy somewhat. Some are cowering, some are pleading, and some are trying to restrain their captain.

Get me that bloody Lugar!"

Finally Braun passes it up to me and I cock it with a satisfying snick.

First things first. I duck down from the other side of the bridge to see Oscar and Christian.

"How is he Doc? Any chance?"

"Clean through the chest. No vital organs hit, Rollie. But we have to get him home, or he'll die for sure."

He glanced at the Lugar in my hand

"What the hell's going on, Kap?"

"Never you mind Oscar, just get Christian below, and do what it takes to keep him alive.

He nodded, and called for a couple of seamen to help him.

I strode around the bridge to where the Brits were alongside.

I've never been so angry. Maybe that was why the Lugar was shaking so much.....

I am shaking with rage.

Bruno, Reuben and Willi are up on the bridge. as I point the Lugar at the lifeboat.

"Who was it? Who fired that shot? Come on! I'll kill you all!"

I spot the bearded captain now looking more subdued.

"It was you! Get up here!"

He is hauled on deck

"Give me that revolver!"

"Mmm, a Webley. Nice weapon"

Then I tossed it into the water.

"You've just shot one of my lads, who was trying to help you. Why shouldn't I do the same to you?"

"We were told that U-boats regularly massacre any survivors, and......"

"Bollocks! Who is the only person who has fired a gun. Yes, you that's who. I have a young officer fighting for his life because of you. You see that pile of provisions there. They were for you and your shipmates, my boy was trying to give them to you when you shot him."

"By all rights I should see to you right now. Or take you back to Germany, and you wouldn’t fancy that much."

"I'm sorry"

"If Christian dies, I will never look after any survivors ever again. And that will be down to you."

I sighed.

The high tide of my rage was now on the ebb. I suppose we've just killed over half of his shipmates. I tucked the Lugar away.

"I see you have some youngsters in the lifeboat, I've got a few of my own. You'd better get back in and look after them. There are the provisions that we were trying to give you"

They were handed down to sheepish gratitude.

"Head East North East, keep the morning sun on your starboard quarter, and one last piece of advice.."

"Yes...?"

"Stay out of the Atlantic"

Oscar's hands are covered in blood up to his elbows.

He absent mindedly wipes his brow leaving a crimson streak across his forehead.

It has been 2 hours now and pretty much touch and go.

"How is he, Doc?"

"Stable, Rollie. I've patched him up but a u-boat is no place for someone in his condition. It's bad enough for someone in one piece. Quite apart from the dangers, there's the risk of secondary infection in a place like this.. It's all so bloody inadequate.

We have to get him back. I know you have your patrol orders, but Christian will almost certainly die if we don't get him back to a proper hospital.

"I can't go back with 13 torpedoes unused and a completely serviceable boat, Oscar"

"You can't go back with a dead Kamerad either"

"No. No, of course I can't. Thank you Oscar. "

I clapped him on the shoulder

"Take good care of him. I will too"

I spent the next hour in Viktor's radio cabin, trying to raise any boat or ship that might be in the vicinity and heading back to France. Nothing.

I can't play with Christian's life anymore. Uncle Karl may not like it, but I'd rather face him than Christian's mother

Oscar is right, we can't wait.

"Willi!"

"Yes Sir?"

"Ruckmarsch. We're cutting this one short, plot us back to St Nazaire. Full speed."

"Bruno, you are acting Number One; keep your watch with you; Reuben you'll take over as Number 2 so get yourself in amongst Christian's motley crew. Otto if you need to change your schedules, now that I have taken Reuben, then do so.

"We're going to bring Christian home safe and sound, and that's a promise I make to all of you!"

There was a loud cheer through the boat

"One ship and one plane isn't so bad, in the time we had, who knows we may even have the chance to wet our beaks before being turned around again!"

Another loud cheer.

U-46 swings round and increases speed.

I put the Lugar back into my locker. As far back as it will go.

War is crazy by nature. But does it have to be that crazy?

"Don't you ever think!"

Heidi rushes into my arms, as Christian is stretchered down the gangplank and Oscar hands him over to the doctors who are waiting.

"What...?" I replied, startled.

"All we heard at BdU was 'Officer shot, returning to base. U-46'"

"Well it wasn't me, it was Christian, and I think he's going to be..."

"I know that now, you idiot! Just hug me...."

"Him, Sir?

"Yes, Wolfgang Friedel will be your new replacement"

"You know we don't go in for politics on boats; Herr Admiral, and can I just say....

"You will take him on your next patrol. That is an order.

"I shouldn't say this, Sir, but we don't go in for the hardcore national socialist stuff, on the 46. We're just here to sink the enemy. The sea is a great equalizer .

I need a new senior watch officer, not some Nazi lecturer", Sir!

"You'll do as you're told and quickly, boy, or I'll give him your boat

"You can't do that. Sir"

"Yes I can, Junge; when you join the party you can never leave,"

Over dinner with Heidi, she explained that this fellow is a favorite of a big Nazi party bigwig, what the landsers call a 'Golden Pheasant' in other words someone with plenty shining on his chest, but no mud on his knees.

And now his boy is taking Christian's place.

She asked me again

"Now more than ever, Heidi, I have to look after the boat, I can't quit now"

"I promise I'll always come back"

"But you can't keep that promise!"

"Yes Heidi, with everything I have, yes I will keep it, the boat, me and the boys"

"....And in any case, I never joined the Nazi Party"

"So leave for a job back here"

Heidi cuddled up closer in the hotel bed.

"I think of you all the time on patrol...."

"I do too..."

"...and there have been times when I, and many of my comrades would have dearly wished for you, back at BdU, to wave a magic wand and whisk us all away to a safe desk job on dry land instead of being down to 100 meters and trying to second-guess two destroyers with the depth charges dropping down.

"That is the only magic wand I can wave. To wriggle out of those situations, and save the lives of 50 other crewmates. I've done it so far, and I'll do it again. I know it's risky, but it's what we have to do, and I need to be there.

I'm pulling on my trousers

"Come on Heidi, throw something on, let's have breakfast, I need to inspect my crew in the next hour. We're sailing as soon as it get's dark. Sooner for my liking.

"Croissants for me!"

"Can I have real eggs and real bacon for once?"

"And masses of good french coffee!"

Heidi shone me her smile. She doesn't know she's doing it, but it wins my heart from the first time I set eyes on her way back in u-bootschule.

"Why, Sir?"

"Why what?"

"Why am I not First Officer, I outrank him".

Friedel pointed at Bruno.

"Do you also outrank me, Wolfgang?"

"No Sir"

"So what I say, goes. Bruno is my acting Number One because he knows the boat and he knows the men, he knows the enemy and he knows the sea. He's been with me from the start.
You've got your chance on a front boat, and I dare say you can press the button when it comes to the kill. But you're here for sea and battle experience. You haven't got it yet, Bruno has. I expect you to learn from him and me, Otto and Willi; I expect you to learn and love U-46 from top to bottom as we do, Stay close to your watch, they are good men, listen to them and talk to them

"I want my Christian back, to be honest, but a couple of patrols out with us will stand you in good stead for getting your first command.

"Alles klar?"

"Klar, Herr Kapitan!" he clicked to attention and threw me a salute

"If you do anything like that on this Boat, Wolfgang, you will be featuring in Man-Overboard drills for a week.

"There isn't enough room on the boat as it is without all that Sieg Heil stuff all the time"

"Kapitan on the bridge!"

Otto looks at me , but we haven't heard any alarm, we're just out into the Bay, but Bruno would have had hit it if there was a problem. It was a junior rating who called down

"Standby, Otto, I'm going up. If you have to drop the boat, we'll get back in as quick as we can. I have no idea what this is about.

As I clamber onto the bridge, I find first watch ratings trying to part two officers who are literally at each other's throats. Bruno who knows his stuff and was supposed to be Officer on Watch, and Friedel who is a Party Member and has got used to expect everything to go his way.

"Stillgestanden!"

I am submerging the boat. Dismiss the hands below, they don't need to see what's going on here.

"Otto!" I bellowed through the pipe.

"Down! Not a crash, but take us to periscope depth, I'd say 12 meters. and switch to electric motors. Just a minor staff problem, Otto, no more planes for a while which would also be good!"

"Right the pair of you get down that ladder and wait for me in the wardroom. Be under no illusion gentlemen, this will be an interview without coffee. Get Willi and his 3rd Watch up, I never have any problems with them, and they have other jobs to do."

You have put the U-46 in jeopardy in the most dangerous part of the ocean. There's nearly 50 men down there counting on you to be their ears and eyes.

You will report to me in the Wardroom.

The cox pokes his head through the curtain of my cabin his eyes a mixture of bewilderment, curiosity and excitement.

"Beg to report Sir, Chief Engineer has us leveled off at 12 meters, no periscope."

"Very good Cox

He coughed, politely

"Two officers waiting to see you, Herr Kaleun..."

"Thank you, Cox, clear the Control Room of all unnecessary crew, and tell Hans and Viktor," I gestured across the passageway to the sonar and radio cabins,

"To put their headphones on properly and turn the gain up on their radios or scanners, and attend to their duties, not to mine"

"Yes Sir!"

He is off like a shot and I can hear him bellowing even from here, even to superior officers. I like him; as Otto says (and he would say) "He's like the oil in the engine" In other words he gets around the Boat and the crew and get's things done.

Back again.

"Sir?"

"You will go out and tell those two officers to remove their caps of rank from their heads, and escort them to the wardroom where I will join them. Oh, and Cox,

"Yes, Sir"

"Tongues are already wagging aren't they?"

"Well, yes, Sir"

"You are going to nip it in the bud aren't you, Cox?"

"Jawohl Herr Kapitan!"

"And you're also going to eavesdrop and listen outside the wardroom yourself, aren't you?"

"The thought hadn't crossed my mind, Sir"

"Come on Cox, it was a small incident when two officers had a difference of opinion, and there was some messing about on the bridge as we've all done in the past, particularly you!

Cox smiled

"They will be seen to, but I don't want any adverse speculation on our boat. Yours and mine."

At the 'yours' Cox's eyes lit up.

"I don't want any damage to our boat, or to the morale of the crew, so keep them busy, and I'll deal with those....

"Idiots, Sir?"

"Between you and me, yes Cox"

"Now leave me with everything and check every department on the Swordfish, and talk to everyone there, get Kuki to get something going for everyone, whatever, ok?

"Yes, Sir"

"Send them both in"

Cox is a good lad, not much of an upbringing, his father was killed early in his boyhood, by a tram in Aachen, a beautiful border town that we once visited when I was young; a young energetic boy when he came to the sea, and found his way to u-bootschule, and he found me and U-46

It's like a name and his job.

His real name is Leo Kochsens. He's another one I can count on. Every time we dock if he hasn't got a scam going, he is disappearing towards the rail yard with Reuben. I know where they're going most times, because their kit bags are full of food and stuff from the boat, including some toys made by the boys in the fore-ends in their spare moments.

He turned out to be brilliant at organizing men and tasks because he had a particular energy and way with organization that we at Kiel, who were concentrating on all the intricacies of a u-boat attack, never had or failed to notice.

I didn't. And on that proud day that U-46 was given to me for trials, I picked Otto and Bruno and Kochsens as my first three allowed choices. People like Christian, Willi and Oscar transferred over later during our sea trials.

Anyway on our first patrol, a long timer (on his last patrol) told us that the British equivalent (near enough) for Leo's job is 'coxswain'

The job of dashing around the boat and making sure everything was done seemed familiar enough, but the name was so similar sounding that we just had to give Leo the British abbreviation for the job and name of 'Cox'

Already with the clasp, a good lad to have on your boat.

"HOW DARE YOU!"

"The pair of you have let me and the crew down and jeopardized the boat in one of the most dangerous parts of the sea"

"What will the watch hands think? What will the oily rag engineer hands think who never see daylight, and who utterly trust the bridge watch for their lives? To find you behaving like children?"

"Put your caps down on the table gentlemen, here's mine."

They meekly did so, so there were three caps on the wardroom table, One with a white cover but each distinctive of appointment.

""Each of us will pick up a cap. I will go last. Lieutenant Friedel you may go first; then you Bruno, then me, each according to his ability and experience will pick a cap and take that appointment and responsibility"

There was a long silence,

But Friedrich finally picked up his own officer's cap; mine and Bruno's had the tin swordfish badge attached to it.

Bruno reached for his own cap without hesitation.

I picked up mine.

"Now that we have established the order of rank, step outside Bruno and attend to the Control Room for a minute. Standby to come in again though."

"Ok Cap"

"Until this procedure is over you will address me properly as Herr Kapitan! Now get out!"

And Bruno went out to check our valves

"Out Bruno, Out!"

Friedrich smirked.

"I knew you would do the right thing, Kapitan."

I grabbed Friedrich by the neck and in one swift movement had him up against the bulwark.

"I'm doing the right thing now. If you disrespect any of my crew even down to the lowest stoker, if you say you think better, then I'll tell your Uncle that you died heroically in action when we get back. Now get out! Reuben needs you down in the engine room for when we surface.

Go now.

"Get in here Bruno, pull the curtain"

"Yes Sir"

"What's it all about, Bruno?"

"how long have we known each other?

"How many patrols have we done together, how many escorts did we slip past, how much tonnage is down to Second Watch?

"Never, ever, fight with a fellow officer in front of the men.

Now that we're surfaced I need the likes of you to look after us down here

And one more thing........

"ALARM!!!!

Willi is rattling down the steps, followed by his 3rd Watch.

Otto is already punching us deeper into the water. Spare hands are tumbling through to add weight to the bow.

"What is it Willi?"

Definitely an escort, one fore turret, and one stack seen"

"Bring us up to periscope depth, Otto. Sounds like a corvette.

Anything Hans?

No sonar, Sir, fast enough to be a warship, but a little one.

"Ok Otto bring me up for my periscope, order motors to slow, swing her round to starboard....

And there she was, a Flower class staying too long in one place on the Atlantic,

"Open bow caps one and three,"
"Now Friedrich, there she is, and she doesn't know about us yet."

"We need to get closer, but still stay unseen, because if she gets a whiff or a glance of us, the whole game changes"

"What's your plan?"

"Well we're more than three kilometers off and just short of her starboard beam. But she seems to be steaming a straight line; I'd pull out and strain the engines and get ahead and lie in ambush.

"Good. Give those orders, tell Reuben to gun those engines also bring the boat to battle stations. Don't let us be seen."

It took nearly an hour to get ahead.

The crew are up and on tenterhooks.

"What's up Sir?"

"We're taking a shot at a corvette lads, if we don't get it right, we can expect him to be angry and come after us. But I think we're ok, he doesn't seem to have any ASDIC switched on."

"Hans? What is a corvette doing out here on her own? Are you sure there's no other contacts? Like a convoy"

"Kapitan to bridge!"

"Nice one Friedrich. You've got the setting sun behind her, and a decent bow angle. Range?"

"1700 meters, Sir.

"Converge for just a little longer, any monkey business from the corvette?"

"None, Sir, a straight line. Must be green.

"Well that's just like you Friedrich, let's see who is the better eh? Tell me when you think you have a firing solution. And prepare tube one again. Do you think you need two for that tin can?"

"No Sir!"

"Good. Although it's always good to have a second one up the spout in case the first one misses, or is a dud, and you'd lose your position messing around with reloads. This is just a flower class corvette, stupid commander, brave crew, probably from Canada. One torpedo should be enough, if you aim it right."

"Sink her for me Friedrich."

"Good line, Wolfgang"

I lowered my binoculars

"Range?"

"900 meters, Joachim has all the data, Sir"

"Well what are you waiting for? Take her!"

Friedrich's eyes lit up.

"Nummer Eins!"

"Eins fertig!" is the answering pipe.

"Los!"

The great hiss of the launch, and the brief glimpse of it's wake. Willi has the stopwatch running.

""Starboard 90 keep a parallel course have tube 3 ready just in case!"

"Good Friedrich, that's what I would have done."

"Let's see if we've nailed him."

This would be a good one for the boys. We've already suffered long and hard at the hands of allied escorts in the past. Any chance to strike back is a precious moment.

"Should impact in 10 seconds, Sir....."

It's a high plume of water we see first. No great fireworks this time.

But a few seconds later that lovely boom rolls back over the ocean

"A hit!" cries Friedrich, and we all afford ourselves a smile.

"Right under the bridge, Wolfgang, beginners luck! Bloody well done! One less escort on our tail, men!"

I clapped him on the back. "She'll go, no doubt about it, those corvettes are as thin as paper. They're supposed to rely on their speed and maneuverability, this one got it wrong."

Sure enough she was going down fast by the bow. Men were taking to the boats.

"Now what, Friedrich?"

"Now we resume patrol and reload, Sir"

"What about those survivors?"

"What about what they did to Christian, Sir!" Bruno blurted.

"I haven't forgotten that, and that's why you'll have the Lugar sent up with whatever rations and water we can spare. You know a little english from your travels, Bruno, you can accompany me with the stuff. Keep everyone else on the bridge. These aren't the same people who shot Christian, these are people who's ship we've sunk and we are bound by the rules of the sea to give them every assistance and succor that a war permits. And that's not much. Still; fetch my Lugar; you never know.."

"Get him on deck, Bruno. Treat him with the respect that becomes an officer."

The enemy captain is hauled up onto the decking, as provisions are handed down.

We salute each other.

"I have no tea, I'm afraid Captain, will you take some hot coffee?"

He nodded assent tiredly

"Reuben, send down a flask of coffee, black and strong!"

When the coffee arrived and we sat down underneath the bridge, he relaxed noticeably. A few of our boys were passing food and water down to the life boats, and even sparking up cigarettes.

"We're going to have to leave you to your own devices, soon Captain, but I'd hate to think that no one would come by to pick you up?"

"That's ok" he chatted. "We were here to pick up a convoy, and help it in to Liverpool."

"Are there enough escorts to come looking for you?" I asked with all concern.

"Oh yes, two destroyers and a couple of corvettes, like ours.

"Here, have some more coffee, and here's some chocolate."

"I'd hate to leave you out here, outside the path of the convoy, where should you be, and we'll make sure you get picked up.

"That's ok, we were just at our RV when..... when you hit us."

"How long will they be, do you think? I can't take you on board myself, and we have other things to do, we have to go back to Germany for a refit; we haven't even got any torpedoes left, but I'd hate to cast you adrift if your friends weren't coming shortly?"

Yes they're supposed to be here at 0200

""Well then you'll need a flare. To attract them to you.

"Hand me down some flares will you!"

"As soon as the convoy arrives shoot a flare and you'll be saved"

Oscar is leaving the nearest life boat, having tended to some minor wounds.

"You're such a con artist, Rollie" he whispered.

"Good luck Captain, maybe see you after the War"

"Cast off and go about, Bruno. We chugged gently away from the lifeboats.

"Prepare to dive on my command, Bruno; I'm just going below.

"Viktor get that Morse key tap dancing!"

"Yes Sir!"

'To BdU and all call signs, from U-46

Corvette sunk, HMS Tulip (- get Willi in here to give you the position, Willi! Into the radio cabin if you please!)

Expect convoy northeast bound to Liverpool with four escorts at my grid at 160200. Request any boats or aircraft to converge. U-46 will be the reporting boat.

Send.'

"Hans!" I peered round the corner.

"Yes, Sir!"

"I'm going to take us down, for a while, so that you can listen better on sonar. Give me a shout if you hear anything. Victor can you still receive if we trim the boat right down?'

'Yes, Sir!"

"Good man. Otto drop us, and switch to electric. Joachim, inspect the forward tubes, Viktor, as soon as you hear any signal at all I want to know. With any luck it's going to be a busy night."


"Sir! I have three messages"

I raced to Viktor's cabin.

U-100 on it's way back. still has four useable torpedoes, and as always is itching to use them.

U-971, a green boat straight out of St Nazaire, but which has picked up the call and is steaming full ahead towards us. Good Lad. Emerson, I think his name is.

And Max, in U-217 who has taken a couple just south west of us, but now is racing and reloading to the new hunt. The party wouldn't be complete without the Happy Pig!

"Third watch under the ladder! Prepare to surface Otto!"

"Otto, can you ask Hans if he can still hear if we increase speed? We can't see a thing in this sea"

"Ok, Cap"

Then it happened. We might have moved a fair way off, but there was the flare, shooting brightly into the night sky.

From Hans: "Getting slow engine noises, Sir, many!"

My God, it worked.

"How many boats in contact?"

"Just U-100, Sir, she is north of us. 217 and the new guy will intercept later tonight.

Willi shows me the chart.

It would be better if we could make a concerted attack from different angles and stretch their escort defense to it's limit. But we can't wait. I know U-100. It's a good boat with an aggressive commander. He will have seen the flare already and be homing in. Let's go for it.

"Flank speed, Willi. Show me some smoke stacks!"

As U-46 picked up speed and veered around, I spared a thought for that corvette captain that I duped.

"Don't be in any rush to get onto another ship, my friend; maybe you're no worse off where you are..."

The smoke threads and the silhouettes start to take form as we pound through the night sea.

"Come on Friedrich, pick three or four out for me, don't waste our torpedoes on little barges"

He gulped and stammered.

"It's hard to tell, Sir should I....."

"Tankers first if we can, Friedrich, although they are usually hidden inside the convoy, but no army or air force can do anything without petrol, even ours. So they are a priority target.

"There Sir! First shot at that merchant on the quarter bow, probably seven or eight thousand tons, after that we'll see if we can sneak in to have a go at the oilers and....."

There was a huge boom and a great orange explosion from the far side of the convoy

"It looks like U-100 has beaten us to it, Bruno."

"That's not fair, Cap, it was our convoy"

"It still is, Bruno, my friend. Look through the binoculars.. What do you see?"

"All the escorts are chasing off around the other side of the convoy, Sir"

"Would this be a good time to put in an attack, do you think?"

Bruno smiled, and before long we were crashing through the waves towards the rows, the dark shapes on the black sea.

"Now Bernie is probably down and reloading. He'll be ok, if I know him. We can take the heat off by striking from this side; before they know it, we'll have the Royal Navy dancing all over the place. Later we have two more boats joining the party.

"OK, drive straight in to the forward edge of the convoy. One torpedo, one ship this time; let's not be extravagant. A cripple is as good as a sinking, as long as the rest of the pack turn up. But make them all count boys.

"Los!"

Tube one is on it's way.

"That's going to hit, Friedrich. Maybe not enough to put her down, but if we can make her limp out of column, well, that's what we have a deck gun for"

"You see now, the tankers have more of a flat deck and the superstructure is further aft. There's one, and there's another. Quick! Two firing solutions, before they start to zig zag. Joachim, up here! My weapons officer coolly makes the data predictions and feeds them down.

Friedrich, take any opportunity target with the last torpedo, we're going to turn about to use tube 5 and reload.

"Zwei und Drei, Los!"

Even as we sent them on their way, the first hit with a huge bang. The 7,000 tonner immediately started to lose speed and list to starboard.

A freighter was coming right across our bow like a duck in a shooting gallery.
"Don't wait for my say so, Friedrich, just go for it. We can always come back for more"

"Nummer Vier! Los!"

"Hard a starboard Otto! Get those slackers reloading right now. As soon as we come round, Friedrich, you've got the hang of it now, throw the stern torpedo at them. There should be some fireworks in a minute.

Sure enough two balls of flame within the convoy only 30 seconds apart confirmed the kill.

"Christ!" Bruno murmured. "You'd never get me to sail on one of those things"

We watched as the last freighter, maybe only 2,000 tons broke in half and sank quickly.

"Good work, men. But the night has just begun. Get that stern torpedo off before the destroyers come back. I'm going to check below."

Viktor has a hastily scribbled message for me.

U-297 (that's von Carnigan's boat) is in the vicinity, and has only just picked up our signals. Andreas should be here within 2 hours.

I look in on Hans' sonar cabin.

"The sound of hulls breaking up, everyone can hear through the water. What he offers me though his headphones is something else.

"Depth charges, Sir"

Bernie Goetz is taking a pounding in U-100 on the other side of the convoy, which allowed us in.

"He'll be ok," although we all know there are no such things as a guarantee under depth charge attack.

Hold on Bernie, before the night is over we'll give the Tommies much more to worry about than one submerged u-boat....

I passed down through the Boat

Thumbs up and returned in the Control Room.

"Hans, ok? Viktor, ok?"

Met with a mixture of an impatient smile, both are really busy, but are used to me poking my nose in.

Through to the Lordships. The sweaty barracks of the Boat. No place for an officer except maybe Joachim and me.

Now these lads are busy and I want to make sure those torpedoes are getting loaded.

Top naked and oiled with sweat and grease, swearing like the pirates they are, the men were straining at pulleys and the third torpedo with their back to me.

I received no attention until Joachim saw me as I bent through the hatch

"Kapitan!"

Joachim.

"Don't stop Joachim, How long to reload? What's the matter with that one.

"It's just taking longer to go in Sir.

"Why? is it bent or dangerous, is it ready to be armed properly"

"No Sir, the men are exhausted"

"Well thank God it's no more serious than that."

I flung off my jacket and got my shoulder behind the propellers .

Whether they were inspired by their Kapitan actually doing some manual work, or their pride was stung I won't know, but it wasn't my pathetic push that suddenly saw torpedo three slide into it's tube to cheers.

"One more boys. And I promise to make good use of them!"

They were setting to with a new will, as I ducked out back past my cabin and the control room.

"Kurt, (now promoted straight to petty officer with the clasp). Check all valves, seals and tools. You know your job. Then rest your men.

No point waking anyone amidships, they need their sleep, then the Cook.

Hello Kuki, keep those stoves dowsed and watch that hatch above your head. I need you to be Oscar's Assistant.

"But I'm no Doktor, Sir?"

"You know how to use a butcher's knife don't you, Kuki?"

"Yes Sir"

"Then you're the Doc's Assistant in the Atlantic."

"Is it going to come to that, Kap?"

No. No, not ever. But if it does turn nasty, Kuki.. If we are forced down again with the depth charges raining down and all hope seems to be gone..

"Yes, Sir..........

"At least keep that blade clean to cut up all our bacon for breakfast for when we surface the next day, won't you!"

"Kapitan to Control Room!"

I'm bowling back forward.

"U-297, Sir engaging!". It's a way off but that was definitely a torpedo strike.

Good old Andreas here already.

"Thank you Hans. Viktor get a short one off to U-297 and U-100, and any of the other boats coming in .

Willi, get us up to flank speed and converge, can we do that Otto?" Otto turns and smiles "You have 16 surface knots in this sea, Sir. We can still outrun them.. the merchants at least."

"Joachim?"

"All done Sir. Every torpedo loaded and the boys would very much like to see them on their way.."

Willi and me have looked over the charts.

It's his Third Watch and so now we're both on the Bridge.

We're thrashing ahead. There is the smoke still visible in the pale night sky of a freighter settling gently on it's keel. The work of U-297, I'd expect.

"Lucky Four Leaf Clover, Cap!"

Willi is not only superstitious, but an expert on u-boat emblems.

"Can you see her, Willi?"

"Away to starboard"

"Damn!"

"What, Sir?"

"He's taken our water, and I have to say making fair use of it. Now we have to either disengage and leapfrog him, or go straight in.

Willi just turned and grinned.

I grinned back.

"Flank speed Otto, steer starboard 30! Everyone back to battle stations."

"We're going to worry this convoy to death"

"Get the second officer and Joachim up here."

We're going in again.

"Now hard to port"

"Ok Joachim line us up That big transport there, two in her. You see that tanker just on the edge, only small but worth it. Wait till the smaller fry aren't masking the targets.

"Yes, we're very selective shoppers, Sir!"

"Ok! Now tube four for that one."

I pointed at a 4000 tonner who happened to give the simplest solution for our salvo. Such are the vagaries of war.

"Ok Friedrich, that's how it's done. By good seamanship, not by Nazi doctrine.
So what exactly did you do when I left you to my stern torpedo.

Joachim is competently relaying a stream of target data downstairs. Willi has his watch on their toes.

"What happened to that stern torpedo that I ordered you to fire at the end of our last attack?"

"No discernible results, Sir, but..."

"No 'Buts'! Those ships were overlapping, you could have shut your eyes and stood a fair chance of hitting something"

"Ok go down, I'm assigning you to Otto (and he'll be really pleased) before you can take command of your own boat, whatever your connections, you won't last a day in the Atlantic unless you know the boat, it's many mechanics and the crew.

Now if your Uncle will excuse me, I have some enemy ships to sink...

"It's not that I have anything against Friedrich, Willi, it's just that we're not risking our lives every moment for Hitler, and Friedrich's politics, we're doing it for Germany, and above all...."

"To bring everyone home safe from the war, is that what you mean , Sir"

"We can't use the words war and safe in the same sentence, Willi".

"Tonight people are going to die, some already have, and you know it could be us or them or both."

"Now lets bring us to bear..."

"Viktor, 'Send U-46 to U-297. Four torpedoes away to your East. U-46 Breaking off. Get yours off soon, expecting company to my East. Wait for my strike, and then pick out some of your own. Don't hang about, we have faint fast screws but gaining.'"

"Ok Sir!"

Spin us around Otto, and let’s drop a little deeper, be ready to cut speed on my word. Joachim put everything we have left up the tubes. Quickly now; the destroyers will be back soon and I'm going to want some peace and quiet round about then.

"U-297, Sir!"

"Give me that earphone!"

'Two new torpedoes in the water , Sir!'

'Well done Andreas! That's six eels on their way between us. I knew he wouldn't hang back.'

'Keep talking to me Hans, I don't want to bump into him. Give me periscope and how close are the Brits?'

"Gaining, Sir." The explosions, five in all. I reckon by the space of the hits that we had the first three and U-297 turned up and sank the last two. That was two sunk each and another one crippled and dropping out of convoy. We are thrashing them.

Andreas is already slipping below. Off to our left we can see the silhouette of a destroyer steaming hard back to this side of the convoy.

"Run, Willi. Andreas has more torpedoes than us. We may draw the escort off him, and he can go in again. Everyone below except you and me.

"We're going to draw him as far south of the convoy as we can, and let the others get stuck in."

"What about us, Cap!"

"We've beaten the odd destroyer before. We're going to duck soon. As soon as she thinks she's in firing range, we'll go. Then her asdic will be useless to pick up Andreas, because it only works from the bow. Then 297 will be up and loaded and have a free go.

"What about us, Cap?" Willi repeated patiently, but with a more serious look into my eyes.

""We'll be ok, Willi, I'll make sure of that. We've only got two workable eels left, so what I'm doing makes sense.

'Ok Now drop us to 80 meters Otto and run silent...."

The destroyers came and the destroyers went.

They didn't ping us once, even though we could hear their propellers virtually overhead.

I'm guessing they're after good old Andreas, whose U-297 will already be pounding the waves to get ahead of the convoy again.

"Otto, we're no good down here, periscope depth please, I think any immediate danger has passed"

There were five distinct detonations while we were below. Impossible to tell which were ours and which were Andreas's. He fired two and we fired four before we submerged, he can claim his two, he was in a better firing position. But listening underwater, I heard four vessels break up, and there is no mistaking that sound. The crew always rejoice of course, but there is still a part of me that bears some anguish for fellow seamen.

Only a small part. We're well on our way to destroying this convoy, if we can rejoin and get our last two off. And if U-297 can get ahead and attack them from there, or even from the other side or if Emerson or any other boat can close, we've got these escorts chasing their own shadows. Also there'll be some stragglers, like that big one that we crippled earlier, and probably a couple more by now.

"Clear Otto. Stand by Second Watch, the convoy shouldn't be hard to find, just steer us towards the smoke and flames. I'm more concerned about what the escorts are doing. There's always payback. I'll be up with you in a minute. Flank speed, please Otto, as soon as we are up and on diesels."

Me and Bruno are up first. Water from the bridge dripping down our necks as we heaved ourselves up through the hatch, grimacing and swearing, but grateful as always for it's cold fresh feel after being submerged. A feeling that soon wears off after four hours on watch in the North Atlantic.

Below we hear the shout from Otto, and the grumble, then rumble, then hearty pounding as the exhaust valves clear water and the diesels kick in, the Chief bless him, isn't sparing the fuel, I can see us quickly climbing up past 12 knots and further, as the good old U-46 surges forward again.

Bruno as if reading my thoughts turns and smiles.

"She's like a faithful dog being taken out for a walk after a while indoors, and now off the leash again, Kaleun!"

"Yes Bruno, but a dog one minute", I patted the rim of the conning tower affectionately,

"And a wolf the next!"

There is another cry from below. We are picking up radio signals again, but this one has me scurrying back down the ladder to Viktor's cabin.

"Another U-boat, Sir." says Viktor excitedly.

"It'll be Emerson.......!"

I'm looking through Viktor's hastily scribbled message pad.

The call Sign is clear, U-971.

"But that's not Emerson's boat, Viktor?
"Don't you remember, Sir, we're playing the numbers".

Of course, we still only have about 24 operational and aggressive front boats at sea in the Atlantic at any one time.

It's good, by a simple numbering trick, to make the enemy think we have a thousand.

U-971, that's Emerson alright. Viktor is a dab hand at Morse and he can tell every boat just by the Morse signature of his friends in 7th Flotilla, just by the way they tap the key.

"That's Klaus alright, (the U-971 signaler) he's always heavy on his "U' and his "A" and sometimes gets them mixed up. "

"I know every tapper in the Flotilla just by their keying signature"

"That really is great, Viktor but has Emerson given us a position...?"

Willi, acting First Lieutenant and Navigator, and I are bent over the chart table. It's hard to get a mean course for the convoy because it is now so ragged, but we reckon they have roughly gone on a port zig, and are heading more true north.

If Andreas in U-297 has got his skates on, and I believe he has; he has the dash for it, and he can outstrip any convoy, if not the escorts, then last heard he was making his way around the opposite side of the convoy from where we first launched our combined attack.

With Willi's trusty dividers, shunned cups of coffee, shouted calls to Viktor and Hans in the radio and sonar cabins, a certain amount of sheer guess work, but also all trust in our kameraden in U-297 and U-971, we've come up with this picture.

The convoy has been savaged on it's North Easterly course, multiple sinking’s and ships forced to limp out of convoy. The Allies have, as best as they can manage, I think maneuvered northwards. This is maybe what I would have done, (after all any change of direction in contact is usually better than none). But it will also take the convoy further out from any Biscay Boats speeding out to their East (but they don't know about Emerson yet) And also give them a better chance of undisputed air cover by morning, towards the Bristol Channel.

In our impromptu wolfpack, U-100 has chipped in with an attack, but Big G is out of eels, and already heading back to St Nazaire after a long patrol further west.

U-297 scored with it's first two torpedoes, and then broke off to get to the other side of them. As the convoy has sheered off to the North, that put's von Andreas's run to get to the opposite side of the convoy to actually drop him right in front of them.

Young Emerson in U-971 has raced out and taken huge risks in charging over the surface of the Bay of Biscay to join battle. His excited reports say that he is working up his position on their starboard flank as the convoy has unwittingly turned away from his head-on approach.

As for U-46, I have to make the decision. We're now bringing up the rear, so we have every point of the enemy's compass covered except to the vast expanse of the West. We are to the south with only 2 tubes left to fire.

"Ok Willi, that's it. We will have to be goalkeeper, I'm passing command to Andreas, he can direct things better from there, and he is the lead boat.

We need to speak to U-297....."

"That's Andreas! He must be in position! Willi set a course into the rear of them, I'll be upstairs with Bruno's lot, we'll give you a decent sighting as soon as possible (although there are still black clouds of burning oil away in the distance, drawing us grimly onto the convoy). Otto have Reuben give us every extra meter of speed back there. Viktor, listen out for 297, and 971, and anything else you can pick up. Hans you won't hear a damn thing on sonar at this speed, get to your bunk, I want you up and fresh for if we dive. Joachim, I know you've already inspected and loaded the last two torpedoes, break out the 88mm deck ammunition, have it checked and ready, I'm thinking there may be some tidying up to do tomorrow morning!"

"Two and Four, loaded, and ready to go, Sir!"

Other affirmatory reports are coming in, as the U-46 picks up speed to rejoin the battle.

"Action Stations, Gentlemen, we're going in again.........!"

"Let's not be over-confident, Bruno. Destroyers are still destroyers, and while we have had them chasing their tails up to now, if they catch one of us they won't let go.

"What about her, Kap?"

Bruno points out another merchant, it's hard to tell if she's making her own course, or is desperately trying to regain the convoy. It is making an uncertain pattern due to the damage to it's bow. I think it's one of ours from the earlier attack.

"Pass her position, speed and rough course down to Willi, please Bruno. We'll see to her later"

U-46 surges on. Soon we are up again with the rear of the convoy.

"Fresh meat!" cries Bruno.

"Ok Number One, less of that. Any escorts?"

We can't attack directly astern, we have to get broadside of them. I have to decide to veer off and slink up on the Eastern approach, or hammer further out and dog-leg back from the West. But where are the escorts.....?

An explosion and a ball of flame answers my own question. It's on the starboard side of the convoy. Within a minute there is another bang.

That must be Emerson in U-971. The escorts will race to him if they run true to their untrained form.

I took the pipe myself.

"Hard-a-Port! Steer to 300, then attack run to starboard on bridge command!......"

"Ok Bruno line us up with the last row, there's a decent sized freighter there, and I think a tanker beyond it.

Another series of explosions, I think U-297 has got in, but at this distance it could be Emerson taking a pounding, or both.

Viktor confirms both other boats in contact and torpedoes in the water. U-971 sent an emergency close-down message, so he's either ducking, diving or drowning. We can't help him just yet other than to attract their attentions elsewhere, which is why I've pulled West.

Anyway, Joachim has given me my firing solution on the tanker, and a different freighter.

"Los...!"

There is a huge cheer as tube four is sent off.

The boys in the fore-ends have a love-hate relationship with their charges. Firstly they're proud of their torpedoes, and were stung into shame after that fiasco off the North of Ireland. They are dedicated to sending allied shipping to the bottom.

But there's also the fact that the more we launch, the less there is to service and load, the more room there is for my Lordships to live in, and the sooner the last one goes, the quicker they get back to a friendly port, and perhaps a friendly girl, or at least a willing one. So they look forward to battle, and take the consequences of a depth charging, as a natural event. Waiting quietly as the destroyer makes it's pass, then rushing to the valves or bulkheads and stopping any crisis.

In the meantime me and the other seniors in the Control Room are supposed to show no fear, and yet a few of us know better than them, what a desperate hole we've been in.

It's at times like these that dark humor arises, like when we were badly damaged and nearly sunk near Cork. We'd been wriggling away from escorts all night. My boat was hurt and listing badly when we finally surfaced cautiously the next morning, the decks were a mess all our food was swilling around , and there was the ominous chlorine smell of battery acid leaking into the sea water, which kept Otto and his gang busy, lifting up the deck plates.

Kuki comes forward, balancing a cup delicately. "Your usual morning coffee, Sir."

I looked in the cup, and there was just a small mouthful left after its journey through the hatches. It was cold and salty.

"Well there is a War on, Sir" was all he would say.

It's hard to argue with that. I laughed and drank it with relish.

There'll be time for coffee later......

"When Willi?"

"Twenty five seconds, Kap" without even looking at his stopwatch.

"Bruno, keep your watch covering their quadrants, we don't want any nasty surprises. We're doing that tonight."

"Joachim, close all bow caps, we've nothing more to deliver. Cox, stand the boys down in the fore ends, good work again, after this tell them when they make their victory pennants they can sign their own name. No swastikas"

"We're not out of this yet, we've still got to do the dirty work". I nodded towards the deck gun ammunition cases. At least a couple who need finishing off, and we can't get away from it forever. Increase the bridge watch; let's sink these last few, and get to the River.

"Signal to Bridge!"

The hastily written scribble is passed up verbatim.

U-971

'Surfaced after long escort contact. Depth charge damage to bow. No forward firing torpedoes. Leaking. Can I go?

I scribbled back:

'Gut gemacht, jetzt nach Sante Nanny. Tiefer aus weg.'

"Get Viktor to send that to Emerson. I want him to get home ..

The seniors are all around the ward room.

"Ok, men, our small wolfpack is dissolving. U-100 has already gone back, Emerson in U-971 is also peeling away; Andreas has got in amongst them last night, but it is now also retiring, with a bit of a dent in the bow by all accounts. We've cut them to pieces!"

"We have to try and scoop up the stragglers. Drop speed Otto, there's a couple lumbering in our wake. We'll hang off and catch them with the deck gun.

"I want extra hands on deck, especially in the Wintergarten when the sun comes up. Willi, get your watch together, and take whoever else you need."

Bruno started to protest, and was stopped with the flat of my palm.

"You and your crew have done enough Bruno. Get some rest now. I want you to be at your best for when you take the salute back into port"

"You mean...?"

"Yes Bruno, you will take the docking honors. You've earned it on this patrol. In the meantime there are still destroyers about, and the RAF are bound to pay a visit. Let's not blow it now..."

"Keep your eyes open, men!"

"There will almost certainly be jabos, and after the kicking we gave that convoy, they've probably got more escorts than merchants!"

The destroyers don't necessarily know that we're the only contact boat left.

"Break open the 88s, and keep the hatches open, sod the comfy control room staff if they get splashed below. Jurgen you'll be responsible for your one if we have to crash, I'll be last down this one. Boys, if it comes to it I want you to fall down that bloody ladder and roll away, not climb it in your own time. Me and the Navigation Officer will be last, and rather keen to get inside ourselves, so don't keep us waiting".

"There she is, Kap!"

That freighter is still desperately wallowing, making only about 2 knots.

"Put one over her bow, Joachim."

He dutifully sends one over, right where the captain or bridge watch can see it.

"Nice shot Joachim"

"There's a special skill to missing the target, Sir!"

I laughed.

"Let's hope they take the hint, and go to the boats. Any sign, Willi?"

The rest of the watch are peering restlessly at the evermore lightening sky.

Soon the planes could be here.

"One more, Joachim, do they think we're joking? And then give me rapid fire into her waterline on my command."

The next warning shot arcs over.

"Come on, jump ship.." young Hals mutters..

"Look to the sky, Junge!"

"There they go, Sir!"

The boats are finally being lowered, and it seems like the crew are leaving in an orderly fashion

"She's going of her own accord, Sir!" cries Kemp.

It's true, she has finally given up the ghost, and is settling too deep in the water to be saved.

"Get us away Willi. Let's put some distance in. I think the other straggler is heading West of here, but either way we don't want to hang around here"

Hard to northwest, and the other one isn't hard to find.

Chugging great plumes of black smoke, she too is doing her best to break for some friendly port.

"Deck Gun, Load! Make Ready! Straight into the waterline."

Frantic activity on the deck below. Ever since Joachim threw his steel helmet in the sea that time, none of his crew bother with theirs, but they are all either bareheaded, with the badge on their chest or still, daringly sporting it on the forage cap they still wear at a jaunty angle.

"After all, an aerial cannon from a jabo, or one of those Browning machine guns are going to blow it off anyway!"

So speaks Dieter, who lives for the moment, and as if he doesn't have a head sometimes anyway, and is pressed up onto the bridge to search the skies. Ok, which he's good at.

"Never mind a helmet! Dieter can't even keep his trousers on every time we're in port", shouts Heins.

"Let's use his big fat bare arse as a buffer against bombs?" says Kals

"Lets use it for in port when we......."

"Lets all shut up, Third Watch; shall we..! Sir, your orders?"

Willi puts a stop to the nonsense, on his watch before I do.

"Steer us absolutely straight out of the waves now; give it to Reuben, I shout below to the control room, give me a steady platform"

Oscar is still up on the bridge, and so is the sun looming up on our starboard.

"I'm sorry Doc, there won't be any warning shots this time. They've had plenty of time to get out. More than we ever would if they had the chance."

Joachim is calling the range, elevation and bearing.

"You don't have to explain it to me, Rollie, its just...

"Fire!"

"Blink the lamp for them to abandon ship, Willi"

The first one was short but a good ranging shot. They can see us they can see the danger, and they can see the futility of escape.

The next one hit. Forward of the bridge, but enough for the 88mm anti-ship shell to send a shudder through the stricken vessel.

("Come one Captain, you must know the game is up, neither of us can afford to hang around)

The next one into the waterline.

"Great shot Joachim. Repeat!

The freighter, I'm sure it's that big size one we hit earlier, is now also listing badly to starboard. the second one confirms it. She won't recover from that.

The light is upon us as Willi, is looking her up in Janes. to find out or guess it is the SS Queensbridge of approximately 8,000 tons. But he knows his ships better than me so who am I to...

"ALARM!!"

I am searching and scanning, Willi has already hit the crash button and we can feel the panic, those of us on the bridge, who want to get on the bus before it leaves.

"Who called it? Where away?"

"There, Sir, there!" a frightened young hand who'd probably just come up for a smoke and also to see our deck gun go and hit something.

"I see them Junge, good call, get below now to your action stations. But give me a drag of that cigarette before you go."

He smiled broadly, and went down.

A simple trick to display calm and confidence. Christ, I wish it was that simple.

Everyone else is already racing down and me and Willi are the last.

"Liberators, Willi! Three astern. Don't look, just get downstairs! I'll close the hatches"

The boat is tilting down, as it's Kapitan tumbles down in a medley of curses into the control room.

"Don't you just hate that, men? When it always happens like that, right at the end?

"What?..."

"What Sir?..."

"Are we done for Sir?..."

"No, no, lads I'm talking about that last cold trickle of water you always get down the back of your neck, when you come down the ladder."

"Now full to port!"

"The only water we want is a hot bath, with fond attention back in Saint Nazairre, don't we boys!

(How deep Chief? Is that gauge reading right?)

(15 meters and sinking, Kap)

(Get us deeper, much deeper, and open up everything on the electric motors, Reuben)

(Yes Sir)

It's hard to whisper in the control room, without raising alarm.

"Aircraft, men!" I say jauntily. "Apart from our other patrols this has been easy up to now.... so it may get bumpy again"

If we can get out of the pattern of three bombers that have seen us on the surface, if I have made the right decision to dive.

If I have got deep enough and moved far enough away, and in the right direction.

A few of third watch are still lingering around Hans's sonar room

So every one can see when he wrenches off his headphones to protect his eardrums, and flings them aside.

"Wasserbomben!"

That get's them moving.

"Not in here, you idiots!"

Cox shoos them out of the Control Room.

"We're busy here. Get forward you apes!"

And the soaking wet remnants of Third Watch add their weight to the bow, as the U-46 dives for her life.

"Hang on Men, they'll be set for shallow and...


Kaboom, Kaboom, kaboom, kaboom, KABOOM, KABOOM, kaboom, kaboom, BANG, BANG.

The boat is rocked violently

"... and we can expect them any time now...."

It bought a wry laugh from Willi.

"Now we're all getting a little cold trickle down our collars", says Otto without taking his eyes off the gauges and dials.

"Level up helmsmen!"

"Forty meters, Sir

Joachim suddenly bursts through the hatch like a soaked and startled hare.

"Taking water in the fore-ends, Sir! It's pissing through!"

"Fifty meters, Sir"

"Cox get all hands aft, get the weight back off the bow.

"Damage crew forward! Let them get by, you idiots!"

"Seventy meters, Sir"

"Reuben, send your motors hard astern. Bring those bow planes up lads."

"95 meters, Sir" , says a control hand bleakly.

I dive towards the fore-ends where the blokes there are soaked and exhausted.

"Leaks stopped, Sir!"

"Well played, Kurt!"

I rush back.

"Blow tanks!"

The rest of them are wrestling with the jammed fore plane wheel. In the end they hit it with a hammer.

"120 meters!"

"Boys, we've been deeper than this. Pump everything aft Otto, and then get the bilge out of the boat, I don't care what noise you make. We'll get out of this"

"130 meters, Sir" The tensile groans and creaks are now obvious.

"You always were a kidder, Sir" murmurs Willi.

A wry smile from Otto across the Control Room.

"Get your lucky blue mug out, Willi"

He did. Nurturing it carefully. There was nothing else to do.

It took a while. I suppose we find it harder to be gently sinking than under the constant threat of death from a destroyer.

"130 meters, again, Sir."

That was the same as last time, that mean's roughly neutral buoyancy. That's a good thing. It means we're not sinking for the moment.

"Otto, use our last compressed air. It's hard to pump out at this depth with the water pressure, so now's the time!"

"All your juice to the forward gears, Reuben, and let's see!"

These next moments are crucial.

If we can expel enough water..

If the bow planes, or at least the starboard one, behaves itself, and it should given the four sweating men swearing, shouting and resorting to violence with a sledgehammer and a crowbar...

If the good old fish can just stick her sword up towards the surface, then every meter will mean a reduction in water pressure on her hull, less easy for water to get in, and easier to pump the bloody stuff out.

I looked down to see that my ankles were awash, and looked up to see a young rating clutching himself, and on the verge of sobbing. The same boy who had come up for a smoke before.

"Easy, lad; don't forget I owe you a cigarette. It's a bit damp at the moment, but we'll take our next drag back on the Wintergarten"

I gripped his shoulder and he braved a smile.

"Thank you, Sir"

"Now get back to your watch commander..."

I looked up to see the whole control room crew looking at me.

And then down at my boots where the water seemed to be receding and then slowly running aft.

"125 meters!"

A huge yell erupted, which just brought more scared faces looming in from the hatch to the rear of the Control Room.

"120 meters"

"Quiet men! We're going home, but we're not out of it yet. Keep those repairs going. We've upset a few people, and they may still be around.


I sidled up to Otto while the hands were basking in their sudden salvation.

"How does it look, Chief, she's handling like a brick..?

"She'll sink like one unless we're careful. The damage to the starboard dive plane is affecting the boat's trim, I can't do anything about that, Rollie, until we at least get to a safe depth"

"What's a safe depth?"

He looked at me grimly.

"The surface"

"Come off it Otto! It's broad daylight by now, and we've already had half of RAF Coastal Command after us!"

"Rollie", he murmured.

"The batteries are half flat, four of the cells are in danger of seawater contamination, and you know what that means. The boat is going to pitch badly as it is, but I can't tell how badly while we are forcing her upwards. One of our bow planes is wrenched out of true. You know we can't be wrestling and fighting with it in a tight spot, and the air compressors, well they've taken a hammering too but Kurt and his team are on it. But they need air to compress, and diesels to compress the air with. Without anything to blow ballast, we won't be able to dive safely or even maintain depth anymore, if we do. We have to surface and I'll do my best down here to fix things"

"But we'll be cut to pieces..."

"60 meters!" is the cry from Braun, to more joy.

"Better or worse than being back down there...?"

You're right Otto, my friend. It's out of the frying pan and into the fire.."

He smiled.

"You mean, the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea..."

"Up to 12 meters, Chief. Give me my periscope"

Well the planes are gone, but do they talk to the escorts?

"Anything, Hans?"

"Nichts, Herr Kaleun!"

"Good. Gentlemen..."

The seniors are sitting around the wardroom, even Bruno who could sleep through a depth charge at 20 meters if you let him.

"...We’re going back in. Back to St Nazaire, I mean. But we're not as seaworthy as I would like the U-46 to be. In other words, and having discussed it with the Chief, we're going to have to take a chance on the surface, right across the Biscay Bay.

Howls of protest.

"Shut up, men! Emerson just made it out here on the surface, and...

"More by luck than judgment, the young whippersnapper!"

"Well, Willi.... we have both. This is the Laughing Swordfish, your judgment and her luck!

I slapped him on the back.

"Cut us a not so obvious course home, please Willi.

"Bruno... take your boys up for this watch, take anyone else you need. I want eyes in the sky. Where are the machine guns, let's have them mounted on the...........what?"

Bruno coughed in embarrassment.

"Those two MG34s with the pivotal mounting sir.."

"..Yes..?"

"We lost them to some guys from U-342, I'm sure that ace came from the bottom of the pack"

"Bruno, I despair. You will take the watch with me, and when the jabos come, feel free to spit at them"

"Ok, surface!"

I push the periscope away.

"All speed diesels! Get those air compressors running. Pump out, and Bruno why are you still here. I want you and your gang straight up there as soon as the Chief gives us surface. Joachim, get Jurgen and the best gunners in the garden. Bring the 2cm ammo up."

Bruno pops the hatch, and it flings itself open, as the stale air rushes out and clean Atlantic sea air is sucked in. There's no better sensation for u-boat men than that.

"Up! Up!"

Bruno is first, and I'm second; the rest of the watch scramble up, and Jurgen spills out to man the AA gun with two extra loaders. One of them being Dieter. He's a disciplinary nightmare, but never one to duck out of a fight.

"Keep looking lads!"

"So Bruno..."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Tell me about these machine guns. How long have we been gambling away Kriegsmarine hardware?

"Every now and then, Sir, how else do you think we got that case of American Bourbon, and the crate of pineapples"

"What case of Bourbon?"

"Oh..."

"Never mind, Bruno.." I sighed.

"When we get back" (it's always good to say 'when we get back' and not 'if we get back' in earshot of the crew)..

"...You and the QM will get our machine guns back from them"

"Bit tricky, Sir"

"Why?"

"Because it would be a long swim. They're on the seabed along with all those card sharks that sailed in her. Last month, Konig's boat".

My God, Hans has gone. I need to pay more attention to the blackboard.

"Well ok, Bruno but no more of it. Have Willi draw me up some papers to sign, and we'll requisition two new ones.

"Yes, Sir"

"And Bruno...."

"Yes, Sir?"

"It's chilly up here. Is there any of that bourbon left..?"

So far, so good.

I call for the Cox onto the Bridge,

"Kaleun?"

Fetch young Muller up here, and whoever is his closest friend. Also I'm going to need some dry cigarettes, but I know you can do that.

"Yes, Sir!"

Janni Muller and his best mate Vogel, join me on the bridge.

"Hey Muller, you're not in any trouble. It's ok to be scared when we come under attack. We're all a little bit worried sometimes, but you can take it from me, that you won't die on the U-46, at least not before me.

Vogel, come and sit here too. You're both from Leipzig, nicht wahr?"

"Yes Captain."

"You know, you guys should come up here more often. It's a dangerous stretch of the ocean just now, but it's nice to have a breath of fresh air now and again,"

"I almost forgot! Here's the cigarette that I owe you. Take one too, Vogel."

We lit up, sitting on the 20mm ammo cases, and smoking contentedly.

"When we get back in, you will both come and drink at my table in the Chat Noir. It's the least I can do Muller, for spotting those planes, and Vogel, for keeping the electrics running when we most needed them"

"We're definitely going to make it back, then Sir?"

"Count on it lad!"