Wreckers Must Breathe (7 page)

The prospect seemed pretty grim.

It was some time before the commander returned. He held in his hand a single sheet of paper. This he handed to the navigating officer, who passed it on to Logan. ‘Now step up here and explain the drift on the chart,' the commander said.

Logan glanced at the sheet of paper and then held it out so that I could also read it. I cannot remember all the details of it. But it gave the position, longitude and latitude, of a rendezvous for three separate squadrons of British ships—one from Gibraltar, one from the Atlantic and one from Portsmouth. Logan explained to me that the rendezvous was about thirty miles south of the Shambles Light—that is off Portland. Those coming from Gibraltar and the Atlantic were largely capital ships. Those coming from Portsmouth were mainly destroyers and minesweepers.

Logan placed his big forefinger on the list of those coming from the Atlantic. ‘They're short of destroyers,' he said. ‘Until they meet up with the Portsmouth boats those four battleships will be insufficiently screened. What a chance for the U-boats!'

There were certainly not nearly so many destroyers and torpedo boats with this squadron as with that coming up from Gibraltar. My eyes travelled on down the paper. The rendezvous was for Monday, September 18 at 13.30 hours. The object of the gathering was to sweep up the Channel, pass through the Downs and carry out a raid on the Kiel Canal. Blockships were to be waiting in the Downs and these were to be sunk in the canal if it proved possible to silence the shore batteries. Raids by Bomber Command of the R.A.F. were to accompany the attack and three fighter squadrons would co-operate in preventing enemy aircraft from harassing the raiding fleet.

As I grasped the magnitude and daring of the plan, I could not help being amazed at the ability of the German secret service to obtain information of such a vitally secret nature. ‘Have they got a chance of sinking those four battleships?' I asked.

‘Quite a good chance, I should say,' Logan replied. ‘And if there are enough U-boats in this vicinity they might have a shot at the main gathering.'

Our conversation was interrupted by the commander. ‘Stop that whispering,' he ordered, ‘and let us have the information we require.'

Logan strode down the gangway towards the control room. ‘Certainly,' he said, ‘if you'll transmit a message to Fort Blockhouse, Portsmouth.'

The commander's eyes narrowed. ‘You have the information I obtained. Keep your side of the bargain.'

‘You know my purpose in requiring this information before directing you to safety,' Logan answered. ‘My intention was to prevent its use by the enemies of my country. If you have a copy of this or if you have memorized——'

‘I have neither copied it nor memorized it,' the other cut in.

‘In that case there is no objection to your sending my message to the Admiralty.'

The commander moved forward. There was something stealthy, almost cat-like in the way he moved. ‘I will not be called a liar in my own ship—certainly not by a verflucht Britisher. You have the insolence to demand that this ship's radio be used to transmit messages to the British Naval authorities. I'll see you in hell first.'

‘Then, you won't have long to wait,' was Logan's reply.

The navigating officer, who had been following the conversation intently, said, ‘Eet will be your lifes as well as ours.'

‘If these ships meet as arranged,' Logan replied, tapping the paper in his hand, ‘it may mean the loss of hundreds of lives. It's our lives against theirs. We prefer that it should be two and not several hundred British lives that are lost. So it's Davy Jones for you if you don't give me a solemn pledge to radio my warning to the authorities as soon as I have got you out of this mess and you have a chance to dry off your aerials.'

‘As you wish,' said the commander. There was something of a sneer in his voice. I think he thought we might crack up under the strain, for after he had barked out an order in German he stood watching us. The hiss of the compressed air entering the tanks of the submarine, forcing the water out, was incredibly loud. It seemed to fill my ears.

‘Now do you still withhold the information we need? If you do, I am going to surface and take a chance with this torpedo boat of yours.' And when neither of us answered, the commander shrugged his shoulders. ‘Gun crews stand by!' he ordered in German. Then he disappeared up into the conning tower.

The next few minutes were some of the most unpleasant I have ever experienced. It was not difficult to sense the tension in the submarine. The atmosphere was by now getting very heavy and I was sweating like a pig with the heat of the place. The hiss of the compressed air gradually lessened. The second officer adjusted the trim. The submarine had risen on an even keel and was now, I presumed, lying at periscope depth while the commander watched the torpedo boat and chose his time. I wondered whether the port diesel had been affected or not. If it had, then we were for it.

The commander's voice suddenly called out, ‘Blow all tanks! Surface!' The compressed air hissed in the tanks and the boat shot up so quickly that I could hear the sea water flooding back from the deck. ‘Geschuetzmannschaften auf Bereitschaft!' The gun crews swarmed like monkeys into the conning tower. The hatch slammed back and feet sounded over our heads. Then the one diesel engine began to throb and the ship shuddered as the bows bit into the waves.

The gun crews would be at their stations now. I could hear the swirl of the water overhead and I presumed we were travelling with decks awash in order to keep the boat steady. The U-boat's surface speed of 18 knots was reduced, Big Logan reckoned, to about 9 or 10 as a result of the damage to the starboard propeller shaft. The speed of the torpedo boat, on the other hand, was well over 40 knots. We had not long to wait. A bell sounded in the engine room. The pulsing of the single engine grew more and more frenzied. The whole ship seemed to be shaking and rattling. The din was incredible. Then suddenly there was a sharp detonation and we were almost thrown off our feet. For a moment I thought we had been hit by a torpedo. But I had barely recovered my balance when the explosion was repeated and I realized that it was the after gun being fired. So the torpedo boat had spotted us and we were in action!

To analyse my hopes during the minutes that followed is quite impossible. I was torn between the desire for self-preservation and what I sensed to be my duty. The two were completely irreconcilable. I have, however, a vivid recollection of growing horror at the idea of being imprisoned and suffocated in that infernal U-boat, and towards the end of the action I must admit that that was my dominating thought. I must have been in a pitiable state of funk by the end for I remember nothing about it except that I babbled incoherent nonsense whilst Logan shook me till my teeth rattled in order to prevent me from going completely off my head.

It was a most unpleasant experience, and as an exhibition it must have been disgusting. Strangely enough, it did not make it impossible for me afterwards to go in a submarine again. In fact, those twenty minutes seemed to sweat all terror of death by suffocation out of me. Logan, on the other hand, preserved that same calm throughout the engagement, though he informed me afterwards that he had never actually been in a submarine before. All his experience of submarine warfare in the last war had been gained on minesweepers and coastal patrols, and later on ‘Q' ships.

I do not remember much about that engagement. All that remains vivid in my mind is the throb of the engines, which seemed to pulse right through me, the draught from the open conning tower hatch, the incessant gunfire and my own terror. I remember that a few minutes from the outset the after gun crew ceased firing. But they remained at their stations and some ten minutes later the for'ard gun opened fire and at the same time the commander ordered an eight point turn to starboard—eight points represent a right-angle. I think it was this order that really finished me, for I was pretty certain that it meant a torpedo had been launched at us.

Later, I learned from listening to the conversation of the officers and men that we had surfaced about half a mile out off Caerleon Cove, which lies just east of Cadgwith. The torpedo boat was still off Cadgwith, but within a few seconds her searchlight had picked up the U-boat. The torpedo boat had immediately extinguished her searchlight. The commander, explaining the action to the navigating officer later, said that the drone of the torpedo boat's engines was plainly audible from the conning tower even above the sound of the U-boat's own engine. The order had been given for the U-boat's searchlight to be switched on and as soon as it had picked out the attacking craft the after gun crew had opened fire.

The U-boat was then travelling almost due east with the torpedo boat dead astern. Shortly afterwards the gun crew scored what looked like a direct hit and the torpedo boat swerved off its course and was lost to sight. The U-boat then made a turn of sixteen points and doubled back in the hope of shaking off the torpedo boat if it were still in action.

What actually happened I have pieced together from a talk I had some months later with the coastguard who was on board the torpedo boat. After getting out of range of the U-boat's searchlight, the boat had hove-to and listened for the sound of the submarine's engine. As they had expected, the U-boat's searchlight was extinguished and it began to double back. By this time the clouds had thinned and a rather pale young moon had appeared. As the U-boat approached they got under way with their engines just ticking over and moved up between the shore and the U-boat, endeavouring to merge their craft into the background of the cliffs. This proved so successful that they had actually manoeuvred into position and fired their torpedo before they were sighted. In actual fact, it was the torpedo, and not the torpedo boat, that the U-boat commander first sighted, for the wake of the torpedo showed like a streak of silver in the moonlight. It was then that the order for an eight point turn was made. At the same time our own searchlight picked out the torpedo boat and the for'ard gun opened fire. As the submarine swung on to her new course the after gun crew took up the fire. The torpedo apparently almost scraped the U-boat's side.

The gun crew had the range almost immediately this time and their third shot hit the sea just behind the torpedo boat, seriously damaging the engines and injuring one man. At the same time our port look-out reported a ship on the port bow. All he had seen was the white bow wave. But through his glasses the commander picked out the shape of a destroyer coming at full tilt to the scene of action.

Down in the bowels of the U-boat we heard orders being shouted and then the clatter of sea boots on the deck plates above our heads. The men came tumbling down through the conning tower, the hatch cover slammed to and in a few seconds I was experiencing my second crash dive of the evening.

This time, however, we were far enough out for the commander to have complete confidence in the charts. There was apparently a sand bottom and the dive was straightened out, the boat trimmed and we settled slowly on to the bed of the sea. For nearly an hour we could hear the ugly boom of depth charges in the distance. None came very near us, however, and we settled down to a long vigil.

I think it was this long vigil that really cured me of my terror. Time dulls the senses and in the end I settled down to a game of cards. That we were allowed, as prisoners, to indulge in a game of cards by a commander who obviously could not regard us in too friendly a light may seem surprising. I think my own exhibition of terror was the cause. Fear is catching, and fear in a submarine at a time of emergency is to be avoided at all costs.

That game of poker must constitute something of a record. It started at three o'clock in the morning and it went on, subject to various interruptions, until nearly midnight the following night. We sat or reclined on the bunks and for a table we had a packing case from the store chamber. The light, which was directly above us, threw the interior of the bunks into complete darkness, so that it was impossible to see anyone's features, and even when they leaned forward to put their cards down it only shone on the tops of their heads. The contrast between Logan's head and those of the Germans who played with us remains very vivid in my mind. His hair stood up like a great mop, which together with his beard, gave him a very wild look. The Germans, on the other hand, had close-cropped heads and even those whose overalls were blackened with oil still managed to look quite smart.

The navigation officer played with us most of the time, acting as interpreter. At Logan's suggestion I pretended that I did not understand a word of German, a pretence which was to stand us in good stead later. Different members of the crew joined us at various times. They gave us the benefit of the tourist rate of exchange for our money. Nobody seemed to feel like sleep until well into the next day.

I began to feel drowsy, however, quite soon after breakfast, which was an excellent meal of pressed ham and hard boiled eggs. For a time I played more or less automatically. Big Logan, on the other hand, seemed to remain quite fresh. Despite the language bar, he seemed to get on the best of terms with those he played with, laughing and joking, so that it was difficult to realize that we were in imminent danger of our lives. In fact, the atmosphere became so friendly that, with the sound of Big Logan's voice booming in my ears, I found it difficult to believe in my drowsy state that I was not back in the pub at Cadgwith.

By midday the air was beginning to get pretty bad and most of us lay down and tried to sleep. Throughout the whole time we were submerged the engineers were working on the port electric motor. Twice it was started up, but each time there was an awful clanking sound. By lunch-time they had given it up, and in the afternoon they also turned in.

The only man who did not seem to sleep at all was the commander. I did not like him. He was the personification of the effects of Nazism upon the youth of Germany. He was cold-blooded, brutal and very ready to sneer. But he was efficient. He could not have been more than about twenty-five, yet his men had complete confidence in him. His coolness when actually in action had the quality of a machine, and I could not help thinking that if the German army were officered by a sufficiency of young men of his calibre it must be a very powerful machine.