"It takes more than bravery to survive killers you can't see
Those bastard wolfpacks hunt by day
And strike by night."
- "We're the Merchant Marine"
On a cold, bleak night in March of 1943, a convoy of thirty merchant vessels was lumbering their way through the North Atlantic. Consisting mainly of freighters and oil tankers, this group of ships were carrying vital supplies needed for the Allied war effort to England from the United States. If anything, they could be comparable to a flock of sheep. And they were currently being hunted by a wolf.
Cruising at a depth of sixty feet just outside of the convoy's defensive circle, a U-Boat of the Nazi Kriegsmarine lay waiting. Its battery driven motors carefully moving it through the black water at a snail's pace towards its prey, key for keeping undetected. At the periscope in the boat's control room, the captain leaned heavily against the rubber eye peace. In the small circular eye port, he could see the convoy easily. The black unilluminated hulls standing out against the white light of the full moon.
In quiet moments, the U-Boat captain often lamented on the state of action he and his crew were embarked on. In days of old it was men against the sea, he would think. Today it is men against men. The sea has merely become a field for an epic match of two sides. An old mariner himself, he couldn't help but understand the grim task at hand. Yes, the enemy was the enemy, but they were sailors just as he. Men who had saltwater in their veins and made their lives on the ocean.
The captain took in a breath as he viewed his selected target, a freighter, and as the range and bearing and angle-on-the-bow were being factored into the torpedoes control mechanism. Was this truly all they would get? He knew this was so, as the escort vessels would immediately begin tracking upon the torpedo strike and force them away. It wouldn't originally have been like this, had they been with operating in tandem with other U-Boats that could continue the hunt. Yet, of the six boats of the wolfpack that had left Lorient, France weeks earlier, they were all that was left. And even they hadn't been unscathed by previous encounters, as the submarine still carried damages with it that drastically affected its speed and maneuverability.
Such thoughts were brushed away as the final calculations were made and the three torpedoes in the bow tubes, the only left aboard, were made ready. Heart thumping, the captain made the final countdown before exclaiming: "Torpedo…. Los!"
At this, the enormous warhead launched out of the boat with a burst of compressed air and began streaking towards its target. Seconds later another, and then a third torpedo were right behind it. Three engines of death, on a course of destruction.
Ba-Boom! The night briefly flashed to day as the torpedo slammed home into the side of its chosen freighter. Striking just behind the prow and sending an incredible geyser of water, oil, and fire into the night sky. Shortly after, another miniature sunrise appeared as the next torpedo impacted amidships of the freighter, just under the bridge.
The events that followed for the stricken freighter could easily be described as that of a domino effect, as the two torpedo strikes triggered events that would spell the vessel's end. Water pouring into the gaping holes quickly began flooding the hull, the pressure collapsing bulkheads and allowing the sea further in, slowly causing the ship to list over. Fires that ignited began spreading throughout the rest of the ship. Carving its own destructive path through the ship like a poison through a body. The ship's engines gave out, the electrical generators sputtered and died, plunging the vessel into darkness. Yet the worst fate of all came to the sailors manning the freighter. Most below met a gruesome end of being crushed, drowned, or incinerated. Those that were on deck or made it up quickly tried launching the lifeboats, though only one made it in the water intact. The men not aboard it found themselves jumping into the sea to avoid the raging fires, though the inky swells practically swallowed the sailors, and some disappeared without a trace.
The captain of the U-Boat watched through the periscope as the freighter finally sank from the two torpedo hits, with one that missed. Vanishing in a bow dive illuminated by fire. This would be another mark on the boat's kill record. Though whatever command he was about to give was drawn out by the hydrophone operator's cry of "Escorts incoming!"
The captain bristled. He had been so preoccupied in ensuring their query had been destroyed that he had undermined the task of checking for approaching escort vessels. And now they would pay for this mistake. Yet, a ploy formed in his mind. He was going to go against the diving procedure that he knew most surface combatants would assume he would take following a successful strike. Thus, there might be a way to escape intact.
Ascending sixty feet and just under five miles away, the captain of the United States Coast Guard cutter slammed a pair of binoculars to his face as the ship turned away from the convoy to begin tracking the U-Boat. Damn it! He cursed himself. Had he not kept the cutter at the rear of the convoy herding a duo of ships that had strayed away back into position, they might have been able to make contact with the submarine before it fired. Yet he couldn't dwell on that. Not now when so much was at stake.
Upon his command the sonar operator at his station below deck switched his gear from passive to active mode, the device began spewing its eerie pulsating 'Ping!….Ping!….Ping!' down into the depths. The sound waves seeking a solid object to bounce back from and guide the cutter to the enemy.
And then they had it! 'Ping!….Poing!….Ping….Poing!' "Submerged contact!" Came the reply of the sonar operator through the talker on the bridge. "U-Boat bearing four-one-nine relative! Eight thousand yards out!"
Quick calculations flew through the captain's mind as he issued the course that would bring them over the target. Metal groaned as the cutter made its turn and the turbines screamed up to maximum RPMs as they reached flank speed.
Swiftly they sailed, the ship bucking the rolling waves as it closed on its target. The sonar operator calling the closing distance regularly. The captain steadied his breath, his eyes locked on the sea just beyond his ship. This was it. Their very first contact on their very first Atlantic crossing with him in command. This was moment when one would win, and one would lose. And he would be damned if he was going to lose his ship! "Stand by…." He said, mentally counting down. Not yet….Not yet…. "Fire!"
At the fantail, the first depth charges rolled from their racks and into the frothing sea. Along the sides, the K-gun projectors launched depth charges at an arc away from the cutter. The moment of truth was upon them. Yet, the captain had taken a gamble. He theorized that, since the U-Boat had dived deep after striking, it would rapidly change its depth, either by rising or lowering, to throw off the precision of the depth charges. So, as the boat had gone deep, it could now be creeping up to get out the blast range. And, the sonar operator, who's exemplary hearing made up for his bad eyesight, had confirmed this. The captain ordering the charges be set at a shallower range than intended.
The gamble payed. Full house.
With bone jarring Chump-BOOM! that threw geysers of water into the sky which could put Old Faithful to shame, the charges exploded directly along the U-Boat. The crushing, concussive blasts shaking the submarine and, in a similar effect to the freighter, it was the prelude to disaster.
Seems split, decks buckled, power fluctuated, pipes and hoses burst. Virtually everything was going wrong at once and the damages the submarine had previously received were now increasing ten-fold. And then the U-Boat skipper received a message that chilled his very blood. Sea water had breached the forward battery room and was now reacting with the batteries, producing lethal chlorine gas that could kill every man aboard just as effectively as a bullet.
With a heavy heart, the captain gave the order: "Surface the boat!"
"Submarine coming up fast!" Came the energized reply from sonar. Following its depth charge attack, the cutter quickly circled so it would come back to target. Stepping over to the bitch-box mounted to the bulkhead, the captain opened the intended line to the ship's Combat Information Center before speaking.
"Combat, bridge. Sub coming up to surface. Permission to commence firing when you have a track." His command was met with "Combat, aye. Acknowledged."
The captain returned to his spot. The scenario they had trained on, when combating a surfaced U-Boat head on at night, was to have the cutter's three most forward five-inch mounts open on the submarine with armor piercing rounds under control from the gunnery officer in the fire control director. While the after most mount would fire star shells in local control. These being shells that illuminated when they exploded at altitude. This was already happening, the shells lighting the area of ocean in a dull white glow.
"U-Boat!" Came the reply of a lookout above the cutter's pilothouse. "Bering one-one-seven off the bow! Distance less than five hundred yards!"
There it was. The U-Boat pushing through the surface like the mythical leviathan. At this, the captain bristled. The submarine that had destroyed one of the flock was now before them. It was a spilt second later that the five-inch mounts opened up. Firing rounds with a sharp Crack! and bright muzzle flashes.
Yet, there was a problem. As the cutter was advancing on the U-Boat at top speed, they were now getting so close that the guns would not be able to depress low enough to hit the target. The captain could literally see the shells streaking just over the submarine to impact the sea behind it.
In the amount of time it would take to reposition the cutter to draw a bead on the target, the U-Boat could be lining up a torpedo shot on the convoy or themselves. There was only one thought that crossed the captain's mind, and, though it was set against regulations of ship-on-submarine action, he took it.
"Cease fire! Helm, meet her right at that boat!" The captain ordered. Stepping over to the ship's public address system (1MC) and opening to the whole ship, and, lacking the typical bearing of a normal announcement, he shouted, "This is the captain! All hands stand by to ram submarine!"
Heeling over, the cutter aligned her bow with the side of the U-Boat as the collision alarm honked loudly. The captain's heart thumped harder and harder as the two vessels neared. Then, right before collision, an almost ridiculous thought crossed his mind. It was a quote that Admiral David Farragut had uttered during the Battle of Mobile Bay in the previous century, one that seemed fitting with the moment at hand.
"Damn the torpedoes. Full speed ahead!"
With a crumpling shriek, the knife edged bow of the cutter sliced into the U-Boat'sskin. Just as it had, quite possibly the fluke to end all flukes, a rolling wave had lifted the submarine up and given the cutter a direct hit on the U-Boat's exposed underbelly just forward of the deck gun. Ripping a mammoth gash into the submarine's hull and knocking it aside like a bathtub toy.
As the cutter passed along side, the captain quickly ordered the depth charges on the K-guns alongside fired at an extremely shallow depth. The barrel shaped charges let out their familiar Chump-BOOM! as they exploded next the Nazi boat. Practically lifting it out of the water and shredding new damage into it. Then, with a groan of stressed metal and oil leaking from its ruptured tanks like the blood of a wounded animal, the U-Boat began its final dive. Its bow sinking and its stern rising into the sky, illuminated by the star shells, before it sank and was swallowed by the sea.
There were no survivors.
-000-
The rising sun cast its luminous rays of early morning yellow and orange over the sea the following morning, grazing over the slate grey steel of the Coast Guard cutter as it sat, motionless.
On the bridge, the captain sipped his lukewarm coffee, slightly treasuring the bitter taste, as he waited for the final report from the damage control team. Their collision with the U-Boat had sprung some hull plates in the bow and a compartment was slowly flooding. Though, it was nothing serious and could be delt with by damage control in short order. Stepping out on to the bridge wing and looking up, the captain could see a bomber from the Royal Air Force anti-submarine patrol circling lazily overhead, on the lookout for any more Nazi boats. Ironic that the convoy had come within air cover range only hours after the fight.
From the minutes following the night engagement till now, the ship had been receiving a laundry list of 'well done' messages from the convoy, including one very enthusiastic "Bloody well done!" from the skipper of a British destroyer they were operating with.
Though the captain relished in these compliments along with the rest of his crew, he couldn't help but feel, deep in the pit of his mind, a bittersweet end. Yes, they had gone toe-to-toe with a U-Boat and come out swinging. But this was only the beginning of the game known as war on the sea. Soon they would be heading in the opposite direction back to the states with another convoy, then with another heading back to Britain, then another, then so on. Yes, this was just the beginning, indeed.
On top of this, the captain was also mentally kicking himself for how closely things had almost gone sideways. Resorting to using one's vessel to physically destroy a target was not only frowned upon by naval warfare doctrine, but also potently discouraged as the ramming ship could easily sustain the same amount of damage as inflicted on its prey.
For instance, what if the U-Boat's torpedos or ammunition magazines had exploded right as the cutter passed through it? Or, what if the collision had opened more compartments to the sea, such as the vital fire and engine rooms, and caused a critical power loss? Potentially putting the ship in danger of sinking and possibly causing a large number of casualties amongst the crew.
I can't think of this now. The captain thought, taking a deep breath of air. He had to keep his mind on the present, which was the mission and the survival of his ship and crew. In the future, he planned to practice on maneuvers of keeping the cutter at a distance away when encountering a surfaced U-Boat. Thus, would allow the main battery to have a steady range when firing and be able to stay on target.
"Captain?" Turning, the captain watched as the ship's executive officer (XO) stepped out of the bridge to join him. "Damage control reports that welds on the repair patches are holding secure and pumps are making her dry. We are prepared to get underway."
"Very well" the captain responded, "Have the quartermaster bring up a plot for us to rejoin the convoy." He then smirked slightly. "The big-wigs back stateside will probably give me hell for using this old girl as a battering ram against a U-Boat."
The XO let out a snort. "They can damn well try, skipper. But those armchair admirals can't ignore the fact that that we're still here, and that Nazi boat isn't. And that's because of what you did." Ducking back into the pilothouse, the XO issued his orders before turning back to the captain. He opened his mouth to speak when his eyes flickered out to the ocean. "Look at that, sir."
Turning, the captain followed his second's pointing finger to see long, bulky shapes breaking the rolling waves. After the stomach jumping thought of another U-Boat, he realized that what he was looking at were Orcas. There were three of them, about a hundred yards from the cutter. The enormous black and white creatures swimming gracefully on the surface as water spurted from their blowholes. Along the cutter's main deck, sailors not engrossed in work paused to watch the mammoth beast's almost hypnotic passage. Some cheering as one circled back and jumped.
Chuckling, the XO murmured, "Doesn't take long at all." At the captain's quizzical gaze, he elaborated. "Its from Stephen Crane's 'The Red Badge of Courage'. When he says, after a battle, it doesn't take long for the birds to come back to their natural patterns. Since that was on land, I guess the Orcas are for the sea."
A small smile graced the captain. "Maybe they know that the fighting's done and they can come out again. Hopefully, that'll mean smooth sailing from here on."
"Maybe, Cap'n. Maybe. After all, this is their domain. We're just passing through."
Simply nodding as the XO returned to the pilothouse, the captain felt grateful that he had such a reliable and driven crew. As that was the true core of their success the night before. The wind whipping over him as his ship gained speed, the captain took notice of the rising sun. In spite of everything, the sunrise after a dark night is most beautiful.
At the bottom of the sea, many fathoms beneath the surface, the body of the U-Boat rested. Its crushed carcass blending well with the rocks and mud present in the inky black depths. Though it was not alone. Only a few hundred feet away lay the wreckage of the freighter said U-Boat had sunk. Predator and prey. Lying together in the abyss for all eternity.
"The carnage and the thunder
That sucked those good boys under
Happens daily and we've three more days to go."
"-We're the Merchant Marine"
AUTHORS NOTE: Hello and Welcome! This is my very first story uploaded to this site and my first completed one. As you can tell, there isn't a whole lot to this story, it initially was a project for my college creative writing course. Though I wanted to see how it would hold up as a fanfic.
Now, this was inspired by the 1955 novel The Good Shepherd by C.S. Forester, a tale of naval action in the North Atlantic during WWII, which was recently adapted into the 2020 Sony film Greyhound. As I hope to write stories of this genre someday, this is my (short) take on sea warfare. Remember, this is my first story, obviously there could be problems/inaccuracies, so take it with as much salt as possible.
If you would like reference to the vessels I pictured, the submarine is a Type IXC U-Boat, inspired by U-505, and the cutter is modeled after USCGC Taney (WPG-37) circa 1943.
Update: I have gone back and reworked some scenes I felt were lacking plus added a little more content with dialogue.
