Hitler’s U-Boat War- The Hunted 1942-45

by Clay Blair

  Drastically reduced by anti-Torch redeployments, after November 5 the U-boat groups operating on the North Atlantic run mounted telling attacks on only one of the fifteen convoys* comprising about seven hundred merchant ships that sailed east and west across the Atlantic during that month: Outbound North (Slow) 144. The U-boats sank six ships for 26,300 tons from that convoy (including the corvette Montbretia). In addition, U-boats sank one ship from each of three other convoys that sailed in November (Slow 109, Outbound North 143 and 145) and five loners, a total of eight other ships for 57,500 tons.† That brought the bag for November on this vital lifeline to twenty-nine ships for about 166,660 tons.‡ Sixteen of these losses were loaded, eastbound ships in convoy. Two U-boats were lost with all hands on the North Atlantic run in November: the Type VII U-132 and the Type IX U-184.

  Both sides declared November 1942 to be the high-water mark for Axis submarines. During the war, Dönitz claimed that all Axis submarines in all waters sank about 900,000 tons of Allied shipping. The Admiralty’s postwar analysis put the merchant-ship losses to Axis submarines at 119 for 729,160 tons.§ As shown, twenty-nine were sunk on the North Atlantic run; ninety were sunk in waters elsewhere.

  Some accounts of the Battle of the Atlantic imply that because of the heavy shipping losses incurred in November, Churchill and Pound sacked Percy Noble, the commander of Western Approaches. He was replaced on November 17 by Max Kennedy Horton, who had commanded the British submarine force for almost three years. Noble, in turn, was appointed chief of the Admiralty delegation in Washington, a position of the utmost importance and sensitivity.

  In his history of the British Royal Navy in World War II,# Correlli Barnett wrote that Admiral

  Noble, an elegant, courteous, charming man, lacked aggressive drive either in regard to his own command or London’s naval and political hierarchies. Horton could hardly have stood in greater contrast. Himself a veteran submariner … he could match Dönitz in first-hand understanding of U-boat operations—and the psychology of U-boat crews. He no less matched Dönitz in ruthless will to win, though perhaps not in power of mind. Horton drove his command hard, his displeasure expressed in ways which reduced his less robust subordinates to nervous wrecks; and only the bravest dared approach him on days when he had lost at his regular game of golf. Every ship’s company in Western Approaches Command could feel the grip and impulse of such harsh leadership ….

  It hardly seems fair to slur Percy Noble and the achievements of his staff of about one thousand at Derby House, Liverpool, in order to deify Max Horton. As we have seen, by the time Horton arrived, Noble and staff had made quite substantial progress in checking the U-boats on the vital North Atlantic convoy run, Noble’s primary area of responsibility. Derby House had achieved this near victory notwithstanding the acute shortage of suitable air and surface escorts and proper training time for them, the diversion of naval assets to Torch, the loss of naval Enigma, the shift of American destroyers in the Atlantic from cargo convoys to troop convoys, the inexperience of the Canadians, and dozens of other handicaps. Noble had developed the key ideas of independent hunter-killer groups (support groups) to aid threatened convoys and to kill more U-boats, and the use of very-long-range four-engine heavy bombers (B-17s, B-24s, Halifaxes) in an ASW role. He had established the escort-group training center (HMS Western Isles) at Tobermory on the island of Mull, under G. O. Stephenson and the convoy tactical trainer (“Anti-U-boat School”) on the top floor of Derby House under Gilbert H. Roberts. He had formed the closest possible working relationship in a unified plot with the commanders of Coastal Command Groups 15 and 19, the former under J. M. Robb, succeeded by Leonard H. Slatter, the latter under Geoffrey Bromet.

  At about this same time, on November 4, Churchill convened a new, high-level body, the Anti-U-boat Committee. A subdivision of the War Cabinet, it replaced the moribund Battle of the Atlantic committee. Its primary purpose was to focus the top minds and political powers in the British and Canadian governments on the task of providing very-long-range air escort for North Atlantic convoys while in the Greenland “Air Gap.” Max Horton was invited to serve on this committee, giving him a voice at the highest levels.* In pursuit of its mandate, the committee delved into all challenges presented by the U-boat forces in all waters.

  Thus it was that the dynamic and flamboyant Max Horton entered the ASW business at a time when most of its weaknesses had been defined and the solutions to them were clear and nearly at hand.

  Dönitz commenced rebuilding U-boat forces on the North Atlantic run as fast as possible. In the three weeks from November 10 to December 1, twenty-eight fresh attack boats (two IXs, twenty-six VIIs) arrived in the hunting grounds from Germany, Norway, and France. One (U-184) had been lost and two (U-262, U-264) had run out of torpedoes and gone home. The remaining twenty-five were assigned to two new groups, Draufgänger (Daredevil) and Panzer (Armor), and to cadre a third.

  All operations were hampered by wildly unfavorable weather—the worst Atlantic winter in memory, according to a Coast Guard officer, John M. Waters, Jr. He wrote in his 1987 war memoir:

  In that terrible winter, the weather would break records of fifty-years standing, and 116 days out of 140 would see storms of gale force or greater on the northern ocean. Many years and dozens of storms later, veteran seamen would still hark back to the storms of that winter to define the superlatives of weather at sea.

  Notwithstanding the hostile weather, the buildup of U-boats on the North Atlantic run—and elsewhere—continued at a remarkable pace. In all, fifty fresh attack boats sailed to the North Atlantic areas in December: thirty-six from France (five IXs, thirty-one VIIs), thirteen new boats from Germany (three IXs, ten VIIs), and one VII (U-591) from Norway.* Formed into a special group, Delphin (Dolphin), six of the VIIs sailed in December from France to mount a surprise attack in Brazilian waters, but that mission was canceled and the boats remained in the North Atlantic. Much against the wishes of Dönitz, the OKM insisted that four boats (two IXs, two VIIs) escort the blockade runner Germania, which was departing for the Far East, through the Bay of Biscay to safe seas. One provisional tanker, the Type XB (minelayer) IJ-117, and the Type XIV “Milk Cow,” U-463, commanded by Leo Wolfbauer, sailed in support of all North Atlantic operations.

  In view of the return of sunless days in the Arctic zone—and the continued low rate of sinkings in that area—Dönitz renewed his long-standing campaign to reduce the number of U-boats assigned there. On December 9, the OKM finally— and still reluctantly—agreed to release provisionally eleven of the twenty-three Arctic/Norway boats to Dönitz, provided he deployed them only in North Atlantic waters so that in event of an emergency need in Norway, they could quickly return to that area. Six of the twelve boats remaining in the Arctic/Norway area were to be ready for action—against Murmansk convoys or an Allied invasion—at all times.†

  One of the new VIIs, U-603, which sailed from Germany to the North Atlantic in late November, reported a serious problem: The skipper, Hans-Joachim Bertelsmann, age twenty-six, fell ill and could not continue the patrol. While inbound to France on December 4, the boat came upon a southbound convoy en route to Gibraltar. Bertelsmann shadowed and reported, but escorts drove him off and down and depth-charged the boat for two hours.

  The beacon signals from U-603 drew in four other boats. Philipp Schuler in U-602, outbound to the Mediterranean, made contact, but the escorts drove him off and down and delivered what Schuler described as a “prolonged” depth-charge attack. Nonetheless, he surfaced, chased, regained contact, and brought up the other two boats. One of these, the outbound IXC U-175, commanded by Heinrich Bruns, was forced to haul off with “leaky exhaust pipes.” When the fourth boat reported heavy air and surface escorts, Dönitz canceled operations on December 6 and directed the ailing Bertelsmann in U-603 to continue to France at high speed.

  The next day, December 7, a new Type IXC in group Panzer, U-524, commanded by Walter von Steinaecker, age twenty-five, made contact with an e
ast-bound convoy about three hundred miles due south of Greenland. The Germans believed this to be a Slow Convoy, but, in fact, it was the fast convoy Halifax 217, which had departed New York on November 27. Originally consisting of thirty-three heavily laden ships, the convoy was guarded by the British Escort Group 6, consisting of the destroyer Fame, the Polish destroyer Burza, four corvettes (three Norwegian, one British), and the rescue ship Perth, equipped with Huff Duff. On December 3 and 4, the convoy had run into a howling storm and had become intermingled with scattered ships of Slow Convoy 111. By December 7, eight of its thirty-three merchant ships had run into St. John’s, Newfoundland, to escape the storm, leaving twenty-five in the convoy.

  Von Steinaecker in U-524 homed in six other Panzer boats that night. The weather was miserable: high winds, heavy rain, and snow. After the others had made contact, von Steinaecker carried out several attacks, firing nine torpedoes at various ships, including the destroyer Fame. Most of his torpedoes missed, but some hit the 8,200-ton British tanker Empire Spencer, which burst into flames and sank. The rescue ship Perth picked up all but one of her fifty-eight crewmen. Hans Gilardone in U-254 fired a single torpedo, but it missed.

  During that night, the six escorts, all equipped with Type 271 centimetric-wavelength radar, conducted a brilliant defense of convoy Halifax 217. The three Norwegian corvettes, Rose, Potentilla, and Eglantine, looking to revenge the loss of their sister ship Montbretia on the westbound voyage to New York with Convoy Outbound North (Slow) 144, were again outstandingly aggressive. While Rose was chasing one U-boat with her main gun, another U-boat surfaced merely 150 yards away. Without missing a beat, Rose shifted targets, forcing both boats under. All seven U-boats, however, survived the night.

  From the contact reports, Dönitz concluded correctly that the convoy was a fast one, not a slow one. Nonetheless, on the night of December 7, he directed group Draufgänger, which had failed to find an expected Outbound North convoy, and four other boats newly arrived in the area to join group Panzer. Dönitz later logged that he had put twenty-two U-boats on the trail of Halifax 217. However, atmospheric conditions were not favorable for radio communications, and the boats reported so many conflicting positions that he was unable to organize an effective mass attack.

  On the following day, December 8, three long-range B-24 Liberators from British Squadron 120 on Iceland, eight hundred miles distant, arrived over the convoy. By exercising rigid fuel economies, one of the aircraft was able to remain in the vicinity of the convoy for seven hours. With the help of centimetric-wavelength ASV radar, the B-24s found and repeatedly attacked the massing U-boats. In the face of this harassment, the shadowing U-boats were unable to get ahead of the convoy for better shooting positions and those boats coming up on the flanks to make contact were thwarted.

  After dark that evening, there occurred another German “first” in the Atlantic U-boat war. The U-221 of group Draufgänger, commanded by Hans Trojer, rammed U-254 of group Panzer, commanded by Hans Gilardone. Hit hard and holed, the U-254 sank immediately, taking down Gilardone and most of his crew. Trojer managed to rescue four survivors, but the damage he sustained rendered JJ-221 incapable of diving and he was forced to abort to France and did not sail again until the end of February. Coming upon “wreckage and human remains” at the site, C. A. Monsen in the Norwegian corvette Potentilla speculated that a B-24 must have sunk a U-boat earlier in the day. Unaware of the collision, the Admiralty credited Squadron 120 with a kill but corrected the error in a postwar analysis. Commenting on this mishap, Dönitz exonerated Trojer of any blame: “Generally speaking, it’s not practical to have more than thirteen to fifteen U-boats on a single convoy.”

  Owing to the skilled and courageous work of the six escorts during the night of December 8-9, only two U-boats could get into position to shoot at Halifax 217. The first was the new Type VII U-758, commanded by Helmut Manseck, age twenty-five. He fired a full salvo of five torpedoes at two different ships, but all missed. The next was one of the few Ritterkreuz holders still in active combat, Karl Thurmann in U-553, who carried the first FATs—the pattern-running or looping torpedoes—issued to the Atlantic force. He hit and blew up the 5,300-ton British ammunition ship Charles L.D., from which only twelve crew were rescued. Whether Thurmann hit her with a FAT or an ordinary torpedo is not clear. In the event, Thurmann was forced to abort, he logged, because an experimental spray deflector that had been installed on the forward end of his conning tower was a complete failure. While the boat was cruising on the surface, the deflected spray was highly visible at a distance, giving away the boat’s location to the enemy. When the boat cruised submerged, it was destabilized by the deflector.*

  Bad weather on December 9 forced Coastal Command to cancel all air escorts for North Atlantic convoys. The stand-down gave the twenty-odd boats operating against Halifax 217 not only a breather but also an opportunity to maneuver on the surface to better shooting positions. It was all for naught. Acting on radar and Huff Duff contacts, the convoy’s six escorts beat off the U-boats. Remarkably, not one boat was able to shoot on the night of December 9-10.

  The next day, December 10, the weather cleared and Coastal Command saturated the skies with aircraft basing temporarily or permanently in Iceland. The planes included B-24s from Squadron 120, B-17s from Squadrons 206 and 220; Sunderlands from Squadrons 201 and 423; Catalinas from the American Navy’s Squadron VP 84, recently arrived from Argentia; and six Hudsons from Squadron 269. One of the B-24s, piloted by Terence M. Bulloch, hit with depth charges one of the new Type VIIs recently transferred from the Arctic, U-611, commanded by Nikolaus von Jacobs, age twenty-nine. The U-boat sank with the loss of all hands.

  In view of the saturation air coverage, Dönitz canceled operations versus Halifax 217. It was a disappointing battle, he logged. He believed that the twenty-two U-boats involved had sunk only six ships for 36,600 tons, plus damage to a destroyer and three other merchant ships. The confirmed score probably would have dismayed him: two ships sunk for 13,500 tons. Western Approaches was ecstatic: The defense mounted by the Norwegian-manned escorts was one of the best of the war.

  The four boats (two IXs, two VIIs) reluctantly assigned, at the OKM’s insistence, to escort the outbound blockade-runner Germania to safe waters sailed from France on December 8 and 9. On December 12, Dönitz again groused in his diary that the diversion of U-boats to escort duties of this kind significantly diminished the Allied shipping tonnage that could be sunk. The OKM responded huffily that the eight thousand tons of rubber that Germania could bring back from the Far East was far more valuable to the war effort than the amount of tonnage the four U-boat escorts might sink.

  After Germania sailed and her U-boat escorts got into positions close by on December 15, she unintentionally ran into a British convoy en route to or from Gibraltar. Two of the convoy escorts, including the sloop Egret, challenged Germania, which promptly scuttled. Her U-boat escorts—and other U-boats nearby— searched for Germania survivors for several days, but found none. Thereafter, the two VIIs of the escort, U-563, commanded by Götz von Hartmann, and U-706, commanded by Alexander von Zitzewitz, went on to join groups on the North Atlantic run. Von Hartmann in U-563 promptly ran into military convoy MKS 3-Y, en route from Gibraltar to the British Isles. He sank the 4,900-ton British freighter Bretwalda, but several of the new Pi2 magnetic pistols failed (Dönitz speculated) and “destroyers” thwarted a second attack. The two IXs of the escort, the veteran U-125, commanded by the Drumbeater Ulrich Folkers, and U-514, commanded by Hans-Jürgen Auffermann, headed for American waters but were soon recalled to carry out operations on the Middle Atlantic convoy run.

  MORE HIDEOUS WEATHER IN THE NORTH

  In the second week of December, Dönitz reorganized the U-boats assigned to the North Atlantic run into two groups, Ungestüm (Impetuous) and Raufbold (Brawler), and provided a cadre of three boats for a third, Büffel (Sideboard). These groups occupied positions astride the probable convoy routes south of Greenland and Icela
nd. All were provided plentiful B-dienst information on specific eastbound and westbound convoys.

  In foul weather on December 13, the three-boat cadre of group Büffel found an eastbound convoy. It was believed to be the fast Halifax 218, but it may have been Slow Convoy 112. All three VIIs established contact: Paul-Karl Loeser in the veteran U-373, Heinz-Konrad Fenn, age twenty-four, in the new U-445, and Heinrich Schmid in U-663. Aggressive escorts drove all three boats off and down and blasted them with depth charges. Schmid in U-663 incurred “considerable damage” and was forced to abort to France. The boat did not sail again until March.

  Although the three boats lost contact with the convoy, Dönitz ordered group Ungestüm, less three boats that were low on fuel, to home on the remaining two boats of group Büffel: Loeser’s U-373 and Fenn’s U-445. The three Ungestüm boats low on fuel, U-610, U-611 (actually lost), and U-623, were transferred to group Raufbold, which was farther east and closer to the proposed positions of the U-tankers. These realignments gave group Ungestüm eleven boats and group Raufbold thirteen boats. Dönitz directed another new VII, U-626, commanded by a thirty-three-year-old former merchant-marine captain, Hans-Botho Bade, to join group Ungestüm in the hunt for the reported eastbound convoy.

  During this time, three American warships had set out from Iceland in foul weather, escorting twelve merchant ships that were to join the westbound convoy Outbound North (Slow) 152. The warships were the four-stack destroyers Babbitt and Leary and the Treasury-class Coast Guard cutter Ingham, the latter commanded by George E. McCabe. Owing to the dirty weather and to poor navigation and communications, the two formations were unable to find each other, so on December 15, Allied authorities in Iceland sent out a radar-equipped Catalina to help bring them together.