Black May

by Michael Gannon

  Lt. (jg) William F. “Champ” Chamberlain, U.S.N.R., who catapulted off Bogue’s deck at 1757, had a daredevil reputation and a record of being hard on aircraft. No one who watched him leave the deck was surprised to see him bank the big Avenger as though he were flying a Wildcat—which is what he used to fly until he complained that the Wildcat pilots were not getting enough flying time. Born in Hoquiam, Washington, he attended the University of Washington, where he studied aeronautical engineering and joined Navy ROTC, eventually entering USN flight school. He was short and stocky, a man of unquestioned courage, without, as an acquaintance said, “a shy bone in his body.” Among his adventures: he crash-landed a plane on his parents’ farm, ground-looped fighters, and ditched an Avenger at sea when he misjudged the height of waves he was skimming. Aircraft Radioman second class (ARM2c) James O. Stine, who rode with him in May, told the writer: “Our old Chief ‘Dusty’ Rhodes, who made the crew assignments, couldn’t get anybody to ride with Chamberlain. But I said I would. I was older than he was, and sort of a fatalist. I was on board when he went into the drink. But we survived.”85‘

  Chamberlain was launched to chase down a U-boat bearing that Bogue had established at 1723 with her new British HF/DF set. Taking a course of 067°, at an altitude of 1,500 feet in the base of broken cumulus, he bore down the invisible Huff-Duff track at 170 knots, and seven minutes after launch made a visual sighting of the transmitting U-boat 25 miles distant from Bogue, proceeding at high speed on a course of 180°. He climbed into cloud cover and circled so as to dive, he hoped undetected, from the U-boat’s stern. When properly positioned, he pushed over at 20°, and at 100 feet altitude and still in the dive, he let go four Mark 17–2 flat-nosed TNT D/Cs set to 25 feet that appeared to straddle the U-boat. Two of the D/Cs were captured while still falling in a remarkable photograph taken by Radioman Stine (see frontispiece); at the same time, Gunner Donald L. Clark, AMM2C, swept the bridge and its startled watch with gunfire. Noting with satisfaction that the U-boat crew had been “completely surprised,” Chamberlain watched as the U-boat slowly dived in the sea of explosive foam.86 Then, expecting that the Germans, if hurt badly enough, would resurface, he called Bogue for another TBF—1 with D/Cs to relieve him.

  On her ninth war cruise, out of La Pallice on 19 April, U-569 was a singularly unsuccessful boat, with only three ships to show for twenty-one months on operations. Her second Commander (since 30 January 1943) was Oberleutnant der Reserve Hans Johannsen, a thirty-two-year-old native of Hamburg who had been a prewar merchant marine officer with the Holland America Line. Largely because the boat had achieved few sinkings, Johannsen had found his new crew dispirited and listless. On taking command, therefore, he had had the motto Los geht’s (“Let’s go”) together with a compass rose painted on each side of the conning tower in an attempt to bolster morale. But there were other crew problems that were not so easily addressed, such as a general disaffection from the U-boat arm and a widespread belief that Germany would lose the war.87

  On 18 May, U-569 had refueled and revictualed from the supply boat U-459. On the 22nd she was part of southern Mosel, operating ostensibly against HX.239, and in 50°,0'N, 35°oo’W when surprised by Chamberlain.88 According to her survivors, the Avenger’s charges cracked open high-pressure water lines and water began leaking into the after compartments. The boat dived to 120 meters, but when water reached the maneuvering room and the boat became very heavy by the stern, it was no longer possible to maintain trim, and the crew were ordered to the forward torpedo room in a desperate effort to correct the imbalance. When the boat failed to respond, Johannsen gave the order to surface.89

  Just as U-569 broke above the waves at 1840, Lt. H. S. “Stinky” Roberts, U.S.N.R., appeared overhead in Avenger “7.” Sighting the U-boat’s bow beneath his port wing from 3,000 feet, Roberts knew that he had little time before the bridge hatch opened and his presence was discovered. So he pushed over immediately into a 50° dive-bombing attack, releasing four D/Cs in train at 600 feet and pulling out at 100. As Roberts reported afterwards:

  At the time [the D/Cs] hit the water [the U-boat] had fully surfaced and two distinct explosions were seen half way from conning tower to stern—one on either side of sub—the spray from which merged over U/B. The U/B was seen to rise out of the water—then sink—rise a second time, this time on its side. It sank again and finally rose a third time—this time on an even keel. The gunner opened up at once with 50 cal[iber] turret gun as the crew poured out of conning tower and jumped into water. During this time those on board were frantically waving a white flag. Every effort was made to keep the crew inside with gunfire to prevent scuttling but they kept jumping overboard. Finally all ammunition was expended.… 90

  Johannsen had tried to surrender by waving a white napkin, but when Roberts’s gunner continued fire, a white sheet was brought up and waved instead. Meanwhile, Bogue had called upon the Canadian destroyer H.M.C.S. St. Laurent to assist, and Chamberlain, who had flown toward the carrier when Roberts relieved him, returned to the scene after hearing by R/T that the boat had resurfaced, allowing Gunner Clark to get in a few more licks before the white sheet went up. Though it appears that most of the U-boat crew who sprang into the water were wearing life jackets, many were carried away in the heavy sea and lost. One of Johannsen’s officers secured a line about his waist and leaped into the water to save two crew members. When at last St. Laurent hove into sight, the L.I. descended the tower ladder and opened the sea cock, which scuttled the boat; he did not reemerge. Altogether, the destroyer picked up twenty-five survivors, not including the L.I. and the II.W.O. One crewman, critically wounded, was hospitalized in St. John’s. The remainder were turned over to USN authorities in Boston for interrogation.91

  For the first time in naval warfare, a submarine had surrendered to carrier aircraft. For the first time, too, a U-boat had been destroyed by a CVE’s aircraft operating alone. During nineteen months of operations in the Atlantic, Composite Squadron Nine went on to become the highest-scoring ASW squadron in the Navy, with nine U-boats sunk and eight damaged. The Bogue, her squadrons, and her surface escorts would together destroy eleven more underseas craft—nine U-boats and two Japanese submarines—during the remainder of the war. “Champ” Chamberlain was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and Silver Star for his action against U-569. In March 1944, at Norfolk, Virginia, VC-9 boarded CVE-67, U.S.S. Solomons. During a cruise in the South Atlantic out of Recife in Brazil, “Champ” showed that his reputation as a plane-buster was still deserved. On making a landing aboard Solomons—he was never one, his fellow pilots said, to pay much attention to the Landing Signal Officer—he collided with the edge of the flight deck ramp and split the aircraft in half. “Champ” ended up on deck, but his two crewmen in the tail section careened off the five-inch gun on the fantail into the sea, where, fortunately, they were rescued by the group guardship.

  On 15 June 1944, “Champ’s” lucky string ran out. Diving on U-860 (Freg. Kapt. Paul Büchel), which had already been attacked by six VC—9 aircraft, he approached so low—fewer than 50 feet off the deck and into the teeth of heavy flak—that either the flak, or the explosions of his D/Cs, or an internal explosion aboard the damaged U-boat caused his Avenger to be engulfed in flames. Though he managed to make a 180° turn and splash into the water ahead of the U-boat, neither he nor his crew (James Stines had been replaced by his best friend among the ratings) was found by destroyers dispatched to the scene.

  That night, a remarkable vigil took place aboard Solomons, when one of the carrier’s lookouts reported to the bridge that he had heard a sound in the sea that sounded like a human voice. Though it was a dangerous thing to do in U-boat waters, Solomons Captain Marion Crist ordered the carrier’s speed reduced to two-three knots so that engine, wake, and bow wave noise might be diminished; and all hands—over a thousand—were positioned around the edge of the flight deck to listen for a call from the black, moonless sea. But, though they strained, no one heard a thing other
than the pliant waves slapping against the hull, and after a decent, caring interval, the men were returned to normal duties, their only consolation being the knowledge that U-860 had been sunk with half her complement.92

  Deciding on Sunday the 23rd both that the Mosel boats were too far behind ON.184 to continue operations against it and that “it is not possible at present, with available weapons, to attack a convoy escorted by strong air cover,” BdU ordered Groups Mosel and Donau to break off from that convoy and from HX.239 as well.93 The ON.184 columns proceeded on the remainder of their voyage to New York unmolested, arriving on the 31st. U-boats were still in contact with HX.239 to the south on the 23rd, however, which would prove the undoing of one of their number, U-752 (Kptlt. Karl-Ernst Schroeter). That boat, on her eighth war cruise, made the mistake of surfacing in daylight to make a contact report and encountered a Swordfish from the CVE H.M.S. Archer carrying a weapon that was used successfully that day for the first time in combat. It was an airborne rocket fitted with a 25-pound solid steel armor-piercing (A.P.) head called simply “R.P.”

  Rockets had been fired from Royal Flying Corps aircraft during World War I, though with little success. In the years immediately before the second conflict, their use was considered again in Great Britain as ground-to-air and air-to-air anti-aircraft weapons. As development and trials proceeded in both Army and RAF testing establishments, the rockets came to be called, by the Army, “U.P.s,” for Unrotated Projectiles, and by the RAF “R.P.s,” for Rocket Projectiles. The RAF developed two types of heads, one a 60-lb. High Explosive (H.E.)/Semi Armor Piercing shell of 6 inches diameter for attacks on U-boats and merchant ships, and the other a 25-lb. Armor Piercing (A.P.) solid shot of 3.44 inches diameter for attacks on land targets such as tanks, gun positions, and concrete emplacements. In one of those odd paradoxes that characterized some Allied operational research and testing, it was found that the H.E. head worked better against land targets than did the A.P. head; and that, conversely, the latter worked better against submarine and ship hulls. Thus their roles were reversed.

  The A.P. head was screwed into a steel tube four feet in length containing cordite that was ignited electrically. The tube and head traveled together, moved forward by the recoil action of gas escaping at high speed from the combustion of cordite in the rocket engine. When launched from an aircraft such as the Swordfish, flying at 120 knots, the rocket reached a maximum velocity of 1,600 feet per second after 1½ seconds. There was no recoil, or “kick,” felt by the Swordfish, which could carry a load of eight R.P.s hanging from projector rails, four under each lower main plane. As engineered, the projectiles could be fired in four pairs or as a single salvo of eight. Trials conducted at the Aircraft and Armament Experimental Establishment at Boscombe Down indicated that upon striking a U-boat’s hull, the A.P. head fired from 400 yards or less would cause a 3-inch puncture. A perforation that large, it was thought, would prevent a surfaced boat from diving and a diving boat from resurfacing. The introduction of burning cordite into the U-boat’s interior was expected to delay a crew’s attempt to repair the hole and expel water by pumps. If repair could be effected, the U-boat at the very least would have to return to base.

  Remarkably, the R.P. proved to have excellent underwater ballistics. Normally, the pilot’s aim should be taken at the base of the U-boat’s conning tower. Should the shot fall short and enter the water, and should the firing have been made from an optimum distance of 400 yards, at an angle of 20°, the rocket would travel submerged, reaching a depth of 13–15 feet, for a distance of 100 feet, and retain lethal penetrative power for 70 of those feet. If the angle of shot was less than 10°, however, the rocket on striking the water could be expected to ricochet.

  Tactical advice given the first pilots to carry this weapon in May stressed the importance of making the final run in at 400 feet altitude, with slant attack angle on the U-boat of 20°, firing at 400 yards range. Attack should be made as nearly as possible dead on the beam to prevent glancing blows. Attacks should not be attempted when a diving U-boat had reached periscope depth or had completely disappeared. Once rockets had been fired, the pilot should break away at once to left or right, since if the rocket hit the U-boat it would throw up debris, and if it did not hit, but traveled underwater, one-third of R.P.s emerged from the sea at a steep angle, climbing to 200–300 feet.94

  Before a rocket projectile was fired in anger against a land target or against a merchant ship, Swordfish “B” of 819 Sqdn. embarked on Archer struck the first blow, while flying on Sunday, 23 May, in support of Convoy HX.239, about 750 miles west of Ireland. When Archer left port she carried the first three carrier aircraft to be fitted with RP. Two of them suffered damage landing in rough weather, however, with the result that “B,” piloted by Sub-Lt. Harry Horrocks, R.N.V.R., had sole honors when U-752 made the mistake of traveling surfaced on the port quarter of the convoy in full view of Horrocks and his two-man crew, who were at 1,500 feet 10 miles distant. The time of the sighting was 1015.

  Horrocks climbed into cloud cover, where he stayed until he estimated that he was positioned on the U-boat’s beam. He then dived and sighted the enemy slightly on his port bow, range one mile. Deciding to fire in four pairs, Horrocks initiated the attack from 800 yards, twice the recommended range. The first pair fell 150 yards short. The second pair was ignited at the optimum 400 yards, but it, too, was short, by 30 yards. The surprised U-boat began a crash dive, and the third pair, from 300 yards, entered the water 10 feet short while the U-boat’s stern was still visible. One of these two rockets penetrated the pressure hull. The fourth pair, from 200 feet, cleanly hit the hull about 20 feet forward of the rudders.

  The now-punctured boat immediately resurfaced and, after several futile attempts to dive again, circled on the surface while discharging heavy trails of diesel oil. When her crewmen manned the 20 mm flak, Horrocks called for assistance from a nearby fighter. Coming on the scene in less than a minute, Martlet (Wildcat) “B” loosed off a long burst of 600 rounds at the conning tower that killed the Commander, Schroeter, and a midshipman, while sparing the II.W.O., who was standing alongside them. Below, the L.I. ordered the crew out and scuttled the boat. Both the L.I. and I.W.O. went down with her. Eleven survivors were picked up by a destroyer from HX.239's screen, and several more were later pulled from the water by another U-boat, U-91.

  Aboard Archer there was understandable elation in becoming the second escort carrier to bag a U-boat singlehandedly, and the first to get a kill with R.P. It was, states the official British Naval Aviation history, “shooting in the best traditions of the Wild West.'”95

  As stated in A Word to the Reader (page xv), the focus of this narrative has been on the major convoy battles and on Coastal Command’s Bay Offensive, both of which defined the German defeat in May. Still, it must be recognized that Allied operations against U-boats were occurring outside those two contexts throughout the month, and that eleven of those actions led to sinkings. Lest a narrative already heavily saturated with attack detail be further thus burdened, only the essential information about those sinkings is given below.

  On 4 May, Coastal Command Liberator “P” of 86 Sqdn., while in 47°10‘N, 22°57'W, on passage out to meet Convoy HX.236 northeast of the Azores, received an S/E (10-centimeter radar) contact, soon afterwards sighted a U-boat on the surface, and attacked it with four D/Cs. An oil patch and wood planking announced the result. Sunk with all hands was U-109 (Oblt.z.S Joachim Schramm).96 On the nth, U-528 (von Rabenau), last seen as a member of Group Star on 29 April (chapter 4), where she was damaged and forced back to base by the B7 escort of Convoy ONS.5, was proceeding home in 46°55'N, 14°44'W when she was discovered on the surface by Halifax “D” of 58 Sqdn., which was escorting Convoy OS.47 en route to Africa. Five D/Cs badly wounded the boat, which was then finished off by the sloop H.M.S. Fleetwood. and the corvette H.M.S. Mignonette from the convoy’s escort, which picked up fifteen survivors.97

  On 15 May, a Type IXC boat, U-176 (Korv
. Kapt. Reiner Dierksen), was operating in Outer Seas northwest of Havana, Cuba, when she was sighted by a Vought-Sikorsky OS2U-3 Kingfisher observation plane from USN Patrol Squadron VP-62, which was escorting a two-ship convoy. When the U-boat dived, the pilot marked the swirl with a smoke bomb, then flew over the surface escorts, dipping his wings and directing the Cuban subchaser CS—13 to the scene. The Cuban vessel dropped a three-charge pattern that was followed by four explosions. There were no survivors.98 Similarly, all hands were lost when the flush-deck destroyer U.S.S. MacKenzie (DD-175), escorting Convoy UGS.8 200 miles west northwest of the Madeira Islands, encountered and destroyed U—182 (Kptlt. Nicolai Clausen). The well-proven boat, a type IXD2, was returning to base from patrols off Cape Town and Madagascar. There were no survivors. The date was 16 May.99

  The next day, at 0830, in the Outer Seas off southeast Brazil, U-128 (Kptlt. Hermann Steinert) was sighted on the surface by a USN Martin PBM-3C Mariner flying boat (74-P-6) of Patrol Squadron 74 based in Natal and Aratu, Brazil. The U-boat dived, but only 15 seconds had elapsed before the PBM dropped six D/Cs ahead of the swirl. Forced by damage to surface three minutes later, the boat made a run for the Brazilian coast, but another PBM (74-P—5) came on the scene and further crippled the surfaced boat with six D/Cs. At about 0930 the U-boat’s bridge lookouts sighted the approach of destroyers U.S.S. Moffett (DD-362, Porter class) and Jouett (DD-396, Somers class), and Steinert ordered the crew off and the boat scuttled. Seven of the crew died during the attacks, fifty-one were rescued by Moffett, and four died aboard her.100

  On the same day, in the North Atlantic between the Shetlands and Iceland, Hudson “J” of 269 Sqdn. caught U-646 (Oblt.z.S. Heinrich Wulff) on the surface and released four D/Cs while the diving boat’s conning tower was still fully visible. One minute later a 100-foot-high cloud of gray smoke appeared over the D/C scum, followed 30 seconds later by oil and debris. There were no survivors.101 The Type VIIC U-414 (Oblt.z.S. Walter Huth), on her first patrol, broke through the Strait of Gibraltar and on the 21st was pursuing a convoy in the western Mediterranean when the spanking-new Benson class destroyer U.S.S. Nields (DD-616) destroyed her with D/Cs at 36°OI’N, oo°34'E. None of the crew survived.