U-Boat Scourge

by J Eugene Porter

Watson went back to the commander’s desk and received no more information, only conjecture that the American and Australian cruisers were trying to head west to escape through the Sunda Strait. Watson came back to the president and shook his head no.

  President Roosevelt continued to inspect the map. First, he looked at the Philippines then down to the southwest and Java and the Java Sea. He pushed himself closer to the map and studied the area with the Bali Strait on the east end and the Sunda Strait on the west end. The more appropriate passes through all the islands were even more east of Bali such as the passage around Lombok or Timor. All these islands were now in the hands of the Japanese. Only the Dutch garrison on Java still existed. The entire Indonesian Archipelago along with almost all the Philippines were now occupied by the Japanese. They had made landings along the New Guinea coast and taken the Australian territory of Rabaul. They were moving further south and further west. The president wondered, Was the next target Australia? Ten days prior, the Japanese fleet had conducted a raid on Darwin which was the stepping off point for supplies to both the Philippines and Java. Several merchant ships carrying vital supplies were sunk as was the destroyer USS Peary. Almost all allied combat aircraft and support facilities were destroyed making this location no longer tenable for a major base of operations.

  As FDR contemplated further, he looked toward the Australian west coast. There was only the city of Perth, a thousand miles further south than Darwin, offering any hope of refuge for the remnants of the Allied fleet. The Japanese were picking off ships one by one as they tried to escape south to Australia or east to India. Supplies were being sent to the bottom of the sea along with experienced sailors, troops, and air crews. Efforts to help defend Java had failed, and the joint command under General Wavell was no longer in existence, with no hope of further reinforcement or retreat. Roosevelt looked at his friend Pa Watson and commented, “I always loved the Houston best. She was my ship. Do you remember our first cruise on her back in 1934? Going down to the Caribbean and fishing plus seeing all of those local people in bright colored clothes while everyone else up North was in heavy wools and somber as a funeral.”

  “Yes, Mr. President, I do recall the first cruise, and the following year we did another cruise on her. A very fine ship indeed and a great crew. They really did love you, sir.”

  Grasping his cigarette holder, the president stated resolutely, “If she is gone, she probably took a bunch of Japs with her. No matter what, there will be another Houston. Make my wishes known to Admiral King.”

  Watson could see the anger in the face the president’s face. He loved his navy more than just about anything except his stamp collection. It was personal to him and if his most favorite ship was no longer, he intended to get another one built fast.

  “Yes, Mr. President, I will let the admiral know.” Watson waited while FDR stared at the map once more in the location of where the Houston might be. His gaze traveled north to the island of Japan, searching for ways to strike back. One of his plans was nearing fruition, but he needed to hit harder than one mission. He wanted more answers. Perhaps the young Mr. Brand could be one of his more successful tools in accomplishing that objective.

  He motioned to General Watson that he was ready to leave. To Watson this meant the president was not only tired but exhausted and needed his rest. This was one job Watson took very seriously and he tried as much as possible to shield FDR from too many requests on his time, and as he thought, the president’s mind. As the faithful aide wheeled the president out, Map Room personnel continued reading reports, plotting locations, striking ships or entire islands, and making notations on men, ships, planes, supplies, etc. This was total war, and even though the U.S. was late to the game, the engine of victory was starting to warm up.

  Part 6

  26

  3 March 1942

  Charleston Naval Yard

  Detention Center

  Charleston, South Carolina

  • United States naval vessels sunk:

  • Submarine Perch damaged by depth charges and surface gunfire, scuttled by the crew in the Java Sea.

  • Gunboat Asheville, by naval gunfire, south of Java.

  The day after dinner at the White House, Admiral Willson’s aide called Captain Jameson telling him a plane would be made available to take the team to Charleston, South Carolina, to interrogate the U-boat crew. Jameson informed Flannigan first and told him to pick four marines to accompany the officers plus Chief Petty Officer Schmidt who may be needed with communications. The gunny picked himself and Sgt. James McBride, Cpl. Timothy Pride and Cpl. Clarence “Bud” Williams. These four would be all the security the team would need at a naval installation. Staff Sergeant Laird and the rest of the marines would stay at the Bethesda house until the team returned.

  The R4D was the same as last time with Lieutenant Commander Shoemaker in command along with Lieutenant Junior Grade Miller flying the right seat. They were glad to see the “Science Team” again and were amazed at the new ranks the three officers were now showing on their jackets. Shoemaker was glad to see Jameson get the eagles on his shoulder boards and the four stripes looked very impressive. He could see by the ribbons on Captain Flannigan’s chest that he was finally rewarded for his meritorious service in the Philippines. He would love to know more, but his job was to fly the team south and await their return. “Not bad duty,” he told Miller, “because this is a lovely time to visit Charleston.”

  The base had been alerted by Admiral Willson personally, and the base commander, a navy captain, was waiting for them at the air station. The team loaded into cars and a truck carried the marines and their equipment, including a large portable radio, which seemed to many a bit of overkill, but this was the navy. The base commander, Capt. Steve Ewing, knew they were at the station to meet the U-boat crew. Other than that, he knew nothing. He inquired as to the duration of the visit, but Captain Jameson informed him they were unsure of their plans until they began interviewing the German crew.

  A lieutenant commander who worked for Naval Intelligence was disgruntled about this group of people coming down to interrogate the POWs. His name was Robert Hartung. He had already sent a protest up his chain of command that was answered by a phone call from the assistant head of Naval Intelligence telling him to shut up and follow orders or he would be working on a minesweeper as the junior officer. The assistant head of Naval Intelligence did inform him the navy captain reported directly to Admiral King and served as his senior aide on science. This got Hartung thinking about the line of questions these people might be asking the U-boat crew. Not that this would be of much use because he and two other intelligence officers had gotten zero out of these men. The three officers who were rescued said nothing except the required name, rank, and serial number. The senior surviving officer was the executive officer and had informed the Americans the captain had been killed in the attack by navy planes. The intelligence team had not been able to garner any more information.

  Lieutenant Commander Hartung waited in the outer office as the three visiting officers, two navy and one marine met with the base commander. The meeting did not take long, but Hartung found it odd the base commander’s office, which was usually quite informal, had become a hotbed of traditional navy behavior. Every enlisted man was in proper uniform and no slovenly behaviors were evident. Also, the office was immaculate with no piles of papers or things out of place. He guessed that anyone who was a direct report to the commander in chief of the navy would report anything non-regulation to his boss, and the captain’s boss was at the top of the food chain. Hartung smiled because he thought the entire base was a joke and poorly run. A graduate of Vanderbilt, he had enrolled in ROTC in the mid-thirties to impress the girls with his uniform and help him in his future career at his father’s law firm. He had stayed in the reserve after graduation and enjoyed the benefits of association with other well-connected reservists, not only in the south, but Harvard and Yale grads who helped steer business to his fat
her’s firm.

  Hartung had spoken German from his early days because his grandmother on his father’s side was from Switzerland. He found languages easy because of this and became quite proficient at French and Spanish. Again, these skills helped him in his business career and in the navy. His language abilities and then law school helped him get into Naval Intelligence in late 1940, and when the war began, he was sent to Charleston for what reason he did not know. He had attempted to pull strings to go to Washington, which again would enhance his post-war career, but he was stuck in this small city far away from the political action of the capital.

  Finally, the door opened, and the marine gunnery sergeant standing outside the doorway shouted, “Attention on deck.” Everyone jumped to attention followed by a smiling Captain Jameson saying, “At ease, gentlemen, carry on with whatever you were doing. And thanks, yeoman, for the great coffee.” He smiled at the senior enlisted man who served as the base commander’s chief of the bullpen. Jameson came up to the lieutenant commander, introduced by Captain Ewing. The officers all shook hands and Hartung led them off to where the POWs were housed.

  “Commander, I want to compliment you on the information you sent us before our coming down. I think you have a good feel for these men and your report provided us with some useful insight into their various roles and functions on the submarine. Do you have anything new to tell us before we meet them?” Jameson asked the young lieutenant commander, knowing his background from the personnel files he had reviewed prior to flying south.

  “No sir, I don’t think there is anything else. My report was complete on each interrogation performed as were the notes from the other two interrogators sent down from Washington to talk to them. I doubt if there is much else these men will tell you sir besides the normal name, rank, and serial number obligation under the Geneva Convention.”

  The captain smiled at Commander Ewing, replying, “You are probably correct and we may not get anything out of them, but you understand that I have been sent down here anyway and I will do the best I can.”

  Jameson glanced over and caught Brand smiling weakly, then not at all. Brand stood to the right side of the captain, taking the stance of an aide. They had spent several hours over the past two days formulating a plan to gain information from the U-boat sailors by other means than normal interrogations. Brand’s plan was inspiring or so thought Flannigan, and with a little luck, it might work. Having Hartung around would make the task even easier because the good lieutenant commander wouldn’t have a clue what was occurring in front of him.

  When they got to the stockade holding the captured German sailors, the newest and youngest lieutenant junior grade in the navy handed Hartung a list of who they wanted to interview and in what order. Hartung took the list and thinking nothing of it, gave it to the marine second lieutenant who oversaw the prisoners. He passed it on to a sergeant who went off to get the first interviewee. Jameson, Flannigan, Brand,and Hartung entered a small office building next to the enclosed holding area where the POWs were quartered. These were temporary buildings constructed of wood, tar paper, and few bricks. They were exactly like those used by the U.S. Armed Forces for holding their own soldiers, sailors, and marines. Nothing better, nothing worse was the order of the day for all POWs. All prisoners would get the same rations and health care afforded to any person of the same rank in the U.S. military. Officers had their own building and were housed based on rank as to the space allotted to them, which equaled the space allocated to an American officer. The order had gone out by General Marshall and Admiral King that all Prisoners of War were to be handled strictly by the rules of the Geneva Convention and those who violate these directives would be severely punished.

  Inside the small building next to the barbed wire enclosed stockade, the officers sat down at a small table while the gunny and Corporal Williams occupied the hallway. They were armed with regulation .45 Colt Automatics and .45-caliber Thompson submachine guns. The marine guards at the prison were very envious of the Thompsons because all they had were standard 1903 Springfield rifles. When the first prisoner was brought in, Captain Jameson was the first man to stand followed by Captain Flannigan, Lieutenant Commander Ewing, and then slowly, Mr. Brand. As he stood, he dropped a file on the floor which contained three photographs of American S-Class submarines, plus a photo of a German Focke-Wulf 200 Condor long-range bomber. Brand fumbled as he picked the file up, leaving the photos for the last thing to put back in the file.

  Jameson jumped all over Brand nearly yelling, “Lieutenant, which navy do you serve in, the Italian navy? Pick that up and sit down.” Looking over at the now totally befuddled Hartung, “I am sorry commander, the lieutenant is brand new and has a steep learning curve, which I hope will end soon.”

  *****

  The German petty officer, who worked in the control room, saw the mess of papers on the floor and noticed the unusual looking submarine along with the more familiar Condor and then he heard the navy captain yelling at the very young officer. He could speak a few words of English and had learned more in the past few weeks as a prisoner and understood the captain was very angry at the poor showing of the junior officer. This was just like the German navy. He felt sorry for the young officer as he picked things up off the floor and tried to reorganize them. He thought this interview would be quite interesting and he would learn more than the stupid Americans.

  The German petty officer second class (obermaat) sat down in front of the three officers. He knew the American interrogator, Hartung, from several encounters. He knew the American was very self-important and not a regular line officer. He was in intelligence, and his German was not too bad. Swiss-German by the sound of it, but the petty officer was from a village near Munich, so he had no problem understanding the commander. He sat ramrod straight and did not smile nor make any attempt at eye contact. He waited to be asked the same questions again and but this time in the presence of an American naval captain. He wondered what was going on, but it did not concern him. He had been told several times by the executive officer of his boat the Americans were just like the British in their persistence of trying to gain information from the elite submariners. He thought to himself, just like the last time but now with a much more impressive officer. This would be interesting in a very perverse way. But, as a POW he knew they would grow tired of talking to him and the other survivors.

  *****

  The captain spoke directly to the petty officer. “My name is Captain Jameson, and I have a few questions to ask you. I know you will invoke the Geneva Convention, but I will ask them anyway. What is your name?”

  Lieutenant Commander Hartung translated the introduction and question into German.

  The petty officer spoke in very short and precise German, “Sir, my name is Gert Schiller, I am an obermaat in the Kriegsmarine. That is all I have to say.”

  “Very well, Herr Schiller,” came the voice of Hartung also in German. “What was your role on the submarine?”

  “Sir, I cannot reveal the nature of my function on the U-boat. I can only give you my name and rank. That is all you will receive from me.”

  Hartung interpreted to Jameson who spoke German as well as Hartung, but did not reveal this fact to Hartung or the base commander. The captain wanted to go into the meeting just like a regular line officer without the benefit of knowing German.

  As soon as Hartung repeated the sailor’s statement, he added, “Sir, this is the story from every one of them. I have gotten nowhere with these men, and since they are an elite group of people, I doubt we will make any progress today.”

  Jameson looked at Hartung and in his best-downtrodden expression replied, “You are correct of course commander, but as you know, we were sent down to talk to these people and report back our findings. So, we will repeat this process with the others on the list and see if we get anywhere. I understand the next man is in the room across the hall, is that correct?

  “Yes sir, he should be there now. Shall we go?”
>
  Jameson looked at Brand who was still looking through the files and gave him a disgusted look. “Lieutenant, why don’t you stay here and entertain the petty officer with your high school German until they come and get him. Let’s move, Commander.”

  Brand stood up as did the German until the captain left with Hartung. The gunny stood by the door looking very menacing to the petty officer. He had heard stories the U.S. Marines only enlisted gangsters and murderers, so he was a bit concerned. He looked over at the bumbling young lieutenant and the young man smiled at him.

  Brand, stammering a bit, began to speak in German. “I am sorry for being a poor German speaker. Don’t worry about the big sergeant by the wall. He will not harm you. Would you like some coffee or something while we wait?”

  Petty Officer Schiller eased back in the chair, and for a moment looked at the marine sergeant glaring back at him. He clutched a submachine gun and seemed to be wanting to use it. Schiller returned his attention to the boy lieutenant and decided he would take him up on the offer. “Herr Lieutenant, I would like some coffee, that would be very nice of you.”

  Brand smiled, knowing that he had broken the ice with Schiller. “Sergeant, would you please go get some coffee for the petty officer. Bring some sugar and milk too if you can find them.”

  The sergeant glared at the German but quickly said, “Aye, aye sir. Do you want some coffee, too?”

  Brand decided to change up on the agreed strategy he had advised the gunny about, “No, bring me a Coca-Cola if possible and maybe some cigarettes.”

  The gunny opened the door and instructed the marine guard on the other side of the door to do the lieutenant’s bidding. The gunny returned to his station next to the door and continued staring at the German, this time seeming to be even angrier, if that was possible. The German got chills thinking about the large marine staring at him, so he went back to watching the young lieutenant arranging his file. Brand stopped and pulled out the photo of the four-engine Condor, which had a very long range, and caused the British convoys a lot of problems, not only in bombing them but locating them and vectoring in U-boats for the kill.