The boat had almost reached the position her commander had chosen for her to submerge and lie in wait for enemy ships, when without warning, a small pontoon plane from the British battleship War-Spite swooped down out of the sun. The mountains ringing the narrow fjord had concealed the plane until it was almost upon them.
"Make ready to dive! Hard port!" yelled Schulz. Then, "Man the deck gun!"
There was no time to dive before the plane's first run, but they could hit the cellar the instant it passed overhead, and would be reasonably deep by the time it could turn and make another pass. The 2 cm. deck gun offered their only chance against this first attack.
Karlchen Wenzel managed to get off a few erratic rounds with the deck ack-ack, but they missed the plane that roared over their heads and dropped a bomb squarely on the bow. The boat leaped in the air and shuddered like a wounded animal, throwing some of the men into the guns and periscope, and some overboard.
As soon as the noise had died away, damage reports came to the bridge from below. The men in the forward compartment where the bomb had hit were dead, and the boat was taking water rapidly.
"Everybody overboard!" Schulz shouted to the men topside. Then he yelled down the open hatch, "Get the men out! Hurry!"
"Hurry up!" came Steinmetz's voice from below. "Get a move on if you don't want to get your feet wet!"
As the deck shifted beneath his feet, Schulz realized she was going down too fast for the men to get out. But he also knew the water under them was only about 35 meters deep, and that the crew could come out when she settled on the bottom. They had practiced for just such a need, under the careful supervision of an instructor who had once held the world's deep sea diving record. Schulz had no doubt that they would reach the surface safely.
"Here, Piepenhagen," he said, "go back in and tell the men to put on their escape lungs and when the boat reaches the bottom to come out the way we practiced."
Bootsmannsmaat5 Arthur Piepenhagen quickly climbed back into the conning tower, and Schulz slammed the hatch behind him. As he did, the boat slid from beneath his feet and he was left swimming in the freezing fjord water.
He struck out in the direction of shore. Ahead of him he could hear the other men splashing along, then he heard shouts from the direction of land as boats were launched to come to their rescue. He swam on, but each stroke was weaker than the last, and he could feel his water-soaked clothes dragging him down. The numbing cold and exhaustion were taking their toll, and he knew he could not stay afloat until the boats reached him.
From nearby one of his men shouted, "Hallo, I've found a barrel! Does anybody need help?"
"Over here!" Schulz gasped. "Come to me! I can't swim any more!"
"Hang on! I'm coming!"
A few seconds later the sailor reached him, pushing the empty oil drum in front of him. Schulz grabbed hold and the two paddled slowly toward shore. He had no idea where the thing had come from, perhaps from one of the ships that had been sunk during the fighting in the fjords. But he knew it had saved his life.
German voices hailed them, and they looked up as one of the small boats drew alongside them and willing hands pulled them aboard. The men in the boat told him they had seen the plane bomb the U-boat, and had set out to pick them up when she sank.
Schulz pulled the blanket closer around him as he sat huddled in the bottom of the boat and stared absent-mindedly at the insignia his rescuers wore. It was the little mountain flower, the edelweiss, emblem of the German Alpine troops. These elite mountain soldiers had taken part in the invasion of Norway, and were now encamped along the bank of the fjord. They were, Schulz reflected wryly, the last people he'd expect to rescue a shipwrecked sailor.
As soon as they reached the shore, the soldiers took them inside and stripped off their wet clothes. They rubbed their half-frozen bodies dry and wrapped them in blankets. Then they gave them red wine to drink, but it would be hours before the U-boat men would stop shivering.
Schulz had hastily counted heads among his crew and saw that thirteen, including himself, had been rescued. These were safe. And now his concern rested with the others, the ones who would soon be swimming in the fjord.
"Send for your commander," he ordered one of the soldiers. "I must see him at once."
The colonel in command of the Alpine troops listened attentively as the shaking and shocked U-boat commander told him to send his men back in the boats to get the rest of his crew.
"Yes, Herr Schulz," he murmured sympathetically as he filled his glass with wine. "I know how you feel, but we have rescued all your survivors. There is no one left out there."
"But you don't understand, Herr Oberst," persisted Schulz, feeling somewhat at a disadvantage, dressed as he was in nothing but his own skin and an army blanket, and trembling like a leaf. "My men will be there in twenty minutes."
"Yes, yes," the colonel said kindly, "just drink your wine. Everything will be all right."
"Nothing will be all right if you leave my men out there to freeze or drown," shouted Schulz.
"Please, Herr Schulz, you must calm yourself," the colonel pleaded. "Drink this," he said, feeding him another glass of wine.
"Herr Oberst, for God's sake listen to me!" Schulz howled, almost in tears from shock and frustration. "I tell you the rest of my men will come up out of the boat, and somebody must be there to rescue them or they will die!"
The colonel sighed. This poor U-boat commander was obviously delirious and on the verge of hysterics, and apparently was not going to thaw out, get drunk, go to sleep, or anything else until he got over this mad delusion that his lost crew would somehow magically reappear.
"Leutnant!" he called. "Get some men in the boats to watch for any more of the U-boat crew that may come up."
"Sir, we have rescued all of them," the lieutenant told him.
"Go anyway."
The lieutenant's face was puzzled, but he kept his thoughts to himself, saluted, and walked out.
The colonel turned back to Schulz. "Does that make you feel better, Herr Schulz?"
Schulz smiled weakly. "Yes, Heir Oberst. Thank you very much."
"Then you'd better have a little more wine and try to get some sleep, Commander."
"I'll wait until the rest of my men get here," Schulz replied. "I'll sleep better when I know they're safe."
The colonel shrugged, and looked at the U-boat commander pityingly. He had been through a difficult ordeal, and the strain had left its mark on both his body and his nerves. He still trembled from the cold that had numbed him to his bones, and he could not seem to grasp the fact that only this handful of survivors remained from his lost U-boat. Well, these U-boat sailors were strong men, picked men, like his own mountain troops. It would not take them long to recover, and in the meantime, it would not hurt to humor their bewildered and unstrung commander.
The attack by the plane had caused the utmost confusion inside the boat. At 1200, Karl Kesselheim had gone on watch in the radio room. He had not already eaten because the cook, Adolph Schäfer, was late with the pork chops, a fact to which many of the crew would owe their lives. Had dinner been served on time, half the men would have been in the forward compartment where the bomb landed.
Kesselheim had just tuned in the war news report when he heard the commander's urgent order, "Stand by to dive," and to man the deck gun. Next he heard the barking of the 2 cm. flak gun. He tried to make out from the men in the control room what was happening, but they were as confused as he.
Then two explosions shook the boat, and the unexcited voice of the radio commentator announced the time. It was 1313 hours.
The bow trembled with the inrushing water, and then for a few seconds the whole boat was deathly quiet. Kesselheim had decided that the damage was not as great as he had first thought, when he heard the commander's voice ordering everyone overboard.
The boat was already secured for diving, which meant that the water-tight hatches were dogged shut The boat was now cut into several separa
te compartments, so that only the forward compartment was flooded, but it was enough to drag the boat down. Men raced frantically to the ladder in the conning tower, guided by the old rule of "every man for himself." They were not melodramatic heroes to stand bravely smiling while meeting their doom, but simple sailors who had wives and sweethearts and a desperate desire to live.
Kesselheim had just reached the conning tower when the hatch above him slammed shut and the boat began to sink. His hands gripped the cold steel of the ladder, and the terror he had felt was suddenly replaced by an overwhelming sadness that he was really going to die. It seemed such a pity, and he was sorry that he would not at least live to see his 21st birthday. Suddenly a soft bump broke into his thoughts as the boat gently settled on the bottom. To his surprise, they now lay still at a depth of only 35 meters.
Directly under him, his buddy and fellow radio man Willi Buhl muttered, "We've got to open up the hatch. Give me a hand, will you?"
The two climbed up and shoved on the hatch together. They struggled diligently until the foolishness of it suddenly dawned on Kesselheim.
"We're idiots, Willi," he said. "How do you think two men can push against the sea pressure outside?"
Suddenly Buhl began to shout wildly, "Get some explosives! We've got to blast it open!"
The others tried to quiet him, but he kept screaming until the burly Hänschen Fröhlich shoved a fist under his nose and calmly informed him that he was going to break his neck if he did not shut up. The unmistakable seriousness of Hänschen's threat brought him to his senses, and he smiled faintly and moved his hand in an awkward apologetic gesture.
Piepenhagen had relayed the commander's instructions and begun the necessary procedures for escape. The men had managed to locate a few life jackets and escape lungs, but since most were in the flooded forward compartment, there were not enough to go around. Fortunately, the water was not deep enough to make either essential.
There was nothing to be done for the moment but to wait, and for each man to hold his nerves in check against the paralyzing fear that ran through the boat like an electric current.
Kesselheim left the crowded conning tower and went below. The water was rising steadily as he, now alone in the control room, sat on the chart table musing over his fate. It occurred to him that there might be someone in the diesel engine room, so he sloshed over and banged on the door with his fist and shouted.
After a time, he heard a voice through the speaking tube. It was Maschinistmaat6 Walbröl. He asked how high the water was in the control room and if the door could be opened without flooding the engine room. When Kesselheim assured him it could, the heavy steel door was shoved open. Inside were about 20 men.
Although the after part of the boat was still dry, it would be necessary to flood it. This was a requisite before they could escape, and normally, it was a fairly simple procedure which required no more than a quarter of an hour. It was necessary to have enough water in the boat to flood the escape cylinder and equalize the pressure inside the cylinder to the water outside the boat so the hatch could be opened. This would still leave plenty of breathing space for the crew.
However, in this case, the boat was lying at an angle of about 45 degrees, which caused some problems. It was extremely difficult to move about on the boat, and it was necessary to have many extra tons of water in the boat in order to flood the escape cylinder. The incoming water soon reached the batteries, and they were left in darkness, except for the light of one emergency lamp.
The water rose and rose. Some of the men climbed on the port diesel to get out of it. Thus they stood or sat and talked, mostly of unimportant things, while they waited, and the numbing cold water rose almost to their necks.
One of the torpedo mixers, Hannes Wiegand, always a gay and happy boy, suddenly announced regretfully, "If I'd known this was going to happen, I wouldn't have paid my bill at the canteen."
The two engine room petty officers beside him were quietly discussing their life expectancy. Fred Humke asked Phillip Luft, "Do you think we'll get out of it?"
"Sure we will," Luft said firmly. "You'll see your wife and children again."
"Do you really think so?"
"Absolutely!"
Behind them a voice was dispiritedly droning, "We'll never get out. We'll never get out."
The chant went on and on, until Phillip Luft turned around and said coldly, "Now if you don't mind, please play the other side of that record."
"We'll never get . . ."
"I said shut up!"
One of the men began to pray softly, "Holy Mary, Mother of God . . . stay by me . . ."
Willi Klein interrupted him, half-joking, half in earnest, "Just a minute, friend. We're here too, you know."
"God, if it just weren't so cold!" a trembling voice murmured through chattering teeth.
A man collapsed silently and slid under the water. Hans Wiegand and Phillip Luft quickly pulled him up again, but he was dead, apparently from heart failure. He was Karl Reichenthal, one of the diesel machinists, a well-liked Bavarian, nicknamed Kraxel.
It was growing more and more difficult to breathe. Kesselheim's thoughts were drawn inevitably to Reichenthal—at least it was over for him. Kesselheim almost envied him and wished he could die so easily, so quickly. How long did it take a man to drown? Five minutes? Surely not so long—surely he would be conscious no more than three.
At last the cylinder was flooded, and it was time to try it now if they were to get out at all. Rudi Dimmlich, a machinist, went first. They waited two or three minutes. Either Dimmlich was out or he had drowned in the cylinder.
Kesselheim put on the life jacket. Dimmlich had given him, and Luft caught him by the arm. "Go ahead, Sherry. You're next."
Kesselheim climbed into the cylinder. He had been afraid he would not be able to hold his breath long enough to reach the surface, or that he would be trapped in the cylinder and drowned, but as he started up, the immense relief at getting out overrode all his fears. He opened his eyes and watched as the boat disappeared below him. He seemed to be rising at about the speed of an elevator, and soon he could see the rays of sunshine through the waves.
At last he reached the surface. The snow-covered mountains around him were indescribably beautiful, and he was so happy to be alive and out of the doomed boat that he did not even feel the cold any more. He could see a boat about 50 meters away with three men in it. One of them was Rudi Dimmlich. At the same time he felt himself grasped by the back of the neck as two soldiers behind him reached out and pulled him into their boat.
U-boat men were bobbing to the surface like corks, and soon they were all fished out. When Kesselheim's boat reached the shore, he could see Hänschen Fröhlich lying in the next boat, unconscious and bleeding from the mouth. With him were the men Kesselheim had seen in the conning tower.
When he had climbed down, they had closed the hatch behind him and flooded the conning tower through the speaking tube to the bridge. Six of the eight men inside had then gone out through the bridge hatch.
Fröhlich was able to remember only parts of the experience. The pitch blackness inside the conning tower had forced them to feel their way, and the angle at which the boat was lying had helped to further disorient them. Fröhlich blacked out and did not remember leaving the boat. He was picked up unconscious on the surface. Kurt Oehring and Willi Buhl did not get out, no one knew why. Three months later. Buhl's body was found floating in the fjord. The boat had turned him loose.
By now, Kesselheim was hurting from head to toe. His legs were almost paralyzed, but he pulled away from the soldiers who tried to help him, determined to get ashore under his own power. The doctor who was waiting for them patted him sympathetically on the shoulder and said, "You're brave fellows." Kesselheim promptly collapsed in a heap.
The survivors were temporarily put in private homes along the shore to thaw out and recover. So Kesselheim, in the new warm underwear he was given, crawled into bed with Maschinist Franz Grenz.
They lay shivering, their teeth chattering like castanets, and laughing with the sheer pleasure of being still alive, while the woman of the house and her daughters washed out their burning eyes.
A little while later they joined several of their shipmates in the living room. While they were trying to estimate how many of them had gotten off the boat, one of the sailors looking out the window suddenly called, "Hey fellows, look! Here comes the funniest looking girl I ever saw!"
They watched fascinated as the comical figure strode up the path, skirt tail flapping around hairy muscular legs with every unladylike step. At last, with whoops of glee, they recognized Maschinistmaat Bosner. There was no men's clothing in the house he was put in, so when the commander sent word for him to go get a list of all the survivors, he had put on the only dry clothes available. This may well have been the only time in history that a petty officer of the German Navy performed his duty dressed in a skirt and shawl.
By evening, the resourceful II.WO, Leutnant zur See Herbert Kuhnt, had found German uniforms for all of them, so they entered the mountain troops' camp looking like soldiers instead of masqueraders.
Within a few days they had a message from Admiral Dönitz informing them he had arranged for their transport back to Germany. Once again they put on civilian clothes (no skirts, however) and were taken on a sealed train through Sweden, by steamer to Gotenhafen, and again by train to Wilhehnshaven. They babbled away about their adventures, and were amused by the sight of their commander in knickers and a green hat, and all agreed among themselves that they had had a belly full of U-boat life.
The commander in chief of U-boats, however, had other plans for them. He greeted them with the following speech:
"Comrades, you have been through great difficulties, and it was a splendid achievement that so many of you were able to get off the boat. This experience has forged the crew together even more strongly, and as soon as possible, I will give you a new boat."
Grey Wolf, Grey Sea Page 3