They met an army captain on the street who turned to stare perplexedly at them after they passed. For he had received a dazzling salute from a navy lieutenant wearing the U-boat pin and Knight's Cross, while the Luftwaffe sergeant accompanying him had made a lackadaisical wave of his arm that was more of a gesture than a salute. The captain shook his head and walked on. War nerves, no doubt.
"Jochen!" hissed Theo at his side. "You've got to salute better than that! Somebody will stop us and then we'll both be in the soup!"
"All right," laughed Jochen, and promised to greet all future officers in a manner more befitting a sergeant.
They were like little boys, laughing and carefree. Full of jokes and pranks, they lived these golden days to the fullest, almost as though they knew it was the last such leisurely time they would ever spend together.
Even with trips back and forth to Lorient to check on the boat and talk to the flotilla commander, Mohr was able to spend much time at home during the summer and fall.
A cousin whose husband had just been killed came to stay with them for a few weeks in the fall. The young widow seemed so calm and self-controlled that Eva remarked to Jochen about how strange it seemed. He nodded seriously and replied, "She does the right thing. You must not show others your grief. Always keep those things to yourself. That's the best way."
Perhaps he intended the words for Eva herself. For in the black days to come, she would remember them. She would also remember and draw comfort from Admiral Dönitz's words to her, "Remember what I tell you; your husband is the best horse in my stable."
The boat had been given an extensive overhauling, and then, when it was almost time to sail again, an unexpected event delayed her for several more weeks. There was an Allied air raid on the base at Lorient, which caught U-124 being moved from one bunker to another. As long as the boats were in the reinforced concrete U-boat pens, air raids could not hurt them, but to be caught outside was another matter.
Two bombs fell close to U-124, wounding two men. There was no visible damage to the boat, but the sailing date had to be postponed a month so she could be thoroughly checked again.
It was to this air raid that Mohr owed his presence at home for the birth of his son, who was given the same name as the father, Johann Hendrick Mohr. When asked if he were not disappointed that it was not a girl, he laughed and confessed that his big show of wanting a daughter instead of a son was only an act calculated at soothing his wife's disappointment in case their baby had been a girl.
And now that he was the father of a son, Mohr quit smoking cigarettes. A man of such dignity and stature was better suited to cigars, he declared ceremoniously.
Next day he headed back to Lorient.
Chapter Twelve
The free-wheeling U-boats had, since the first of the year, turned the Western Atlantic into a shambles.
The first ten days of the Paukenschlag attack had netted 25 ships with about 200,000 gross register tons. And that was only the beginning.
In January, 35 ships were sunk in American waters, and in February, 45. In March, losses climbed to 76 ships, and dropped back to 52 in April.
Then in May, U-boats sank 105 ships in the western Atlantic. They found the Gulf of Mexico to be indeed the "Promised Land," and in May alone sank 41 ships of 219,867 tons in this one area. It was the most ships to be sunk in one area in any one month of the entire war.
June saw sinkings in American waters climb to the frightful total of 110 ships. So in the first half of 1942, U-boats had claimed 472 merchant ships in the western Atlantic. To make it worse, a large percentage of these losses were tankers.
The rampage continued unchecked through the year. As American defenses tightened up along the Atlantic seaboard, Dönitz moved his boats into the Gulf. When escorted convoys were formed there, he pulled them out into the Caribbean. And so it went. As soon as the defenses stiffened in one area, the U-boats left it to strike unexpectedly in some unprotected spot.
There were thousands of miles of brightly lit coastline to protect, and the harassed American U-boat hunters could not be everywhere at once. Short on numbers, experience, and organization, they could not begin to cope with the onslaught.
The day would come when American hunter-killer groups with carrier-based aircraft would seek and destroy U-boats all over the Atlantic. But in 1942, when U-boats were sinking ships by the score in sight of American cities, that day seemed a long way off.
When still only a few days out from Lorient on this, her tenth war cruise, Mohr received a signal from the BdU telling him that a quantity of diesel oil in Lorient had been sabotaged, and it was from this supply that U-124 had filled her bunkers. A chemical added to the oil would cause the fuel pumps to corrode, jamming the fuel injector valves, and Dönitz requested a report on the condition of U-124's engines.
Mohr replied that he was having trouble with the injector valves, and that at least one fuel pump was already corroded.
Dönitz signaled Mohr, Nissen, and Rϋggeberg, all of whose boats had taken on sabotaged oil, to run for a whole day at full speed. They were then to decide whether to go on or return, to base.
After this trial run, Mohr reported the port diesel clear but he had to replace a fuel pump and two valves in the starboard diesel. He added that he could still operate, and requested that he be given an extra fuel pump when he refueled.
Nest day he met the U-tanker U-118 and took on 300 liters of lubricating oil and 20 cbm. diesel oil Since this fuel was good, it was held in reserve for attack while the boat continued to cruise on the bad oil U-124 also got a small quantity of foodstuffs, one reserve fuel pump, two valves, and 150 potassium cartridges.
By the time the boat reached her operational area in the western Atlantic, one diesel or the other was being repaired nearly every day.
On the evening of December 15, while still 700 sea miles east of Trinidad, U-124 made contact with a westbound convoy reported by U-Emmermann four days earlier.
It was past midnight when Mohr got a chance to slip into the convoy. He fired a double shot at the starboard escort which zig-zagged into firing position, but the fast ship turned and the torpedoes missed.
But U-124 was now into the convoy. Mohr could make out six ships, high in ballast, and four of them were tankers. Five destroyers guarded them.
Mohr torpedoed two of the tankers, two minutes apart. The first sank in 15 minutes; the second broke apart and sank in 5 minutes.
Crossing out of the convoy, U-124 reloaded her torpedo tubes. As she started back to the convoy, she was forced under by a plane and was unable to regain contact.
Still traveling west, the boat sighted another small convoy of tankers. Mohr ordered her hard port and full speed ahead.
No sooner had the boat swung into the turn and her screws bit deeper into the water as the engines shuddered into the increased revs than she faltered, then slowed again.
"Commander to L.I!" Mohr called down the hatch.
Subklew's face appeared below him. "L.I. here!"
"What's the matter?"
"Starboard diesel is out, Herr Kaleu. Dead. Kaput."
"Oh hell," growled Mohr, watching the tankers disappear. "Break off the attack. Secure from battle stations."
Subklew and his men worked through the night on the diesels, and by morning had them in running order again. The boat resumed her course west while her commander and L.I. speculated on how long the repairs would hold up this time.
"Commander to the bridge!"
Mohr and Subklew were in the wardroom drinking coffee when the call blared over the loudspeaker.
A minute later Mohr was on the bridge studying the faint line on the horizon that was a ship. It took the rest of the afternoon to bring the boat around to a position ahead of the freighter, and at last in the gathering dusk, Mohr submerged to wait for the ship to cross his bow.
But while he was making his final calculations, the ship set her running lights and lit up her neutral markings.
"Secure from attack," Mohr said. "She's neutral."
U-124 surfaced, and the men on the bridge watched until the ship was out of sight.
Engine trouble had become more than a nuisance on this cruise. Diesels that stopped without warning and refused to run for hours not only cost the boat success in the form of sunk ships, but put her in grave danger as well. Consolidated bombers flew over with alarming frequency, and only a sound and alert boat could hope to get safely under before the bombs fell. Mohr noted with regret that their aim had improved dangerously.
In spite of the difficulties besetting her, however, U-124 continued to sink ships. And as usual, she celebrated Christmas at sea, receiving holiday greetings from the BdU along with U-Achilles, which was close by.
A few days after Christmas, while the boat was a few miles off the Tobago coast, Mohr decided to move in close to Trinidad. About dark, Subklew filled up the batteries with distilled water to have them in readiness. But there was salt in the distilled water, and within minutes, the batteries began to give off the deadly chlorine gas.
Mohr brought her to the surface, and it took the next twelve hours or so to ventilate the boat.
"What next?" murmured Mohr, clearly disappointed and thoroughly frustrated. Engine trouble had dogged his heels since they left the Bay of Biscay, and had spoiled attack after attack.
Subklew shrugged and shook his head. "I'd like to get my hands on whoever ruined that oil. I've sure earned my pay this cruise!"
Mohr looked at him and smiled. It was true. The poor L.I had already done more repair work on the diesels than an engineer might ordinarily expect to do in several cruises.
"What do you think?" Mohr asked him quietly. "Will they hold up for the rest of the patrol?"
"I don't know," Subklew answered. "If we just had all good fuel and could throw this crap away—but we have to keep burning it, and it keeps tearing the engines up as fast as we can get them fixed." He paused. "But I do know this, Herr Kaleu'nt. You've got to be very careful with the engines. I'll do the best I can for you in an attack. But when I have to stop them, I just have to stop them. You can't push the diesels this trip or they're going to fly to pieces and we can swim home."
"OK, L.I.," Mohr told him, "you're boss in the engine room."
Perhaps Mohr remembered Brinker's words, "You must listen to your L.I." He did not have Schulz's understanding of engineering, but Brinker had finally succeeded in teaching him that diesels, unlike men, had their limits, and trying to push them beyond these limits would only get him in trouble. And Mohr had learned to rely on Subklew as he had on Brinker. It did not really matter to him if the boat ran on diesel oil or witchcraft as long as he had an L.I. who could handle her.
The state of the engines by now might well have given another commander a first-class case of the fitters. But Mohr had held onto his nerves and his sense of humor, and if he ever felt jumpy or irritable, he managed to keep it hidden from his officers and men.
And largely through his efforts and example, he prevented the feelings of frustration and futility that might have drained the aggressive spirit from his crew. Close as they were to land—often within sight—he nevertheless allowed them to spend as much time as possible on the upper deck while repairs were going on. This gave them at least a temporary escape from the suffocating heat inside the boat. And with the diesels out of whack they would be helpless in the face of an attack anyway, so it did not matter whether the crew was standing at battle stations or lying on the upper deck asleep in the sun. Being sighted would mean being sunk.
In a gesture of outrageous impudence, Mohr had a toilet seat attached to the rail so that it was suspended over the side, thus giving U-124 the distinction of being the only ship at sea with an outdoor john. With this unique arrangement, the crew could show exactly how much awe and terror they felt for "Britain's Ocean" while enjoying fresh air and sunshine unknown in the confines of Tube 7.
On the night of December 28, U-124 sighted a 4,000-ton freighter as she came in close to Trinidad. The calm sea and bright moonlight made a U-boat on the surface entirely too conspicuous, so Mohr made a submerged attack with a stern shot. The torpedo hit, and in less than one minute the stern of the freighter was under water.
When the ship sank, Mohr brought his boat to the surface. It would soon be daylight, and he wanted to get well away from this shallow water with its scattered wreckage. He saw a survivor on a raft nearby, so he turned toward him to try to find out the name of the ship and her cargo. But as soon as the boat approached the man, he dived off the raft in fright.
Frowning, Mohr turned the boat away.
With daylight, U-124 moved northward, circling around Tobago and into the Caribbean. Soon after dark that evening, she spotted two tankers and took up the chase. They were close together, and the boat followed them close inshore to Trinidad. Mohr fired four torpedoes, two for each ship.
The ships steamed serenely on their way as all four torpedoes proved faulty and came nowhere near their intended victims, but instead wound up on the beach with a roar that alerted all Trinidad.
A short time later, in response to these outlaw torpedoes, a Catalina appeared, flying low. It had no trouble finding the offending U-boat on this bright clear night, her wake gleaming in the smooth water.
The plane flew directly over the boat, then circled to come back again. The bridge watch looked at Mohr. It was high time to dive. The plane had found them and taken their measure, and now was coming back to drop bombs.
Mohr shook his head in answer to their unspoken question. "We stay on the surface," he said. "I want those tankers, and they're long gone if we have to hit the cellar."
The plane flew over the boat again. Still no bombs. But again it turned to come back.
"They may not have any bombs," Mohr said. Then he added quietly, "But don't take any bets on it."
He held the boat steady on her course while this nerve-wracking inspection was going on. The third time the plane flew over, it was even lower and the bomb bay doors were open. Mohr stood motionless, his grey eyes hard as steel, his gaze never wavering from the plane which had now turned to make a fourth pass over the U-boat.
This was a different Mohr from the boyish skipper joking in the wardroom or rigging a toilet seat to perch precariously over the ocean. This was all U-boat commander, all fighter, bold, hard, and brilliant. He knew precisely what he was doing, the risk he was taking, and his chances of bringing it off. And while the plane was flying back and forth across the U-boat, getting ready to attack, Mohr was also sizing up his opponent. It had taken iron nerves to hold the boat steady on her course during the plane's feints, but when the moment came, he would be ready.
The Catalina came in for the fourth run. It was low and steady on course, headed straight for them.
Mohr watched, gauging the distance. Now!
"Hard starboard!"
The boat heeled over, answering the helm instantly. Seconds later, two bombs fell from the plane, spiraling directly for the boat.
But Mohr had guessed the moment precisely, and the bombs fell, one on each side of the boat, no more than four or five meters away. The turn had saved her.
"Alarm!" Mohr shouted. "Dive, Subklew! 2A plus 601 Alarm!"
The bridge watch fled pell-mell down the hatch with Mohr on top of them. He had already scrambled down the ladder to the control room before the shout to Subklew was out of his mouth.
Subklew drove the boat under at top speed. "Everybody forward!" he yelled above the confusion, and wildly running men skidded into and over each other as they added their own weight to that of the sea water rushing into the diving tanks.
The bombs had been too close and now the boat, damaged to an unknown degree, threatened to go out of control in her headlong dive.
Officers and men in the control room fought frantically to handle her as wheels spun uselessly under shattered dials.
"Here, grab this!" Subklew yelled at the commander, turning over the diving planes' controls
to him while he and the petty officers managed finally to bring the boat under control.
Leveling off at last, Subklew and his men made repairs to the damaged equipment while Mohr operated the diving planes.
The boat continued on a northerly course, surfacing some seven hours later.
A few days later, Mohr spotted a convoy just north of British Guiana, but soon after he started chasing it, both diesels stopped, leaving the boat dead in the water all afternoon while repairs were made to the pumps and valves.
The boat was dangerously close to the enemy coast, and helpless without the engines, but again their luck held. The men whiled away the afternoon fishing for the sharks that circled the boat.
The champion fisherman proved to be Oberleutnant zur See Willi Gerlach. A former merchant sailor, Gerlach could have been lifted straight from a Jack London story. He was so animated and vigorous, so surrounded by an aura of adventure and excitement, that it was easy to imagine him as captain of a windjammer, plying the South Sea islands. Now he stood on the U-boat's deck, skillfully hauling the big sharks alongside, then killing them with pistol shots. Shark meat provided a change in the menu, but the fierce odor while it was cooking detracted more than a little from the fairly good taste.
U-124 continued her patrol from Trinidad west along the northern coast of South America, frequently in sight of land. She sank ships traveling singly and in convoy, often having the use of only one or the other diesel for an attack.
The area was under constant surveillance by the Consolidated bombers, but they miraculously failed to appear when both diesels failed.
On January 9, U-124 made contact with the first of the Trinidad-Bahia convoys, Convoy TB 1, east of Trinidad. A lookout on the bridge sighted a star shell fired over the horizon just after midnight.
One diesel was out of order, but repairs were finished while the boat headed toward the flare on one engine. Three hours later, the boat had the convoy in sight and she moved along with the merchantmen in a southeasterly direction, easily holding contact as the escorts appeared to be inexperienced. There were nine loaded ships in the convoy, and Mohr could count four destroyers.
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