Hardegen began: “Gentlemen, we’re part of a five-boat mission called Operation Paukenschlag [Drumbeat].” He named the other commanders and then placed the Operation Order folder on the wardroom table where his officers watched him slowly extract a chart—the same 1870G chart they carried on board. “Look familiar, gentlemen?” he asked with a smile. “This is as much detail as Flotilla can give us on our target area. Suppose you had never sailed into a particular shoreline or harbor before, knew nothing about its shoals and hazards and depths, much less about its navigational aids like lights and buoys. And all they gave you was this large-area small-scale 1870G. Would you feel very confident?”
“The scale is one to eight million,” Hoffmann offered. “But you’re smiling, Herr Kaleu.”
“No sectional nautical charts,” continued Hardegen, “no sailing directions, no list of light signals, nothing but this gross-scale 1870G. And I’ll tell you why. Flotilla told me when he handed me the order folder. He said something like, ‘Sorry we did not have all the supporting materials you might need.’”
Hardegen paused and, savoring the moment, smiled mischievously around the table. “Flotilla did not leave us totally empty-handed, gentlemen. I don’t know where they found this stuff but it’s better than nothing. We may not have sailing directions but we do have—” And he pulled out of his folder a slim tourist guidebook to New York City.
“New York!” said Hoffmann, looking blankly at von Schroeter. “New York,” came an antiphonal response from Schulz. It was all that anyone could say—until Schulz added, “We can make it. We have the fuel.”
“Yes, Chief,” Hardegen agreed. “Now there are maps of New York City and some indication of its bays in this guide. But this second guide”—he lifted out a large garishly colored booklet—“this piece may actually help us.”
Against a dark blue sky backdrop on the top half of the second guide’s cover stood three towering emerald skyscrapers and a golden Statue of Liberty. The lower half presented a depiction of the sale of Manhattan to Dutch Governor Peter Minuit, the legend reading: “1626—Bought for Twenty Four Dollars. 1939—Valued at Twenty Four Billion!” Hardegen unfolded a large map from a pocket in the inside back cover.
“This shows all the ports and bays,” he said. “And look at this”—he pointed to Lower Bay—“there’s a ship’s channel here marked Ambrose Channel and a lightship, the Ambrose Lightship. That tells us something, doesn’t it?”
The officers compared the harbor to what they could make out of the irregular coastal features on the 1870G. As they did so they noticed that the 1870G had the Roman numerals I through VI drawn in ink alongside sections of the coastline from Cape Race to Hatteras. Did Hardegen know what the numerals represented? No, he answered, unless they were attack areas for the Drumbeat boats. Perhaps an F.T. to come would explain them.
“What I think happened here,” Hardegen said, referring again to the guidebooks, “is that the war with America came on so suddenly and unexpectedly that BdU had no operational charts or other materials for that part of the world, and the only thing they could give us was these guide books. They probably found them in the Lorient or Brest municipal library.”17
“You’d think that Naval Staff in Berlin would have sent something over,” suggested Hoffmann.
“Well, they didn’t, apparently,” Hardegen said. “I was in New York City as a cadet in 1933 when my class made a round-the-world voyage on the cruiser Karlsruhe. I know our ship had to have had all the charts for the harbor at that time. Except for the lights and the tall buildings, I don’t remember very much about the place.”
“But is New York the only place we’re going?” von Schroeter asked.
“Oh no,” Hardegen said, pulling out the Operation Order itself. “Here is the full language of our order”:
U-/23 will proceed independently to naval square CA for initial operations in CA 28, 29, 52, 53. You will make attacks at and around New York Harbor on a day to be communicated by F.T. when all boats of Gruppe Paukenschlag are nearing assigned stations. It is imperative that attacks by all boats begin on the exact day designated. You will not attack any enemy ships encountered before that date unless Gröner [merchant ship silhouette identification handbook] shows them at 10,000 GRT or unless specifically permitted or directed to do so by BdU. You will maintain strict radio silence until after your attacks commence. Off the American littoral you will attack unescorted independently sailing coastwise merchant traffic of any kind and nationality, except vessels with clear neutral markings. Following initial attacks at destination New York U-123 will pursue targets south as far as Cape Hatteras. F.T. reports on sinkings, enemy defenses, weather, shore lights and radio beacons, and fuel remaining in cbms will be made on the schedule appended to this order. BdU-Ops.18
Hardegen passed the order around for his officers to examine. “So you can see, gentlemen, we’re on a tight leash until some date a couple of weeks away. I must tell you that I am personally very gratified that we are going against the Americans. From the beginning I guessed that that was our mission. You remember our experiences off Freetown last spring. Well, now our day has come.”19
There was certainly no problem making New York in time, he told his officers, whatever that time turned out to be. They and Folkers were at sea well ahead of three of the boats on the same mission. There was nothing in the orders about the stations assigned to the other boats, but Hardegen could report from his briefing by Admiral Dönitz that two other boats, U-725 and U-66, were to be parts of Gruppe Hardegen, so they probably carried orders to operate in the same square. The crew of 123 should feel proud that their boat had been named leader of this group. All the officers must be alert to the kinds of information BdU sought: beacons, lights, buoys, and especially defenses. The chief should be ready to report fuel remaining. The boat started with 250 cubic meters and average daily consumption had been 2.3 cubic meters at a daily run of 165-170 nautical miles. The chief should be ready to report to BdU in cubic-meter categories, but he, Hardegen, preferred to know fuel remaining in terms of days and hours. Now, before he addressed the crew he was required by a supplemental order in the folder to go over with his officers the enclosed “admonition” and “experience” messages. Most had to do with the avoidance of enemy aircraft and the appropriate response a U-boat should make when avoidance was not possible. Typical of the admonition messages were the following:
The greatest danger for the U-boat proceeding independently is enemy aircraft. Surprise attack may come (1) during the day with medium to heavy overcast sky or low-hanging clouds with medium to poor visibility; (2) during the night when there is clear, calm weather, bright moonlight, and phosphorescence.
Planes generally fly at low altitudes in the North Atlantic at about 2,000 meters, and therefore do not come into sight at the horizon but rather at an angle of 30-40 degrees. For the sector in which the sun is standing, use very dark glasses. When the sun is low. have one lookout with glasses facing the sun, one without glasses away from the sun.
When proceeding on the surface have the antiaircraft guns always ready for use, that is, cocked and put on safety, magazine attached, and cranked to point high.
Allow only the most essential personnel on the bridge. The Commander will admit additional numbers in exceptional cases. No outside exercise programs are permitted.
For the boat to dive safely in an aircraft situation, the plane must be at least 8,000 meters distant. If in doubt remain surfaced. During a recent surprise attack on a group of three U-boats, one boat made the mistake of submerging. It was bombed while diving and lost. The surface defense of the others was successful. Moral: When surprised stay above and shoot. Diving is death.
There are still boats that during surprise aircraft attack submerge at the moment the plane flies over the boat. This procedure is incorrect and mortally dangerous. Even the largest planes and flying boats are on the spot of the swirl again after a minute to renew the attack. In this length of time no boat
can reach a safe depth, especially if a large number of men have been on the bridge for A/A defense.
Only those boats that constantly anticipate all possible defensive situations, plan their roles accordingly, keep practicing and improving them, and carry them out with unrelenting strictness will successfully overcome the enemy defense. On cruise out and cruise in the main task of the Commander is to get his boat through unendangered. Just passing the time of day is punishable levity.20
Hardegen looked about the wardroom to see his officers expelling breath through pursed lips. “As I can see from your demeanor, gentlemen,” he said, “we needed to hear that. We’ve been lax. We need to tighten up. I don’t want Tolle on the bridge any more until we reach the air-coverage gap in the central Atlantic. He would slow us up badly on an emergency dive. And besides, he’s so clumsy he would probably break his neck. We need to improve our bridge discipline in every way, not just those mandated in these messages. In the days and weeks ahead, you may expect emergency-drill dives and attack simulations at all hours, and I want thirty-five seconds to be the norm and not the exception on submerging.
“Now one last ‘experience’ message—the chilling kind that you don’t like to hear,” Hardegen went on.
A U-boat was proceeding in seas force 4 and medium swell at high speed with following sea. The Commander’s order to put on leather harnesses and attach them to the bridge brackets was not carried out by the watch officer since the bridge had remained dry for about 20 minutes. Then a heavy sea passed over the boat, the watch officer was washed overboard and not found again. Moral: Put on harnesses in plenty of time, especially with a following sea, even if the harnesses seem a disadvantage for crash diving.21
“A word to the wise is sufficient,” said Hardegen as he returned the order material to its folder and took it to the confidential papers locker. “Study all this at your leisure. Number One, dive the boat to twenty meters and assemble the crew in the control room. For those who have to remain at their stations, I’ll use the loudspeaker.”
When the boat reached the ordered depth and most of the crew had jammed into the control room, Hardegen addressed them: “Men, I have opened our Operation Order and reviewed it with the officers. We are going against America. Our first destination is New York.”
Hardegen enjoyed the silence that followed, but he observed that the surprise wore off quickly and that most of the crew accepted the news in a businesslike way. There were no expressions of shock, delight, or fear. The rows of impassive faces seemed to say simply, Well, that’s a new operational area.
“I think we should have success there. Our targets are independently routed coastwise shipping of whatever kind or nationality. We are part of a five-boat attacking force called Operation Paukenschlag. One prong of the force formed by our boat and two others is called Gruppe Hardegen. The five boats will start attacking suddenly, all at once, on a day to be announced by F.T. The element of surprise favors us. The state of readiness of the American defenses is a question mark. Our patrol area is from New York to Cape Hatteras, which is a much-trafficked area some four hundred miles south of New York. The harbor at New York where we will begin is one of the busiest, if not the busiest, in the world. We should not lack for targets, and that will enable us to get even with the Americans who made fools of us off Freetown last spring.
“While waiting at Lorient, and expecting that America might be our destination this time, I asked my wife to send me my notes from the naval history course that I took at Mürwik eight years ago. German U-boats operated off the American coast in the war of 1914-18. But before America got into that war, one of our boats, an underwater freighter named U-Deutschland, made two peaceful voyages to that country carrying cargo and mail. A huge boat, 1,860 tons, bigger than we are, she had a complement of eight officers and sixty-five men. It was the commander of that boat, Kapitän Paul König, an old friend of my family’s who lived for many years in our home after my father was killed in Flanders in 1917, who smoothed the way for me when I entered the Navy and applied for officer candidate school. In fact, when I was commissioned he gave me his Damascus steel officer’s dagger, which I wear with my uniform today. It is a coincidence to say the least that he was the first U-boat commander to appear off the American coast during the last war—though we were still at peace with America at the time—and now I am to be the first, or among the first, to appear off that coast in this war.
“Before hostilities were declared with America one of our fighting U-boats, U-53, destroyed six British, Dutch, and Norwegian vessels in American waters off Nantucket. And after American entrance into the war another of our fighting boats, U-/57, crossed the Atlantic and sank American ships directly off their own coast. So you can see history repeating itself here, too. U-/52 and U-//7 were the most successful boats in American waters. Six boats in all, called U-cruisers, served in that operational area, and my notes say that in six months they accounted for a large number of ships sunk.22
“So you can see that our comrades of twenty-three years ago have led the way, marked the course, and set the standard. It is our duty to measure up. Let every man on board be mindful of his assignment. Constant discipline and steadfast attention to orders will bring us success. Keep your mind on what you’re doing. And work together—always together—asa team! That is all. As you were. Return to your stations. Chief, maintain twenty meters for the time being.”
Rafalski: The crew had not guessed we were going to the USA. Barth: Our destination—we only discovered that underwater. But until that time we didn’t know where we were going. We only found out in the middle of the Atlantic—“Destination New York.”
Kaeding: It was no shock whatsoever. First, we were used to worries, and second, the Americans had really angered us on previous patrols.
Von Schraeter: Of course we recognized the possibilities because we were going into unexplored waters. We could hope that the enemy had not yet prepared for us. Amstein: Before that we had been other places. It had nothing to do with America as such. If we were here or there, it didn’t matter. We got the order and we went. Barth: You have to admit, though, it was interesting to be going against America.
Sitting on the edge of his bunk where he could see Rafalski busy at his volume pots listening for W/T traffic, Hardegen idly perused the 1870G chart. He wondered if the Americans had learned anv lessons from the last war. Were they expecting U-boats? If so, were they expecting them in winter? How many aircraft did they have on anti-U-boat patrol? How many destroyers, escorts, armed yachts? Had the enemy already organized his coastal merchant shipping into convoys? Had he secured port inlets with booms and nets? Or mines? How dangerous were the shoal waters along the littoral? Was there a blackout of coastal cities and towns as required in German home waters? Was there a dimout? Remembering the Strait of Belle Isle, were there fog signals? What was needed was current intelligence. But if BdU or Flotilla had it they were keeping it to themselves. U-123 was sailing blind—except for one consoling fact: The St. John’s and Cape Race radio beacons in Newfoundland were coming into Barth’s directional antennas loud and clear. Not only did those navigational aids provide the boat with a midocean fix against which to check the D.R. positions, they suggested that all might still be normal on the North American coastline so far as beacons, lights, and signals were concerned.
Hardegen looked up to see Rafalski patiently holding aloft the FT. and cipher logs for their every-two-hour signatures. Rafalski asked, “Herr Kaleu, if you plan to remain submerged for a few more minutes, may I play some records for the crew?” Hardegen remembered the just-read admonition about levity, but decided that the Puster’s records were a help to morale, not levity. He checked first with Barth to make sure there was no surface traffic.
“Permission granted, Puster. Play the crew’s favorite first.”
“Yes, Herr Kaleu.”
Rafalski hooked the turntable outlet into the boat’s speaker system. Within half a minute fifty-one officers and men who
had been in the process of assuming their duties, exchanging images of New York, or paying off francs in the forward torpedo room suddenly found themselves singing lustily along with the bright syncopation as their long, narrow tube of boilerplate and weld bored a hole through the dense Atlantic:
Where’s that Tiger! Where’s
that Tiger!
Where’s that Tiger! Where’s
that Tiger!
Hold that Tiger! Hold
that Tiger! Hold
that Tiger! …23
The next few days passed uneventfully. Hardegen kept the boat on the surface, except for trimming and drill dives, alternating one and both engines on the line. With departure, Christmas, and the Operation Order behind him, and the day-by-day normality of midocean cruising, he had leisure to draw out OKM manuals and bone up on ship recognitions, attack solutions, coastal navigation, and escape procedures. His entries in the U-123 war diary (KTB) and radio log became more spare and terse:
29 December
1235. F.T. intercepted, BdU to Folkers (U-/25) ahead of us. He is to slow and await other four boats in naval quadrant BD. Bleichrodt and Kals sortied on 27 December.
30 December
1200. In the middle of a low front, shifting winds, rough, inconsistent seas, visibility 14 nautical miles. 1503. Submerge. Attack drill. 1610. Surface.
31 December
1200. A second low, weather the same. Photographer guest crewmember Tolle broke his left index finger in rough seas.
2300. Incoming New Year in North Atlantic. The U-boat can look back on a successful year, and we are all going into the New Year confidently, hoping for new successes that will lead to the decision of this war.
Operation Drumbeat Page 19