During the night we dropped downto the bottom of the ocean at X——. We wanted to get some rest for one night and gather strength for the next day. It is comfortable to lie in the soft sands of the North Sea. It is as if the whole boat went to bed. One thing necessary for this comfort was a calm surface, because a heavy sea is felt at a great depth and throws and bangs the boat back and forth on the bottom.
Slowly the boat slipped deeper and deeper. We had taken soundings before submerging. The nearer we came to the bottom the slower the dynamo motors worked, and I at last stopped them entirely when we were a few meters from the bottom. As soon as we had stopped sinking, which could be told by the fact the diving rudder was no longer working, a few liters of water were pumped into a ballast tank madefor just this purpose. The boat became heavier and slowly sunk further.
“Now, we’ll soon strike,” I called down to the “Centrale” and looked at the manometer.
Hardly had the words left my lips when we felt a very gentle shock—much weaker than when a train stops—and knew we were at the bottom. Some more water was pumped into the ballast tanks in order to make the boat steadier and then each one at his post carefully examined scuttles and hatchways so that not a drop of water could leak through to us. From bow to stern it was reported:
“All is tight!”
Thereafter orders were given for the necessary guards, and then I let the crew leave their posts:
“All hands to be free to-night!”
Until to-morrow on the bottom of the ocean! No other restfulness can be compared with it. Rest after so much excitement which has stirred the emotions of us all; after such a day’s work, is it possible that any one can appreciate how we enjoyed ourselves?
We did not care that we were not in port and that a mountain of ocean was over our heads. We felt as secure as if we had been at the safest spot in the world. From their posts the crew went past us, with pale, oily, and dirty faces, but with their eyes looking at me as they went by, proud, happy, radiant, so that my heart rejoiced.
There was some excitement among the crew. Every one washed, talked and laughed so that it was evident how happy and care-free they felt.
“Well, with what will you treat usto-day?” I asked the cook who, with great self-confidence—because he was an expert in his line—was standing before his little galley and stirring a steaming pot. “That smells wonderfully appetizing.”
“Ox goulash and salt potatoes,” answered the cook and with more eagerness stirred his pot. “It soon will be ready. It’ll not take more than five minutes.”
“Then I must hurry up,” I replied, and went to my small cabin, where I had not put foot since five o’clock in the morning.
I put my cap, long scarf and oil-skin jacket on a hook, stretched myself in weary delight and washed myself energetically. This is a rare pleasure on a trip like ours. From the nearby room the happy talk of the officers reachedmy ears. I then heard a rattle of plates and forks, a cork popped from a bottle, and Gröning opened the little door that separates my cabin from the room of the other officers.
“Herr Captain, dinner is ready,” he said.
Soon we were sitting, four men in all, at a little, nicely decorated table, cutting into the steaming platter and drinking out of small seidels a magnificent sparkling wine. The past day’s events had to be moistened a little with the best we had. This was our custom when the fortunes of war smiled graciously on us.
The electrical heating apparatus furnishes all the heat needed, but it still has the disadvantage that in the still, unchanged air, the heat arises so that the temperature at the floor is severaldegrees colder than at the ceiling. Even in our heavy sea-boots, we felt it a little, although, as a whole, we were warm and contented. The phonograph played continuously. The petty officers had taken charge of it and played one native song after another. What a thrill ran through me! At once there was silence. All talk stopped. German songs of the Fatherland were sung deep down at the bottom of the ocean right on England’s coast. Inspired by the music, our hearts were filled with enthusiasm and a silent promise was made to give everything for the Fatherland—to become a scourge to the enemy and damage him with all our might.
Thereafter, the dance music, operettas, vaudeville songs, and ragtime were played. These stirred up a buoyant spirit. Especially there was muchjoy among the firemen and sailors in the crew’s quarters. Funny songs could be heard from that direction. Dirty playing cards were dug out and soon there was a real German skat game in full swing.
During this time we, in the officers’ mess, raised our glasses and drank toasts to one another and to the beautiful U-boat: “Rich spoils! A happy journey home! Long live the U-boat!” That is the U-boat toast.
The boat was lying very still. It didn’t seem to stir.
“What an original idea for an artist!” said our engineer, who was poetically inclined, as he leaned back in his chair staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. “One can imagine a cross section of the boat showing our room at the North Sea’s yellowish sand bottom, to whichall kinds of crawling and swimming animals give life. In here four feasting, happy officers around a little table on which a warm electric light is shining with the wine bottle in the center and with the glasses raised to a solemn toast. Above—water, water, water—water to the height of a church steeple and, over it all, the glittering heavens full of stars and a small silver-white piece of the moon. If I were a painter I should immediately start with this motive for a picture.”
“And give me the picture, I hope,” I laughed. “And, after all, not such a bad idea about that picture—one should in reality propose such a motive to an artist.”
“Maybe it would be possible to put in a couple of mermaids who look in through the conning tower window inquisitivelyand knock with their fingers on the glass,” said Petersen, our youngest lieutenant, with a smile. “That would undoubtedly make the picture still more attractive.”
Gröning, who during the entire time had listened with a quiet smile to the conversation, took out his empty cigar holder, on which he always chewed when we were under water because, as a heavy smoker, he missed tobacco, as none of us was allowed to smoke inside the boat. Slowly he said with a touch of irony, in a deep, sympathetic voice:
“Here, my dear Petersen, you are an unreasonable rascal. If there are no women in the game, then there is no pleasure for you. Doesn’t the fellow actually talk about mermaids when he tells us every fourth week he is going to become engaged. ‘This time it’s absolutelycertain! This time I surely will do it, as I will never find such a girl again.’ This and more I hear every month. What was the last one’s name that you intended to make happy—your March girl? Wait, I have it—the February girl—ha, ha, ha—has the captain heard the story of the February girl?”
He turned to me laughing.
“Will you shut up, Gröning!” Petersen burst forth and blushed up to his ears. “I’ll tell you that if you tell tales out of school—and besides——”
“Well, Petersen,” I encouraged, “what ‘besides’?”
“Besides, all that is not true,” he continued and blushed still more when he noticed that he had betrayed himself. “Youshould certainly keep quiet,” he went on suddenly, beaming with an idea, and began to attack in order tolead the conversation away from himself. “He who lives in glass houses should be more careful.”
“I—I—I—how so—that’s the limit!” Gröning angrily rejoined, as he considered it an honor to be known among his friends as a woman hater. “I—in a glass house? It’s a mean accusation, or have you been drinking too much wine, my dear boy?”
“Bah! only a glass,” answered the younger officer, defending himself. “It is ridiculous to claim anything like that.”
“Well, well, be friends now, sirs,” I said soothingly. “Don’t let’s quarrel down here at the bottom of the sea. I hereby decide that our younger officer is absolutely sober, but that, even so, he will not be allowed to let his April girl with her fishtail come in here, as a punishment,because he has jilted his February girl.”
With this decision both these fighting roosters (really the best friends in the world) had to be pleased, and the eternal discussion of Eve and her daughters, which had nearly made the ocean bottom shake under our feet, was ended.
Shortly after this we went to bed in our narrow bunks—for the first time undressed on the voyage—and soon enjoyed a sleep free from dreams.
Inthe morning no rooster crowed to wake me. But, instead, there stood my faithful orderly, the Pole, Tuczynski, before my bed, and loudly announced:
“Herr Captain Lieutenant, it’s five-thirty!”
I woke up in bewilderment. My head was still dull after a sound sleep.
“What’s up?”
“It’s five-thirty,” repeated the orderly. “The water for washing and the clothes are ready.”
Ah! Like a flash the reality was beforeme. We were lying on the bottom of the sea—were going to arise within an hour—and then we were going to——
I leaped out of bed. The thought of “then we were going to” fully awoke me. “Yes, we are going to go at it; everything depends upon to-day,” I thought, and put my feet into my slippers.
Hardly had I scrambled to my feet when I had to grasp the closet to support myself.
“What’s up now?” I asked, turning to my good Pole, who was spitting on my left boot in order to preserve the shine. “We are rolling. What’s happened?”
“Must be a little sea above,” he replied with a grin.
“I can understand that myself, yousmarty, but when did it start? Run along quickly and find out when the rolling was first noticed!”
Tuczynski hurried to the “Centrale” and returned immediately with his answer:
“About two o’clock, says Lieutenant Petersen.”
“Well, then we must have a considerable storm above, if the wind has been blowing for four hours. Get out my oil-skin coat quickly! It will be needed to-day,” I ordered, and hurriedly dressed myself as water-tight as possible.
The change of weather did not suit my purpose, for, although to judge from the motion of the boat the storm was not as yet so bad, the strength of the wind was probably six, and it was gradually becoming worse. At thistime of the year storms could be terrible.
“Devil take the luck—and this very day, too!” I swore through my six-day old beard-stub.
After breakfast I called the entire crew together. “Boys,” I said, “you know that we have many things unaccomplished. As yet we are only at the beginning of our task. Yesterday and the day before we were very successful, and now we have had a restful night. Being well rested, we are now cheerfully and confidently ready for another day’s work. To-day we are going to go through the so-called ‘Witch-Kettle.’ You all know what I mean, and you know also that this is not child’s play. The enemy there is keeping sharp lookout, but we will keep a better lookout. Others have gotten through before us.Consequently, we will also get through, if each one of you sticks to his post and does his duty as well as you all have done hitherto. This I expect from every man. And now—to the diving stations!”
I went up to the tower. Shortly after the engineer reported from the “Centrale”:
“All hands are at the diving station!”
Consequently we were ready for our task. The day began—the most remarkable day of my life.
“Arise!”
The pump began to buzz. We now had to empty the ballast-tanks of the water which had been taken in to make the boat heavier, in order that, instead of being held down, we should begin to pull ourselves loose, and drift slowly upwards. Usually that manœuver wasaccomplished with the best of success, but not so to-day. The boat wabbled and “stuck,” as we used to say. It called to my mind the question which is often asked by laymen: “Are you never in fear of not being able to get up to the surface again?” We, of course, had no fear, but I knocked impatiently on the manometer to see if the register would not at last begin to move.
“Nine hundred liters above the normal,” Krüger reported from the “Centrale.”
It meant that we had pumped out of the boat nine hundred liters more than the normal quantity necessary to make the boat rise.
“It seems as if we were fastened in a vise,” I joked, “but in accordance with the map there ought to be a sand bottom here.”
“Now it loosens!” the engineer called out.
Yes, the boat pulled loose all right—the hand on the manometer was rising—but it shot upwards on one side only. The stern arose but the nose remained fastened in the mud.
“How confoundedly nasty,” I heard Gröning, who took care of the diving rudder, growl.
Now the entire ballast shifted. We had to make the boat heavier in the stern, had to shift the ballast of the heretofore well-balanced boat and pump ballast water out of the bow to pour water into the stern tanks, in order to make the bow lighter and the stern heavier. After a few liters of water had exchanged places the boat changed her mind and again placed herself in a horizontal position. Then she arose quicklyand satisfactorily, but showed a tendency to list toward the stern, until we, by a new shift of the ballast, had re-established the old conditions of equilibrium.
After the boat had pulled loose with apparent reluctance from her bed on the bottom, she could not get up fast enough to stick her nose into the fresh air. Having the ballast diminished by nine hundred liters, she leaped upwards rapidly, but this did not suit my purpose, as I preferred first to put up the periscope and find out whether the atmosphere was free from British germs. As I felt I was entirely responsible for my boat’s health, I entertained one fear, based on experience, that germs in the form of destroyers and trawlers, appearing suddenly, might endanger it. I made the boat obey mywill, let the nine hundred liters be pumped into her again, and thus checked her quick ascent.
At the same time I had the dynamo motors started, so that we would have steerageway for the diving rudder, and commanded that the U-boat should stop at the depth of twenty meters. Thereafter, I soon came to the periscope depth and took a look around to see if I could discover any ships. There was nothing in sight, but woe—a heavy storm!
“Well, it can’t be helped,” I said softly to myself.
I made another careful search of the horizon and then arose entirely to the surface. What a delightful sensation to be standing on the tower with my hands to my sides and greedily sucking my lungs full of the fresh sea air! Theair at the bottom had not been so bad. On the contrary, the engineers had kept it in first-class condition during the night, but more delightful was the wonderful ocean air.
Now the ventilator burst open and refreshed those inside with fresh air throughout the ship.
“Now, Mate,” I ordered, “let me take a look at the map once more. That’s right. Put it right up here on the tower—no harm done if it gets wet. Now let’s have a compass and a lead pencil—thanks. Watch carefully and follow my calculations to see I make no mistake. From here to the first mine field it is twenty-two miles; from there to the second mine field about fourteen miles—which makes thirty-six miles altogether. We must reach the first field just before the ebb tide, as the mines areonly visible just before or right after the ebb tide. We get the ebb about ten o’clock, and it is now half past six. We can, therefore, go along easily at half speed and will have enough time to recharge the batteries. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” replied the mate, and quickly folded up the map, which he had shown anxiety in guarding, time and time again, against the waves washing over the ship, “if we only don’t have to dive again.”
“I don’t believe we will,” I said with confidence. “Here near the mine fields I think there are few ships sailing. So far as that goes, we are really safer here. The scouting will be on the other side of the fields.”
Exactly one hour before the ebb tide we reached those sections where theenemy, according to the reports from other U-boats, believed that they had effectively blocked the passage with a mine field that stretched for several miles. I say “believed,” because the mines, as before stated, were showing above the surface during the ebb tide and one could easily steer through the lanes between them. The blocking of this important passage was therefore for the enemy an assuring but somewhat expensive illusion. It was not quite so easy as I had expected from the stories and reports of my fellow submarine commanders to slip between the mines.
“Well, sirs, here it goes!” I said to both officers, who, like me, had crawled into their thick oil-skins and had exchanged their caps, embroidered with gold oak leaves, for the practical southwester.“Now, we’ll see who spots the first mine.”
In a drizzle of foam and spray we were standing side by side and gazed at the sea several hundred meters ahead of us. The ocean had within the last few hours become still heavier and stormier, and the wind came from the southwest and consequently straight toward us so that there was danger of discovering the mines too late, as they would be concealed from our sight with every roll of the sea.
Suddenly we all three looked at one another and then quickly at the sea again. There they were! Heavens, what a bunch! In all directions as far as the eye could see were the devilish dark globes, washed with the breakers’ snow-white foam. We were so overwhelmed by the sight of all these minesthat we started to swear and kept it up for some time without any interruption.
“It’s outrageous! It’s unheard of! It’s terrible! Such a mass! And such a people call themselves Christian seafarers—a bunch of murderers, that’s what they are, who can put out such dirty traps!”
With reduced speed we went toward the “caviar sandwich,” as Petersen called the dark spotted surface before us. Now it was “up to” us skilfully to steer the boat between the irregularly spread mines and see carefully to it that we did not get into a blind alley. If only our boat did not hit one of those devilish things! It would be the end of us! But surely if we kept calm, we should get through all right. Certainly we would. We had a warhelmsman who was a wonder in his line, boatswain’smate Lohmann. He could thank his skill as a helmsman for his long career in the navy. If he was up to some deviltry—which, it is said, rather often happened in former days—it was always mentioned as an extenuating circumstance—“but he’s such an able helmsman.”
Lohmann, when he put his mind to it, could certainly steer. He could hit a floating cork with the prow. He was standing with feet apart in the tower and grinning so that his mouth reached from ear to ear. He always grinned when he stood at the wheel. But now that he had become the most important person on board, he was radiating joy and pride to such an extent that his little square figure took on a superior pose of careless daring. With his right hand he spun the wheel playfully,just as if he were experimenting. He had shoved the other deep down into the large pocket of his seaman’s trousers clear up to his elbow.
Then we were pounding into the mine field. Lohmann squinted together his small gray eyes to a couple of narrow slits, spat first in his right hand, and then in a long semi-circle towards the first mine which we were just passing on the port side. He, thereupon, hitched his slipping trousers, lit his nose-warmer—a pipe broken off close to the bowl—spat once more into his right hand, and began a series of artistic curvings and twistings to weave his way through the narrow lanes. And he was as calm and confident as if he had done nothing all his life except steer U-boats through mine fields. I could leave him in charge of it.
After ten minutes we had passed the mine field. We estimated we had sifted through about eight hundred mines.
At high speed we then steered toward the second batch of mines.
Then came a series of reverses which made this the most eventful day so far experienced by any U-boat crew in the war.
It was ten forty-two by the clock.
Beyond the second mine field an English destroyer was patrolling. We had to dive quickly and go through the mines under the water, a detested and very dangerous proceeding!
The destroyer had not seen us. The sea became more violent; the barometer fell rapidly; the heaven was filled with black rain clouds. The clearness of the atmosphere disappeared, and the ocean was restless and covered with whitefoam. The sea washed over the periscope again and again with white-combed, rushing mountains of water, so that for several long seconds I could see nothing. Suddenly we were in the midst of the mines. I could make out those that were close by, because the water had risen so that only the tops of the black balls, which here and there bobbed up for a second, could be seen.
To turn away from the mines at the right moment was almost impossible. We were running straight for a mine—the next second it was on top of us and passed only a few meters from the periscope. At the same time, on the other side, three mines clustered together in a group were floating past us. It was a hellish journey, and the destroyer was all the time waiting for us on the other side of the mine field, and compelled usto continue below the surface. He had no consideration for our difficulties.
Oh, how he would enjoy it if we suddenly went up in the air, surrounded by a cloud of smoke and fire! Good God! Now we are about to give him this joy. I had already shut my eyes and thought we were doomed—because one of the mines had just struck hard with a metallic clang against the periscope, a sound which I will never forget until I am in a better world! But the mine, which I saw just before the wave washed over the periscope, had been carried away behind us and had better sense than to blow us up; it only twisted on its axis and didn’t do us any harm. Maybe it was old and damaged.
I could not stand it any longer. I felt like a man trying to commit suicide when he misses his aim.
“Quickly dive to twenty-five meters!” I called down to the “Centrale.”
Rather dash blindly through this hell than always see your last minute right before your eyes, and still be unable to do anything. But if, while submerged, a cable should fasten itself around the U-boat? The chance of getting through was better down there, I figured.
“Start the phonograph,” I commanded, “and put on something cheerful, if you please!”
In spite of the new, beautiful “Field Gray Uniforms,” the song which soon resounded through the boat, I heard twice a hellish grinding and scraping above the conning tower—mine cables which we had fouled. At last, after many long minutes, we were through the mine field. We arose and I put up the periscope and looked around. Godbe praised! The atmosphere, or rather the water, was clearer. The destroyer was several hundred meters behind us, and we had come through the horrible place without a scratch.
Aha! There was the first buoy—the first placed on the narrow sand bar. Now it was careful steering for the ship. We took soundings and proceeded cautiously. If only the current had not been so strong! It constantly swung us out of our course. I had to steer against the current continually.
“Mate, how far are we now from land?”
The sailor quickly brought up the chart and measured the distance with a scale.
“Two and a half sea miles.”
“Oh, the devil! And, as yet, we cannot see anything of it. The air has beenthickening. That’s all we need to make things worse for us!”
The cruiser on guard now came rushing past us on the port side. It was not far from us when I pulled down the periscope for a time.
Who can describe my fright when I put up the periscope again in a few minutes and could not see anything because of the fog that had settled down on the sea! A dark rainwall also moved along the surface. And this was just where it was absolutely necessary for me to see. I must see where the channel began to be very narrow! Only one narrow passage about two hundred meters wide, there was, within which we absolutely must proceed. Every turn away from this—either to the right or left—would immediately run us into the sandbank. And now there was no sign ofthe buoy which marked the channel. In addition to this we faced a current we had not counted on.
I searched and searched for the buoy. The sweat stood out on my forehead, and the excitement made me so warm that the sights on the periscope time and time again clouded up on account of the heat from my body. The mate must continually wipe the wet glass with a piece of chamois.
“Now we should be off the buoy, Mate, but I don’t see it! Good God, what are we going to do! It will be fatal—it is impossible to navigate without picking it up. And besides, the destroyer which is lurking behind that confounded rainwall and which at any minute can come up alongside us!”
The buoy did not appear.
Then the weather began to clear up.The rain thinned and the fog lifted a little.
First we saw land. Thereafter we saw the destroyer at quite a distance on the port side, laying a course towards us, and then—then——
All good spirits have mercy on us!
The buoy—our buoy—was to the wrong side.
And we? Great God in Heaven—we were going on the wrong course! We were running right for the sandbank. We must already be right on top of them. Disastrously for us, it has cleared too late.
“Hard a-starboard! Reverse both engines full speed!” There was nothing more to do. Then came the disaster! A jar and a whirring—U-boat 202 had gone aground.
Whatwe went through was horrible. The breakers dashed high over the sandbar. They hurled themselves on us to destroy our boat, played ball with us, lifted us high into the air and dropped us again on the bar with such fury that the whole boat shivered and trembled.
We had lost control of the boat completely. The roaring breakers made so much noise we could hear them through the thick metal wall. Every new, onrushing wave tossed us higher and higher on the reef. Exposure was our greatest danger. Already the top ofthe conning tower and the prow projected above the surface—but a moment more and the entire boat would be plainly visible. Then we would surely be lost. As a helpless wreck, we would become a target for the destroyer.
Pale and calm, every man stuck to his post and clung to the nearest support, so as not to fall at the rolling and jolting of the boat. With awe, I looked alternately at the manometer and the feverish sea which I could see all around me through the conning tower windows. Oh, if it had been only the sea we must fear! But through the scum and froth, more merciless than the wild, onrushing breakers, the black destroyer, smoking copiously, steamed straight toward us, like a bull with lowered horns.
“We had better keep below the water at any price, even if we are smashed topieces against the sandbank and the boat breaks up, rather than to be blown to pieces by the shells of the English,” was the thought that flashed through my brain.
“Fill the ballast tanks,” I called down to the “Centrale.” “Fill all the tanks full, Herr Engineer. Do you hear? We must not under any circumstances rise any higher!”
“All ballast tanks filling!” it was reported from below.
Oh, how quiet it was below! Not a word was uttered. No anxious conjectures, no surmises, and no questions.
A deep, irresistible grief clutched my heart. My poor little boat! My poor crew! There every man unflinchingly and unhesitatingly did his duty, and devotedly put his faith in me. They were all heroes, so young and still sobrave and able. And I, the commander, had brought them into the very mouth of death, and to me, the only one who could see our desperate situation, it seemed as if the scale of death slowly weighed against us, because the destroyer, with horrible certainty, was approaching. His sharp prow pointed directly towards us. Soon he would discover the projecting parts of our tower and prow, which the breakers treacherously washed over, and then we would be lost. Soon a hail of shells would sweep over us, and the greedy, foaming sea would roaringly hurl itself through the open holes in our sides.
The filling of the ballast tanks had the desired effect. The boat lay down heavily on the reef and spurred the wild waves to greater efforts, and, though we did not rise any farther, the joltingincreased in violence because of its added weight. It was a wonder that the boat did not go to pieces like an egg shell, and we all looked at one another in surprise when, after a terrific jolt, nothing more occurred than the bursting of a few electric bulbs. “First-class material,” I thought to myself.
The mate who, over my shoulder, was keeping watch on the destroyer through the window on the port side, suddenly said, in his hearty, Saxon dialect:
“Well, well! Where does he intend to look for us now, I wonder? At any rate, he doesn’t think that we are stuck here among the breakers.”
“Mate, you old optimist. Those words I’ll never forget. Great God! If you are right! Then certainly——”
“He is already turning,” the little chap cut me short, and jammed his noseagainst the window-glass, so as to be able to see better.
I grabbed him by the neck and pulled him away, as my blood rushed to my head.
“What? What is it you are saying? Is he turning—good God in heaven—yes, it’s true—he reallyisturning, all the time turning—now his broadside swings round towards us, now his stern—he has turned—he is departing. He has not seen us, he has not seen us!”
I remember that once, when I was a little boy, I got a roe-deer as a present.
I loved it a great deal and we were inseparable. It had to sleep on a rug by my bed. One beautiful summer’s day we were playing in the sun on a large lawn before the house when suddenly a large, unknown hound came rushing towards my little pet and blood-thirstilychased it around the lawn. The nasty dog was about to run it down when my pet, with a shrill shriek, appealed for help. I was standing paralyzed in terror and could not get a word through my lips, when unexpectedly the owner called the dog back with a whistle. Then I threw myself, with great exultation, down alongside my pet, pressed it to my heart, kissed its black snoot, and cried and laughed with joy.
Those were my feelings now, when, with my own eyes, I saw the impossible—that the destroyer, without suspecting our presence, had steered away from us. Was it possible that he did not see us, when, according to my estimation, he was only about eight hundred meters away? Could the mate be right, and the foolish destroyer have only searchedthe passage in accordance with his schedule? “But,” I thought, with a shiver, “how easily would not perchance a glance in our direction have betrayed us?”
Radiant with joy, I told the crew in the “Centrale” what a happy turn the affairs had taken at the last moment. A burden must have fallen from the hearts of my splendid, brave boys.
I then revealed my plans to the engineer:
“We are going to lie here until the destroyer reaches the other end of his patrol, which is about three to four sea miles from here. Then, at once, quickly empty all the tanks so that the boat cuts loose from the reef. At top speed, we will make for deep water and then dive again to a safe position below the surface.”
Again a light rain-cloud floated slowly towards us and favored our plans. Soon the destroyer could be seen only as a fading figure in the mist. Now we could risk to arise and get away from our other danger—the fiercely rolling breakers.
The valves were quickly opened. At once the boat came up. The terrific jolting ceased. The hand of the manometer moved upwards, and, after a few seconds, the boat’s broad, dripping back broke through the surface.
There is the buoy! Now full speed ahead! We’ll be soon there—now but a few hundred meters more and then the game is ours—a game on which life and death depended; a game which would have turned our hair white if we had not been so young, and if we hadnot, through horrible dangers, been united by true and faithful bonds.
As soon as we had placed ourselves on the right side of the longed-for buoy we again hurled ourselves deep down into the cool sea as happily as a fish which for a long time had been on dry land, and suddenly gets into its own element again.
The first and most dangerous part of our journey through the “Witch-Kettle” was over, although not without its horrible experiences. The narrow inlet was passed and also the several sea miles, wide and free from reefs and other navigation difficulties. Thus we merrily glided about in the deep and, in good spirits, hammered and listened and felt our splendid, hard-tried, heavily-tested boat all over back and forth, to see if it had pulled through without aleak from the pit of the rolling breakers; and we soon all forgot. As long as the nerves were at a continuous tension we had no time to think about past events. And though we had happily passed through and over mines and reefs, still the day was far from ended, and our main task was still before us.
This day continually brought us new and unexpected surprises, so that, at last, we had a gruesome feeling that everything had united itself for our destruction. First there were the trawlers; then the motor boats, which in pairs, with a steel net between them, searched through the channel where they suspected that U-boats were lurking. Every time we stuck up our periscope cautiously in order to look around a bit, it never failed that we had one ofthose searching parties right in front of us, so that we must submerge in a hurry to a greater depth in order not to be caught by the dangerous nets. And if for a short time there was an opportunity to scan the horizon undisturbed, then the atmosphere was thick, and we were unable to locate the shores, which we knew were close at hand, so that at last we hardly knew where we were, as the currents in these parts could not be estimated. Since the famous buoy we had not seen any mark which would in any degree assist us to locate ourselves.
We kept to our course up the center of the channel and trusted that our lucky star would lead us straight. Every half hour we came up from the safety of the deep and tried to take our bearings and then submerged again, disappointed.The crew, of course, must remain at the diving stations uninterruptedly.
About two o’clock the cook came around with pea-soup and pork in small tin cups. He also stretched up his arms to us in the conning tower with a steaming plate in his hands. I put the plate on my knees and dipped out its contents, thinking “The wild beasts are fed.” The moisture, which forms in large drops on the ceiling during long trips under the water, fell down on my head and into my plate and left small splotches of oil in the pea-soup as a sign they were real drops of U-boat sweat.
We again arose to the periscope level at four o’clock. At a distance of five hundred meters, a scouting fleet was moving about. At the same time on our starboard bow a French torpedoboat with four funnels was cruising around.
I had a desire to fire a shot at this enemy, but the fact that such a shot would send the whole lurking fleet at us restrained me.
I have to admit that it was hard to hold back from taking the chance, and it was with a heavy heart that I gave orders to dive again. But this, however, saved us. If we had traveled at the periscope level for only a few minutes more, I would not be sitting here to-day, smoking my cigar and writing down the story of our adventures.
We were submerging, and the manometer showed seventeen meters. Then, suddenly, it was as if some one had hit each one of us at the same minute with a hammer. We all were unconscious for a second and found ourselves on thefloor or thrown prone in some corner with our heads, shoulders, and other parts of our bodies in great pain. The whole boat shook and trembled. Were we still alive or what had happened? Why was it so dark all around us? The electric lights had gone out.
“Look to the fuse!”
“It’s gone!”
“Put in the reserve fuse!”
Suddenly we had our lights again. All this happened within a few seconds and more quickly than I can tell it.
What had happened? Was it true we were lost? Would the water rush into the ship and pull us to the bottom? It must be a mine—a violent mine detonation had shaken us close by the boat. And the U-202? What were the consequences of this to the U-boat?
The reports came from all quarters:
“The bow compartment is tight!”
“The stern compartments tight!”
“The engine room all safe!”
Then the boat unexpectedly began to list. The bow sunk, and the stern arose. The ship careened violently, although the diving rudder was set hard against this.
“Herr Captain,” Gröning, who was in charge of the diving rudder, shouted, “something has happened. The boat does not obey the rudder. We must have gotten hooked into some trap—a line or maybe a net. It’s hell. That’s all that’s needed. We are jammed into some net, and all around us the mines are lining it. It’s enough to set you crazy.”
“Listen,” I called down. “We must go through it. Put the diving rudderdown hard! Both engines full speed ahead! On no condition must we rise! We must stay down at all costs. All around above us are mines!”
The engines were going at top speed. The boat shot upwards and then bent down, ripped into the net, jerked, pulled and tore and tore until the steel net gave way from the force of the attack.
“Hurrah! We are through it! The boat obeys her diving rudder!” Gröning called out from below. “The U-202 goes on her way!”
“Down, keep her down all the time. Dive to a depth of fifty meters,” I commanded. “This is a horrible place—a real hell!”
I bent forward and put my head into my hands. It was rocking as if being hit by a trip hammer. My foreheadached as if pricked with needles and my ears buzzed so that I had to press my fingers into them.
“It’s a horrible place,” I repeated to myself. “And what luck we had, what a peculiar chance and wonderful escape that we got out at all!”
It took some time for my aching head to remember chronologically what had happened. Yes, it certainly was lucky that we, at the right moment, had submerged deep. We had been at a depth of about seventeen meters when our prow collided with the net, and the detonation followed. The more I thought of it, the plainer everything became to me.
As we had run against the net, it had stretched and that had set off the mine. The mines are set in the nets at the height at which the U-boats generallytravel, which is the periscope level. If we had tried to attack the torpedo boat or, for any other reason, had remained for a few minutes more at the periscope level, we would have run into the net at a point where our enemies had hoped we would—namely, so that the mine would have exploded right under us. Now the mine, on the contrary, exploded above us, and its entire strength went in the direction where the natural resistance was smallest—which was upwards. Without causing us any greater damage than a fright and a few possible scars on the thin metal parts, which might have scratched the paint, we had escaped.
Undoubtedly the Frenchman was filled with exultation over our destruction when, waiting at his post by the net, he heard and saw the explosion,and probably reported by wireless to the entire world:
“Enemy U-boat caught and destroyed in a net by a mine explosion.”
And little I begrudge him that joy if he, as a return favor in the future, will leave us alone, because we had gotten pretty nearly all we wanted, as it was.
The day’s experiences were far from ended. First Engineer Krüger appeared on the stairway to the conning tower with a troubled look.
“Herr Captain,” he reported, “we must have gotten something in the propeller. Our electric power is being consumed twice as fast as it should. I suppose that pieces of the metal net have entangled themselves in the blades. The laboring of the engines is terrific andthe charge in the batteries is being rapidly reduced, and they are becoming exhausted.”
Were we now going to have this difficulty, too! We had already consumed a large quantity of the current, because we had been compelled to dive at our highest speed and this uses up the batteries fast.
“How far can we go on it now, Herr Krüger?”
The engineer calculated in his notebook, shrugged his shoulders thoughtfully, and said:
“If we do not consume it any faster, it should last us for a couple of hours yet. It would be better, however, to decrease our speed a little.”
I pondered this situation for a time. In about an hour the tide would turn and the current would be against us.We would not be able to make much speed then, but, on the other hand, it would be dark, and we would probably dare to rise to the surface. The enemy undoubtedly believed we had perished and would have decreased his vigilance.
“All right,” replied the engineer. “We’ll stop one motor. There is no danger we will run aground. It is too deep here for that.”
Consequently, we stopped one motor, and continued ahead at a reduced speed. At exactly five o’clock we came up again to look around. Hard by in our wake was the French torpedo boat steaming at a distance of about two hundred meters.
“Well, what is it now?” I said to the mate, and bit nervously on my lower lip. “It looks as if that rascal was after us.”
“It must be a coincidence,” answered the unperturbed optimist.
We submerged once more, but came up again after another half hour.
The torpedo boat still came after us, steaming along in our wake at a distance of two hundred meters.
“If this is a coincidence, Mate, then it is a very, very peculiar one,” I said to him.
When it was six o’clock we again took a look around. The Frenchman was still after us at the same distance.
“The devil! This is no coincidence! I’ll be hanged if this is a coincidence. This is intentional. We are certainly pursued!”
There must be something the matter with us. The enemy must be able to follow us—there must be some sign that enables him to follow us even when submergedto a great depth. What could it be?
I was pondering this impossible problem. The only thing I could think of was that when the mine exploded, it had caused a leakage in one of our oil tanks and that the escaping oil left a plain trail that betrayed our presence. It was impossible at any rate on account of our slow speed under the water, against the current, that by a coincidence and without knowing about it, the Frenchman kept coming after us at the same precise distance. I had to find out about it. We submerged once more, changed our course, and proceeded at full speed. If the Frenchman had really been able to see anything of us, then he would also follow us now when we changed our course and were going four times as fast.
At half past six I looked astern through the periscope and again saw, just as at five, half past five, and six, the Frenchman who, at the same speed on a changed course, continued to follow us.
Thefact that the French destroyer continually followed us at the same distance made me certain. There was no doubt about it. We had been discovered and were pursued. Soon the Frenchman would call for aid and would have all the bloodhounds of the sea on our scent and following us. By this time our storage batteries had begun to be exhausted, and the water was a hundred meters deep so that it was impossible for us to lie on the bottom.
“Nice prospects,” I thought to myself. To the mate and crew in the “Centrale,” I called loudly so that all could hear me:
“Well, now we have gotten rid of him at last. Didn’t I say it was only a coincidence?”
I wanted to relieve the tension on the nerves of the men, because I knew how they had gone on for days at a high pitch of excitement.
In my plans, I had counted on the darkness, which must come soon. We would be very economical of the power, so that it would take us to the point which I had selected after carefully studying the chart. We kept to the same course for half an hour. Then, when the darkness must have settled down, I turned off at an angle of ninety degrees, and headed straight for the coast, where I knew the depth would permit us to rest on the bottom, to waituntil the enemy had given up his manhunt. This would be towards morning, I thought, especially if the storm coming up from the southwest should increase in violence so that the searching of the water with nets would become very difficult.
The point that I had selected for our resting place was far from comfortable. And it was marked on the chart, not with the reassuring “Sd.” which indicated a sand bottom, but with the dreaded “St.” which meant the bottom was stony. But we had no choice. And when the devil is in a pinch, he will eat flies, although he is accustomed to better food. We did not rise again, since we knew it was dark over the sea, but continued at a considerable depth without incident and slowly approached our goal.
About midnight, according to my calculations, we would be able to touch the bottom. And the storage batteries had to last up to that time. Krüger figured and figured and came to the conclusion that they would hardly last long enough.
Until ten o’clock we had heard our friend’s propellers over us several times. Thereafter all became quiet on the surface, and, relieved, I drew a deep breath. They had lost the scent. It became bearable again in the U-boat. I sat on the stairway leading to the “Centrale” and was eating sandwiches and drinking hot tea with the other officers and the rest of the crew. It was almost twelve o’clock and still we had not touched bottom. What would happen if the computation of our location was wrong? This could easily have occurred, becauseof the strong current and our slow speed.
Half-past twelve! Still no bottom! Engineer Krüger was nervously stamping his feet and turned out one electric light after another in order to save power. For the same reason, the electric heating apparatus had been cut off for a long time, and we were very cold.
At five minutes to one we felt a slight scraping. The motors were stopped and then we reversed them in order to decrease our speed. A slight jolt! We filled the ballast tanks and were lying on the bottom where we could wait for morning at our ease. Who thought that? He who imagined that we would have any rest was disappointed. We were lying on a rock, and the tide turned about two o’clock,and the southwest wind swept the sea fiercely.
At the beginning, it seemed as if we would be all right, down there on the “St.” bottom, but we soon discovered differently—when the rolling began. There was no chance of gentle resting, as on the soft sand of the North Sea, but, instead, we banged and racked from one rock to another, so it was a wonder the boat could stand it at all.
Sometimes it sounded as if large stones were rolling on deck and, again, our boat would fall three or four meters deeper with a jolt, so that the manometer was never at rest, and we had to stand this continued rising and falling between twenty-two and thirty-eight meters.
At last, towards four o’clock, we gave it up. At some of the joints in the ship,there were small leakages, and none of us had any thought of sleeping. We, therefore, went up to the surface.
I opened the conning tower hatch and let the fresh air rush against me. I had a queer sensation. It seemed to me as if we had been buried in the deep for an eternity and had had a long, bad dream.
But we had no time to dream. The storm had not calmed, but continued in its fury, and it was not long before we in the tower were soaking wet. However, to our satisfaction, the water was much warmer than in the North Sea. We noticed that the last hours had brought us much closer to our object.
It was the Gulf Stream that was flowing by us and which, in this section, is really warm, running between two shores close together.
The night was coal black. At a greatdistance astern, two light-houses flashed, one white and the other red. It was easy for us to know our position. No enemy was in sight, so he must have abandoned his search as useless. Can any one understand with what relief we realized this fact? Confidently we began to look ahead to success now that, at last, the dangers of the mine fields, which had been greater than we had expected, were behind us.
The exhausted batteries were quickly re-charged, in order to be ready for other emergencies, and then, with our Diesel engines running, we went out into the open ocean, away from the unfriendly shores, to get some fresh air and to rest our nerves.
When the day began to break, we were twenty sea miles out and had already re-charged the batteries with somuch power that, if necessary, we could proceed for several hours under water. In the dusk of the dawn, we had a new surprise.
Gröning, who, by chance, had looked toward the bow where the outlines of our boat were becoming visible, suddenly against all rules, grabbed my arm. With mouth open, eyes staring, and an arm outstretched, he pointed toward the bow.
“What is that?”
I ran up, bent forward, and followed with my eyes in the direction in which he was pointing.
“What is that?” I asked him.
I hurried toward the bow, so as to be able to see better. The boat’s whole deck, from the conning tower to the prow, looked as if it had been divided into regular squares, between whichdark, indistinguishable objects were moving in snakelike lines. Near me there was such a square. I stooped down and picked up a steel cord about as thick as my finger. A net, I thought, certainly a net.
“We have the remnants of the net all over us,” I shouted through the noise of the storm to Gröning. “Get the nippers, hammer, and chisel ready. As soon as it is light enough, we must go to work to cut it free.”
And the thick, dark snake—what was that? It came up to starboard, slipped across the deck, and disappeared to port into the darkness. It did not take us long to find out what kind of a snake it was, and I comprehended everything fully. That persistent, mysterious pursuit by the Frenchman was at once plain. Now I understood clearly whathad happened on the surface after the explosion of the mine. My heart froze when I thought how readily the enemy had been able to follow our course.
We could easily trace the snake with all its curves, as it became lighter, because it was a long cork hawser, made for the purpose of sustaining the net. This was of light cork of about the thickness of a forearm and was light brown in color.
About two hundred meters of this easily perceptible hawser were floating on the water, and gave us a tail with many curves in it. This tail, which we had been dragging after us, gave us the solution of the puzzling pursuit.
When we had torn the net, with our engines at their highest speed, a large piece of it to which the hawser was fastenedhad clung to our U-boat and, after we had submerged, the hawser was still floating on the surface and continued to drag along behind us, still floating when we had submerged to a great depth. The Frenchman, who had discovered us on account of the explosion, had observed this, and, in spite of all our twistings and turnings, could follow us easily.
It was a master work of our able sea crew to cut clear that heavy steel net. The sea became still higher and washed furiously over the deck, angered by the resistance of our little nutshell. The men were standing up to their stomachs in the white, foaming waves, and had to use all their strength to stand against their force. Full of anxiety, I sat in the conning tower with a life-saving buoy ready and followed closely with worriedeyes every move of my men during their dangerous work.
All went well, and, after a half hour’s hard work, we were rid of the troublesome net. The nippers, hammer, and chisel and six drenched sailors disappeared down the conning tower. Each of the six held in his numbed, wet fist a rusty piece of the net as a souvenir of the fourteenth day of April.
The sun arose as if nothing had happened. From the eastern horizon it shone over the French coast as if to say:
“I am neutral! I am neutral!”
When it got up higher in the heavens and sent its greeting to England, it shivered and hid behind a thick cloud.
What was the matter with it? What was it that destroyed the joy of the greeting of the young morning? Whatwas it yonder that wounded its neutral heart?
A steamer approached. Thick, black clouds of smoke poured out along her wake and hung heavily over the sea. She had two high, thin mastheads, two funnels, slanting slightly toward the stern, and a light-colored hull with a high bridge. “A funny ship,” we decided and submerged.
When we saw her clearly through the periscope after a while, we found out the discouraging fact that she was a hospital ship. The snow-white color, the wide green bands from the bow to the stern, and the large Red Cross on the hull and the mast tops easily identified her as such.
I was just about to turn away, as an attack upon a sacred Red Cross ship could not be thought of, when my eyesas if by magic became glued to something I could not make my brain believe, something unheard of. I called Gröning to the periscope, so that he could be sure I made no mistake. No, I was right, and, to my amazement, I saw an insolence which was new to this world. No wonder that the sun had hidden its face in order not to see this scorn and mockery of humanity. No neutral sun could shine on anything like that. Only the moon could stand such lights, although they must disgust even the moon, used to dark deeds.
The ship, which was safe under the holy flag of humanity and mercy, was loaded from bow to stern with artillery supplies, and amongst the guns and ammunition there was crowded an army of soldiers and horses. Under the protection of the colors of the flags, which theywere so atrociously misusing, they were proceeding in the daylight on the way to the front.
“Such a crowd!” exclaimed Gröning, and stepped back from the periscope.
“And such a shame that we can’t touch it,” said I, furious, and stamped on the iron floor so that it resounded. “I would like to have gotten hold of it. Such nasty people, such hypocrites! But it can’t be helped. The boat is too fast and too far away for us to head it off.”
Of course, we tried and went after it at top speed for some time. But the distance became greater instead of lessening, and, with our batteries exhausted, we had to abandon the chase. Then we turned, furious and swearing, and came to the surface again after a little time.
It was a very unpleasant feeling, after a short chase, to have to lie with exhausted batteries, and limp ahead like a lame horse. Consequently we did not attempt any new enterprise, but remained on the open water for several hours charging our storage batteries. Just as we were about through with this work, there came along an insolent trawler which started to chase us. None of us had any desire to submerge again, because the sun was shining so beautifully, and it became warmer with each minute we headed south.
As the propeller, now free from the nets with which we were fouled, could give us our best speed, we immediately began the race and hastened laughingly and in good spirits ahead. Our boat cut through the waves with such speed as it showed when it first came from itswharf. The foam made a silver-white mane for us. What did we care if we got wet? We went at top speed, and, smiling, looked at the smoking and puffing steamer behind us.
“He’ll never catch us,” I said to Krüger, who had come up to the conning tower to ask if we were going fast enough, or if he should try to get more speed out of our engines. “Just keep her turning at the same rate, Herr Engineer. That’s sufficient. It looks now as if we were gaining,” I told him.
Our pursuer seemed to realize he could not overtake us and tried to anger us in other ways. Suddenly a gun flashed and a cloud of brown smoke surrounded the small steamer for a second. Shortly after that a small shell splashed into the water about a thousand meters from us and a water spoutnot higher than a small tree arose from the sea.
We laughed aloud.
“Such a rotten marksman! He wants to irritate us with a shotgun. That’s ridiculous.”
“That’s an insolence without an equal,” argued Lieutenant Petersen angrily, who felt that he had been insulted in his capacity of the artillery officer aboard. “We should not submit to this outrage. May I answer him, Herr Captain?” he asked me with eyes flashing.
“Yes, you may try as far as I am concerned, Petersen, but only three shots. You can’t hit him at this distance, anyway, and our shells are valuable.”
Grinning with joy, Petersen hurried to the guns, leveled, aimed and fired,himself, while the water washed around him up to his waist.
“Too short to the right!” I shouted to him, after I observed the high water spout through my double marine glasses.
The next shot fell close to the steamer. It became too hot for our pursuer. He turned quickly and went back in the same direction from which he had come. But the hunting fever had gotten into our blood. We also turned and pursued the fleeing pursuer. Show us what you can do now, engines!
Shot after shot flashed, roaring from our cannon. The distance was almost too great for our range. We had to set the gun at the highest possible angle in order to have any chance of hitting him. The first shots all fell short, or to the side, but at the eighth we made a hit.A roaring hurrah greeted the dark-brown explosion which marked the arrival of the shell on the trawler.
In vain, the trawler sent one shot after another at us. They never came near us. On our side, however, one hit followed another, and we could see that the hostile ship was listing heavily to port, and we hoped to be able to give him his death blow, when the outlines of three of his colleagues were sighted behind and to the right and left of him, approaching at great speed. Our only chance was to turn again in order to avoid being surrounded, since too many dogs can kill the hare.
Early in the evening we submerged to keep ourselves at a safe depth. We were very tired, because we had had thirty-eight hours of work and realized, now that all the excitement was over,how the nerves began to relax. To begin with, the nerve strain showed itself by the fact we could hardly go to sleep, tired as we were. And when we did doze off at last, we had many disturbing dreams. I, myself, lay awake for hours and heard through the open doors, in the deadly quiet of the U-boat, how the men tossed about in their bunks during their sleep, talking and muttering. It was as if we were in a parrot’s cage instead of a submarine. Also I lived over again during the night most of the events of the past hours. The only difference was, peculiarly enough, that I was never the fish, but always the fisherman above the surface who constantly tried to catch my own U-boat with a destroyer.
When I woke I could hardly untangle the real situation, because I sawthe French Captain-Lieutenant’s black-bearded face before me, when, with great joy in his small dark eyes, he said:
“Diable, il faut attraper la canaille!”