Kleber's Convoy (10 page)

‘At the centre. Opposite the entrance to the Inlet. The Russians have swept a passage through the minefields there. The convoy must use it eventually. It is for us to get in our attack early, while they still have some distance to go.'

There was silence after that. Eventually Kleber said, ‘Wind and sea seem to have eased a little. Not much, but I hope no more.'

‘No more,
Herr
Kapitän
?'

‘Yes. Bad weather protects us. And once we're on the patrol line we are fifteen U-boats. I want to try once again a high-speed down-wind surface attack. As we used to in the Atlantic in 'forty-two and ‘forty-three.'

Schaffenhauser was silent. The captain had a great
reputation
and he hesitated to question his views. But everyone in U-boats knew that the enemy's new radar had made ‘wolf-pack' attacks suicidal. Such tactics had long since been abandoned. He said, “Yes,
Herr
Kapitän.
But there was nothing like the high density of enemy escorts then, was there? And their radar direction-finding equipment was not as sophisticated as today.'

Kleber laughed with easy confidence. ‘Of course. You are
right. It was not so difficult then, I admit. But you know in this sort of weather we are free from attack by aircraft and they are undoubtedly the U-boat's greatest menace. Secondly, under these conditions of bad visibility, attacking
downwind
, if you are bold and aggressive, you can penetrate the escort screens, get your torpedoes off and dive under the protective thermal layers. These we did not have in the Atlantic.'

‘Do you really think those tactics would still work,
Herr
Kapitän
?
These Russian convoys have an outer screen of destroyers. It has to be penetrated first.'

‘Yes. I accept that, but I believe it can be done. I have given much thought to it. Of course the weather must be right and that is why I regret the possibility that the gale might moderate too soon. But remember this tactic has not been used for a long time. We must get an early sighting, create a diversion to dilute the escort force, concentrate quickly, dive deep in advance of the outer screen and let it pass over us while we sit under thermal layers. Afterwards we surface close to the convoy in the up-wind position. Then, with the element of surprise, we inflict heavy losses.'

Schaffenhauser was beginning to find Kleber's enthusiasm infectious. ‘Yes,
Herr
Kapitän
‚' he said. ‘I see the possibilities. It is an exciting idea.'

Kleber corrected him. ‘It is more than that. It is a sound tactical plan. I discussed it in detail with the Flag Officer, U-boats, Group North, as soon as I joined the flotilla. At the start he said “under no circumstances”. But in time I
convinced
him.'

‘What did he say then,
Herr
Kapitän
?'

‘He agreed that if conditions were right it would be worth trying.' Kleber did not add that he and the Flag Officer had formulated tactical plans for putting his ideas into operation under varying conditions, that each plan had been given a code letter, and that copies were in the hands of all U-boat commanders on the patrol line.

Instead Kleber shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘But this gale must continue.'

‘I think it will,
Herr
Kapitän
.'

‘Good. I see you are an optimist, Schaffenhauser. The right approach to war.' He struck the young man lightly on
the shoulder. ‘We shall see what the next twelve hours bring.'

Periodically Kleber stopped engines and swung U-0117 to port or starboard to check with radar, search-receivers and hydrophones for a surface ship astern. It was a routine safety precaution. He did not expect to make any contact at that time and in that weather.

A few minutes before 0603 he gave the order to dive to one hundred metres. He intended keeping U-0117 submerged for fifteen to twenty minutes to melt the snow and ice on the conning-tower and anti-aircraft guns, and catch a trim for the action which lay ahead. However, a defect in the
Schnorchel
housing gear, a broken cable, kept U-0117 submerged for almost an hour longer than Kleber had
planned
.

When Ulrich Heuser the engineer-officer reported the defect remedied, Kleber, impatient at the delay, gave the order to surface. Soon after surfacing he swung the boat to port and starboard and stopped engines. Almost immediately the buzzer from the control-room sounded and Ausfeld's urgent call came up the voice-pipe. ‘Faint radar impulses on search-receiver port astern sector. Nothing on
hydrophones
.' Ausfeld was the warrant officer responsible for radio, radar and other electronic equipment.

‘
Gut
,'
said Kleber, ‘
Geben
Sie
klas
Schiff
zum
Gefecht
… sound the action alarm.'

Wedged in the corner of the wardroom settee, Terence O'Brien braced himself against
Vengeful
's corkscrewing – a combined pitch and roll which made a ride in a
roller-coaster
seem like a vicar's tea-party. ‘My point‚' he said, ‘is that war should not be taken too seriously.'

Wilson, sea-booted and sweatered, wedged in another corner, said, ‘Good point, but our problem's weather not war.'

‘Don't take either too seriously.'

The wardroom dropped thirty feet into the trough of a sea, slewed right then left, the stern shuddering as it hit the sea and the propellers bit into the water. O'Brien, who'd been thrown off the settee, re-wedged himself, ‘As I was saying …'

‘Quite,' said Pownall, raising a quizzical eyebrow. ‘You usually are.'

‘Am I now, Pownall?' said O'Brien. ‘Please to explain.' He was wearing a red skiing jersey with a yellow-and-white scarf, his ginger hair and beard equally untidy.

‘Making war,' said Pownall with assumed severity, ‘is a serious business. Skill, intelligence, dedication, thorough
training
and a highly professional approach are necessary. Qualities which, I'm bound to say, you wavy-navy's lack.'

‘D'ye hear that now,' said O'Brien. ‘The man's insulting us.'

‘Of course‚' said Wilson. ‘He's RN. One keeps forgetting.'

‘You mean he does it for the money.' O'Brien looked at Pownall with new interest.

‘Precisely,' said Wilson. ‘Whereas we RNVR's do it for fun. You know. Like cricket – the Gentlemen and the Players.'

The first-lieutenant came into the wardroom, a burly figure, his anorak powdered with snow. He pulled back the hood, took off his gloves and put his hands on the
steam-heater
. ‘Bloody cold outside.'

‘No more than seasonal,' said Pownall.

The first-lieutenant shouted, ‘Pantry!'

The messman appeared. ‘Sir?'

‘What's for breakfast, Guilio? I'm hungry.'

‘Porridge, mutton and potatoes, sir. And bacon and eggs.'

The first-lieutenant groaned. ‘Not that stringy mutton with those awful blobs of fat?'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Must we have them, Guilio?'

‘Yes, sir. Arctic diet. Admiralty orders.'

The doctor put down the periodical he'd been looking at. ‘Fatty diet keeps up body heat, Number One. Most people actually feel the need for fat in the Arctic winter.'

‘Hear, hear,' said Wilson.

‘Well, actually I don't,' said the first-lieutenant.

Pownall said, ‘Can't often agree with Wilson, but on this I do.'

‘Anyone on the bridge?' inquired O'Brien.

‘The Old Man, Groves and Rogers,' said the first-lieutenant. ‘Satisfy you?'

‘In the Irish Navy we'd make do with one. I suppose
we're an unusually talented people.'

‘The Old Man wants as many of us as possible to have a good meal now. The next twenty-four hours are likely to be busy.'

‘Well indeed and that is depressing news,' said O'Brien. Pownall frowned his disapproval. ‘O'Brien doesn't like our professional approach to war, Number One.'

‘Too bad.' The first-lieutenant sneezed, then blew his nose. ‘Hope we get some action on this last leg. Not a sausage since those recces were shot down three days ago.'

‘So boring,' agreed Pownall. ‘Like pleasure cruising.'

‘Round the bay for a bob,' said the first-lieutenant.

O'Brien scratched his already dishevelled hair and stared at the first-lieutenant. ‘D'you really mean to say you
want
action, Number One?'

‘Good God, O'Brien. Of course I do. That's what we're here for.'

‘No,' said Wilson. ‘With respect. We're here to get JW 137 to Murmansk in one piece. No action, no sinkings. Object achieved. Plenty action, plenty sinkings. Object not achieved. It's as simple as that.'

‘Rubbish,' said the first-lieutenant. ‘Main object of the operation is to seek out and destroy the enemy.'

I'm all for a quiet life,' said O'Brien. ‘Action means getting hurt.'

‘No wonder Ireland lost at Twickenham in your year.'

‘I was a feserve. If I'd played we'd have won.'

‘We ought to have a trade union, a joint one, with Jerry,' suggested Wilson. ‘Job demarkation. They undertake not to interfere with the convoy. We undertake not to bugger about with their U-boats and aircraft. Only sensible way to fight a war.'

‘That's a fine Christian sentiment,' said O'Brien. ‘Couldn't have put it better meself.'

‘That,' said Pownall thinking of something else, ‘no one would dispute.' He looked at the wardroom clock – 0807. His estimate of the time of arrival at the U-boat patrol line was 1600. He decided he didn't feel very hungry.

Guilio wobbled in from the pantry doing a balancing act with a tray. But the suddenness of
Vengeful's
roll to port defeated him. It was as if the ship had fallen down the side of a steep hill. The dishes fell and splintered and he skidded
on something slippery, ending up on the settee next to the first-lieutenant. ‘Sorry, sir. It was the roll.'

The first-lieutenant gave him a friendly pat. ‘Bad luck, Guilio. You can't win 'em all.'

The Maltese rose unsteadily to his feet. ‘I'll clean up that lot, sir, and get some …'

The action alarm bells drowned the rest of the sentence.

The first-lieutenant, athletic by disposition, timed himself from the first moment of hearing the action alarm to his arrival on
Vengeful
's bridge. He did this by counting the seconds as he made his way along the iron deck and up three steel ladders in slippery reeling darkness.
Twenty-seven
seconds, he noted, as he ranged up alongside the captain. Not bad under those conditions. He'd done it in thirteen in fair weather on a good day.

‘First-lieutenant here, sir.' His breath came in short gasps.

‘Good,' said Redman. ‘We've a radar contact. Very small blip. Doesn't show on the PPI. Too much wave-clutter.'

Redman spoke into a voice-pipe. ‘Forebridge-radar.
Captain
here. What d'you make of it now, Blandy?'

‘Still showing intermittently, sir. Very small. Green oh-
oh-eight
, eight thousand yards.'

‘Good man. Keep on to it …'

Redman spoke next to the plot. ‘What's the target doing?'

‘Mean course oh-nine-five, sir. Moving from starboard to port, speed about twelve knots. Bearing one-seven-three.'

‘Good,' said Redman. ‘Steer one-five-oh.'

Pownall passed the order by voice-pipe to the
quartermaster
in the wheelhouse.

‘Yeoman,' called Redman. ‘Inform
Bluebird
we have a radar contact classified submarine bearing one-seven-three, range eight thousand yards.'

‘Aye, aye, sir.' The yeoman passed the message by TBS. Almost immediately the bridge loudspeaker relayed
Blue-
bird
's
reply.
‘Vengeful
and
Violent
detach at once to
investigate
.'

Redman took
Violent
under his orders and having instructed both ships to cease A/S transmissions and house their asdic domes he increased speed to sixteen knots, all that could be managed safely without incurring weather damage.
Venge-
fu
l
's
plot having confirmed the target's course as slightly south of east, Redman, with
Violent
a mile away on his
starboard
beam, altered course to intercept, bringing the target on to the starboard bow.

On the bridge-speaker they heard
Fidelix
's signal to the convoy away from the direction of the radar contact. The Vice-Admiral was taking no chances.

Vengeful
and
Violent
plunged through a dark fury of wind and sea, sheets of spray sweeping their bridges, bows scooping solid water each time they dipped into a head sea, frozen spray cutting razor-like into the faces of men in exposed positions. Guns' crews, searchlight and depth-charge parties and those on the bridge sheltered as best they could, wondering how long the misery would last, sceptical as always of finding anything to attack at the end of it.

Redman, fighting against the smarting of tired eyes, concentrated on the PPI. A dark shape moved up alongside him. ‘Who is it?' he snapped.

‘Topcutt, sir. Hot cocoa, sir.' He passed a mug to the captain and from the folds of a woollen shawl produced a jug and poured the cocoa.

Redman said, ‘Thank you, Topcutt. You're a marvel.'

The able-seaman made a strange noise, a mixture of
embarrassment
and pleasure, and disappeared into the darkness. Redman, confirming mentally his long-held belief that the best people in the world were the humble ones, concentrated once more on the PPI and the reports coming in from radar and the plot. At 7000 yards
Violent
picked up the contact and confirmed
Vengeful
's classification of ‘submarine'.

Apart from the risk of damaging the asdic dome by steaming fast into a head sea, Redman had ordered its raising and stopped A/S transmissions because submarines could hear
pings
at considerable distances. If the submarine they were hunting heard their radar transmissions increase in volume it would certainly dive, in which case the chances of attacking it in bad weather would be so slight as hardly to exist at all. On the other hand, there was just a chance in poor visibility of getting reasonably close if the weather
sufficiently hampered the U-boat's search-receiver. Redman was aware, however, that
Vengeful
and
Violent's
prime task was to put the U-boat down before it picked up the convoy and made a sighting report. The nearer the destroyers got to the submarine, the more effectively they would achieve this, even if only by random depth-charging.

His optimism was short lived. At 5000 yards both ships lost contact, the blip disappeared from radar screens and operators reported ‘lost contact'.

Redman ordered an A/S search of the estimated diving position but nothing resulted. It was like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. The submarine was
somewhere
there, he had no doubt, sitting safely under a
temperature
layer, running dead slow on her electric motors. The problem was where?

Loss of radar contact and failure of the A/S search was reported to
Bluebird.
Ginger Mountsey ordered
Vengeful
and
Violent
to remain in the diving area for another thirty minutes and to ‘warm it up'. The A/S search was continued, both ships dropping depth-charges at irregular intervals. Some, at least, Redman hoped, would be near enough to frighten the U-boat into remaining submerged for some time.

In
Fidelix's
operations-room the Vice-Admiral was discussing the problem with the staff-officer operations, Rory McLeod.

‘We know that a U-boat dived here,' he pointed to the position on the plot with a pencil, ‘at about 0820. What was her distance from the convoy then?'

There was a pause. Cockburn, the navigating and plotting officer, said, ‘Twelve miles, sir.'

‘But she was about five to six thousand yards from
Venge
ful
and
Violent
when she dived,' said the Vice-Admiral. ‘Now – was that a routine dive or had she picked up radar transmissions on her search-receiver?'

‘I would assume the latter, sir,' said the S.O.O.

‘So would I,' said the Vice-Admiral. ‘And unless he's an idiot the U-boat commander will conclude there's a convoy somewhere in the sector from which his search-receiver picked up radar signals. U-boat commanders are
not
idiots so we must assume that before long he'll make a sighting report.' The Vice-Admiral pursed his lips. ‘What he
won't
know is that we've made an emergency turn.'

The SOO said, ‘He'll be able to give an approximate position of the convoy at 0820. Since aircraft can't operate in this weather I don't think that's going to help the enemy all that much, sir.'

‘No. But it will help the Kola patrol line. The last sighting report the German High Command had was that made on the sixth by the reconnaissance aircraft we shot down. They'll be more than happy to up-date the position of JW 137.'

The S.O.O. nodded bleakly.

The Vice-Admiral blew his nose before looking at the plot again. ‘Well, we shall have to wait for a B-Bar message. If that doesn't come within the next couple of hours I shall be more than surprised.' He looked round at his officers with bright challenging eyes. There wasn't any sign of
disagreement
.

The convoy's emergency turn to port increased the time it look
Vengeful
and
Violent
to get back on to the outer screen. When at last they had, and things seemed to have settled down, Redman climbed on to the bunk in the sea-cabin, stared moodily at the ice on the porthole, the lump shining ruby red in the reflection of the cabin's light. He pulled the damp crumpled Admiralty blankets over his clothed body, screwed his head into a cold knobbly pillow and closed his eyes. He was conscious only of wondering when sleep would come and how long it would last …

A nurse was leaning over the bed, a young girl with flaxen hair, a high complexion and wistful blue eyes. She was very beautiful he decided. So lovely that he wanted to touch her to see if she was real, but he couldn't move. She was tidying the bed, smiling in a familiar way as if they shared a secret, and he smelt the mixture of perfume and young womanhood and knew he wanted her. It was warm in the ward. Shafts of sunlight came through the windows near his bed and a gentle breeze ruffled the curtains. He felt relaxed, at peace with the world. The injection, he decided, must have been responsible for his euphoria.

What was that she was saying? He tried to concentrate. ‘… and you must rest. Sleep as much as you like. The longer the better. We won't disturb you.'

‘Will you be here when I wake up?' It was, he knew, a
tremendously important question. Waiting for her reply he felt insecure, frightened of being alone.

She didn't answer and when he turned his head he saw she was not a nurse but Marianne. She wore a blue smock, patterned with paint stains. She said nothing, just looked at him in a strange way, then left the ward. He called after her but realised she couldn't hear because of the wheeziness in his voice. He sighed and lay back in bed, feeling the cool white sheets and the warm breeze coming in through the window. Presently his sadness went and the euphoric feeling returned because he was tired and knew he could sleep and that when he woke she would be there. She would never desert him. She had said that in Paris.

It would be like …

Pownall's voice came cold and urgent through the voice-pipe above the pillow. ‘Forebridge – captain, sir.'

‘What is it, Pownall?'

‘
Camden
Castle
reports U.S.S.
John
F. Adams
stopped with ruptured main steam pipe. She is standing by her.'

‘Poor devils,' said Redman. ‘Rather them than us.'

‘Yes, sir.'

Redman lay back on the bunk watching the ice-hump in silent misery. He looked at the time. It was nearly twenty-three minutes since
Vengeful
and
Violent
had got back into station. His exhaustion was compounded by the struggle to breathe. His eyes smarted and were heavy with tiredness.

Oh God, let me sleep, he muttered. Let me sleep and not dream.

‘Radar impulses gaining in strength,
Herr
Kapitän.
' It was Ausfeld on the voice-pipe. ‘Starboard astern sector, estimated range six thousand metres, closing.'

Kleber said, ‘Good.' He stood for a moment looking back into the dark tumult of wind and sea, knowing that
somewhere
out there enemy destroyers had picked up U-0117 on radar and were hunting him. Exultation overlaid instinctive fear, for he knew they must be the vanguard of the convoy bound for the Kola Inlet.

‘Clear the bridge!' he called, and in one motion pressed the diving-alarm and spoke into the voice-pipe. ‘Take her down to sixty metres, chief.'

Ulrich Heuser's deep voice came back at once, ‘Sixty
metres,
Herr
Kapitän.
'

As Schaffenhauser and the lookouts went through the upper hatch Kleber shut off the bridge voice-pipe and took a last look round. Then he followed, shutting the hatch behind him and ramming home the clips. Next he went through the lower hatch, Schaffenhauser shut it and clipped it fast. The diving-alarm blared above the piercing hiss of air escaping from the ballast tanks as they flooded, and U-0117's bows dipped down for the dive. Before long the boat had left the steep seas of the surface and the motion steadied as she went deeper. The noisy clatter of diesels had given way to the rhythmic hum of electric motors and
ventilating
fans, and the boat was free from vibration.

Standing at the small chart-table where Dieter Leuner was marking the diving position, Kleber thought about the relative ranges and bearings of U-0117, the hunting destroyers and the convoy ahead of which they must have been
steaming
. It was important to have a clear mental picture of what was happening on the surface.

From Heuser, standing behind the planesmen watching the depth gauges, came sharp orders as he sought to
maintain
the desired angle of dive. ‘Sixty metres,
Herr
Kapitän,
' he reported, levelling off the trim.

‘Hold her there, chief,' said Kleber. ‘Steer one-one-zero. Revolutions for four knots. Silent running. Prepare for depth-charging.' Kleber had altered the submarine's course twenty degrees to starboard to reduce the noise interference of its own propellers on the hydrophones.

Ausfeld soon reported. ‘Propeller noises – destroyers – bearing green one-three-zero to one-four-zero. Estimated range five thousand metres.'

‘Any
pings
?'

‘Not yet,
Herr
Kapitän.
'

Kleber knew that if there were he'd probably have heard them himself. They were usually audible in the boat, even at fairly long range. There wasn't a man in the control-room who wasn't listening for them.

Kurt Rathfelder, the executive officer, reported the stem tube ready for firing an acoustic torpedo.

Kleber shook his head, strong white teeth showing between open lips. ‘We are going to find and shadow that convoy, Rathfelder. If we attack now the destroyers will
know
we are
here. As it is they think we are, but they have no certainty.' He looked at the chart again. It was damp and mildewed, difficult to mark with a pencil without damaging the paper. From the diving position, Dieter Leuner had laid off the range and bearing of the propeller noises. In that weather, decided Kleber, destroyers would not do much more than fourteen to fifteen knots, and they would be steering a
converging
course to intercept him. He did some mental
arithmetic
: within the next ten to fifteen minutes the enemy should have the submarine within asdic range. When
Aus-feld
reported hearing
pings
they'd dive deeper. There was plenty of water. The chart showed 250 to 300 metres.