Kleber's Convoy (15 page)

‘Yes,
Herr
Kapitän.
If we maintain our present course we pass ahead of it.'

‘Give me a course for interception. Assume the convoy to be steering south. Speed seven knots. We make twelve knots.'

Leuner set the factors on an inclination diagram and read off the answer. ‘We should steer zero-nine-five degrees,
Herr
Kapitän.'
He paused, measured, made a rapid calculation on a note-pad. ‘We should meet the advance escorts in approximately twenty minutes. The convoy itself about twenty to twenty-five minutes later.'

Kleber's eyes were bright with the excitement of danger. ‘Good,' he said. ‘Alter course now to zero-nine-five.' The navigaiting officer gave the order to the helmsman. Kleber
called Ausfeld on the voice-pipe. ‘What is the range and bearing?'

‘Fifteen thousand five hundred,
Herr
Kapitän.
But …' Ausfeld hesitated.

‘But what?' urged Kleber.

‘The signals are confused. Those that were nearest before the alteration of course are receding. Others which were farthest gain in strength. They cover a wide sector.'

Kleber said, ‘They must be redeploying the escorts. Detaching the outer screen to attack
Gruppe
Osten.
' He laughed gaily. ‘That is
Plan
X,
Ausfeld,' He quoted in scholarly overtones: ‘
It
will
be
the
duty
of
Gruppe
Osten
to
create
a
diver
sion
with
the
object
of
diluting
the
escort
force
prior
to
the
main
attack
down-wind
… I go now to the bridge. Let me know when the range is twelve thousand metres. Then we make the attack signal.'

Back on the bridge Kleber concentrated his faculties on a mental picture of the convoy ahead shrouded in darkness. He was barely conscious of the steep seas before which U-0117 ran, slithering and surging like a surf-rider, of the sting of sleet and snow driven by the wind; of the frost which numbed the flesh of his face outside its mask; of the buffeting of icy seas which flooded the small bridge, at times forcing its occupants to grip the rail and hold on for dear life or, losing their foothold, to rely on the steel belts which secured them to the superstructure.

The buzzer sounded again. ‘Estimated range of nearest signals twelve thousand metres,
Herr
Kapitän,
' reported Ausfeld.

‘Right. Transmit at once the shadowing report. Leuner has it ready. Conclude the message with “
KLEBER
closing down. Repeat
KLEBER
closing down – 12,000. Time of origin 1527”.'

On receipt of this signal the U-boats of
Gruppe
Kleber
knew that Kleber had dived and within minutes of its transmission they, too, had done so.

At a depth of one hundred and fifty metres, electric motors, ventilating fans and other auxiliary machinery humming in mechanical harmony, U-0117 moved along the course given by Dieter Leuner for interception of the convoy.

Immediately after the dive Kleber ordered the crew to action stations. Rathfelder reported bow and stern tubes ready for firing. Leuner went to the attack-computer in the conning-tower where the submarine's course and speed, the convoy's estimated course and speed and other data were fed in and the torpedo-firing angles computed.

There was an atmosphere of hushed expectancy in U-0117. The imminence of action, the knowledge that British escorts were notoriously efficient in dealing with U-boats, contributed to the fear and apprehension of the submarine's crew. With taut faces the men in the control-room watched their instruments under the keen eyes of Rathfelder and Heuser the engineer-officer.

Faces dark with anti-frost grease, eye-masks pushed up on foreheads, rubber diving suits still wet and glistening, Kleber, Rathfelder and the bridge dutymen were ready for their return to the bridge when the submarine surfaced. All knew that this was the crucial phase of the attack. Would U-0117 pass under the outer screen of destroyers undetected? Was the thermal layer beneath which the boat was moving sufficiently dense to deflect the asdic beams of the escorts? Were the other eight U-boats of
Gruppe
Osten
in position?

The control-room's muted lighting ensured that the vision of those who went to the bridge would not be impaired on surfacing. Now it dissembled into Dantesque patterns of light and shade the faces of the men and the complex of instruments and controls which they watched.

The atmosphere was fetid with odours of diesel oil, decaying food, sodden clothing, human bodies, and a faint trace of chlorine gas from the battery compartments below the control-room. Gas leaks caused by depth-charge damage on her last patrols were ‘supposed to have been made good
during U-0117's last refit in Trondheim, but the turn round had been a quick one and the workmanship less than thorough.

Ausfeld's voice broke the silence in the control-room. ‘Destroyer propeller noises ahead, red zero-two-zero to green zero-four-five. Low volume. Estimated range three thousand metres, closing steadily. No sound of asdic transmissions.'

Kleber replied, ‘Good. The thermal does its duty.' He turned to smile at Rathfelder and Heuser. The men in the control-room must see that he was not worried though he shared the fears which assailed them. Perhaps in greater degree. While the men had infinite faith in his skill and judgment, he knew better than anyone else the chances U-0117 was taking – and his own limitations.

‘Not long now,' he said in a low voice … ‘
Dann
begint
der
Spass
… then the fun starts.'

Reports from the sound-room told of the shrinking distance between the submarine and the destroyer screen. The approach of danger made mouths dry, muscles taut, eyes blink. Some men coughed, others clenched their teeth, bit on their lips or tapped with nervous fingers. Voices were lowered when reporting and men held their breath as if to aid the submarine's concealment.

At most there were now eight minutes before the destroyers reached U-0117.

Three questions nagged at Kleber. Would the temperature layer sufficiently mask them? Would the convoy alter course at the last moment and so confound the attack? How many of the
Gruppe
were ready and in position? At least, he consoled himself, I shall soon know.

When Ausfeld reported the range down to 2000 metres, Kleber turned to Heuser. ‘Rig for silent running. Fifty revolutions port and starboard engines. Strict silence throughout the boat.'

All ventilating fans, pump motors and other auxiliary machinery were stopped, and instruments not immediately needed were switched off. While thermal layers could deflect asdic beams they could not mask every sound in a U-boat. Now all that could be heard in U-0117 was the almost inaudible hum of the electric motors turning at slow speed, and Heuser's low key orders to the planesmen as he watched the depth gauges.

The absence of asdic
pings
indicated that the sonic beams
were bouncing off the temperature layer but, despite the thermal, Ausfeld's hushed report, ‘Range five hundred metres,' was followed not long afterwards by the faint
shush-shush-
shush
of churning propellers.

‘Destroyer propeller noises passing overhead. Close to port.' Ausfeld's deep voice was muted. ‘Bearing moving ahead. Range opening.'

Men bent their heads as if to avoid the destroyer above, prayed or swore under their breath and later sighed with relief as the muffled thrashing grew fainter.

‘We're through the outer screen,' said Kleber. ‘Another five or six miles to the close escorts and the convoy.'

Rathfelder said, ‘I hope the other boats of the
Gruppe
are as lucky as U-0117,
Herr
Kapitän.
'

‘Not luck, Rathfelder.' Kleber's retort was sharp. ‘Skill and guts.' He paused. ‘But I'll grant you the weather is on our side.' Then he laughed to show the incident was forgotten. The men in the control-room silently thanked God for Kleber.

The ventilating fans were switched on and the hum of the electric motors reached a higher pitch as speed was increased. Twenty long drawn-out minutes – seeming to some like twenty hours-ticked away on the control-room clock before Ausfeld made the report Kleber had long awaited. ‘Numerous propeller noises ahead and to starboard. Reciprocating engines. Spread over a wide sector. Estimated range three thousand metres.'

‘The convoy,' said Kleber without emotion. ‘It has not altered course. We come in on its starboard flank.' He added, ‘In about seven minutes we go under the close escorts.' He turned to Rathfelder. ‘Pass that message to all compartments and stand by for surfacing.'

‘
Jahwol,
Herr
Kapitän.
'

As the minutes drifted away, Kleber focused his thoughts on the coming attack. Somewhere, not far away, were the other eight U-boats of
Gruppe
Kleber.
The absence of reports of depth-charge explosions from the sound-room – they could be heard at considerable distances – was an assurance that no U-boat had yet been attacked. He prayed that meant all had safely penetrated the outer screen.

‘Range one thousand metres,
Herr
Kapitän.
'

Again all ventilating fans, ballast and bilge pumps were
shut off, speed was reduced to a bare minimum, and silent running was ordered. Once more the
shush-shush-shush
of propeller noises could be heard, this time against the faint but insistent background of a host of others. Kleber took a last look at the clock over the chart-table before moving to the periscope well. With steep seas and a blizzard superimposed on Arctic darkness he did not expect to see anything, but the superb Zeiss lenses would pick up the bow-wave of a ship nearby, and any illumination, however slight, from the convoy. A quick sweep round with the periscope was a precaution he could not omit.

‘Bring her to periscope depth, chief,' he ordered. ‘I know it will be difficult to hold her there in this weather but do your best. And raise the
schnorchel
mast. I want to surface at maximum speed.' To Rathfelder he said, ‘Stand by all tubes.'

Orders were passed to the engine-room, to the men manning the hydrophones and valve controls. There was the hiss of escaping air as tanks were blown, the submarine took on a pronounced bows-up angle, and the readings on the depth-gauges dropped steadily as she made for the surface.

‘All tubes ready for firing,
Herr
Kapitän,
' reported Rathfelder.

The men in the control-room waited for the crucial report, each busy with his own thoughts and fears. Soon Heuser reported. ‘Periscope depth,
Herr
Kapitän.
Schnorchel
mast hoisted.' The submarine began to pitch and roll as she neared the turbulent surface water.

Kleber ordered, ‘Up periscope.'

An electric motor purred, the periscope came up from its well, Kleber knelt to meet it, snapping down the handles and rising with the instrument, his eyes pressed to the lens apertures. The deep roar of the diesels starting filled the boat, and welcome gusts of fresh air blew into the control-room through the
Schnorchel
vents.

There was a radar antenna on the
Schnorchel
and Ausfeld's report ‘Radar impulses on all sectors – maximum strength,' was no surprise to Kleber. U-0117 had got through the escort cordon. Heuser was having difficulty in holding trim as the submarine felt the effects of the steep seas above her. Bracing himself against the boat's sudden gyrations, Kleber swung the periscope through three hundred and sixty degrees. There was nothing to see but the white blur of wave crests
sweeping out of the darkness astern. The waves masked the periscope at times, shutting the float on the
Schnorchel
and creating a sudden vacuum which made men gasp for breath until the sea had passed and the float lifted to open the air intakes once more.

‘Stand by to surface,' Kleber's barked command concealed much tension. ‘Blow main ballast tanks. Stand by all tubes for firing.'

Ulrich Heuser repeated the orders. Once more there came the high pitched hiss of air forcing its way into flooded tanks. Soon afterwards Heuser reported, ‘Bridge clear,
Herr
Kapitän.'

Kleber said, ‘Both engines full ahead together. Give us everything she's got.'

Rathfelder released the clips on the conning-tower hatch as Kleber slipped on goggles, face mask and mittens and hurried up the steel ladder. Rathfelder and the bridge duty-men followed close behind.

The icy blast of the wind, the sting of sleet and snow struck them as they reached the bridge and clipped on their safety belts. The thunder of the diesels was challenged now by the roar of the wind and the seas surging past the conning-tower, their crests flooding the small bridge from time to time. U-0117 was driving down-wind, slicing through steep seas, the now moderate south-westerly gale astern.

From the sound-room came Ausfeld's urgent report. ‘Numerous radar transmissions to port and starboard. Maximum strength.'

Kleber raised the Zeiss night glasses and swung them in a wide arc looking for a break in the wall of darkness. He picked up a white bow-wave as an excited shout came from a lookout. ‘Ship close ahead to starboard.' It was less than three hundred metres away. In the submarine the crew could hear the drumming of countless propellers. It was an ominous sound, increasing steadily in volume.

Redman was on
Vengeful
's bridge at 1440 when the
bridge-speaker
relayed the Vice-Admiral's signal ordering the convoy to prepare for a ninety-degree wheel to starboard to a course of 210 degrees, the Fifty-Seventh Escort Group to proceed with dispatch to the eastward to attack the concentration of U-boats on the north-western rim of the Skolpen Bank,
while the Home Fleet destroyers moved up from their fighting stations to form the new outer screen. The signal concluded with an order to the close escort, the Eighty-Third Group, to place six of its eight ships on the port flank of JW 137 on which side the attack was expected.

At 1500 the flagship ordered execution of the signal. The convoy immediately commenced its wheel to starboard, the corvettes and frigates of the close screen proceeded to their new stations, while the Home Fleet destroyers moved up at speed through rough seas to form the outer screen in place of the Fifty-Seventh Escort Group now making for the U-boats off the Skolpen Bank. The nearest of these was estimated to be within twenty to twenty-five miles.

By 1530 the Twenty-Seventh Escort Group was in radar contact with U-boats at an initial range of eight thousand yards which, under the weather conditions prevailing, was no worse than expected.

At from four to five thousand yards, the targets disappeared from radar screens and it was evident they had dived. The escorts then carried out an A/S search in the course of which
Vectis
and
Bluebird
obtained firm asdic contact with a U-boat close to the Bank where shoaling water had failed to provide a temperature layer. After a short sharp hunt with intensive depth-charging the U-boat was blown to the surface. It dived again almost immediately, only to be caught squarely in the centre of a shallow pattern dropped by
Vectis
. The U-boat's bows lifted high above the surface before it sank stern first. There were no survivors.

Soon afterwards the destroyer
Whippet
reported an asdic contact and was joined by the sloop
Chaffinch.
While making her run-in to depth-charge the U-boat,
Chaffinch's
stern was blown off by a
gnat
torpedo. The sloop sank rapidly and with heavy loss of life.
Vengeful
– contrary to standing orders, and explicit instructions at the convoy conference in Loch Ewe – stopped to pick up survivors.

Whippet
held on to the asdic contact, and
Vallance
was ordered to join her. The captain of
Vallance
decided on his own initiative to cease asdic and radar transmissions and close
Whippet
at comparatively low speed. This sneak tactic soon paid a dividend.
Vallance
,
keeping an asdic listening
watch, picked up strong HE,
1
classified it as U-boat propeller noises, and steamed up the bearing until she almost stumbled over the submarine which, aware that her
gnat
had sunk an attacking ship, was surfacing to make up-wind in pursuit of the convoy. The U-boat surfaced two cables ahead of
Vallance,
fine on her starboard bow, and was caught and held in the destroyer's searchlight.

The submarine crash-dived, turning sharply to port, but
Vallance
was on to her like a terrier after a rat. Swinging to port the destroyer fired her ‘hedgehog' before the U-boat had time to go deep. The pattern of mortar charges plummeted into the water into which the submarine's bows were turning.