The Diary of a U boat Commander by Anon

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The quarters in this class are immensely superior to the U.C.-boats.
Here I have a little cabin to myself, with a knee-hole table in it. My
First Lieutenant, the Navigator and the Engineer have bunks in a room
together, and then we have a small officers' mess.

On this job up here, as we are not to return to Germany for supplies,
and, consequently, I should say we may have to live on what we can get
out of steamers, I don't propose to use my torpedoes unless I meet a
warship or an exceptionally large steamer.

The gun's the thing, as Arnauld de la Perrière has proved in the
Mediterranean; but half the fellows won't follow his example, simply
because they don't realize that it's no use employing the gun unless it
is used accurately, and good shooting only comes after long drill.

I have impressed this fact on my gun crew, and particularly the two
gun-layers, and I make Voigtman (my young First Lieutenant) take the
crew through their loading drill twice a day, together with practice of
rapid manning of the gun after a "surface" or rapid abandonment of the
gun should the diving alarms sound in the middle of practice. I have
also impressed on Voigtman that I consider that he is the gun control
officer, and that I expect him to make the efficient working of the gun
his main consideration.

As regards the crew, they are the usual mixed crowd that one gets
nowadays: half of them are old sailors, the others recruits and new
arrivals from the Fleet. My main business at the moment is to get the
youngsters into shape, and for this purpose I have been doing a number
of crash dives. It also gives me an opportunity of getting used to the
boat's peculiarities under water. She seems to have a tendency to
become tail-heavy, but this may be due to bad trimming.

Voigtman has been in U.B.43 for nine months, and seems a capable
officer. Socially, I don't think he can boast of much descent, but he
has no airs, and treats me with pleasing respect, apart from service
considerations.

* * * * *

A very awkward accident took place this morning, which resulted in
severe injury to Johann Wiener, my second coxswain.

A party of men under his direction were engaged in shifting the stern
torpedo from its tube, in order to replace it with a spare torpedo, as
I never allow any of my torpedoes to stay in the tube for more than a
week at a time owing to corrosion. The torpedo which had been in the
tube had been launched back and was on the floor plates.

The spare torpedo, destined for the vacant tube, was hanging overhead,
when without any warning the hook on the lifting band fractured, and
the 1,000 kilogrammes' mass of metal crashed down.

Wonderful to relate, no one was killed, but two men were badly bruised,
and Wiener has been very seriously injured. He was standing astride the
spare torpedo, and his right leg was extremely badly crushed, mostly
below the knee.

Unfortunately it took about ten minutes to release him from his
position of terrible agony. I should have expected him to faint, but he
did not. His face went dead white, and he began to sweat freely, but
otherwise endured his ordeal with praiseworthy fortitude.

[Illustration: "The 1,000 kilogrammes of metal crashed down."]

[Illustration: "Good-bye! Steer west for America!"]

[Illustration: "It is a snug anchorage and here I intend to remain."]

I am now confronted with a perplexing situation. I cannot take him back
to Germany; I cannot even leave my station and proceed south to any of
the Norwegian ports. If I could find a neutral steamer with a doctor on
board, I would tranship him to her; but the chances of this God-send
materializing are a thousand to one in these latitudes. If I sighted a
hospital ship I would close her, but as far as I know at present there
are no hospital ships running up here. The chances of outside
assistance may therefore be reckoned as nil. Wiener's hope of life
depends on me, and I cannot make up my mind to take the step which
sooner or later must be taken--that is to say, amputation.

It is a curious fact, but true, nevertheless, that although, as a
result of the war, men's lives, considered in quantity, seem of little
importance, when it comes to the individual case, a personal contact, a
man's life assumes all its pre-war importance.

I feel acutely my responsibility in this matter. I see from his papers
that he is a married man with a family; this seems to make it worse. I
feel that a whole chain of people depend on me.

* * * * *

Since I wrote the above words this morning, Wiener has taken a decided
turn for the worse.

I have been reading the "Medical Handbook," with reference to the
remarks on amputation, gangrene, etc., and I have also been examining
his leg. The poor devil is in great pain, and there is no doubt that
mortification has set in, as was indeed inevitable. I have decided that
he must have his last chance, and that at 8 p.m. to-night I will
endeavour to amputate.

_Midnight_.

I have done it--only partially successful.

* * * * *

Last night, in accordance with my decision, I operated on Wiener.
Voigtman assisted me. It was a terrible business, but I think it
desirable to record the details whilst they are fresh in my memory, as
a Court of Inquiry may be held later on. Voigtman and I spent the whole
afternoon in the study of such meagre details on the subject as are
available in the "Medical Handbook." We selected our knives and a saw
and sterilized them; we also disinfected our hands.

At 7.45 I dived the boat to sixty metres, at which depth the boat was
steady. We had done our best with the wardroom-table, and upon this the
patient was placed. I decided to amputate about four inches above the
knee, where the flesh still seemed sound. I considered it impracticable
to administer an anaesthetic, owing to my absolute inexperience in this
matter.

Three men held the patient down, as with a firm incision I began the
work. The sawing through the bone was an agonizing procedure, and I
needed all my resolution to complete the task. Up to this stage all had
gone as well as could be expected, when I suddenly went through the
last piece of bone and cut deep into the flesh on the other side. An
instantaneous gush of blood took place, and I realized that I had
unexpectedly severed the popliteal artery, before Voigtman, who was
tying the veins, was ready to deal with it.

I endeavoured to staunch the deadly flow by nipping the vein between my
thumb and forefinger, whilst Voigtman hastily tried to tie it. Thinking
it was tied, I released it, and alas! the flow at once started again;
once more I seized the vein, and once again Voigtman tried to tie it.
Useless--we could not stop the blood. He would undoubtedly have bled to
death before our eyes, had not Voigtman cauterized the place with an
electric soldering-iron which was handy.

Much shaken, I completed the amputation, and we dressed the stump as
well as we could.

At the moment of writing he is still alive, but as white as snow; he
must have lost litres of blood through that artery.

9 _p.m._

Wiener died two hours ago. I should say the immediate cause of death
was shock and loss of blood. I did my best.

* * * * *

We have been out on this extended patrol area seven days, but not a
wisp of smoke greets our eyes.

Nothing but sea, sea, sea. Oh, how monotonous it is! I cannot make out
where the shipping has got to. Tomorrow I am going to close the North
Cape again. I think everything must be going inside me. I am too far
out here.

* * * * *

The North Cape bears due east. Nothing afloat in sight. Where the devil
can all the shipping be? In ten days' time I am due to meet my supply
ship; meanwhile I think I'll have to take another cast out, of three
hundred miles or so.

* * * * *

Nothing in sight, nothing, nothing.

The barometer falling fast and we are in for a gale. I have decided to
make the coast again, as I don't want to fail to turn up punctually at
the rendezvous.

* * * * *

In the Standarak-Landholm Fjord--thank heavens.

Heavens! we have had a time. We were still two hundred and fifty miles
from the coast when we were caught by the gale. And a gale up here is a
gale, and no second thoughts about it. To say it blew with the force of
ten thousand devils is to understate the case. The sea came on to us in
huge foaming rollers like waves of attacking infantry intent on
overwhelming us.

We struggled east at about three knots. But she stuck it magnificently.
Low scudding clouds obscured the sky and came like a procession of
ghosts from the north-east. Sun observations were impossible for two
reasons. Firstly, no one could get on deck; secondly, there was no
visible sun. This lasted for three days, at the end of which time we
had only the vaguest idea as to where we were.

The gale then blew out, but, contrary to all expectations, was
succeeded by a most abominable fog, thick and white like cotton-wool.
These were hardly ideal conditions under which to close a rocky and
unknown coast, but it had to be done. The trouble was that it was
entirely useless taking soundings, as the twenty-metre depth-line on
the chart went right up to the land. We crept slowly eastwards, till,
when by dead reckoning we were ten miles inside the coast, the
Navigator accidentally leant on the whistle lever; this action on his
part probably saved the ship, as an immediate echo answered the blast.
In an instant we were going full-speed astern. We altered course
sixteen points and proceeded ten miles westerly, where we lay on and
off the coast all night, cursing the fog.

Next day it lifted, and we spent the whole time trying to find the
entrance to the S. Landholm Fjord. The coast appeared to bear no
resemblance to the chart whatsoever.

The cliffs stand up to a height of several hundred metres, with
occasional clefts where a stream runs down. There are no trees, houses,
animals, or any signs of life, except sea birds, of which there are
myriads. The Engineer declares he saw a reindeer, but five other people
on deck failed to see any signs of the beast.

After hours of nosing about, during which my heart was in my mouth, as
I quite expected to fetch up on a pinnacle rock, items which are
officially described in the Handbook as being "very numerous," we
rounded a bluff and got into a place which seems to answer the
description of S. Landholm. At any rate, it is a snug anchorage, and
here I intend to remain for a few days, and hope for my store-ship to
turn up.

I've posted a daylight look-out on top of the bluff; it would be very
awkward to be caught unawares in this place, which is only about 150
metres wide in places.

I'm taking advantage of the rest to give the crew some exercises and
execute various minor repairs to the Diesels.

* * * * *

Yesterday we fought what must be one of the most remarkable single-ship
actions of the war.

At 9 a.m. the look-out on the cliffs reported smoke to the northward.

I got the anchor up and made ready to push off, but still kept the
look-out ashore. At 9.30 he reported a destroyer in sight, which seemed
serious if she chose to look into my particular nook.

At any rate, I thought, I wouldn't be caught like a rat, so I got my
look-out on board--a matter of ten minutes--and then proceeded out,
trimmed down and ready for diving.

When I drew clear of the entrance I saw the enemy distant about a
thousand metres. I at once recognized her as being one of the oldest
type of Russian torpedo boats afloat. When I established this fact, a
devil entered into my mind, and did a most foolhardy act.

I decided that I would not retreat beneath the sea, but that I would
fight her as one service ship to another.

When I make up my mind, I do so in no uncertain manner--indecision is
abhorrent to me--and I sharply ordered, "Gun's Crew--Action."

I can still see the comical look of wonderment which passed over my
First Lieutenant's face, but he knows me, and did not hesitate an
instant. We drilled like a battleship, and in sixty-five seconds--I
timed it as a matter of interest--from my order we fired the first
shot. It fell short.

Extraordinary to relate, the torpedo boat, without firing a gun, put
her helm hard over, and started to steam away at her full speed, which
I suppose was about seventeen knots.

I actually began to chase her--a submarine chasing a torpedo boat! It
was ludicrous.

With broad smiles on their faces, my good gun's crew rapidly fired the
gun, and we had the satisfaction of striking her once, near her after
funnel, but it did no vital damage, as a few minutes afterwards she
drew out of range! What a pack of incompetent cowards!

They never fired a shot at us. I suppose half of them were drunk or
else in a state of semi-mutiny, for one hears strange tales of affairs
in Russia these days.

The whole incident was quite humorous, but I realized that I had hardly
been wise, as without doubt the English will hear of this, and these
trawlers of theirs will turn up, and I'm certainly not going to try any
heroics with John Bull, who is as tough a fighter as we are.

Meanwhile, what of the supply ship, for I'm supposed to meet her here,
and it's already twenty-four hours since yesterday's epoch-making
battle and I expect the English any moment.

* * * * *

My doubts were removed for me since I received special orders at noon
by high-power wireless from Nordreich, and on decoding them found that,
for some reason or other, we are ordered to proceed to Muckle Flugga
Cape, and thence down the coast of Shetlands to the Fair Island
Channel, where we are directed to cruise till further orders. Special
warning is included as to encountering friendly submarines.

It appears to me that a special concentration of U-boats is being
ordered round about the Orkneys, and that some big scheme is on hand.

We are now steering south-westerly to make Muckle Flugga, which I hope
to do in four days' time if the weather holds.

These Northern waters have proved very barren of shipping in the last
few weeks, and this fact, coupled with the approaching winter weather,
which must be fiendish in these latitudes, makes me quite ready to
exchange the Archangel billet for the work round the Orkneys and
Shetlands, though this is damnable enough in the winter, in all
conscience.

There is only one fly in the ointment, and that is that this premature
return to North Sea waters might conceivably mean a visit to Zeebrugge,
though this class are not likely to be sent there.

Though it is many weeks since I left Zoe, I have not been able to
forget her. I continually wonder what she is doing, and often when I am
not on my guard she wanders into my thoughts.

Whilst I am up here, it does not matter much, except that it causes me
unhappiness, but if I found myself at Bruges it would be very hard.
However, I don't suppose I shall ever see her again.

* * * * *

Sighted Muckle Flugga this morning, and shaped course for Fair Island.

* * * * *

Oh! what a hell I have passed through. I can hardly realize that I am
alive, but I am, though whether I shall be to-morrow morning is
doubtful--it all depends on the weather, and who would willingly stake
their life on North Sea weather at this time of the year?

Curses on the man who sent us to the Fair Island Channel. Where the
devil is our Intelligence Service? If we make Flanders I have a story
to tell that will open their eyes, blind bats that they are,
luxuriating in the comfort of their fat staff jobs ashore.

The Fair Island Channel is an English death-trap; it stinks with death.
By cursed luck we arrived there just as the English were trying one of
their new devices, and it is the devil. Exactly what the system is, I
don't quite know, and I hope never again to have to investigate it.

For forty-seven, hours we have been hunted like a rat, and now, with
the pressure hull leaking in three places, and the boat half full of
chlorine, we are struggling back on the surface, practically incapable
of diving at least for more than ten minutes at a time. Even on the
surface, with all the fans working, one must wear a gas mask to
penetrate the fore compartment. Oh! these English, what devils they
are!

Here is what happened:

Fair Island was away on our port beam when we sighted a large English
trawler, which I suspected of being a patrol. To be on the safe side, I
dived and proceeded at twenty metres for about an hour.

At 5 p.m. (approximately) I came up to periscope depth to have a look
round, but quickly dived again as I discovered a trawler, steering on
the same course as myself, about a thousand metres astern of me. This
was the more disconcerting, as in the short time at my disposal it
seemed to me that she was remarkably similar to the craft I had seen in
the afternoon, and yet this hardly seemed likely, as I did not think
she could have sighted me then.

On diving, I altered course ninety degrees, and proceeded for half an
hour at full speed, then altered another ninety degrees, in the same
direction as the previous alteration, and diving to thirty metres I
proceeded at dead slow. By midnight I had been diving so much that I
decided to get a charge on the batteries before dawn; I also wanted to
be up at 1 a.m. to make my position report.

I surfaced after a good look round through the right periscope, which,
as usual, revealed nothing. I had hardly got on the bridge, when a
flash of flame stabbed the night on the starboard beam and a shell
moaned just overhead.

I crash-dived at once, but could not get under before the enemy fired a
second shot at us, which fortunately missed us. As we dived I ordered
the helm hard a starboard, to counteract the expected depth-charge
attack. We must have been a hundred and fifty metres from the first
charge and a little below it, five others followed in rapid succession,
but were further away, and we suffered no damage beyond a couple of
broken lights. The situation was now extremely unpleasant. I did not
dare venture to the surface, and thus missed my 1 a.m. signal from
Headquarters. I wanted a charge badly, and so proceeded at the lowest
possible speed. At regular intervals our enemy dropped one depth-charge
somewhere astern of us, but these reports always seemed the same
distance away.

At dawn I very cautiously came up to periscope depth, and had a look.
To my consternation I discovered our relentless pursuer about 1,500
metres away on the port quarter. In some extraordinary manner he had
tracked us during the night.

I dived and altered course through ninety degrees to south.

At 9 a.m. a tremendous explosion shook the boat from stem to stern,
smashing several lights, and giving her a big inclination up by the
bow.

As I was only at twenty metres I feared the boat would break surface,
and our enemy was evidently very nearly right over us. I at once
ordered hard to dive, and went down to the great depth of ninety-five
metres.

A series of shattering explosions somewhere above us showed that we
were marked down, and we were only saved from destruction by our great
depth, the English charges being set apparently to about thirty metres.

At noon the situation was critical in the extreme. My battery density
was down to 1,150, the few lamps that I had burning were glowing with a
faint, dull red appearance, which eloquently told of the falling
voltage and the dying struggles of the battery.

The motors with all fields out were just going round. The faces of the
crew, pallid with exhaustion, seemed of an ivory whiteness in the dusky
gloom of the boat, which never resembled a gigantic and fantastically
ornamental coffin so closely as she did at that time.

The air was fetid. I struck a match; it went out in my fingers. The
slightest effort was an agony. I bent down to take off my sea-boots,
and cold sweat dropped off my forehead, and my pulse rose with a kind
of jerk to a rapid beating, like a hammer.

I left one sea-boot on.

At 1 p.m. a deputation of the crew came aft, and in whispered voices
implored me to surface the boat and make a last effort on the surface.
A muffled report, as our implacable enemy dropped a depth-charge
somewhere astern of us, added point to the conversation, and showed me
that our appearance on the surface could have but one end.

At 3 p.m. the second coxswain, who was working the hydroplanes, fell
off his stool in a dead faint.

At 3.30 p.m. the supreme crisis was reached: two more men fainted, and
I realized that if I did not surface at once I might find the crew
incapable of starting the Diesels.

At the order "Surface," a feeble cheer came from the men.

We surfaced, and I dragged myself-up to the conning tower. Luckily we
started the Diesels with ease, and in a few minutes gusts of beautiful
air were circulating through the boat.

Meanwhile, what of the enemy? I had half expected a shell as soon as we
came up, and it was with great anxiety that I looked round. We had been
slightly favoured by fortune in that the only thing in sight was a
trawler away on the port beam. It was our hunter.

I trimmed right down, hoping to avoid being seen, as it was essential
to stay on the surface and get some amperes into the battery. I also
altered course away from him.

It was about 5 p.m. that I saw two trawlers ahead, one on each bow. By
this time the boat's crew had quite recovered, but I did not wish to
dive, as the battery was still pitiably low. I gradually altered course
to north-east, but after half an hour's run I almost ran on top of a
group of patrols in the dusk.

I crash-dived, and they must have seen me go down, as a few minutes
later the boat was violently shaken by a depth-charge.

We were at twenty metres, still diving at the time. I consulted the
chart, but could find no bottoming ground within fifty miles, a
distance which was quite beyond my powers.

At 11 p.m. I simply had to come up again and get a charge on the
batteries.

From 7 p.m. to 10 p.m., at regular half-hourly intervals, a
depth-charge had gone off somewhere within a radius of two miles of me.
Needless to say, I was only crawling along at about one knot and
altering course frequently. What was so terrible was the patent fact
that the patrols in this area had evidently got some device which
enabled them to keep in continual touch with me to a certain extent.

These monotonous and regular depth-charges seemed to say: "We know, Oh!
U-boat, that we are somewhere near you, and here is a depth-charge just
to tell you that we haven't lost you yet." [1]

[Footnote 1: Karl was quite right; it is evident that he had the
misfortune to encounter one of our new hydrophone-hunting groups, just
started In the Fair Island Channel. The incident of the depth-charges
every half-hour was known as "Tickling up." Probably the patrol only
heard faint noises from him.--ETIENNE.]

As an hour had elapsed since the last depth-charge, I felt fairly happy
at coming up, and on making the surface I was delighted to find a
pitch-black night and a considerable sea. From 10 p.m. to 1 a.m. I
actually had three hours of peace, and in this period I managed to cram
a considerable amount of stuff into the batteries. The densities were
rising nicely and all seemed well, when I did what I now see was a very
foolish thing.

I made my 1 a.m. wireless report to Nordreich, in which I requested
orders at 3 a.m. and reported my position, together with the fact that
I had been badly hunted.

In twenty-five minutes they were on me again! I had most idiotically
assumed that the English had no directional wireless in these parts.
They have. They've got everything that they have ever tried up there;
it was concentrated in that infernal Fair Island Channel.

I was only saved by seeing a destroyer coming straight at me,
silhouetted against, the low-lying crescent of a new moon. When I dived
she was about six hundred metres away. As I have confessed to doing a
foolish thing, I give myself the pleasure of recording a cleverer move
on my part. I anticipated depth-charge attack as a matter of course,
but instead of going down to twenty-five metres, I kept her at twelve.

The depth-charges came all right, seven smashing explosions, but, as I
had calculated, they were set to go off at about thirty metres, and so
were well below me.

The boat was thrown bodily up by one, and I think the top of the
conning tower must have broken surface, but there was little danger of
this being seen in the prevailing water conditions.

* * * * *

I have just had to stop recording my experiences of the past
forty-eight hours, as the Navigator, who is on watch, sent down a
message to say that smoke was in sight.

The next hour was full of anxiety, but by hauling off to port we
managed to lose it. I then had a little food, and I will now conclude
my account before trying again to get some sleep.

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