(Story) U-104

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 19th January 1941, U-104, 150km south of Greenland.

Today things went pretty much the same as the days before, until BdU finally managed to send a message to us. They couldn’t contact us for the past few days because of a storm in Europe. After going through the missing information we couldn’t receive and after stating the situation of the three vessels, BdU ordered “Lucky Halibut” to escort “Sharkfin” back to France as soon as repairs and refitting are finished. God knows when that will be, since the storm is still raging and we can just speculate about the external damage to the Sharkfin.

Oh, the “Lucky Halibut” is us, the U-104. I should’ve written that sooner. It is a mock name that the Sharkfin’s crew thought up, since they began to believe the number of ships we sank. They say our boat must be really lucky, because we met a lot of unarmed lonely merchants and our torpedoes rarely missed or malfunctioned. We have sunk over 67000 tons of merchantry already! Anyhow, the name stuck to us, partly because there is nothing to do to forget. I don’t have any work at all, since all the radio chatter is done by the supply ship and a bed was set up in our radio room anyway.

Regarding the damage to the Sharkfin – either of their port engines won’t turn, which would indicate a problem with the propeller or the drive shaft. Also, their rudder can’t move left more than a few degrees. Escorting Sharkfin means no additional danger for us, since the VIIC can dive faster than us even on one engine and it is a far smaller target for British sonars. The thing that bothers me is that VIICs are a lot slower on paper then IXBs. And they have working engines and rudder on paper. This patrol can still be very long.



Note – I took a short pause on my writing to relax and stir my imagination a bit. If I wrote several entries every day, the quality would go down. Anyway, on the pause I was thinking about how would an average person write a diary in a sub, so I can write more realistically. For example if you wrote an entry every evening, you would probably first write about the big things that happened that day, then you would remember some smaller stuff from the afternoon. But you would often forget about some minor things that happened in the morning. So basically, I already left out some stuff intentionally. It may be unnoticeable (is that a word?) by a reader, but it makes me happier.

Dude, love your story! I wrote a creative writing story last year for a school assessment as a captain of a U-Boot, but never thought of using the crew perspective, and yours is so much better. Keep 'em rolling off the spillway my friend

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 20th January 1941, U-104, 150km south of Greenland.

The fog cleared overnight, and the storm ventured to the northwest. At dawn, the sea calmed down its eternal rocking and we finally started the preparations for our way home. We began pumping diesel and loading torpedoes to the Lucky Halibut using the supply ship’s crane. Meanwhile, the Sharkfin had its port propeller bended back to its proper place and they were working on fixing their rudder.

When I saw the back of the Sharkfin, I couldn’t believe it still floated. It looked like someone tried to open the back of the boat with a huge can opener and when he failed, he at least battered the can with a hammer. The place where the aft tube should be, was now outside the boat. The Sharkfin was lucky that there was no torpedo in there when the depth charge hit them. And that the pressure hull didn’t let go.

The days are very short this far north, so we managed to load only three torpedoes before the sunset. The sea and sky cleared some more, the rain stopped completely. Our diesel tanks were nearly full, so we dived and began to run maintenance of everything. The Lucky Halibut needed it, nothing was ready for our departure. Except us. We were dying to get home. In high hopes of getting back to Europe in full health with amazing results and only a few scars on our trusty little boat, we worked hard, so we can surface. And head home.



Note – Yes, Manfred did just call the enormous IXB a “little boat”. Blame him, even being one of the bigger types of U-boat, it was still damn cramped inside.

[MantiBrutalis]

As experienced by captain Georg Braun, 20th January 1941, 9 PM, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, 150km south of Greenland.

Excellent. The boat has passed all tests without a problem. Even with the slight damage from the collision, we just went to 100 meters like nothing happened. Now just to check that the observation periscope works too. I forgot to try it, we didn’t need it since the collision. Just a peak above the water and we’re clear to go. To go slowly to Europe, helping those jealous bastards get home. There will be no hunting this trip.

“Not a dribble, sir, the Lucky Halibut is in a great shape.”

Lucky Halibut my ass. I hate the name, but the crew decided to go with it. Well… Whatever.

“Sound contact! One engine, 40 degrees, close, moving slow.”

So they are trying to start up the second engine. We would be much faster if both their engines worked.

I go through the door to the radio room, lean to the wooden wall there. Bollmann is writing his diary again. He does it usually when we are underwater, since we can’t receive radio messages. I turn to Max.

“What do you hear?”
“One engine.”
“I mean what does it sound like?” I ask impatiently.
He looks puzzled for a moment, then he focuses on the headphones: “Sounds normal to me, sir.”

The broken propeller should make a distinctive sound – when I saw it I though it will be useless. It’s trashed, it doesn’t even look like a propeller anymore.

“Periscope depth,” report comes from the control room. I begin to leave, when Max suddenly adds more.

“Second engine. Doesn’t sound very healthy.”

At least something, I smile to myself. “Get the observation periscope up,” I order.
“Yes, sir.”

“Their undamaged engine stopped. The other makes a very bad noise, and it is getting worse.”

Damn. It may not work after all. I go back to the control room, right to the periscope. 40 degrees. There. The Sharkfin is slowly reversing toward the supply ship. Why would they try the engine on reverse first? And if they want to get something from the supply ship, why would they use only the broken engine to get to it? I can see two men crouching on the back of the Sharkfin, looking at their propellers and waving arms. I can’t see clearly, it is dark already.

“Something is wrong…” I murmur to myself.
“Sir?”
“Ahead full, surface the boat, hard to starboard.”

I continue to look through the periscope. Sharkfin is still closing to the supply ship’s side. More people come out of the boat, some of them now lie on the deck. What the hell is happening?

Suddenly, a cloud of black smoke emerges from the Sharkfin’s tower. Fire??? We have to hurry. Come on, come up, come up!

[MantiBrutalis]

As experienced by watchman Ludwig Peters, 20th January 1941, 9 PM, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, 150km south of Greenland.

We just climbed to the tower with the captain, seeing the Sharkfin some 400 meters away from the supply ship, but closing fast.

“Rudder straight, Ahead flank!” the captain shouted down the hatch.
“What are we going to do, captain?” I ask.
“We have to do something. The Sharkfin is doing some 5 knots now. If it hits the supply ship, it could be ugly. It is freshly packed with fuel and ammunition.”

We sail to the Sharkfin as fast as we can. The captain leads us to its right side. When we are finally at hearing range, captain tries to find out what is going on.

“What are you doing?! What is on fire?!” the captain shouts. There are more than 15 people on Sharfin’s deck now.
“The engine caught fire and it can’t be stopped!” a sailor stands up.
“You have to steer clear of the supply ship!”
“The rudder controls aren’t working, we were just repairing them!”
“Dammit. Then dive, just don’t hit the supply ship!”
The man on the deck is out of breath now, he just silently points to the pillar of black smoke and then crouches again.

“Dammit,” the captain isn’t shouting anymore, he talks to himself rather to than to us.
“Why isn’t the supply ship moving out of the way? They have to see what’s happening.”

Both U-boats are some 200 meters from the ship now.

“Dammit. Maintain speed! Rudder 4 degrees port!”
The boats approach each other slowly.
The captain shouts to all of us: “Hold on to something!”

The boats hit each other with a loud thud. Then metal grinds metal, we are a bit faster than the Sharkfin.

“A bit slower! Rudder 10 degrees port! We have to make it in time!”

We are closing to the back of the supply ship. Will the captain manage to do this? This is crazy! Well, it’s probably safer than to let the collision have its way…




Note – I did say that this patrol will be written in a rush, didn’t I? Well… Looks like I won’t get to play this career for a little longer than I thought.

[MantiBrutalis]

~~~Not part of the story~~~

Let’s take a break from the action to honor the real U-104 by learning something about its history.

U-104 was one of the 14 IXB type German U-boats, it was commissioned to the Kriegsmarine in August 1940, under Kapitänleutnant Harald Jürst. It was stationed in Wilhelmshaven, and it wasn’t quite as lucky as the imaginary Lucky Halibut.

On its first patrol, which started 12th November, U-104 sank British merchant Diplomat and damaged British motor tanker Charles F. Meyer north of Scotland. On 28th November, contact was lost with U-104, which has been most likely sunk by a newly laid minefield north of Ireland. No survivor or wreck of U-104 was ever found.

The information posted here can be false, and was taken from Wikipedia and uboat.net. Since its service was not very long, not much info can be found about it. Also, if you type “U-104” in Google, some very weird stuff comes up. The only known photo of U-104 is already posted here http://www.subsim.com/radioroom/show....php?p=1074917, revealing its emblem, yet other sources indicate that U-104 had no emblem at all. I would like a confirmation that U-104 is indeed on that photo and where it was found.

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 21st January 1941, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, somewhere in the Atlantic.

A whole lot happened yesterday when I finished writing that day’s diary entry. When we came above the water to leave, we found that Sharkfin’s port engine is stuck in reverse and on fire. The Sharkfin was heading straight for the supply ship, which engines couldn’t be started. Our captain decided to steer the Sharkfin with our own boat, which eventually saved the situation, although the smaller Sharkfin did suffer some damage to its outer plating.

Quick communication with BdU after the incident revealed, that the Belchen supply ship’s crew will be punished at appropriate time for poor maintenance of their ship, but for now they have to stay in position and help with repairing of U-81 “Sharkfin”. On the other hand, our crew was praised and BdU suggested decoration. Meanwhile, we were ordered to take transportable wounded man back to Europe as soon as possible.

Later that night, we have started our return to France with 6 wounded men on board. Five of them have serious burns, the last one has broken his leg when climbing the smoke-filled tower. Nobody has died in the accident, but one sailor couldn’t be transported, because of the extent of his burns, and is being treated on the supply ship.

We are finally heading home in our yet again scratched boat.




Note 1 – I should hand out quite a few medals and relieve part of my crew of active duty after this demanding patrol, right?

Note 2 – For those of you, who don’t like that I included stuff that didn’t and can’t happen in the game, don’t worry. I just saw this opportunity (really, how often can you stay in a vicinity of a friendly vessel for more than a few hours?) to spice the story up a bit, so it isn’t that boring and hollow. I don’t see it happening soon or very often, since these ideas and opportunities just don’t come often in Silent Hunter 3.

[MantiBrutalis]

As experienced by doctor Fritz Matuszak, 24th January 1941, 5 AM, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, somewhere in the Atlantic.

Finally bed. Finally going to sleep.

These past days were one of the hardest I spent on a U-boat. We are on the sea for a long time now and the crew is getting very exhausted. I can see it. They don’t pay as much attention to their jobs as they should. Doing mistakes. Yesterday, one of the “deft boys” came with blood all over his shirt, he lost an index finger to an engine. The crew isn’t used to this, because we were never on the sea for so long.

But we have to get used to this. It is only logical that the smaller short-ranged VII boats will do better around Europe with all these planes around. We will be assigned only west and south Atlantic grids from now on, to stay away from British air cover.

“Hey doc, you will probably get relieved of duty, what are you gonna do with all the free time?” Arnold asked.

“I’m thinking about staying with you boys a little longer. You wouldn’t even wipe yourselves if I wasn’t scolding you about hygiene all the time.”

“Come on doc, you deserve some rest. You and the few guys from Cloverleaf were on how many now? 9 patrols?”

“This is our eighth one. And if you want me to rest, let me sleep. Wake me up in two hours, ok?” I have to suppress a yawn.

“Two hours?! Get some more sleep, fool.”

“I can’t if I want to see the Sharkfin’s boys through this. One of them is getting worse, I have to check him again soon. Now let me have my rest.” I turn around and make myself as comfortable as this bed allows me.

A lot of work for me, these burned ones. And hygiene got pretty bad when waiting with additional men on board near the supply ship. I need to finish examinations of the crew tomorrow. And I have to check captain’s nose again. It doesn’t look that bad, but when I met him today, I noted that he still can’t breathe. I have to admit, he is quite a thorn to the British.

British… How are they even fighting, our forces should be much stronger and more prepared than theirs. How could they hold out the aerial onslaught German forces brought? Looks like someone in High Command isn’t as good as claimed.

Slowly, my mind falls to sleep, fading slowly… On the edge of my consciousness I hear our radioman: “Radio report… …British convoy, close… … … north, 250 kilometers…”

The boat tilts to the right, waking me up again. Convoy, great. Just what we needed. I try to sleep again, but rushed preparations for the encounter keep waking me up…

[MantiBrutalis]

As experienced by doctor Fritz Matuszak, 24th January 1941, 8 AM, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, somewhere in the Atlantic.

I make my way through the boat. Another explosion, I fall down and stand up again. My battered and bruised body doesn’t even register the pain from hitting a pipe with my shoulder. I make two more steps, then I have to make way for Claus, who is dragging someone unconscious with his shirt torn and bloody.

“Put him to bed, try to be careful,” I whisper an order.

We will die here. But I have to try to save as many of us as I can. Another man dragging his wounded comrade goes through. Explosion, far. Second one, much closer. I brace for the third one, it could be right on top of us.

Bam! The pipe I hit just seconds ago goes off, water spilling everywhere. Then the bolts give away and shoot though the boat. Darkness. Few seconds pass by, water hissing through the boat, whispering going on somewhere. Lights flicker like they can’t decide if to help us survive or rather hide death, blood and water in darkness.

I look around, see water still rising, now higher than my knees. Another set of explosions. The boat rocks left and right, sitting on the sea floor. The lights choose to help us and begin to work fulltime.

A whisper comes: “Doc, help me with him.”
The wounded man was barely standing while trying to keep the sailor who was dragging him before above water. They positions now reversed. I approach the duo, help to get the fallen man from the water. Quick examination reveals two bolts buried themselves in the poor chap’s chest. His blood is spilling everywhere, but he still breathes, although he is unconscious.

“Hold him, I have to take out the bolts.”
But before we are able to do anything, he twitches and then sags. I examine him again, he is not breathing.

“Come on, stay with me!” I begin to shout while trying to improvise a hearth massage against a wall. Nobody cares about me being loud at this point. “Come one! Wake up! Wake up!!!”

“… Wake up… … … Wake up, doc.”

I open my eyes, sweat all over the bed.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep a bit more, doc?”

“No. I have to save some lives,” I answer.
Arnold frowns, then asks the obvious: “Nightmares?”
I wipe the sweat of my face. “Scapa Flow, Cloverleaf. Engines dead, bottom of the sea. They kept depth charging us for hours. Many good men died, I couldn’t save them.”
He makes even sadder face, but doesn’t say anything.
“Are we at the convoy?” I change the subject.
“Two more hours before we dive in its path,” he responses quietly. “Do you need my help, doc?”
“Yes, thank you.”

[RustySubmarine]

I reckon you should write a book about this. Going off the story so far it is as good as any other published material I have read, from well known WWII Naval authors.

[MantiBrutalis]

~~~Not part of the story~~~

Let’s take a break from the action to honor the real U-1 and U-81 German U-boats by looking into their history.

U-1 was one of the 6 IIA type German U-boats. It was the first WW2 U-boat built in Germany, after Adolf Hitler repealed the Treaty of Versailles in 1935. The U-1 was built rapidly in a few months. This fact and German yet untested technologies caused the boat to be constructed poorly. The boat was slower than intended and often leaked, making it unreliable. Most of the II type boats were meant to be used to training only, but because of lack of units, the U-1 sailed on 2 war patrols. Training on this boat took place in Netherlands.

In spring of 1940, the U-1 sailed against British off Norway, but did not encounter any shipping. On 4th April, she sailed again, only to be lost on 6th April to either a newly laid British minefield No 7 or to a mine delivered by British sub HMS Narwhal west of Helgoland. The U-1 and her 24 sailors were never found.


U-81 was one of many VIIC type German U-boats. She was launched in spring of 1941 and served two captains in 17 patrols. She was a successful boat, sinking 24 ships during her career totaling over 63 thousand tons. In November 1941, the U-81 entered the Mediterranean on her second attempt (being detected and damaged on her first attempt). During her passage of Gibraltar, she sank the British aircraft carrier HMS Ark Royal with one torpedo, avoiding any damage from the British escort’s retaliation. The 22 600 tons heavy HMS Ark Royal sank after 12 hours, only one life claimed out of her 1580 sailors.

In the Mediterranean, the U-81 was successfully deployed against British shipping, finally sank by US bombers while docked in Pola, Croatia in January 1944. The wreck was raised in April that year and broken up. The sinking of U-81 claimed only two lives.

Information taken from Wikipedia and uboat.net, check these sites to get precise information on the U-1 and a ton of additional info on the careers of U-81 and HMS Ark Royal. Photos of both U-boats can be found in this thread: http://www.subsim.com/radioroom/showthread.php?t=149950.



@RustySubmarine: You must be out of your mind, my friend. Everything I know about submarines is from games and Wikipedia, the story can be (and probably is) very inaccurate. Also, I consider this a training of my poor English, I am not a native English speaker and I believe there are MANY mistakes in the story. I have a lot more reasons to think that idea silly, but I don’t want to start a discussion here. Maybe in a separate thread or through PM. In short – this story is far from publishable material.

EDIT1 - I do not mind an encouraging or critical comment every now and then, but if you want to say something about the story but don't want to clog the thread up, you can PM me any time. I don't complain now, the comments so far made me work harder to bring you better and more detailed story.

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 24th January 1941, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, somewhere in the Atlantic.

It has been 4 hours now, since we launched our last torpedoes against a convoy we met. It has been 4 hours now since the British started hunting us. I have nothing to do, I can’t help with anything right now, so to steady my mind and banish the fear back from where it came, I write.

Three torpedoes fired. Two at a bigger merchant, the last one heading toward a smaller one. As we dived and tried to disappear, we could hear all of them explode and one ship sinking right away. It was a huge convoy, more than 30 merchant ships and at least 8 escorts, which immediately started looking for us with the intention to send us where we sent one of their merchants. Since then, at least 3 escorts take turns in attack runs and pinging – but we had gone deep enough before they could react.

Nearly an hour ago, we could hear a pair of ships crumbling under the pressure. They were too far apart to be one ship broken in half. The captain was puzzled by this for a while, but soon he accepted that one of the torpedoes missed and hit another ship. Even now, issuing orders of evasive maneuvers from here, the sonar room, his face is amusingly torn between the pleasure of sinking three ships and upset of missing a shot. Meanwhile, he keeps cooperating with Max to keep us out of harm’s way. And he does a brilliant job. The fact that we are under 180 meters of water helps a lot.

But the pinging. Faint, because of our depth, but persistent and never-ending. The pinging kills us piece by piece inside. No sound, complete silence, just the pinging. Then the sound stops to let us admire how many more barrels are the British determined to drop to get rid of us. Four or five explosions… and pinging again. I have to keep my mind working to stay sane.

I wonder if there is any snow back in France. Seeing an open field under a snow blanket, that’s what I need now. The freedom to move around, the feeling of having solid earth under my feet. Alcohol. Women. If we get home, I will reap those fruits, take them from those who don’t know what it’s like not to feel firm surface under them. I will enjoy all those things like there is no tomorrow. Oh, I hope so much that repairs of Lucky Halibut will take long. I love the boat, it means my life here. But I was born on land and I want to return to land and stay there as long as I can…

[CaptBones]

Originally Posted by MantiBrutalis

~~~Not part of the story~~~

Let’s take a break from the action to honor the real U-1 and U-81 German U-boats by looking into their history.

U-1 was one of the 6 IIA type German U-boats. It was the first WW2 U-boat built in Germany, after Adolf Hitler repealed the Treaty of Versailles in 1935. The U-1 was built rapidly in a few months. This fact and German yet untested technologies caused the boat to be constructed poorly. The boat was slower than intended and often leaked, making it unreliable. Most of the II type boats were meant to be used to training only, but because of lack of units, the U-1 sailed on 2 war patrols. Training on this boat took place in Netherlands.

In spring of 1940, the U-1 sailed against British off Norway, but did not encounter any shipping. On 4th April, she sailed again, only to be lost on 6th April to either a newly laid British minefield No 7 or to a mine delivered by British sub HMS Narwhal west of Helgoland. The U-1 and her 24 sailors were never found.


U-81 was one of many VIIC type German U-boats. She was launched in spring of 1941 and served two captains in 17 patrols. She was a successful boat, sinking 24 ships during her career totaling over 63 thousand tons. In November 1941, the U-81 entered the Mediterranean on her second attempt (being detected and damaged on her first attempt). During her passage of Gibraltar, she sunk the British aircraft carrier HMS Ark Royal with one torpedo, avoiding any damage from the British escort’s retaliation. The 22 600 tons heavy HMS Ark Royal sunk after 12 hours, only one life claimed out of her 1580 sailors.

In the Mediterranean, the U-81 was successfully deployed against British shipping, finally sunk by US bombers while docked in Pola, Croatia in January 1944. The wreck was raised in April that year and broken up. The sinking of U-81 claimed only two lives.


Information taken from Wikipedia and uboat.net, check these sites to get precise information on the U-1 and a ton of additional info on the careers of U-81 and HMS Ark Royal. Photos of both U-boats can be found in this thread: http://www.subsim.com/radioroom/showthread.php?t=149950.

@RustySubmarine: You must be out of your mind, my friend. Everything I know about submarines is from games and Wikipedia, the story can be (and probably is) very inaccurate. Also, I consider this a training of my poor English, I am not a native English speaker and I believe there are MANY mistakes in the story. I have a lot more reasons to think that idea silly, but I don’t want to start a discussion here. Maybe in a separate thread or through PM. In short – this story is far from publishable material.

EDIT1 - I do not mind an encouraging or critical comment every now and then, but if you want to say something about the story but don't want to clog the thread up, you can PM me any time. I don't complain now, the comments so far made me work harder to bring you better and more detailed story.

Manti,

Your story is really good work, particularly in view of the knowledge base that you mentioned and being a non-native English speaker. In fact, your English is better than just about any U.S. high-school graduate (and most U.S. college graduates) that I've interviewed, hired and supervised over the past fifteen years. Frankly, at this point I'd say it's as accurate as anything produced by Tom Clancy and the lot of other writers today of similar fiction. Keep it going please, I'm truly enjoying the tale of the "Lucky Halibut" and Mssrs. Bollmann and Matuszak (you must be taking some of your inspiration from Patrick O'Brian's "Jack Aubrey" novels?).

Best wishes...

[spartan21071]

Great post, Great read! Thank you.

[MantiBrutalis]

Diary of Manfred Bollmann, 25th January 1941, U-104 “Lucky Halibut”, somewhere in the Atlantic.

The convoy left with its escort in the morning. The British had kept looking for us through the entire night, but they had begun saving their ammunition after midnight. After noon, the captain decided that we waited long enough, so we checked if there weren’t any strugglers left. Then we’ve set our course to Lorient.

The crew has been quite euphoric since our encounter with the last convoy; we have no torpedoes left, the sea is showing us its increasing strength, so our deck gun isn’t really much help either. This means we are going home. Finally. The only one who isn’t smiling like a child given a bag full of lollipops is our doctor. And nobody blames him – one of the burned guys from Sharkfin is getting worse by the minute. That is also why we’re racing back to France like there’s no tomorrow. There could be no tomorrow for the poor lad, if he doesn’t get proper hospital attention soon. We should get to Lorient in a few days if we maintain this pace.