John Schettler - Golem 7

His U-boat had an odd connection to events that were about to transpire. Newly built, it had the distinction to berth right next to the mighty Bismarck while she was also fitting out, and came to think of her as an elder sibling. When his boat was to be commissioned in late January, 1941, Wohlfarth had petitioned the splendid band aboard Bismarck to mark the event with a stirring song. To make his plea, he had gone so far as to send a cartooned drawing to the battleship’s Captain Lindemann, depicting his tiny U-boat as a bold knight fending off torpedo attacks against the larger German ship, and towing her safely away from harm. Lindemann was good humored enough to have it framed on his wardroom wall, and sent along his band. Thereafter, Wohlfarth had pledged he would defend the mighty Bismarck in any sea, and do his utmost to keep her from harm.

Now, however, he feasted on the slow, lumbering transports of convoy HX-126. On his inaugural cruise he had done quite well, sinking four other ships before he found this convoy. His tubes were running low on torpedoes, but he had enough left for one more good attack before he turned south for the safety of the U-boat pens on the French coast. The sea was clear and relatively calm that morning, and he quickly put two torpedoes into his forward tubes, ready for launch.

They lanced out against a hapless steamer, the Cockaponset , and quickly broke her back, capsizing her and sending her to the bottom in short order. Wohlfarth smiled at the hit through his periscope viewer, and gave the order to load tubes again.

“Just three fish left now,” his executive officer admonished.

“A pity,” said Wohlfarth. The convoy was wholly undefended. “We can pick them off at our leisure!”

“We might find better fare elsewhere,” his XO suggested. “These ships are no more than 5000 tonners. And don’t forget that signal from Group North, sir. There’s a major operation on, and Bismarck may be heading this way in time. We may have a chance to sail with her after all!”

“All the more reason to save a few torpedoes,” his navigator Souvad, put in, siding with the executive officer. “This whole area is likely to be full of British warships in little time if Bismarck attempts a breakout. If we could get a hit on a British cruiser it would be a Knight’s Cross and commendations for all.”

Wohlfarth thought, looking through his periscope again where another steamer was ponderously before him, silhouetted by the light of the burning oil slick from Cockaponset. Her name was British Security , a tanker, though he did not know that at the time; quite the misnomer, as her position could not be more insecure at that moment.

It was too much of a temptation, and Wohlfarth gave the order to fire. Two more torpedoes were soon on their way, and they struck the tanker fore and aft, assuring she would be a leaking, burning wreck within minutes.

“Looks like we hit an oiler,” said the captain.

“With two torpedoes, captain?” the navigator had an edge of protest in his voice. “One would have done nicely. Now we have only one fish left.”

“Thank you, sub-lieutenant,” Wohlfarth said quietly. He rotated his scope, scanning the horizon. There were plenty of ships he could maneuver on, though with only one torpedo remaining he would have to line up his position much more carefully. Perhaps he could find another straggler. The convoy was already making a hard 90 degree turn to try and escape. They would set loose more smoke rafts to mask their position, but it wouldn’t help them. Only the presence of an attacking British destroyer would matter now. But there were no destroyers or escorts in his immediate vicinity.

He thought for a moment. Six ships was not a bad tally for his first mission, but he wanted number seven, lucky seven, he thought. That would make a nice story back at the U-Boat pens in France… but if it were a British cruiser he might have the honor of telling it to Admiral Raeder himself!

“Very well,” he decided. “We’ll continue heading west and save our last torpedo for something better. But you had best find me a cruiser, sub-lieutenant Souvad.”

His navigator smiled. “I’ll do my best , sir.”

He would soon make good on that promise.

Days later,Tovey received the signals report with both excitement and apprehension. One of his cruisers had found the German task force near Iceland, pushing south into the Faeroes Gap and he immediately altered course to intercept. He was well south of the position reported by Arethusa , and so he took a direct route north, steering just shy of 360 and thinking to close the distance as quickly as possible. His course would take him directly across the westward path chosen by Wohlfarth’s navigator, and the plucky U-boat Captain would get his chance after all.

Tovey was on the bridge of King George V , occasionally using a pair of field glasses for a better look ahead, though his radar and watchmen would do the job for him well enough. They had been steaming at 27 knots for some hours now, eagerly awaiting the next report from their cruisers to the north. Yet Arethusa never reported again, and there was still no word from the next ship in the patrol line, HMS Manchester . What had happened? He was tempted to send out a wireless radio message, but knew that would only foolishly give away his own position. Yet where was Bismarck?

An hour later he had a message from the Admiralty informing him that they had a suspicious DH radio fix to his north, but there was no word from Arethusa . Ne noted the position and time on his chart, but the news gave him little comfort. A DH fix would have been obtained by a radio transmission intercept. Why would Bismarck break radio silence at a crucial moment like this… Unless it was to crow about her first kill, he thought. Was she still heading south on a collision course with his battle fleet, or had she steered southwest. In that case Hood and Prince of Wales would have to deal with her first. He had ordered Admiral Holland to also plot his best estimated intercept course, and so at that very moment Tovey was satisfied to know he now had four big ships bearing down on the scene, more than a match for Bismarck and her cruiser escort.

Yet those odds were soon about to change.

Unbeknownst to the admiral, a German U-boat, number 556, was gliding quietly beneath the turbulent waves above. It was the sister ship to boat 557, the very same U-boat that had sunk Tovey’s old light cruiser, the Galatea , off Alexandria. Somehow fate had entangled the two boats with Tovey’s life line, and U-556 was about to complicate his mission enormously.

The fleet was kicking up high spray as it labored through the heavy seas, and the sound of the churning props would make any hydrophone contact on the submersed sub impossible. Nor would radar do him any good, even if U-556 were to have surfaced. The tiny U-boat would be lost in the much higher wave crests, which were already sending false contact echoes back to the forward radar screens.

Aboard U-556 Captain Wohlfarth was informed of the noise of many turbines over head. His heart leapt, both with the danger and the opportunity this might afford him. Wary of running afoul of a lethal British destroyer, he nonetheless crept his boat quietly up to periscope depth, though he would be nearly exposed due to the turbulence above. The tiny boat heaved about in the high seas, but Wohlfarth was amazed when he looked through his periscope to see a line of large British warships steaming right across his path! If he fired quickly the chances of getting a hit were very good.