suddenly upended, hung there in that state, quivering, then sank in a frothy gulp, and there was no sign in the boats of Chief Engineer Neil Robertson, or of the Second, Fourth, and Fifth Engineers, “who were just a little slow in leaving the engine room.”
In his report Gough complimented a half-dozen Lascars (East Indians) in his crew who had gone into No. 1 hold and, working up to their waists in water, tried to build up a bulkhead with bags; had the bulkhead collapsed, “all would have most certainly been drowned.” The boarding party reached Freetown Harbour at 2015 GMT on 1 May, where the Europeans, including Masters and Officers, were assigned tothe ghastly Grand Hotel and the native crew were placed in even grimmer boardinghouses. By 10 June, so far as Gough knew, the natives were still housed in squalid conditions, with awful food, if any, and no water for bathing, most of them afflicted with boils and diarrhea. The extent of the suffering caused by U-boat warfare was simply unknown to its perpetrators. 37
In London, Prime Minister Winston Churchill called the heavy sinkings “deplorable.” 38 His Anti-U-Boat Warfare Committee invited an explanation for the lack of air cover provided Convoy TS.37 from Sir Archibald Sinclair, Bt., M.P., Secretary of State for Air. Sinclair responded that, “Bad weather was responsible for the absence of air escort during the night on which the 7 ships had been sunk.” 39
Inside U-515, as the opening day of May drew to a close, Werner Henke received a
Funkspruch
(wireless signal) from BdU in Berlin acknowledging his report of the sinkings. It consisted of one word: BRAVO. Henke recorded his and the crew’s reaction to it:
Große Freude im Boot
—“Great elation in the boat.” 40
At midnight GST on 30 April/1 May, twenty-seven-year-old Kptlt. Harald Gelhaus, Commander of the Type IXB U-107, was on the surface pursuing a fast (“15 to 16 knots”), zigzagging, independent steamer on a northeasterly course in 47°49'N, 22°02'W, about 560 miles southwest from Cape Clear, Ireland. He was on his thirteenth
Feindfahrt
(war cruise), his tenth as a Commander. This steamer was his first target sighted since departing base at Lorient, France, on 24 April, and he still had his full complement of torpedoes fore and aft. If he had had to attempt this pursuit from astern, he might not have overhauled the target while it was still dark, since his own maximum speed under diesel power was only marginally better than the steamer’s. Fortunately, though, he stood at bow ahead position, and his only real problem would be in figuring out the steamer’s zigzag pattern. He writes in his KTB:
So I run in front of him with two engines at full speed, and I can just keep him in sight. Because of the high swell the bridge and funnel are often well out of the water. I hope he won’t see me.
As the steamer zigzagged to the west, the swell made it hard to keep him in the binoculars. Gelhaus made up his mind to attack with a three-eel fan shot (
Fächer)
when he next zigzagged east. But when that altered course came, it was so sharply to the east that Gelhaus’s bow was out of position, and he had to use his stern tubes, V and VI. Those two torpedoes were released at 0300 GST on a bearing of 70°, but with a variance of 6.4° between them; speed of target 16 knots; range 1,500 meters; running time 80 seconds:
A hit amidships, apparently in the engine room. There’s fumbling with flashlights on deck. It seems that the lifeboats are being readied for lowering. The steamer turns to port, slows, and loses steam. But to make sure he doesn’t get away, we point the bow at him at short range and launch a coup de grace from Tube II. After 29 seconds there’s a hit under the bridge. The steamer sinks a bit deeper and stops. Boats are lowered into the water. But because the ship still shows no sign of drowning, we give him another coup de grace, from Tube III, set at 7 meters depth. After 51 seconds
In his report Gough complimented a half-dozen Lascars (East Indians) in his crew who had gone into No. 1 hold and, working up to their waists in water, tried to build up a bulkhead with bags; had the bulkhead collapsed, “all would have most certainly been drowned.” The boarding party reached Freetown Harbour at 2015 GMT on 1 May, where the Europeans, including Masters and Officers, were assigned tothe ghastly Grand Hotel and the native crew were placed in even grimmer boardinghouses. By 10 June, so far as Gough knew, the natives were still housed in squalid conditions, with awful food, if any, and no water for bathing, most of them afflicted with boils and diarrhea. The extent of the suffering caused by U-boat warfare was simply unknown to its perpetrators. 37
In London, Prime Minister Winston Churchill called the heavy sinkings “deplorable.” 38 His Anti-U-Boat Warfare Committee invited an explanation for the lack of air cover provided Convoy TS.37 from Sir Archibald Sinclair, Bt., M.P., Secretary of State for Air. Sinclair responded that, “Bad weather was responsible for the absence of air escort during the night on which the 7 ships had been sunk.” 39
Inside U-515, as the opening day of May drew to a close, Werner Henke received a
Funkspruch
(wireless signal) from BdU in Berlin acknowledging his report of the sinkings. It consisted of one word: BRAVO. Henke recorded his and the crew’s reaction to it:
Große Freude im Boot
—“Great elation in the boat.” 40
At midnight GST on 30 April/1 May, twenty-seven-year-old Kptlt. Harald Gelhaus, Commander of the Type IXB U-107, was on the surface pursuing a fast (“15 to 16 knots”), zigzagging, independent steamer on a northeasterly course in 47°49'N, 22°02'W, about 560 miles southwest from Cape Clear, Ireland. He was on his thirteenth
Feindfahrt
(war cruise), his tenth as a Commander. This steamer was his first target sighted since departing base at Lorient, France, on 24 April, and he still had his full complement of torpedoes fore and aft. If he had had to attempt this pursuit from astern, he might not have overhauled the target while it was still dark, since his own maximum speed under diesel power was only marginally better than the steamer’s. Fortunately, though, he stood at bow ahead position, and his only real problem would be in figuring out the steamer’s zigzag pattern. He writes in his KTB:
So I run in front of him with two engines at full speed, and I can just keep him in sight. Because of the high swell the bridge and funnel are often well out of the water. I hope he won’t see me.
As the steamer zigzagged to the west, the swell made it hard to keep him in the binoculars. Gelhaus made up his mind to attack with a three-eel fan shot (
Fächer)
when he next zigzagged east. But when that altered course came, it was so sharply to the east that Gelhaus’s bow was out of position, and he had to use his stern tubes, V and VI. Those two torpedoes were released at 0300 GST on a bearing of 70°, but with a variance of 6.4° between them; speed of target 16 knots; range 1,500 meters; running time 80 seconds:
A hit amidships, apparently in the engine room. There’s fumbling with flashlights on deck. It seems that the lifeboats are being readied for lowering. The steamer turns to port, slows, and loses steam. But to make sure he doesn’t get away, we point the bow at him at short range and launch a coup de grace from Tube II. After 29 seconds there’s a hit under the bridge. The steamer sinks a bit deeper and stops. Boats are lowered into the water. But because the ship still shows no sign of drowning, we give him another coup de grace, from Tube III, set at 7 meters depth. After 51 seconds
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