[The following takes place on a German U-boat in 1943. Here, the author’s U-boat had just survived a massive battle against an Allied convoy, and was part of a “Wolf Pack” which coordinated its efforts with the Nazi Luftwaffe. German aircraft had been shot down in the area, and when it was deemed safe to do so, the U-boat surfaced near the crash to look for survivors. They found two pilots in good condition and two further pilots in critical condition. They were all quickly brought aboard, and the pilots in rough shape were revived as best as was possible by the crew. One of these pilots woke long enough to tell the U-boatmen of their ordeal.]
The pilot began to tell of their attack. “Steadily we flew towards the mass of ships. The tension grew, we could feel and hear it crackling all around us. Countless small flames shot up from the targets below and seconds later we were surrounded by dark puffs of exploding antiaircraft shells. Our plane was shaking and trembling. The first tore into our glass domes and fuselage. There was a splintering and cracking, above the noise we could hear the groaning of our first wounded. But very calmly, as if nothing had happened, we heard the voice of the commander of the squadron through our earphones, giving formation instructions. ‘Left wing advance more, right wing slow down.’
”The spectacle around us grew more intense as the middle- and light-caliber antiaircraft guns joined the heavy barrage of the aircraft carrier and escort vessels. These had formed a fire-spitting circle around the convoy. It was as if a volcano had burst wide open. Left and right of us planes tumbled down. We had been lucky enough to push our plane through a gap in the curtain of fire. Our plane was still intact, whereas many of the others were heavily damaged and flying on one engine. The carrier was now right in front of us. As we released our bombs, we were attacked by a swarm of enemy fighters. Shells ripped through the fuselage and shattered our controls. We worked feverishly to control the plane but we were losing altitude fast. All I can remember is hitting the water hard. The impact was deafening. I struck my head against the panel board even though I had braced myself for the crash. We managed to crawl out of the slowly sinking plane and pull ourselves into our raft, helping each other as best we could and tying our bodies with ropes to the hand-line.
”The sky was still full of yellow and red fire and dark smoke, but from our low position on the water we could not see any ships of the convoy. One destroyer came near but failed to detect us. Our clothes were wet and we could feel the intense cold. It was then that the pain from our wounds set in and became nearly unbearable. Gradually it grew dark and lonely. The time grew into an eternity, so very lonely, up and down, up and down we rocked in the small rubber raft. Someone moved, stood up, and cried frantically before he tumbled down and the raft capsized. I lost consciousness then and remember nothing more.” The pilot said he felt safe now that all the horror and pain was over. He smiled faintly.
Then, after three or four deep breaths, he and his fellow pilot died at nearly the same moment.
That night we sewed both bodies into bedsheets, and when we moved away from the convoy we heaved them onto the deck, tied some trimming weights to their feet, and covered them with the German war flag. All officers and the watch were on the conning tower when Captain Hopman spoke the words of farewell to our dead comrades. A silent salute was rendered, then they slid into their wet grave. The stopped motors started humming again and we proceeded back towards the convoy. Today it had been the pilots’ turn. When would it be ours?
Source:
Giese, Otto, and James E. Wise. “Fourth Patrol.” Shooting the War: The Memoir and Photographs of a U-Boat Officer in World War II. Naval Institute, 2003. 155-57. Print.
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