by Antony Trew
‘I imagine so, sir.’
Redman thought, why does he say ‘I imagine so’ when he knows bloody well it will be. He said, ‘That gives us about two hours of daylight in which to get the convoy formed. I think …’
The crackle of the TBS speaker on the bridge interrupted him. It was Bluebird ordering the Fifty-Seventh Group to carry out an anti-submarine sweep to seaward. Redman called to Pownall who was on the compass platform. ‘Port fifteen, one-six-oh revolutions. We’ll take station on Bluebird’s port beam.’
The navigator repeated the orders, passing them by voice-pipe to the quartermaster in the wheelhouse below.
Redman spoke into the asdic voice-pipe. ‘Carry out an all-round sweep. Resume normal sweep when we’re in station.’
The asdic operator repeated the order.
Vengeful trembled as her speed increased and she swung over to port to pass astern of Bluebird.
Before long the group had formed line abreast, the eight ships pitching and rolling, whipping up douches of spray as they swept up the North Minch under a pall of rain. Pownall had a sense of poetry and to him the ships looked like greyhounds casting for a scent. No such thought crossed the captain’s mind. Though a U-boat in the Minches was most unlikely, he was thinking that the A/S sweep was important, A convoy was particularly vulnerable to attack when leaving harbour, before the ships had formed into columns with their protective screens of close and outer escorts.
The yeoman answered the buzzer from the W/T office. ‘Captain, sir. Signal from NOIC to Bluebird. Liberty ship USS Jonathan Nash has furnace trouble and will not repeat not be joining convoy.’
‘One less to worry about,’ said Redman. He went back to his thoughts. It was late 1944, the Battle of the Atlantic had been won. The anti-submarine forces – sea and air – had gained a decisive upper hand. But U-boats fitted with Schnorchels – and so able to charge their batteries by running on diesels while submerged – were venturing closer inshore in their search for targets. He felt that the chances of making contact with one that afternoon were remote with such powerful escort forces about, but it was like fishing for salmon on a bad day. Just as the monotonous ping of the asdic kept sounding on the bridge-speaker without anyone seriously expecting to hear the answering pong of a submarine contact, so you could go on casting a fly into pool after pool without expecting a fish to rise. Then suddenly – usually when you least expected it – there was the sudden swirl of water and the tug of a salmon taking.
Once they got going – particularly rounding Norway between Bear Island and the North Cape, up in the Barents Sea – there would be U-boats. And long before that enemy aircraft from German bases along the Norwegian coast might find the convoy. Much would depend on the weather. Bad weather and almost continuous darkness, for all the discomfort they brought, were useful aids to concealment. But even if the convoy was found the sinkings were unlikely to be heavy. Prevented by strong escort forces from getting to close quarters with convoys, U-boats now concentrated on attacking the escorts with gnats, acoustic torpedoes which homed on the target’s propeller noises.
The escorts had counter-measures, mainly noise-makers called foxers which were towed astern and into which acoustic torpedoes homed and exploded. But escort captains disliked using them. Long wires trailing astern hampered manœuvring, and the noise of the foxers reduced the asdic operator’s chances of making contact with a submerged submarine.
These were Redman’s thoughts as he listened to the ping of the asdic and watched the PPI, the instrument which relayed the images from the screen in the radar office at the back of the bridge. Redman was not consciously doing these things. He’d done them for so many years now that it was a conditioned reflex – as was his reaction when the call-up bell from the asdic cabinet sounded three Ps in rapid succession.
‘Hard-a-port. Full ahead together,’ he shouted down the voice-pipe to the wheelhouse. ‘Start the plot’
Vengeful swung round, laying over to starboard, her hull vibrating with sudden urgency as the turbines responded to a full head of steam.
Three Ps was the asdic operator’s emergency warning to the bridge that he had heard on his hydrophones the sound of a torpedo approaching from the port side.
Within seconds the first-lieutenant had rung a series of shorts on the alarm bells for anti-submarine action stations, and the yeoman had broadcast a general alarm by TBS.
1 I Radar – used by warships to obtain the range and bearing of ships, including surfaced submarines, aircraft and other objects on or above the surface. Also used for navigational purposes, e.g.: to obtain the bearing, distance and configuration of the land.
II The principal use of Asdic (now called Sonar) was to obtain the range, bearing and depth of submerged submarines.
III During World War II, HF/DF (High frequency direction finding) – known affectionately in the Royal Navy as huff-duff – gave the bearings of ultra high-frequency radio transmissions made by U-boats. The existence of equipment with this capacity was unknown to the Germans until after the war.
CHAPTER THREE
Redman assumed the torpedo to be acoustic and acted instantly. The running time would be under a minute. When Vengeful completed her turn he steadied the ship on the HE bearing and ordered, ‘Fire one – set shallow.’ Seconds later the depth-charge exploded astern of the ship. He at once called, ‘Starboard twenty. Stop engines. Anything on radar along that HE bearing?’
‘No, sir’ said Wilson, the officer-of-the-watch.
The buzzer from the quarterdeck sounded, followed by the voice of the gunner (T), ‘Torpedo passing astern.’
From the wing of the bridge Redman saw in the fading light the tell-tale track crossing the ship’s wake. It was less than fifty yards astern, turning away, making for the turbulence created by the depth-charge. The torpedo’s acoustic device had locked on to the noise of the explosion just in time. Redman sighed with relief and informed Bluebird by TBS. Mountsey immediately ordered the group to stop engines. They’ve already done it, thought Redman, as the escort commander’s cheerful voice added, ‘Thanks for passing us your hot potato.’ Not long afterwards they heard the torpedo explode at the end of its run.
In Bluebird Mountsey was looking at the chart of the Minches, doing some quick thinking. The U-boat somewhere south of Vengeful was probably a loner. Several had been reported in the Irish Sea close to the Minches. But it might be a trap. An attempt to draw escorts to the south of Loch Ewe. U-boats waiting to the north would then be freer to deal with the merchant ships as they came out. This was the first time Mountsey had experienced an attack on leaving Loch Ewe. It was by no means unusual at the other end, outside the Kola Inlet But not here. It might be a new tactic. To play safe he assumed it was. Over the TBS he ordered Vengeful and Violent to hunt the U-boat while the remainder of the group continued the A/S sweep over the ground to be covered by the convoy.
‘Can’t spare you for long,’ he said. ‘Try for a quick flush. Rejoin in thirty minutes if no joy.’ He then reported the contact to C-in-C Western Approaches. The operations room there would decide whether to call on coastal command for aircraft. With a ten-tenths sky, cloud ceiling almost zero and heavy rain, Mountsey didn’t think aircraft could do much.
Vengeful was the senior ship. As Redman ordered Violent to take station a mile on his port beam, the buzzer from the asdic cabinet sounded. ‘Plot gives one-nine-five as probable bearing of U-boat’s firing position.’ It was Groves reporting.
‘Steer one-nine-five,’ ordered Redman. ‘One-five-oh, revolutions.’ Then to the asdic cabinet, ‘Carry out normal sweep.’ He went to the chart-table in the wing of the bridge. Pownall was plotting the ship’s position. Redman waited impatiently. Every minute counted. ‘Shake it up, Pilot,’ he urged. He knew he was being unfair but couldn’t contain his irritation.
‘We’re here, sir.’ Pownall made room for him under the screen, pointing with his pencil. ‘Three-two-one, Rubha Reidh, five-point-two miles.’
Globules of rain fell on to the chart from the sleeves of their oilskins. Pownall dabbed at the damp patches with a towel.
‘Good. He’ll have dived immediately after firing. Sliding away south now on electric motors. Making for deep water.’ Redman screwed up his eyes, concentrating on the chart. ‘Down in that long reach towards Rona. Outside the fifty-fathom line.’
Pownall was silent, weighing what the captain had said. It was not in his nature to agree out of politeness. Nor did he like being told to ‘shake it up’ when he was plotting a position. But he knew the captain was tired and that allowance had to be made for occasional outbursts.
‘Yes, sir,’ he said eventually. ‘I think that’s possible.’
‘Probable,’ snapped Redman. ‘He won’t go north into a pack of escorts. He wants to stay alive.’ Redman stared at the chart, deep in thought. ‘Tell the plot to assume a course of one-eight-oh, speed six knots. Where does that put him now?’
While Pownall spoke to the plot Redman looked at his watch: 1437. Three minutes since the firing of the torpedo. The destroyers were doing fifteen knots. The U-boat was somewhere within half a mile if his assumptions were correct. He went to the forepart of the bridge. ‘Steer one-eight-five. One hundred revolutions.’ The yeoman passed the new course and speed to Violent by TBS, adding, ‘Captain thinks U-boat’s making for the deep water towards Rona.’
Jackie Dixon, Violent’s Royal Naval Reserve captain, said, ‘Probably. Cheeky bastard joining the party uninvited like that.’
Redman heard him on the bridge-speaker and sighed. He wished he had Jackie Dixon’s temperament. The light-hearted approach to war was the only one that made sense. Yet Redman knew it was impossible for him. Was it a façade or did it really all seem rather fun to Jackie?
Minutes went by. For the men on the bridge the ping of the asdic dominated all other sounds. The wind freshened, bringing squalls of rain from the south-west, wet grey curtains drenching the bridge and upper deck. Visibility was down to half a mile at times and Violent would be lost in the mist. But the PPI Showed her in station as the destroyers moved south, their ships’ companies closed up at anti-submarine action stations; ASCO’s and their operators hunched over asdic sets, concentrated and alert; depth-charge parties standing by the throwers and chutes, charges primed, itching to fire them; gun’s crews at their guns hoping desperately to see a submarine surface.
There was tension and a high degree of alertness in both ships but an underlying cynicism. The attack had come too soon, too unexpectedly. Only a handful of men in Vengeful had seen the torpedo track though in both ships the terminal explosion had been heard, but even that many believed to be just another depth-charge.
At least on Vengeful’s and Violent’s bridges it was known there was a U-boat. It was known, too, that it might at any moment fire another acoustic torpedo from its stern tube. In the asdic cabinets the operators were listening for HE –the hydrophone effect which would give warning of this.
Redman looked at his watch. It was 1452. Mountsey had given them thirty minutes. Eighteen had gone.
‘Position, Pilot?’
Pownall’s head and shoulders jerked nervously behind the chart-table’s canvas screen. He was plotting a snap bearing of the lighthouse at Rubha Reidh, taken in a brief clearing of rain.
‘Position, Pilot?’ Redman’s voice was insistent.
Pownall’s head came out of the screen. ‘Two-eight-two, Rubha Reidh, four miles, sir.’ Redman looked at the chart and checked the depths ahead of the ship … 64, 66, 68 fathoms … about 400 feet He must be round about here, he thought, U-boats dived deep after firing a ‘gnat’, otherwise it might circle and home on the submarine’s own diesels. If the U-boat had surfaced in the rain, mist and failing light, in an attempt to get away at high speed, the destroyer’s radar would have picked it up.
Redman said, ‘Well hold this course for …’ He stopped as the asdic’s ping was echoed by an unmistakable pang. The buzzer from the asdic cabinet sounded. ‘Contact, sir. Green oh-two-seven … drawing right … range eight hundred … closing … submarine.’
Redman contemplated a pounce attack, but they weren’t often successful. He wanted to get this U-boat. Not just scare it. With Violent in company he could carry out a ‘creeping’ attack. He reduced speed, ordered, ‘Starboard ten, steady on two-one-two.’ He put on the TBS headset. From now on he’d speak direct to Violent instead of relaying messages through the yeoman. He found time to glance through the small window into the asdic cabinet where Lofty Groves and his operators sat at their instruments. He held up a thumb and Groves did the same, grinning. Then the sub-lieutenant was all serious concentration again.
Redman spoke to Violent. ‘Contact eight hundred yards. Dead ahead. My course two-one-two. Cease asdic transmissions. Take station for “creeping” attack. Approach at eight knots.’
‘Altering course now and reducing speed,’ came Jackie Dixon’s cheerful voice. All ships of the group had practised the ‘creeping attack’. Only once before had Redman used it in action. Then he’d been the attacking ship. Now his was the directing ship.
‘Bearing two-oh-five – range seven hundred. Closing slowly,’ came from the asdic’s bridge-speaker. Lofty Groves’s voice was calm. He rarely got excited. He was the best ASCO Redman had ever had.
‘Steer two-oh-five,’ Redman ordered. There was no need to report the contact to Mountsey. He’d be listening to the TBS chat.
Redman saw that Violent was now on a converging course. He turned to Pownall. ‘Get radar to report Violent’s range and bearing at each minute.’
Immediately came the first report – range 1500 yards – bearing 163 degrees. On Violent’s bridge Jackie Dixon was conning his ship on to a course which would put Violent immediately ahead of Vengeful in the shortest possible time.
Now that Violent was no longer making asdic transmissions the U-boat would not hear her and her slow speed of approach on an astern bearing meant that the destroyer’s propeller noises would be drowned by the U-boat’s. The submarine would still hear Vengeful’s transmissions, but since the distance between the U-boat and Redman’s ship was opening the submarine would not take evasive action. That would only come when and if the range closed and the U-boat commander heard the destroyer’s speed increase for the run-in to a depth-charge attack. With a ‘creeping attack’ that wouldn’t happen and the U-boat commander, 300 to 400 feet down and blind, would have no means of knowing that an attack was taking place.
A stream of ranges and bearings came to Redman from the asdic cabinet. The range was opening slowly – what he wanted – and the submarine was making slight alterations of course, evidently keeping to deep water. Redman decided that the U-boat commander was either a very cool type, or his boat’s wake and the noise of her own propellers were masking Vengeful’s asdic transmissions. Most probably, he concluded, the German, aware that the range was opening, believed the destroyer had lost contact.
The asdic cabinet reported the range to be one thousand yards. Redman adjusted Vengeful’s speed to keep that constant. To port, Violent was closing in. Only four hundred yards to go. On the bridge-speaker the note of the asdic transmissions changed and became confused before resolving into a series of double echoes. Redman frowned, the knot in his stomach tightening as he waited for Groves’s report.
It came after what seemed a long time. ‘Bearing one-nine-oh … drawing left … range steady. She released a pillenwerfer just before altering, sir. We’ve sorted out the double echoes.’
‘Well done,’ said Redman. ‘We heard something funny going on.
A pillenwerfer was a decoy used by U-boats to throw off a pursuer … a canister which released a stream of bubbles to reflect an asdic transmission in much the same way as the U-boat itself. Experienced operators were quick to detect the absence of change in range and bearing.
‘Steer one-nine-oh,’ the captain ordered, and gave the new course to Violent. From the chart-table Pownall called, ‘He’s heading
for the Inner Sound; sir. West of Raasay.’
‘Good. He’s either cunning or plain stupid.’
‘There’s thirty fathoms in the Sound, sir. Close inshore. Perhaps hell bottom there. It’s steep-to.’
Raasay was twelve miles ahead. At six knots the U-boat needed at least two hours to make it submerged. Redman hoped to deal with it well before that. It was 1503. The light was going under a dark sky with low cloud and continuous rain. Light was not essential, asdics and radar were independent of it, but it helped enormously in a ‘creeping attack’. The quicker they could get on with that the better.
A figure in oilskins came to the bridge and stood behind him. ‘Cup of hot cocoa, sir?’
Redman turned and saw Topcutt pouring steaming cocoa from a jug. ‘It’ll drive away the cold, sir.’
‘Thank you, Topcutt. You shouldn’t have troubled this early.’
The able-seaman’s expression conveyed polite disagreement, but he said, ‘Yes, sir,’ and left the bridge.
Pownall said, ‘Violent’s range three hundred, bearing one-one-oh, sir.’
‘Good.’ Redman’s voice was steady in spite of the tension. ‘That’ll do. She’ll be in station within ten minutes.’
He switched on the ship’s broadcast and spoke to the crew. ‘We’re in firm contact with a U-boat. Violent will be in station within ten minutes. We’ll carry out a “creeping attack” and catch him with his pants down.’
Those ten minutes seemed long ones to the men in both ships but eventually Violent was in station, directly ahead of Vengeful, and the attack began. Maintaining his distance from the U-boat at a thousand yards, Redman conned Violent up the U-boat’s track, the asdic cabinet giving the submarine’s range and bearing, while Pownall repeated Violent’s range and bearing by radar. Suspense built up on Vengeful’s bridge as the destroyer ahead crept slowly, silently, unheard, along the U-boat’s track.
Redman passed the final distances to Jackie Dixon. ‘One hundred yards to go … fifty … twenty-five …’ The time intervals could be measured in seconds but they seemed to take infinitely longer as if the attack were paced by a watch that had stopped. Now Violent was over the U-boat, the German commander, oblivious of her presence, hearing at best only the ping of Vengeful’s asdic – still a thousand yards away and thus no threat – held his course.
