The Odyssey of a U-Boat Commander

by Erich Topp

  After the Civil War Franco presided over a conservative system built on a hierarchical order in which the military and the Church, along with syndicalist organizations, played dominant roles. For this regime to have been fascist, all power would have had to rest in one totalitarian party. Franco further developed middle-class enterprise, encouraged innovation and modernization in Spain's economy, and thus created the preconditions under which his country first moved toward and later joined the European Community.

  But one must not forget the other side. Many great minds, among them the representatives of Spain's second "Golden Age" after the halcyon days of Cervantes and Lope de Vega, either emigrated or were murdered. I am thinking of men like Garcia Lorca, Machado, Jimenez, Alberti, Diego, and Guillen. Lorca, the great lyricist, once wrote a poem entitled El Grito (The Cry). It stands for the age-old suffering and the echo of all the cries forever silenced for which Spain's past has provided so many terrible occasions: from the history of the Iberian Celts to the Romans, the Goths, the Moors, the exodus of Spain's Jews, the auto-dafes, the Conquistadors, and, not least, the Civil War.

  Even today the memory of the Civil War divides the Spanish people, although both sides have reached a symbolic reconciliation as they honor all its victims in El Valle de los Caidos. The armed forces followed Franco's successor, King Juan Carlos, as their new Captain-General. Juan Carlos in turn moved away from Franco's authoritarian regime to a western-style democracy. For my friend Liniers, Spain's membership in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) was the logical consequence of her traditional mission, namely, to defend Christian and western values.

  Part of the self-image of Spain's armed forces holds that they prevented, through their victory in the Civil War, a political takeover by a victorious Stalin and French-supported Spanish Communists after World War II. Proud self-consciousness and long traditions characterize Spain's armed forces to this day, not to mention popular support. To become an officer in the Spanish Army is not easy. There are many more applicants than vacancies.

  EARLY U-BOAT DAYS

  On October 5, 1937, 1 reported to the U-boat School in Neustadt on the Baltic Sea. Donitz had arranged for my transfer, and for me it was a dream come true. The dream soon turned into hard reality.

  When I embarked on a submarine for the first time I felt as though I had stepped into a different world. I remembered having read in some book on Navy regulations that "living together aboard a vessel under cramped conditions requires the highest consideration for the needs of superiors and comrades." Not that life aboard a surface ship could be compared with a stay at a fancy hotel, but by comparison it was difficult to suppress a sense of claustrophobia when confronted with the confined space of a U-boat. In addition, you were forever exposed to terrible, penetrating diesel fumes and stale, humid air, to say nothing of the odors that came from the boat's galley and the perspiration of sweaty human bodies. This is what the U-boat of my imagination looked like in reality. The dream burst like a bubble. Otherwise we became quite aware that the submarine was an effective weapon system, quantitatively as yet only a small and insignificant part of the fleet, but in our eyes a wellsharpened sword when compared to other units in our naval arsenal. We got used to the more unpleasant sides of life aboard a U-boat more quickly than we had first feared. Indeed, eventually the atmosphere be came so familiar to us that we could hardly wait, for example after a longer refit in a shipyard, to get back on board.

  One of the participants in the submarine officers' course was Engelbert Endrass. He became my best friend until his death in December 1941, and the memory of our friendship has enriched my life ever since.

  The course lasted until June 1, 1938. Since at that point no boat was available on which I could serve as a watch officer, the Navy posted me from June 2 until September 25 as an instructor and platoon leader to the teaching division for petty officers at Kiel-Friedrichsort. My commanding officer was First Lieutenant Harro Kloth von Heydenfeldt, a fine man all around and a model in terms of attitudes and professional ability. He, too, joined the submarine branch and was one of the first submarine commanders lost in World War II when his boat went down in the English Channel.

  Another platoon leader besides me was my Crew comrade Werner Weinlig, a native of Cape Town in South Africa. He managed to invest our small officers' mess with a semblance of the generous lifestyle he had known in his homeland. Both of these officers embodied an inner independence that enabled them to be critical of existing conditions in a constructive way. They exhibited self-discipline on the one hand, and civil courage on the other. To work with them was a privilege and marked an important phase in my life.

  On September 26, 1938, I at last embarked as a watch officer on U 46 of the 7th U-Boat Squadron based in Kiel. My commanding officer was Lieutenant Commander Herbert Sohler, our squadron leader Commander Ernst Sobe. Our group eventually produced a number of wellknown names, including Gunter Prien, Herbert Schultze, Engelbert Endrass, and Reinhard Suhren. In that last year of peace we underwent a hard and demanding training schedule. We were under way literally day and night, exercising alone or with other units, testing our weapons, and perfecting our tactics. When the Sudetenland crisis broke, we were ready to sail on a moment's notice.

  All the while we also found time for fun and games. At one point I assumed responsibility for organizing a party for the whole squadron ashore. There would be speeches and poems that made fun of our superiors in good humor, along with music and dancing. Everything had to be arranged and tried out during the few hours of liberty we enjoyed after the boats arrived from their daily exercises. The party turned out to be a full success. After the official program we congregated around the bar, totally exhausted. Certainly our alcohol consumption contributed to our condition. All I remember is that I woke up from a deep sleep at 5 A.M. the next morning in a small room not far from the bar. I immediately called a taxi and barely made it back to our boat in time for that day's activities. My good friend Ohm Kruger was not so fortunate. We could see him desperately running down the pier, his cape blowing in the wind, just moments after the boats had gotten under way. He spent the day aboard our tender, or mother ship, the Hamburg. This episode cost him a six-month delay in promotion.

  Apropos the Hamburg. "Mother ship" is hardly the proper term to characterize that vessel. "Casemate" or "prison" seems more appropriate. Our quarters, each six feet by six feet, stretched out along a miserable corridor. A porthole provided but little natural light. The walls were made from sheet metal so thin that you could hear your neighbors all the time, no matter how quiet they tried to be. In the wintertime a central heating system based on hot steam was supposed to keep us comfortable, but the quarters were either hot as hell, or, if you were gone for any length of time on one of the submarines and looked forward to some rest and warmth, you could find your room completely iced up. When you turned on the system, the superheated air moved quickly through the pipes, sounding like the rattling of a machine gun. The noise awakened those who were asleep without mercy, and since there was a constant coming and going of men, you virtually never got any rest.

  3

  War

  A RETROSPECTIVE ASSESSMENT

  Between 1983 and 1986, I along with other members of my Crew corresponded with Eric C. Rust, the son of a former German naval officer, who was then collecting material for his doctoral dissertation, "Crew 34: German Naval Officers under and after Hitler." His questions and my replies to them have helped me gain a sounder perspective and understanding of those years.

  Question: How would you describe the political, intellectual, and private atmosphere in which you grew up in the 1920s?

  Answer: The political atmosphere, as far as we experienced it at school, was in line with the ideology of the German National People's Party (or DNVP). Our history teacher, who influenced us considerably, belonged to the Stahl/Telm (the veterans' organization of the DNVP). Our history textbook, the Plotz, dealt almost entirely with wars. We had to
learn everything about victories, army tactics and grand strategy, armistices, coalitions. In our imagination we marched all over the continent, became prisoners of war, blockaded enemy shores, and so on. The state reigned absolute. The age of German idealism had endowed war and warfare with mythological qualities. Our entire school solemnly commemorated the anniversaries of Prussia's victory over France at Sedan in 1870 and of the Battle of the Nations at Leipzig in 1813. We knew the details of every single battle Frederick the Great fought in his life. We learned virtually nothing about his philosophical contemplations, his book Anti-Machi- avel, or his contributions to the organization of the Prussian state.

  Our intellectual interests revolved around twentieth-century philosophy, notably Nietzsche who had destroyed all values of old: philosophy, religion, theology. What was left was a nihilistic world, a void, which for us young people was soon being filled with pseudo-values such as race and nationalism.

  My parents rejected political commitments and stressed humanitarian ideas and toleration instead. My father was a Free Mason and thus was open to all kinds of political currents without taking definite stands or imposing a particular ideology upon me.

  Question: Did you welcome Hitler's seizure of power in early 1933?

  Answer: Yes. We hoped Hitler's takeover would annul the Treaty of Versailles and initiate a time of national renewal.

  Question: To what extent did you feel attracted and/or repulsed by the ideology and practice of National Socialism?

  Answer: The answer to this question depends on the time period under consideration. In 1934, when I joined the Navy, I could only see how Germany was moving forward economically, in domestic matters, and in foreign affairs as well. Criticism set in later.

  Question: At what point did you become convinced that Germany would be involved in a war before long?

  Answer: We had always believed Hitler would live up to his promises of peaceful intentions. This implied he would do everything to restore our national honor while avoiding war at all costs.

  Question: How do you recall September 1, 1939, and how did you respond to the news that the western powers had entered the war?

  Answer: September 1, 1939, was no day of jubilation for us, in contrast to the outbreak of World War 1. We were aware of our weaknesses from the beginning, notably in the Navy. Everyone knew it would be a long war.

  Question: Did it happen frequently that you as an officer found yourself in a conflict between duty and conscience?

  Answer: The conflict between duty and conscience arose for me in 1943 when Germany continued the U-boat war despite immense losses and without the slightest prospects of success.

  Question: Did you at any time believe the Navy should have openly opposed the excesses of National Socialism?

  Answer: During the war our only concern was to win it. We accepted restrictions of our personal freedoms to reach this goal, just as other na tions have in the past. Only after the war did I learn of the excesses and crimes of the National Socialism.

  Question: How would you describe your personal and family life before and during the war?

  Answer: We lived according to the motto, "He who dedicates himself to the Prussian flag retains nothing that is his own."

  Question: What do (did) you think of officers and civilians who participated in the resistance movement against Hitler?

  Answer: We fought at sea. During the first part of the war I did not see Germany at all. We operated out of St. Nazaire in France. Whatever information we received was restricted to the media of radio and newspapers-all, of course, censored. For that reason we knew nothing about a resistance movement. Consequently, on July 20, 1944, we were not only surprised but considered the plot a stab in the back of us fighting soldiers.

  Question: How do (did) you judge German naval planning in the prewar era, and what is your opinion about the strategy and tactics Germany adopted during the war?

  Answer: German naval planning was in line with the Anglo-German Naval Agreement of 1935 and based on the political assurance that no war with Britain would break out. When war came, the Reich was so unprepared for a war at sea that it could only needle the enemy but never critically hurt him.

  To exercise sea power you need a fleet and a favorable geostrategic location. Germany had neither. Not until the occupation of France and Norway did we gain brighter prospects of success for the limited forces at our disposal. Given these improved preconditions, our units tried to do maximum damage to the enemy and in some cases achieved that objective.

  Naval construction for a long time went down the wrong track by concentrating on large surface vessels. The so-called Z-Plan, which was never realized, shows how gigantic but unrealistic such planning was. Only when Donitz succeeded Raeder as supreme naval commander did U-boat construction gain priority status, but by then it was much too late.

  Question: How did you react to the attack against the Soviet Union and the subsequent entry of the United States into the war?

  Answer: The attack against the Soviet Union hit me like a shock. Everything that history had exposed as disastrous, for instance in Napoleon's times, now came together: a two-front war and the overextension of our limited resources. The Russian campaign was the beginning of the end, not to mention the entry of the United States into the war, which gave the Allies a material superiority of catastrophic consequences for the German side.

  Question: From what point on did you consider a German victory illusory?

  Answer: From the point when the Allies produced more merchant vessels than the German Navy was able to sink, that is, when Allied new construction exceeded losses at sea.

  Question: What accomplishment during the war makes you particularly proud?

  Answer: The fact that I led a crew who, despite constantly walking that thin line between life and death, never showed the slightest sign of disloyalty.

  Question: In your view, what contributed the most to Germany's defeat?

  Answer: The hubris of her leaders.

  Question: Under what circumstances could Germany have triumphed at sea?

  Answer: Under no circumstances. Naval supremacy rested unquestionably with the Allies.

  Question: Do you think Germany should have surrendered earlier to the Allies instead of fighting on to the bitter end?

  Answer: The Allied demand for unconditional surrender made an answer to this question at the time very difficult, if not impossible.

  Question: How would you describe your political views since the war?

  Answer: I am not bound to a particular political party. I am open to the challenges posed by new developments in science and technology without losing sight of the values we have rescued from the past into the present. In this sense I consider myself conservative.

  Question: Did you reproach yourself after the war for having served the National Socialist regime?

  Answer: This question makes little sense to me. In retrospect I cannot reproach myself for having served the National Socialist regime without knowledge of its crimes and considering that it had assumed power legally.

  Question: Do you think German and international historiography since 1945 has come close to capturing your personal experiences and feelings as an officer in the Kriegsmarine?

  Answer: This is a broad question. I am presently a military consultant to Bavarian State Radio for a program entitled "The Second World War." In this program I discuss various aspects of the war with journalists like Sebastian Haffner and historians such as Gerhard Weinberg of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Claus von Schubert, Andreas Hillgruber, Eberhard Jackel, Manfred Messerschmidt, and others. I have also read very carefully the publications about the war at sea by Professor Michael Salewski, as well as more general works about German history by Professors Hellmut Diwald, Andreas Hillgruber, and Michael Sturmer. In discussing and reading about modern history I have noticed again and again how closely my own views coincide with the opinions of these experts.

  Que
stion: Which German naval traditions seem antiquated to you and perhaps even harmful? Which ones should be continued under all circumstances?

  Answer: For me, tradition means the continuation of crucial intellectual and spiritual currents. Tradition should not be reduced to the practice of naming, say, destroyers or military barracks after certain historical personalities. Such superficial links are of little significance.

  EXECUTIVE OFFICER, U 46

  Diary:

  March 1940

  It is bitingly cold and the ice several feet thick. An icebreaker has us in tow. We watch anxiously as the floes come together again in its wake, crash against our reinforced bows, and move along the hull, all the while creating an infernal noise throughout the boat.

  There are three of us as we transfer from the shipyard to the naval base. First comes Gunter Prien's U 47 of Scapa Flow fame, proudly sporting the symbol of a bull on its conning tower. Next is Curt von Gossler's U 49, off to her second patrol after the first time out she almost succumbed to a British U-boat trap and had to spend a long time refitting. And finally comes our U 46, by now the veteran of three patrols and so far nothing but bad luck. As if reborn, we leave the caring hands of the dockyard for new adventures.

  As we approach the pier several men are awaiting us despite the bitterly cold March storm: our squadron commander, our staff surgeon, and "Daddy" Schultze's watch officers. Herbert Schultze ranks as our "tonnage king," having yesterday returned from his fourth patrol with 46,000 tons of enemy shipping destroyed. One of his victims carried a cargo of frozen beef that could have met England's needs for two days. For Endrass, my old friend, today is his last day as a watch officer aboard U 47. To show his appreciation, Prien allows him to direct the boat's docking maneuver. Endrass will take over command of a boat of his own now, just as I am scheduled to do after we return from our next patrol.