“Yes, the tide has now turned on the enemies of the Fatherland,” exulted Steiner.
Von Holstein nodded in agreement. Fools, he thought. This month, significantly more U-boats had been lost than Allied merchant ships. American and British submarine detection technology was far superior. And British and American intelligence seem to have cracked their codes. So now the hunter had become the hunted—and the Germans are paying the price in naval blood.
“Why do we not retire to the command bunker?” suggested von Holstein. “Food and drinks have been prepared so that we might enjoy a meal while we talk. Once it is dark, we shall leave.”
The small party of men and the woman moved toward the metal doors a few yards away.
A small concrete opening protruded from the side of a stone cliff. The gray concrete was camouflaged with green, gray, and black markings. Two Kriegsmarine guards stood smartly to attention as the men entered the command center’s outer chamber.
Though the command room was sparsely furnished, the few staff officers moved quickly about with a sense of urgency. The base was mostly empty now, but it was still subjected to both nightly and daytime bombing raids. It was best to be inside in case the air raid sirens sounded.
Leading the group into a small side conference room, von Holstein motioned for each to take a seat around an oblong wooden table. Maps, diagrams, and folding chairs were scattered about the room.
The lack of organization was one of the reasons this base had been chosen. The repair facility was no longer operational. Only three U-Boats were still operating from it, and all of them were at sea. With Germany’s diminished capacity, all production and repair activities had been allocated to the larger more important facilities.
After the group was seated, von Holstein began, “I have not been informed what your mission entails, nor do I wish to know, nor should you tell me if I should ask. However, I am aware of where we will be going. No one but those of you in this room, with the exception of a few at the highest of levels, is even aware of what we will be doing. You are not to speak to the crew about the mission—either now or during our passage. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Kapitän!” the officers answered together.
“Now please help yourselves to the food. I must speak with the first officer for a moment in private.” Von Holstein guided Helmut into another room and shut the door.
“Helmut, I am sorry that I have been unable to speak with you sooner about what I am going to tell you,” said von Holstein. “Submerged offshore as I speak is a vessel that will forever change the way undersea warfare will be fought. It is waiting for us. As you know, our Fuhrer has always been a supreme supporter of the development of new weapons. Our naval engineers have successfully adapted a Dutch device known as a snorkel and added it to two prototype U-Boats. One is a short-range two-hundred-ton vessel, and the other is a long-range one-thousand-and-five-hundred-ton vessel. We will be using the long-range vessel known as the XXI.”
“What exactly is a snorkel? And what are you talking about?” asked a puzzled Helmut.
“A snorkel is a device that will allow us to recharge our batteries without the need to surface,” responded von Holstein.
“That’s wonderful!” Helmut responded with glee.
“As you know, typically a U-Boat has a surface speed of just over 17 knots. Using this snorkel and other new modifications, we will be able to maintain a submerged speed of up to 18 knots.”
“Are you kidding?” said Helmut with a look of disbelief on his face.
“I am dead serious, my friend.”
“How is it that you are telling me now?” asked Helmut.
“I was instructed to only tell those who needed to know. But if I am lost, you must carry out the mission. I am sorry, my old friend, that I was not able to tell you sooner.
“A handpicked skeleton crew is currently on board. The remaining members of our old crew should be arriving here as we speak,” von Holstein continued.
“This is unbelievable,” said Helmut, still showing signs that he was somewhat mystified by what he had just learned.
“Yes, this is unbelievable,” agreed von Holstein. “I hope that it will help the war effort, but I am afraid it is too late for us to claim victory now.”
“The only thing left is for us to do our duty,” replied Helmut.
“Yes! Our mission is one of evasion, not attack. The snorkel has been coated with antiradar materials and is fitted with radar search aerials. Our submerged speed is great enough to outrun any potential depth charge attack if we are detected. We also have on board an ultrasensitive hydrophone system, which will allow us to locate enemy ships up to fifty miles away. The supersonic echo will set the range, direction, speed, and number of targets,” von Holstein said as he paced the small room, hands clasped behind his back.
“All without surfacing,” marveled Helmut more to himself than his kapitän. “Furthermore, should we encounter an enemy destroyer, we will be able to switch the engines over to an electric motor with a belt drive system, which allows for silent running at under five knots. There has also been an improvement in armament capabilities, which include torpedoes able to fire at any angle from a depth of a hundred and fifty feet while still accurately tracking the target. A new zigzag and acoustic torpedo has been secretly developed. We will not be fooled by the British foxer decoys that emit sounds to foil our noise-detection torpedoes. Even the tactic of turning off the engines will not stop this new weapon.”
“Unbelievable!” Helmut paused in astonishment and then began speaking again. “After we have delivered our three pieces of luggage,” he said, motioning with his head toward the three officers in the next room, “will we have the opportunity to try our luck with these new devices?”
“Absolutely! But first, we must get them to the American West Coast without anyone discovering us. Now come, we must rejoin our guests in the next room.”
Chapter 9
Wehrmacht Series, Pioniere—issued March 21, 1943
March 17, 1945, at 2:50 a.m.—Santa Barbara, California
Looking at the scattered blinking lights of the California coastline, the kapitän could not help but smile. With the Allied armies closing in on Germany and Japan, the Americans had become overconfident of victory. So much so that they appeared to be totally unconcerned about the possibility of invasion. True, there was never a real possibility of that occurring. But they did not know that then and disregarded it now.
Even early in the war, sightings of U-Boats off the eastern coast of America were often exaggerated or untrue. Von Holstein even heard stories of Americans believing U-Boat crews came ashore to shop for food and clothes! What a simpleminded culture these Americans have, he thought.
Von Holstein did remember the easy pickings of merchant marine ships off the Atlantic coast that were made easier by the foolish American Atlantic Coastal Command. Believing that the East Coast was too densely populated to suffer an invasion, they had not ordered the blackout of the resort cities until May of 1942, and this illumination had provided a fine backdrop for the sinking of merchant ships. He laughed at the memory of the frightened American Coast Guard attacking large numbers of whales, thinking they were U-Boats. Well, they had gotten better since then, that was certain. It was this early success that encouraged the later exaggeration of the stories on both sides. If only Germany had the three hundred U-boats back in 1939, England would not have survived until America came into the war.
Von Holstein gave the signal to Helmut, who was down with the gun crew.
Helmut led the gun crew over to a small rubber boat, which they were