WesWorld

Marinestützpunkt Warnemünde, Sunday, 1 February 1948

Konteradmiral Siegfried Engel looked at the report detailing the ships presently attached to the Lehr Division and sighed. “So many ships,” he thought. “The Baltic is barely large enough to hold them in winter”. And there was truth to his thought. While the recently completed air defence destroyers Osnabruck and Dortmund would be replacing the departed Hamburg and Berlin, the imminent arrival of the air defence cruisers Lissa and Saida – to say nothing of the aircraft carriers Tegetthoff and Zieten would stretch his resources to the breaking point.

Thankfully the naval schools were keeping up with the demand for trained manpower – nucleus crews drawn from ships of the Flottenkommando Atlantik made the transition easier, as did the recently announced pay increases for petty officers and ratings – retention was up. Still, the burden of training weighed heavily upon his shoulders. Thankfully he still had the support of the Russian 13th Destroyer Flotilla, which gave the ships of his command experienced ‘opponents’ against which to pit their skills.

There were rumblings of a major fleet exercise to be held in the spring; how extensive this might be was anyone’s guess at this point. It had been less than a year since the last major exercise; normally the Kriegsmarine would schedule exercises two years apart. Engel wondered what this might mean…

Artillery School Ship Bremse, København, Monday, 16 February 1948

The Bremse was moored in the lee of the old Trekronor sea fortress, with other visiting vessels ahead and astern. Copenhagen had seen the Bremse on many occasions, as the Danish capital was a frequent stop on her peregrinations of the Baltic. Given the expansion of the Kriegsmarine there were always new sailors, and new officers, to be trained, despite the rigors of the winter’s weather. She had arrived the previous Friday and would depart on Wednesday, giving her crew a respite and opportunity for many of them to see a foreign country for the first time.

A party of Danish naval officers were piped aboard, invited to visit the Bremse’s wardroom; it afforded the German, and Russian, officers aboard an opportunity to interact with their peers – an important lesson. Narrow particularism in the officer corps was a defect that Konteradmiral Engel strove to erase – a good officer must not only be brave, he must comprehend the world around him – be capable of understanding the thoughts of others, their viewpoints, and the motivations. Herein lay one of the virtues of Wachsame Entschlossenheit – not only did German and Russian officers learn to work together, but to trust one another to work together.

Destroyer Pylkiy, 54 dgs 23 min North, 13 dgs 33 min East, Sunday, 29 February 1948

The ships of the 13th Destroyer Flotilla were not alone, nor even operating with a small number of their German counterparts; today they were exercising as part of a large carrier task force, at the centre of which were the new German aircraft carriers Tegetthoff and Zieten; ringing these vessels were the air defence cruisers Lissa and Saida, and the frigates Stockach, Gallingen, Chemnitz, and Mohlsdorf, as well as Captain Kozyukhin’s own ships.

The principal aim of their current evolutions was to train the crews of the new German vessels in operating in formation – a particular challenge in a Baltic winter. Neither Tegetthoff nor Zieten had yet taken aboard their air groups; the word was that might happen in a few weeks, when better weather prevailed; but the carriers would manoeuvre as if they were launching or recovering aircraft, demanding smart ship handling on the part of the escorts.

Kozyukhin was confident in the abilities of his own experienced crews, and thus far they had not let him down, and the frigates with whom they had been exercising for some weeks were proving nearly as adept. The cruisers, however, would occasionally require a reminder from the Zieten, the acting flagship, to keep better station. Kozyukhin noted in his journal that the Germans were driving their crews with a near wartime tempo; he was not certain why this should be so. Khrenov, the naval attaché, had advised him that the Kriegsmarine would be scheduling a major exercise in the North Sea for the early spring; perhaps, Kozyukhin thought, the Germans wished to have more of their ships available.

Marinestützpunkt Warnemünde, Monday, 15 March 1948

Konteradmiral Siegfried Engel, as well as his immediate superior, Konteradmiral Johannes Bachmann, were surprised by the message from the Admiralstab announcing that the aircraft carriers Tegetthoff and Zieten were to be withdrawn from their established training program and released to the Atlantic Fleet.

“They have barely half way through their training!” Engel said with a tone of rising anger. “What are the fools in Berlin planning?”

Bachman took a more complacent view. “The ships are not to be released until next month,” he replied. “Which will give you more time to concentrate on their readiness. They will have to train their air groups in the North Sea – which is easier than in the confined waters of the Baltic.”

Engel re-read the message flimsy. “At least they are not ordering the other ships to Wilhelmshaven; that is something. But why does the Admiralstab want the carriers?” He looked at Bachman for an answer but received none. Perhaps Bachman himself had no ideas – the message itself carried no explanation. Perhaps the rumoured spring exercises were the cause.

Destroyer Pylkiy, Warnemünde Harbour, Tuesday, 30 March 1948

Captain Kozyukhin and his officers stood at rigid attention as the boatswains’ pipes twittered to announce the arrival of the visiting party. Konteradmiral Siegfried Engel, as senior officer, was the first to arrive on the destroyer’s deck, followed by Captain First Rank Konstantin Khrenov, the naval attaché from the embassy in Berlin. Salutes were exchanged and brief introductions made. Kozyukhin then led them to the destroyer’s wardroom, where they could open their discussions in greater comfort.

“Permit me to say Herr Kapitän,” said Engel, “that both Admiral Bachman and I truly appreciate the effort you and your crews have made towards the success of this operation. Our officers and men have learned much this winter, and I hope that you too have gained useful experiences.”

Kozyukhin nodded. “It has been an honour and a privilege,” he replied politely, “and I hope it will continue. The exchange of personnel between our two navies has been of inestimable value.”

“Yes…” Engel acknowledged. “However, I regret that some of the ships presently assigned to the training command here are being redeployed – on a temporary basis of course.” He then explained that the new aircraft carriers, the Tegetthoff and Zieten, would be departing in early April for Wilhelmshaven. This surprised Kozyukhin, who looked at Khrenov for some intimation of the reason.

Khrenov responded, “I understand that the Kriegsmarine plans a major fleet exercise”. Kozyukhin recognised that further explanation would need to wait.”

Engel sought to redirect the conversation. “Yes, the departure of the aircraft carriers will change the nature of our exercises in the short term, but Kapitän Khrenov has brought news that I believe you will find most interesting. Now it was the naval attaché’s turn to spring a surprise.

“The large rocket ship Admiral Kolchak will be attached to your flotilla as part of her operational training. She is due in these waters sometime next month, if her trials proceed smoothly.”

At this news Kozyukhin raised an eyebrow, attempting to suppress the surprise of such a move. Rumour had it that the Admiral Kolchak was equipped with a new air defence weapon, a long-range antiaircraft rocket developed in concert with the French Marine Nationale. Completed at Rostov in January, she would have to make the long voyage through the Mediterranean and the Atlantic before entering the Baltic.

“That is most interesting news…” Kozyukhin said with studied understatement.

Artillery School Ship Bremse, Memel Harbour, Sunday, 4 April 1948

Spring was slow in returning to the Baltic this year, and for the cadets and recruits aboard the Bremse an extra day in port was worth it. “Make and mend” had been ordered after morning services on the foredeck. For a select few of her officers – including several of the recently attached exchange officers from the French and Russian navies – there was an opportunity to tour the Schichau shipyard, a modern installation presently constructing both submarines and antisubmarine corvettes for the Kriegsmarine.

The visitors were duly impressed with what they were shown. They went aboard the corvette Diana, then nearing completion at the yard’s fitting out wharf alongside her sister the Minerva. Two other corvettes were nearly ready for launching, and even on a Sunday there were work crews aboard them as attested to the great dockside cranes lifting steel sections into place. Of great interest were the submarines under construction – two at the fitting out wharf alongside the corvettes, and two whose keels were still visible and destined to be under construction for some months.

Several of the exchange officers remarked on the small size of the new U-boats, imagining them to be a let down from the ocean-going Type XXI boats they had heard so much of. It was explained to them that the Type XXIII boats were intended for operation in confined waters, where agility and speed would be at a premium. They were not entirely convinced, but the more experienced of them nodded that the concept had a certain logic behind it.

Corvette Amazone, 54 dgs 35 min North, 10 dgs 26 min East, Friday, 9 April 1948

Korvettenkapitän Jost Metzler paced the bridge of the Amazone in deep disappointment. Here he was, commanding one of the newest antisubmarine ships of the Kriegsmarine, with rumoured major exercises due to start any moment, side-lined in the Baltic on a simple hide-and-seek tracking exercise.

The Amazone, with her sister Gazelle, together with the minesweepers Tietzowsee and Trenntsee, formed a small flotilla charged with protecting the outer approaches to Kiel from an ‘enemy’ submarine = that role being played by the U-203. They even had aircraft to support them – a pair of older Arado Ar196 floatplanes having been detailed for the job. Metzler was too good a professional to be angry at the situation – he had spent the last months drilling his men around the clock and fully expected to get a ‘Well Done’ from Konteradmiral Engel when his ship ‘graduated’ from the training squadron.

“Herr Kapitän,” called a lookout. “One of our aircraft has spotted something.”

Metzler hastened to the port side of the ship. One of the Arados had dropped a smoke marker on a suspected submarine contact about two kilometres off. “Action stations! Signal the flotilla to turn to port twenty degrees – assume search formation ‘Anton’.”

The Amazone swung her bows in the direction of the presumed contact and her electronic systems began to pulse sound waves through the water. The remaining ships of the flotilla did likewise – forming a loose box. Crews raced to their action stations and prepared to launch simulated depth-charge ‘noisemakers’ in case contact was confirmed. Aloft, the Arados continued to circle.

Several kilometres to the north Korvettenkapitän Georg Lassen of the U-203 watched through his periscope as the Amazone and her consorts change course abruptly. “I wonder what they think they are going after?” he thought.

Marinestützpunkt Warnemünde, Monday, 12 April 1948

Konteradmiral Engel received the signal from Konteradmiral Bachmann informing him that the great fleet exercise, Donnerschlag, was under way in the North Sea with mixed feelings. As a professional he understood the necessity of training the fleet to operate under simulated wartime conditions. It was the premise he himself applied to the units under his command during their time in operational training. He had full confidence in the officers handling the ships – he had trained them. From what he had been told of Donnerschlag, he deemed it a direct challenge to the British Royal Navy, and that concerned him.

Thirty years before he had been a wireless operator on the battleship Westfalen of the Kaiser’s navy, and participated in the Skagerrak Battle. While both sides claimed a victory it had marked the last time the German fleet dared challenge Britain; both countries were now at peace, and Donnerschlag was merely an exercise. “How will Britain view it” he asked himself.

Glaser, his chief of staff, entered his office, bearing a sheaf of reports. “Herr Admiral, we’ve received confirmation that the air defence destroyers Aachen and Eisenach will complete their construction on schedule next week, and presuming their builders’ trials are successful, should come under our authority on or about the first week of May. I have the personnel jackets of the senior officers assigned to them.”

The news broke Engel’s dark train of thought. “Good,” replied. “Sit down and let us begin to review them. Hopefully the Ausbildungsabteilung has assigned enough experienced personnel to them.”

Destroyer Pylkiy, 54 dgs 42 min North, 19 dgs 33 min East, Tuesday, 13 April 1948

Spring was in the air – and Captain Kozyukhin strode the Pylkiy’s bridge with a spritely step. His ships had sailed east since leaving Warnemünde and were presently escorting the aircraft carrier Moltke as she continued her primary mission of training pilots of the German Kriegsmarine in carrier landings. The Old Goose – a backhand reminder of her Swedish origins – still had sufficient life in her for this modest yet important role; which was a good thing – Kozyukhin had heard the day before that the other German aircraft carriers were engaged in an exercise in the North Sea.

Below decks Seaman Ivan Ivanov had the earphones of his sound listening apparatus glued to his head. He was listening intently to a signal he could not quite identify. It sounded like the regular thrum of a powerful diesel engine, separate but distinct from the engine noises his own ship, those of her flotilla mates, and the Moltke. He was at first tempted to dismiss it but thought the better of it and brought it to the attention of the officer of the watch, Bulganin.

Said officer took up a nearby set of earphones and listened to the anomalous signal. “That,” he concluded, “is something that ought not to be there – a submerged submarine running on her diesels.” When Ivanov looked at his quizzically, Bulganin explained that modern submarines used a device known variously as an air mast or submarine snorkel, through which a submerged submarine could draw air to power its main engines and keep its crew alive.

Bulganin notified the bridge, and upon receipt of the report Kozyukhin proceeded to order the destroyer’s active echo-location equipment to begin searching for the possible target. Insofar as he was aware, the Kriegsmarine had no submarines operating in the area; but that would not preclude the possibility of a Polish, Nordish, Lithuanian, Latvian boat being in the area; it could even be Russian. Tracking the target would be good practice for his crew in any event. Notice of the discovery was flashed by signal lamp to the rest of the Thirteenth Destroyer Flotilla and to the Moltke; and a request was sent to the German headquarters inquiring whether any friendly submarines were known to be operating in the area.

Destroyer Sokrushitelnyi, 54 dgs 42 min North, 19 dgs 33 min East, Tuesday, 13 April 1948
As Pylkiy prosecuted the submarine contact, Captain Second Rank Ivan Yenin of Sokrushitelnyi waited his turn. For the moment, Sokrushitelnyi would lay doggo, making five knots and listening passively, while the flotilla leader conducted an active sweep. Although the submarine had gone to quiet routine, the Pylkiy was still holding the contact with active echolation, and radioing detailed instructions to the other ships in the flotilla. Moltke's planes overhead, unfortunately, had limited antisubmarine capability, and thus the air commander ordered them to circle Pylkiy, looking for periscope feathers.

Yenin looked out the bridge windows, his expression thoughtful. He turned to his executive officer, Vasiliy Annikov, who had just arrived on the bridge. "Something bothers me about this, starpom," he said.

"The foreign submarine?" Annikov asked.

"Da. Pylkiy reported they were using a snort when first detected." Yenin paused, listening on the shortranged radio to another position update from Pylkiy. "They were using a snort, Vasiliy. But the boat isn't German. What does that tell you?"

Annikov had recently attended an antisubmarine school for junior officers, and he cocked his head in thought. "If it is using a snort, then it's not one of ours."

"No," Yenin said. The VMF Rossii was just now completing its first fleet submarines with snorts. "And the Germans say it is not theirs."

"Nordish? Polish?" Annikov asked. He paused. "Maybe a Dane?"

"The Polish and the Danes have not fitted snorts to any of their boats, starpom." Yenin pointed out. "We know this. As to the Nords, we think they might have snorts, but we have never seen one in the Baltic so equipped."

"Do you think it might be an outsider?" Annikov asked.

"That is what bothers me. I don't think the Danes let submerged submarines navigate the Belts, and we have a vested interest in helping them maintain that policy. It doesn't mean they didn't come through on the surface, of course."

The radio buzzed, and the flotilla leader ordered Sokrushitelnyi to begin prosecuting the contact. Yenin ordered fourteen knots and active sonar, picking up the submarine as they made their approach. That done, Yenin returned to the radio to talk quickly with Kozyukhin, sharing his doubts. "The thought had also crossed my mind," Kozyukhin concurred. "Do you have any proposals?"

"Yes," Yenin replied, hastily explaining his suggestion.

"Well, go ahead and try it," Kozyukhin said. "Nothing lost if it doesn't work. I'll radio and ask the Danish naval attache if any foreign submarines have transited the Belts."

Yenin grinned. "Mitschman, perpare to power the underwater telephone."

"It's good, sir."

Yenin stepped back to Sokrushitelnyi's sonar shack, and picked up the handset, waiting for the long pause between active pings to start talking in his broken Norse. "Johan Submarine, Johan Submarine, this is Ivan - VMF Rossii destroyer Sokrushitelnyi." Ping! "We are tired of drinking German beer! If you surface-" Ping! "-we will trade you cases if you have any Pripps or Carlsberg."

"Do you think it will work?" Annikov asked, once Yenin returned to the navigating bridge.

"Not really," Yenin admitted. "We play this game a lot in the Gulf of Finland. But if our friend is a Nordish snort boat, he's probably new to the Baltic, and not played the game before. He will know that we'll identify him if he surfaces. If he's a Nord that's not native to the Baltic, or if he's perhaps an Anglichanin who snuck past the Belts, I doubt he'll be willing to do that. Unless we're willing to spend a few days holding him down until he's forced to surface, then we might not get his identify from him."

Headquarters, Befehlshaber der Sicherung der Ostsee, Kiel, Tuesday, 13 April 1948

Konteradmiral Friedrich-Wilhelm Fleischer was both surprised and concerned at the news of a confirmed sighting of an unknown submerged submarine in the waters off Königsberg. There had been previous unconfirmed sightings, including one in which the corvette Amazone, operating off Kiel, had encountered something submerged during the course of its training. These had been dismissed as improbable. However the Russian vessels that had reported the contact were experienced and certainly tracking something. The question in Fleischer’s mind was what. With most of the Kriegsmarine’s first line strength engaged in major exercises in the North Sea, Fleischer’s ability to respond was limited.

The closest assets under his control were small coastal escorts at Pillau - Mehrzweckboot 1, Mehrzweckboot 2, Mehrzweckboot 3, and Mehrzweckboot 4. They could reach the area of the contact in little more than an hour, though their antisubmarine equipment was not the most modern. The older minesweepers that constituted the bulk of his command were not useful – they were too far away to respond once they had raised steam. He picked up the telephone and put a call through to Konteradmiral Bachmann, under whose authority lay the modern units presently working up in the Baltic.

That officer in turned notified Konteradmiral Siegfried Engel that the Amazone, her sister Gazelle, and the minesweepers Tietzowsee and Trenntsee, should sail eastward at best possible speed from the present position near Kiel to assist the Thirteenth Destroyer Flotilla, while all other ships assigned to the training force were to be put on alert in the event it might prove necessary to involve them in the hunt.

Fleischer also requested coastal reconnaissance aircraft from the Marineflieger stations at Swinemünde, Pillau, and Barth assist in locating the unknown vessel. Their Arado floatplanes were not as long-legged as the modern Dorniers, but their crews far more experienced.

Destroyer Sokrushitelnyi, 54 dgs 42 min North, 19 dgs 33 min East, Tuesday, 13 April 1948
Sokrushitelnyi had nearly finished her pass, the submarine contact fading into her aft blind spot, when Pylkiy, which was taking position for her next run, radioed 'Contact blowing ballast tanks.' Captain Yenin ordered Sokrushitelnyi into a slow turn to port, speed dropping to only a few knots, while Pylkiy cut her engines and drifted.

"It worked?" Yenin said, as surprised as anyone. He'd expected the contact to try to bluff it out a bit more, perhaps make another evasion attempt; but instead the submarine came to periscope depth and then to the surface. It only took a few moments to identify him as a British Walrus-class submarine, confirmed by a message from the boat's semaphore.

"Well, that's interesting," Annikov muttered.

"Indeed," Yenin agreed, turning to the starpom. "Too bad they don't have any beer. Annikov, go ahead and draw two cases of our German beer, and get a few men together in our whaleboat. If they don't actually have any good English beer, ask if they've got some cigarettes they'd be willing to trade. Take Mitschman Mikhailov with you - he speaks excellent English, and he's got a little Leica. Instruct him to talk up the submarine's crew and confirm they're really Royal Navy, and not some sort of false flag operation. Have him ask to get some pictures with the submarine crew."

"Yes sir," Annikov answered. "If they don't have anything to trade, even cigarettes?"

"Well, just leave them the beer, then."

The Gulf of Danzig, 54 dgs 42 min North, 19 dgs 33 min East, Tuesday, 13 April 1948

Oberleutnant zur See Ulrich Heyse led the four-boat division of Mehrzweckboote out of Pillau harbour as quickly as it could be done. The thought of hunting an unknown submarine would be a most welcome change from their normal duties – assisting the customs service, enforcing fisheries laws, rescuing the occasional yachtsman who got into difficulty with the Baltic’s storms. Once in the open sea the throttles of the boats’ diesels were opened wide as they raced toward the last reported position of the unknown. Upon arrival however, they received a let-down.

The Russian destroyer Sokrushitelnyi was hove to alongside a surfaced submarine that flew the White Ensign of the British Royal Navy. Heyse fired off a contact report to Befehlshaber der Sicherung der Ostsee while at the same time contacting the Sokrushitelnyi for an explanation for the unusual situation that now prevailed.

Captain Second Rank Ivan Yenin of Sokrushitelnyi explained that he had ‘persuaded’ the British U-boat to come to the surface and identify itself. Captain Yenin did not go into detail about how he managed that in a peaceful manner – Heyse would have to wait for that story. At the moment he had sent a party on board to confirm the submarine’s nationality; his intention, once his people were back on board the Sokrushitelnyi, was to permit the submarine, Wolverine, to pursue its business – for the moment, at least, they were in international waters, though just outside the three-mile limit. This information Heyse relayed to his local headquarters in Pillau and to the headquarters of the BSO in Kiel.

For the moment his boats circled the Russian destroyer and British submarine in a watchful manner, while overhead Arado floatplanes kept a careful watch.

(Headquarters, Befehlshaber der Sicherung der Ostsee, Kiel)

Konteradmiral Fleischer received this latest report in foul temper. Somehow the British had slipped one of their U-boats through the Danish straits and into the Baltic; it explained the rash of submarine sightings in the last several days. The violation of Danish territorial waters was not his to protest or to solve – though he drafted a report to the Admiralstab highlighting the fact that British boat was first sighted well up the Baltic, and suggesting that her appearance was either a violation of the Copenhagen Convention or of Denmark’s territorial waters. He also requested orders as to how to react to its presence. For the moment he drafted a response to Heyse, the man on the spot.

Quoted

Observe but make no attempt to board British submarine. Maintain contact so long as U-boat remains surfaced. If U-boat dives, use of active search methods authorised to assure contact. Report movements hourly. Additional vessels en route to assist.

(Sorry to disappoint, but no Dorniers assigned to stations in the Baltic – right now they are very busy elsewhere)

HMS Wolverine, Gulf of Danzig, 54 dgs 42 min North, 19 dgs 33 min East, 13 April

As the four Mehrzweckboote appeared and began their conversation with the Russians Craddock ordered a change of course to the north. There would be little to see now except for shadowing craft and he expected the four craft would tail them as far as they could. He was glad at least some German ships were left as was beginning to think they had handed all their routine work to their rugged Russian allies.
Eventually when the chatter between the German and Russian ships died down Craddock ordered the signaller to send a message to the flotilla leader, 'I am Royal Navy submarine HMS Wolverine. Please identify yourself. Sorry we have no beer or cigarettes left to trade but glad of your company in these busy waters.'

Meanwhile down below his radio operator began sending a report to London.

Quoted

Made contact with Russian destroyers escorting carrier Moltke in Gulf of Danzig. No major units of Kriegsmarine sighted. Am being followed by German light craft. Am proceeding on surface and heading homeward. Request advice on how to proceed.

Marinestützpunkt Warnemünde, Tuesday, 13 April 1948

Konteradmiral Engel summoned Glaser, his chief of staff, to review their options in response to the order to support Befehlshaber der Sicherung der Ostsee in the matter of the British submarine now nosing its way through the Baltic. Engel’s first reaction was that the boat’s mission was some sort of response to Unternehmen Donnerschlag, but quickly dismissed this. The submarine would have had to leave its base in England days, if not weeks, ago. Why come to the Baltic, in secret no less, violating Denmark’s, or Nordmark’s, territorial waters.

Glaser offered one answer. “Most likely to see what we and the Russians are up to here in our schoolyard. Wachsame Entschlossenheit has been underway for months now, and it is certain that the British have heard of something through their agents. The fact that they have chosen to do so surreptitiously indicates that this submarine is here to collect intelligence.”

Engel nodded agreement. “Why is less important than what to do about her presence. We have already been ordered to send the Amazone, Gazelle, Tietzowsee, and Trenntsee eastward to support the local forces. What else can we relieve from training duties in case further ships are required?”

Glaser thumbed a list. “The Torgau, Bautzen, Dessau, and Gustrow are little more than thirty days from operational status. So too are the Stockach, the Gailingen, the Chemnitz, and the Mohlsdorf”.

“Four destroyers and four frigates,” Engel smiled. “That ought to be more than enough for one submarine. Where are they?”

“Torgau and Dessau are at Rostock taking on fuel. Bautzen and Gustrow are at sea with Gailingen in the vicinity of Bornholm. Stockach is at Kiel, coming off maintenance to her engines. Chemnitz and Mohlsdorf are on a goodwill cruise to Stockholm.” Glaser was the man for details. “Of course there is also Captain Kozyukhin and the Thirteenth Destroyer Flotilla.

“Yes,” Engel said, drawing out his comment. “Those ships are not quite mine to order, and the appearance of the British might be intended to create friction but between us and our Russian allies. For the moment allow them to continue exercising with the Moltke.”

Engel stared at the chart of the Baltic pinned to the wall of his office. “Order the destroyers and frigates to rendezvous south of Bornholm, pending further orders.”

The Gulf of Danzig, Tuesday, 13 April 1948

Ulrich Heyse conned the Mehrzweckboot 1 carefully, staying several hundred metres aft of the British submarine Wolverine, which had surprised everyone by suddenly surfacing in the waters off Pillau. Mehrzweckboot 2 and Mehrzweckboot 3 were stationed off the submarine’s port and starboard quarters respectively, while Mehrzweckboot 4 followed in Heyse’s own wake. Above them Arado seaplanes in relays kept the entire cavalcade under constant observation. For their part the British were cruising at a sedate pace on a westerly course, and would soon exit the Gulf of Danzig into the more open waters of the Baltic itself.

How long this situation might prevail Heyse had no clue, though the fact that the submarine had hoisted a White Ensign of huge dimensions suggested it would remain surfaced; striking the colours below as a preparation for diving would give him more than sufficient notice of the Briton’s intentions. Nevertheless he kept his crew at first degree readiness in case the British tried to elude him. His orders did not permit him to fire on the submarine should it do so, though he could use his echo-location gear to continue tracking it.

More and better equipped ships were on their way to assist; when they might arrive was an open question, and if the submarine wished to try and elude him it should do soon.

Operation Cravat: Crashdive!

13 April
As the afternoon drew on Craddock had increased speed gradually so the Wolverine was now going flat-out at 15kts on the surface, her hull cutting gracefully through the Baltic water and her Paxman diesels throbbing away merrily. The large ensign cracking in the wind seemingly distracted Craddock and he turned to a look-out behind him and ordered him to take it down.

Craddock looked up at the Arado circling overhead. He hadn’t been impressed by the Germans so far. The Baltic seemed devoid of German ships, could they all be away playing in the North Sea? The little Arados posed him little danger, they were fine for spotting fall of shot but not equipped for anti-submarine duties. Astern of him were the four Mehrzweckboot. He had carefully looked them up in their copy of Jane’s and also the official Naval recognition guide. Obviously if support was coming it would come towards him from the west and would take a while to do so. If he could lose these four boats then he might be able to use the ‘snort’ and make a reasonably quick dash to Danish waters. Even if he couldn’t escape them he could perhaps make them chase their tails for a while.

He studied the three boats he could easily see astern of him through his binoculars. The German sailors were still at readiness but there was no sign of their ASDIC sets being used. Craddock went below to address the crew, “This is the captain. As you know we’ve picked up an escort, as gratifying as it is to have picked up so many admirers we can’t let the Huns cramp our style. I intend to see if we can break away undetected and proceed home on our own. You all remember that record-setting crash dive we pulled off last autumn off Skye, well I want you to break that record today. When I give the word we’ll sink like a rock and go deep and silent and use some tricks and shake those motorboats off our trail.”

A crash dive was always risky, the diesels were at full throttle, they had to be stopped and the air intake valves secured as the boat went under, one false move and it could be catastrophic. The crew were well drilled and morale was pumped but it was a big risk. Craddock went up top, there were a couple of cargo ships lumbering along. Craddock had long been studying the tactical moves, the tactical diameters of the Mehrzweckboots and their formation, how long they might take to recover and start their ASDIC and what their search tactics would be.

Craddock looked around one last time and shouted “Dive!” down the hatch. Within seconds the tanks were venting and Wolverine was rapidly heading down, her spare crew members not needed elsewhere running into the bow compartment to weigh her bows down more.
“Go, go, deeper, deeper!” Craddock uncharacteristically shouted. The diesels had shut off on cue and everything sealed. One lookout had sprained an ankle jumping down the conning tower ladder but otherwise it had gone to plan. With only modest electric power and her crew trying to get into silent mode as quickly as possible, Wolverine had enough momentum to dive and begin turning due north. The depth gauge fell 50 feet, 100 feet, 150 feet, getting close to the bottom. The hydroplane operators now began to level her out, hoping the bottom wasn’t shallower than they were expecting. Finally at 250 feet they settled and silently made four knots heading north.

Simon on the hydrophones could hear the chaos above, the diesels of the Mehrzweckboots being shifted into higher gears, propeller cavitation and ASDIC pings. Craddock hoped his hydrographic charts were accurate, hoping for a thermal layer to help shield them. Above them the German boats circled back and forth thinking Wolverine may have reversed course, they even swung to the south hoping to catch her trying to enter German territorial waters. As they turned north Craddock altered course to the east for half an hour before turning north again. It was too soon to start celebrating but as the hour mark swept past it began to look like they might have pulled it off.

The Gulf of Danzig, Tuesday, 13 April 1948

Heyse noted the British taking down their big ensign and warned all ships to prepare for further British tricks. Suddenly he the submarine’s crew scrambling below as she crashed dived. Immediately his boats began to ping the water in an attempt to track the British submarine; his Mehrzwekboot were not the best antisubmarine platforms, their echo-location equipment limited; but he had the most dangerous weapon known to man – a wireless.

While efforts were made to locate the fleeing Briton Heyse flashed warning of its escape to Befehlshaber der Sicherung der Ostsee, and soon circuits were alight throughout the Baltic. Orders were flashed to all German warships, and shore and air stations that the British submarine had tried to elude its escort. The hunt was up.

Corvette Amazone, 54 dgs 45 min North, 14 dgs 19 min East, Tuesday, 13 April 1948

Upon receipt of the first order to assist in the hunt for an unknown submarine in the eastern Baltic, Korvettenkapitän Jost Metzler wasted no time in sending his small flotilla of two corvettes and two minesweepers on an eastward course. So anxious he was to participate that when reports arrived that a British submarine was proceeding on the surface under escort he did not bother to slow or change course. That the British submarine had crash-dived in an attempt to elude its escort did not surprise him. That is the way the English were; his father had fought them in the Great War, killed when his U-boat surfaced to allow the crew of a merchantman to escape before sinking it, and finding a Q-ship prepared to fight it out.

A concentration had been ordered in the vicinity of Bornholm; and since the Amazone was still west of the rendezvous he continued his easterly course. He doubted that the English boat had managed to get this far west from her last reported position; nevertheless he ordered the Amazone and its consorts to first-degree readiness and placed them in a standard pattern for search. The fact that the sun was dipping below the horizon made little difference to him. Powerful sound waves pounded the water beneath the ships’ keels; better the English know we are coming, Metzler thought.

Operation Cravat: Heading Home

13 April

Having lost the Germans Craddock had managed to head north and then begin the westward voyage home. Heading back to periscope depth and snorting he hoped to put some distance between himself and the German Mehrzweckboots. Craddock was bargaining on the Germans sending a lot of resources to find and track him. He even hoped he might impair the North Sea exercises if he could distract the German's attention enough. Carefully skirting Bornholm but still staying close to the main shipping lanes to hopefully use their noises as a shield the Wolverine made good progress.

Peter was beginning to think it was too easy and as dusk fell and the night closed around the Baltic he became convinced the Germans couldn't be far away. Craddock had the same hunch, he had already charted probable speeds of destroyers and sloops from Kiel and Rostock and when they might arrive. Even so, he was impressed how quickly they had covered the distance when Simon made his report.
"ASDIC to control room, sound contact bearing west, sounds like ASDIC sets."
To Simon it sounded like they closing in quite fast, he couldn't tell much definitively at this range exactly how fast.
Craddock took Wolverine back down to 250 feet and made a course change.
As he examined the chart he turned to Peter, "If they are moving at high speed banging away they are going to be unable to pick us up on hydrohpones and have tipped their hand."
"Do you think they are trying to force us into another force listening out for us Sir?" Peter asked.
Craddock smiled, "You're getting as skeptical as me, its a possibility but we'll sit it out and let them pass over us." Craddock then checked their course, "descend to three hundred feet, motors one-third ahead, I want silence."