Chapter 69: Ten Thousand Miles of Waves

“Hard to port! Course southwest! On the mark!” The cold Atlantic seawater was cut open by the sharp bow, sending up white spray. A man in his thirties, wearing a white naval cap at a slant and a black leather jacket, lowered the binoculars in his hand. “Watchstanders on deck! Maintain anti-air watch.”

He was commanding one of the newest submarines built by German engineers in the Netherlands. It could be said to be the most advanced submarine in the world at present, with a surface displacement of over 1,060 tons, an astonishing range of 8,500 nautical miles, the ability to travel submerged at 4 knots for 60 nautical miles, and to safely dive to a depth of 165 meters.

It had four forward torpedo tubes, two aft torpedo tubes, used 533mm caliber torpedoes as its attack weapon, and was crewed by 56 men. It was an extremely threatening underwater super-killer.

The moment the commander’s voice fell, from the narrow hatch behind him, a dozen or so young sailors emerged one after another. They climbed, laughing and joking, from the ladder simply welded to the conning tower to the deck. A few of them sat on an 88mm gun, two others stood next to an anti-aircraft autocannon, and the rest used this bit of free time to light cigarettes for each other.

“Based on our experience, if we maintain this course, we should rendezvous with transport ship number 7 in about ten more minutes,” the last person to emerge from the hatch was an officer. Judging by his attire, he was the adjutant of the man in the white naval cap. He stood behind the man in the white cap, did not go down from the conning tower to the deck, but leaned against a periscope and the railing and said.

“This set of tactics is really effective. If we coordinate with aircraft and reconnaissance ships, the efficiency will be even higher!” the man with the slanted cap said, looking at the telegram in his hand. “If it weren’t for the fact that underwater radio communication technology is not yet up to par, the results would be even greater.”

“Major Dönitz, will we ever have a day when we can sink the enemy’s ships?” the adjutant asked with doubt.

“Of course,” Dönitz nodded and said.

“I hope we can sink a big ship today.”

“Wake all personnel, open the flooding valves! Prepare to dive!” Dönitz ordered loudly. He then turned and ducked into the open hatch at his feet. Behind him, one sailor after another followed him in.

The last sailor greedily took two breaths of fresh air, then reluctantly closed the hatch at the top of the conning tower, which was getting closer and closer to the sea’s surface.

They had been adrift at sea for 10 days. The bunks that were originally piled with food were now empty. The interior compartments of the submarine were filled with the strange smell of rotten food and the stench of human excrement. Most of the men’s clothes were covered in grease, and their beards hadn’t been trimmed for days. They were like a group of wild men trapped deep in the mountains.

The books they bought from the bookstore had long been finished. The playing cards had become warped from the stuffy and humid air and could no longer be used. Their only form of entertainment now was to fantasize about the asses of the streetwalkers in the Netherlands, looking forward to getting their wages and finding one when they returned.

“Major! Major Dönitz!” a soldier ran over in a hurry, holding a telegram document. “A message from Dragon’s Lair. It’s using the highest-level code, but the content might be a mistake!”

“A mistake? How could it be a mistake?” Dönitz took the telegram with a frown, looked at it carefully for two moments, and then froze on the spot.

“What are the orders?” the adjutant asked, puzzled, seeing his expression.

Dönitz was a little nervous. He handed the telegram to his adjutant. “A message from Dragon’s Lair, ordering us to sink the British transport ship number 7.”

“Impossible! Usually, we just secretly aim and conduct lock-on attack training! This isn’t a war. How could they possibly order us to open fire?” the adjutant was greatly alarmed. He took the message and read it carefully, as if afraid of missing something.

But the message clearly read: “Confirmed by intelligence department, transport ship number 7 is loaded with important materials urgently needed by Great Britain. You are now ordered to launch a simultaneous attack with U-72. You must hit the British transport ship number 7 with at least 3 torpedoes. Disguise it as sinking after hitting a mine. Leave no survivors. Dragon’s Lair.”

“Has Dragon’s Lair gone mad? This will cause a war,” the adjutant said, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. It was unclear if it was from the heat in the submarine or from fear. “Shouldn’t we confirm with Dragon’s Lair at once?”

“This is the last telegram we received after diving. Confirm? Are you suggesting we surface to send a message?” Dönitz looked at his adjutant. “We have already entered the busiest shipping lane in Britain. It’s very likely we will be discovered.”

“Then, then let’s just ignore this message! Let’s pretend we never received it,” the adjutant said with some hesitation, but immediately thought of a solution. “Otherwise, Germany will be destroyed by us.”

“It won’t be! We’ll fire a salvo of torpedoes, and do it cleanly,” Dönitz said after some thought. “No one will see us! Right? We are the ghosts of the Atlantic seabed!”

“Major, have you considered, if we fail, we will be the traitors of all of Germany,” the adjutant pleaded in an anxious tone. “We’ll be finished then.”

“Why do we train every month, going out to sea to train?” Dönitz stared at his adjutant and asked. “Isn’t it so that our torpedoes can hit the enemy’s ships? Are you hoping to learn a full set of skills and then retire and go home, to become an old man who dies of illness in his bed?”

“Attacking a civilian ship will get us hanged,” the adjutant was almost begging now.

“Do you all think so?” Dönitz raised his head, looked at all the sailors around the conning tower, and asked.

“Sink it! Sink the son of a bitch! My father served on the battleship Kaiser. He told me to find a chance to get revenge on the British,” the sonarman said, taking off his headphones. “I’m in favor of sinking it.”

“That’s right! Sink it! Let the British see what we Germans are made of!” a young sailor also said, waving his fist.

Youth possesses passion and is more easily stirred up. Several young sailors also nodded and said, “We should do it! We’ve been hiding for over a year. We have to make them suffer a little.”

More and more people were in favor of the attack. The adjutant’s courage also grew. “My God! Then let’s act quickly! We should fire 4 torpedoes at once to ensure we sink the target.”

“Captain Grete, go to the torpedo room! Check all the torpedoes again! Make sure there are no mistakes!” Since he had made up his mind, Dönitz no longer hesitated. “All soldiers to their stations! Depth 12 meters! Maintain course!”

As he spoke, he pulled down the periscope, put his eyes to it, and began to search the sea surface for his target.

Through the periscope with its reticle and crosshairs, Dönitz saw another submarine about a kilometer away also diving. The conning tower of that submarine was flashing a light signal. The general meaning of the signal was that they were preparing to attack.

The sky gradually darkened, just in time for the evening, which was suitable for a submarine attack. Everything seemed to be in the attacker’s favor. This was a rare opportunity that couldn’t be better.

“Target sighted! Adjusting attack position!” Dönitz saw the target ship appear on the sea’s surface through the periscope. The transport ship, over 8,000 tons, was a behemoth. At this moment, it still didn’t know it was in danger, and was spewing black smoke as it sailed rapidly in this direction.

“Torpedo safeties off!” the officer in charge of torpedoes ordered loudly.

“Ready ammunition!” “Loading!” The commands came one after another.

“Steady! Steady!” Dönitz’s eyes were glued to the periscope, his hands gripping the handles, encouraging his men.

“Fire!” Suddenly, as everyone held their breath, he finally shouted the command everyone had been waiting for.

“Torpedo tube one! Fire!” a soldier shouted.

As he pressed the switch, he reported loudly, “Torpedo tube two! Fire! Three! Four! Fire! Torpedo salvo complete!”

Boom! A huge explosion. Even in the submarine, they could feel the vibration from not far away. The first torpedo had successfully hit the target.

Boom! Subsequently, another huge explosion came, followed by one after another. It seemed that not only had Dönitz’s submarine fired its torpedoes, but the nearby U-72 had also fired its torpedoes and hit the transport ship. The target vessel began to explode violently, black smoke soaring dozens of meters high.

But then the transport ship broke in two, followed by an even more violent explosion. It seemed the ship was carrying flammable and explosive military supplies, which had sympathetically detonated with the torpedo explosion. This explosion was countless times more powerful than the torpedoes. The transport ship, broken in two, was instantly turned into a collection of parts. From the first explosion to the sea surface returning to calm, the entire process did not even exceed 30 seconds.

“If their captain had gone to his cabin for a cup of coffee, they wouldn’t even have been able to send out a distress signal,” Dönitz said slowly after swallowing hard.

“It’s over?” the first officer had an expression of disbelief.

“It’s already sunk. I didn’t see anyone fall into the water. The explosion was too violent. There won’t be any survivors,” Dönitz said with a sigh. “I estimate it was a munitions transport ship.”

He guessed correctly. This was a shipment of arms from the United States to Britain. On board was a large batch of high explosives and a small amount of finished artillery shells. This shipment of materials was an important military supply intended for sale to the Belgian military, but now not even a scrap was left.

“Surface quickly!” Dönitz only lamented for a few seconds before he began to issue orders. “Use the cover of night to search the sea surface! Leave no survivors. Send a telegram to Dragon’s Lair. Attack complete. Target destroyed.”

Anna put down the phone, walked over to Akado, who was eating with Krupp and Stresemann, and reported softly, “A message from Young Dragon. Mission complete.”

Akado’s eyes lit up. He raised his wine glass and laughed heartily. “To the Nobel Peace Prize being won by a German! Cheers!”