WATER FOAMED behind the steel encased glass eye that jutted out above the waves. The periscope turned slightly on its metal neck and stopped, for sliding into the crosshairs of the sights below deck was the low shape of a heavily laden oil tanker. Commander Von Helsner slapped his thigh and muttered a guttural order to the young officer at his side.
Bells rang sharply, men jumped to firing stations. The short, squat commander stood with his eye glued to the eyepiece. His hand came up — then down!
“Fire!”
A stream of bubbles shot from the nose of the sub, the long line heading directly for the steamer. Above, at the last moment, the tanker lookout spotted it yelled — but before the ship’s course could be altered, death struck!
A savage burst of flames blasted from the middle of the tanker. Then — the whole vessel went up in a mass of smoke, debris, and fire, as the oil bunkers let go. In a matter of ten seconds, men died, killed without warning.
Below, safely watching the awful scene, the U-boat commander chuckled evilly. He turned to the young officer. “The hunting is good, no?”
Hans Frier grinned his acknowledgment and nodded. “Ja! This trip has been a good one, all right. Seventeen ships, all told. Soon the waters will be empty!”
Von Helsner went back to his periscope, scanned the sea and gave the order to surface. Compressed air hissed into the tanks, blowing out the water. The blunt prow broke the surface, then the hull of the sub followed. While the decks were still awash, men scrambled from the conning tower and leaned over the rail.
“Not a man in sight!” someone murmured.
The sea was littered with driftwood, spars, and the remains of lifeboats. A life ring bobbed on the wave crests. Von Helsner pointed to it.
“Get it. See what ship it was.”
A boathook shot out and snared the ring.
“The Walker Lee, sir.”
“Ah, good, I think that the Americans will stop trying to slip across these lone tankers now!”
Suddenly a startled shout broke from the lips of a sailor.
“SCOUT PLANE! In the sun!” Frightened eyes looked up into the red ball of fire. It was a plane all right, by the looks of it. probably a giant Sunderland. There was a mad scramble to the conning tower. Men shot down the ladder, then the hatch slammed shut. Almost before the last man left the deck, the sub went into a crash dive. Quickly it sank into the cold ocean, but it was a moment too late. The Sunderland wheeled on a wingtip and headed for the dark blob under the surface.
Below, the men waited in breathless anxiety for the rending crash of depth bombs. They had no way of knowing whether or not the plane had seen them, and the suspense was nerve-racking. Above, two sleek bombs left the underside of the plane. Into the water with hardly a ripple, they sank many feet, then burst in a blast of flame.
For a moment the lights in the sub quivered, but remained on.
“Deeper!” Von Helsner shouted, “Dive to the bottom!”
Another crash shook the sub. This time the lights went out. Immediately the auxiliary lamps came on. Men were quiet, waiting for the first sign of water seeping in through the shaken seams of the steel plates.
The sub hit bottom. It bounced once, then settled along the sandy floor. The motors cut off. Long minutes passed before a word was spoken.
The commander smiled. “The fools have lost us. Now let us proceed. It is time to open the sealed orders, from the high command.”
He produced an oilcloth packet and removed the contents. Carefully reading every line, he rang for “stations.” Men hopped to their posts.
“This,” he said, “is our greatest mission of the war. We go North to Greenland to intercept American troopships. Ah! I take much pleasure in this job!”
At once, the motors throbbed, and the sub got under way. Alternately running on the surface and under the waves, she made good time.
Noon of the third day, a tramp steamer hove into view. It was a sloppy looking ship, not capable of carrying any heavy guns. “Hardly worth a torpedo! … Stand by to open fire with the deck guns!”
Quickly, men jumped to their posts. The breech of the gun opened, a shell went in. and the gun fired! Direct hit, the first shot! The sailors threw their caps in the air with joy. Another shell fired, then another. A gun from the ship answered, but fell far short of the mark. One final shot blasted toward the tramp. It hit the superstructure and blew it clear of the ship!
Slowly, like a dying whale, the steamer turned over. Men scrambled over the hull like ants. Then it went down, stern first. The sub made no attempt to rescue anyone, but deliberately avoided the frantic shouts of those that had cleared the sinking ship, and again headed Northward. These hardened veterans of undersea warfare cared little for human lives … as long as they weren’t their own!
IT WAS early morning of the sixth day that Von Helsner sighted another tramp, as shoddy as the other one they had sent down. Its paint was old and peeling, while the cabins seemed to be greatly in need of repair.
Helsner eyed it for a moment, then spoke to his junior officer. “It is another one of those Yankee ships. Riding high, too. She must have emptied her cargo. Well, she’ll never ship another one!”
Again the command was given to the gunners, and while the rest of the crew stood about on the deck to watch the slaughter, the gun was loaded. But the sub had been seen. The ship began to weave back and forth.
“Fools,” Helsner muttered. “They think that we’ll waste a torpedo on their smelly old tub. Fire away!”
A shell sped from the muzzle, and splashed in front of the tramp steamer. Almost at once, lifeboats went over the side, and men jumped from the deck into them.
Helsner laughed. “Yellow dogs, look at them run! When we get done with the ship we will sink them, too!”
The sub moved in closer to the target. This time the gunner found his mark. A shot mashed high into the prow of the ship. In another moment the tramp was peppered with holes; the railings and superstructure were a maze of twisted metal.
The sailors looked at the tub quizzically. By now she should be sunk. Then Helsner laughed. “She must be carrying a load of cork. That’s why she rides so high and refuses to sink! Close in on her. This time we will end it!”
Gradually the submarine pulled into point blank range. To starboard, the men who had left the doomed vessel pulled with all their might on the oars of the lifeboat. Von Helsner let them go. It would be only a matter of minutes to round them up … then the fun of shooting them down! When the sub was a scant five hundred yards off, the gunners took careful aim at the water line, then fired!
A hole was ripped into the rusted side just above the water line. Then it happened. There was a flash of activity on the deck of the apparently deserted steamer! A machine gun suddenly sang a song of death as it raked the deck of the sub. Sailors not within the protection of the gun or the conning tower crumpled to the deck, dead.
VON HELSNER was taken aback. He leaped behind the forward gun just in time to escape a withering hail of bullets.
“Kill them, you dogs! Kill them!” he shouted.
The men rammed home a shell. But before they could fire, a strange thing happened on board the tramp. Part of the crumpled cabin began to slide back. A peculiar whine broke through the air and a 6”/53-caliber gun came up on an elevator shaft from the very bowels of the ship!
It was a huge thing, gleaming dully in the light of the morning. Immediately the muzzle blossomed into a mushroom of yellow flame. The range was point-blank, still, but the tables were turned. The men on the sub gasped at the sight. Then the shot from the steamer smashed through the conning tower. To submerge again was hopeless — they had to fight back now.
The slamming of the two guns split the day wide open. A shot from the steamer threw the sub broadside. A perfect target! But in this new position they could bring their stern gun into action. Von Helsner wasted no time. Quickly the men dashed to the other cannon. It spit fire at the ship, trying desperately to knock the other gun from the deck. Shrapnel whizzed through the air, while men dropped to the deck of both the sub and the steamer.
YET THEY kept up the steady fire! The sub was a mess. Gaping holes ran across the deck and water washed into them. Then the big rifle on the tramp steamer spat. Once again a shell hit the sub directly at the water line and ripped into its backbone. A tearing shudder went through the entire length of the dark hull, and it split in half! Men screamed as the boat went down beneath them. Those that weren’t wounded enough to die quietly, shouted their lungs out as they were caught in the swirling vortex of the whirlpool. All of them went under. They died as they had sent others to their deaths, and would have sent the survivors of the tramp had the end been the other way around.
On the steamer, five men leaned on the hot gun. A doctor was rapidly administering to the wounded, and the rest gazed out to where the sub had been. Behind them, wildly cheering boatloads of men pulled toward their ship.
Dan Cassidy grinned at the other gunner. “Well, that’s that! Helsner and his boys got quite a reputation in these parts, but it won’t make any difference where he’s going! Golly. It sure was smart of the Brass Hats to pull the First World War stunt of outfitting “Q” ships! I bet those babies got the surprise of their lives when Betsy here poked her snout over the gun’ale and gave them a little back talk!”
***