ON 19 NOVEMBER 1947 the submarine rescue vessel USS Tringa made way through the stormy waters off Cape Cod, escort to a doomed lady. The Tringa was completing her mission of hauling salvage hulks to a predesignated point, where they would be utilized as targets in torpedo trials for the U.S. Navy. On this morning she towed her final victim, a German Type XB U-boat. As the Tringa approached her destination 40 miles northeast of Provincetown, Massachusetts, the USS Greenfish (SS-351) lay waiting to send the U-boat to the ocean floor. The Tringa’s companion and the Greenfish’s prey were one and the same: U-234.
With her surrender in May 1945, U-234’s days as an operational warship had ended; however, she had not outlived her usefulness to the U.S. Navy. On 19 May the chief of naval operations issued instructions regarding the inspection and testing of captured U-boats, five of which were berthed on the United States’ East Coast. The directive announced that dockside inspections of the submarines would be supervised by the commanding officer of the Portsmouth Navy Yard, while operational tests would be coordinated by the commander of submarines, Atlantic Fleet (COMSUBSLANT).1 Investigators were instructed to enter preliminary assessments onto a “Submarine Condition Sheet,” from which naval personnel could determine which boats might be of further use to the navy. The CNO further directed Portsmouth to furnish and train U.S. Navy personnel to man the submarines during operational testing, authorizing employment of the original German crews only when deemed necessary. In the case of U-234, cargo was subject to the direction of the Office of Naval Intelligence, and was therefore to be segregated and removed prior to any investigations or tests.2
The purpose of these tests of the German submarines was to determine their structural and operational integrity compared with that of American submarines. The Bureau of Ships (BuShips) subjected the U-boats to a battery of tests measuring standardized performance both on the surface and while submerged, deep-submergence integrity, Schnorchel operation (where applicable), sound and magnetic ranging, and sonar and radar efficiency. To ensure the safety of the crew, BuShips ordered the submarines dry-docked prior to deployment for strength tests to determine that they could safely be submerged to a depth of 250 feet.3
On 29 May, Lt. Cdr. H. G. Dyke of the CNO’s office notified the Office of Scientific Research and Development (OSRD) that the “Navy is anxious for your organization . . . to inspect the boats.”4 Because U-234 was a Type XB, and therefore had operational features not present on the other four boats, she was placed second in priority only to the Type IXD/2 U-873. On 2 June representatives of the OSRD and naval contractors arrived in Portsmouth for the initial inspection of U-873 and U-234. Some of the more visible members of this contingent were Dr. Vannevar Bush, director of the OSRD; Dr. Karl Compton of the Office of Field Services and president of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology; Dr. James Conant of the Underwater Sound Laboratory and president of Harvard University; and representatives from the Woods Hole Oceanographic Laboratory, the Columbia University Special Studies Group, Bell Telephone Laboratories, the DuPont Corporation, and the American Telephone and Telegraph Company.5 In addition, Dr. Julian K. Knipp of the Radiation Laboratory at MIT traveled to Washington to view U-234’s captured documents.6
By the end of 1945, the dockside investigations and inspections were complete. On 21 February 1946 the commander of the Special Submarine Force in New London, Connecticut, notified COMSUBSLANT that German submarines U-234, U-858, U-873, and U-2513 were cleared for further operational tests, and he designated 26 February through 1 April as the testing period for U-234.7 By March, naval engineers and system analysts had examined U-234 extensively, both at sea and in dry dock, and published their findings in a six-hundred-page report, “Surrendered German Submarine Report, Type XB.” In June, sonar technicians removed U-234’s underwater detection equipment and transferred it to an unspecified navy lab for examination8—the first in a succession of equipment removals that would ultimately render U-234 little more than a hulk. In September 1947, navy ordnance officials authorized use of U-234 as a target for torpedo exploder testing, and in November navy tugs towed her from Portsmouth Harbor to a meeting with the Tringa. Now, on 19 November, like a condemned man walking his last mile, U-234 followed the Tringa to meet the executioner.
The USS Greenfish, a Guppy III–class patrol boat, was on her third simulated war patrol, and her first under new skipper Cdr. R. C. Giffen. The Greenfish was well armed, featuring six forward torpedo tubes, with an additional four astern.9 Neither Giffen nor his crew expected to expend more than a single torpedo to accomplish their mission; their experience had shown them that one was enough to sink a U-boat. However, the outfitting crews aboard U-234 took great pride in their work, and they had made her as “unsinkable” as possible, securing and double-checking each valve, petcock, hatch, and sea opening.10 The next morning, Giffen closed on U-234 and relayed the order to fire when ready. In fire control, gun boss Charles Priest signaled Firecontrolman Myron Prevatte, who sent the torpedo speeding toward U-234.11 After the ensuing explosion, Giffen was surprised to spot U-234 defiantly remaining afloat, and he ordered a second shot. Again Prevatte pressed the firing key, and this time there were no surprises. On 20 November 1947, at 43°37' N, 69°33' W, U-234 took a last gasp, then embarked on her final voyage to a destination six hundred feet below.
What place does U-234 occupy in the history of World War II? Given Japan’s surrender following the August 1945 atomic-bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the entire episode might appear to be only a footnote. But had Germany and Japan exchanged advanced countermeasures and weapons systems earlier in the war, could Japanese industry have developed them to provide an effective deterrent to American efforts to bomb Japanese cities? Moreover, could Japan have developed self-sufficiency in the production and implementation of radio technology, rockets, and jet-powered weapons? After the capitulation of Japan, these questions admittedly became matters of conjecture, but they did merit the consideration of the eventual proprietors of German technology, particularly the United States.
The difficulties faced by Japan and Germany in formulating a successful exchange program reflected both cultural and economic differences. Having risen from the economic and social ruin of the post–World War I years, Germany entered the war an industrial colossus, armed with what was arguably the most powerful and modern military on Earth. In essence, Germany had had no other choice. Its potential enemies would be the victors of 1918, particularly Britain and France, both of which could muster substantial industrial and military might. Given the right circumstances, even the Soviet Union, though struggling under the devastation of Stalin’s purges, could present a formidable foe. In a worst-case scenario Germany might eventually be forced to square off against the world’s greatest industrial power, the United States. In any case, German military leaders knew that to wage and win this war, they would have to strike quickly with effective modern armaments, while at the same time remaining at the forefront of new weapons technology.
In 1936 Japan embarked on a war of Asian liberation against Western colonial powers that were preoccupied in Europe. Considering the success of their ruthless subjugation of China, Indochina, and Indonesia, the Japanese saw no reason to question their own military proficiency. Furthermore, the successful 7 December 1941 raid on Pearl Harbor provided Tokyo with additional assurance that Japan’s military, particularly the Imperial Japanese Navy, was of sufficient mettle to deter and defeat its enemies, particularly the United States.
In addition, Japan’s military was infused with the tradition of Bushido, the spiritual warrior code that stood in such marked contrast to the more secular and mechanized code of the Europeans. Once Emperor Hirohito proclaimed Japan’s struggle a crusade worthy of its ancestors, defeat ceased to be an option. The “Greater East Asian War” was a holy war, to be prosecuted with a “youthful, patriotic zeal.”12 In the push to create an army of nationalistic zealots, Japan allowed its substantial technological apparatus to suffer; technologically, the Japanese lagged far behind the Allies, who were themselves struggling to keep up with the Germans. By the time Tokyo realized that the Shinto tradition alone was no match for America’s military and industrial proficiency, it was too late; Japan was not prepared to undergo the metamorphosis from ideological to technological warfare required for survival.
Regarding the technical exchanges that took place between Germany and Japan, it is difficult to measure the benefits that Japan derived from its ally’s prototypes and manufacturing data. From the interrogations of U-234’s passengers, it appears that the production in Japan of German weaponry presented greater difficulties than either country had anticipated. There are several possible explanations for this difficulty. First, Japanese engineers and manufacturing personnel were not skilled enough to grasp and master the sophisticated German technology; the level of technical education in Japan trailed that of the Western industrialized nations by years. Historian Saburo Ienaga regards this deficiency in technical education, along with the “emasculation of academic freedom, without which objective and scientific knowledge could not be acquired and diffused,” as a major factor in Japan’s lack of military preparedness.13 Second, although Germany sent some of its finest engineers and scientists to instruct the Japanese, it would have taken two to three times that many experts to bring the Japanese to the desired level of proficiency, and the U-boats simply could not meet that demand for transport. Also, Japan was suffering acute labor and raw material shortages. Germany’s jet aircraft and rockets required new lightweight metals and alloys to which Japan had little or no access; by the end of the war, Japanese pilots were flying aircraft made of wood.
Finally, the limited effect of Germany’s technical aid to Japan can be viewed as a failure of timing. As early as 1940, difficulties in reaching a consensus on technical exchange agreements, many of which difficulties were based on mutual distrust, were already costing the Japanese valuable time. By the time these misunderstandings were settled, Germany could not deliver aid in shipments of sufficient size because its blockade-running merchant fleet had been decimated. By 1944, as German designs and equipment continued to arrive, the loss of valuable raw materials from the far reaches of its empire had disrupted Japan’s industry to the point of inefficiency. By the spring of 1945, devastating American air raids had left Japanese manufacturing unable to put the German weapons into serial production. In summary, although Japan secured considerable technical and material assistance from its German ally, the level and amount of this aid were insufficient to meet Japan’s burgeoning needs. Japan and Germany simply ran out of time.
The capture of U-234 may have been irrelevant to the outcome of the war, but it demonstrated once again the value of Allied intelligence operations. ONI officials put a high priority on the capture of U-234 because they possessed intelligence, in the form of MAGIC intercepts, regarding the individuals and materials the submarine might be carrying. On 22 April 1945 Japanese minister Kase in Switzerland had informed Tokyo that “Hitler and other high-ranking Nazi officials” would abandon Europe in the closing days of the war and flee to Japan.14 This information appeared to be verified by a 3 May 1945 intercept revealing that Gen. Ulrich Kessler was aboard U-234 with a party that included “an expert in aerial defense, another in radio-controlled weapons, a specialist in radar and infra-red . . . two German civilian engineers who are experts in the mass production of the ME-262 . . . [and] two Japanese naval officers.”15 By the time U-234’s surrender was announced to the American press, there was rampant speculation as to the identity of the personnel on board, as evidenced by a banner headline in the 18 May 1945 Boston Post: “Big Hunt on for Hitler in U-Boat.” However, as a result of the MAGIC signal intelligence, naval officials had formed a remarkably accurate assessment of exactly who was on board U-234, and subsequently positioned their Eastern Sea Frontier forces to accept her surrender.
U-234’s personnel also served the U.S. government’s Project Paperclip well. The areas of primary concern to the United States with regard to German technological advances—namely countermeasures, turbojet aircraft, radio technology, and rocketry—were all amply represented in U-234’s cargo holds. In addition, numerous blueprints, drawings, and documents accompanied the machines, and, in the persons of Heinz Schlicke, Erich Menzel, August Bringewald, and Franz Ruf, so did the scientific, engineering, and manufacturing expertise. Schlicke, Bringewald, and Ruf returned to America after repatriation to lend their considerable abilities to helping ensure America’s standing as the postwar world’s technological leader. Without a doubt, America’s defense systems and weapons received a boost from the information and subsequent service obtained from U-234’s passengers.
It has been said that America never finishes a war but merely changes enemies. This axiom holds true for the post–World War II period, when the United States immediately shifted its focus from Germany and Japan to the Soviet Union. An immediate matter of concern was the fear that the Soviets would commandeer Germany’s top scientists and create a dangerous technology gap between the Soviet Union and the United States. In 1945, German technical expertise was a valuable commodity, and the Soviets were acquiring it as rapidly as they could, dismantling German wartime manufacturing facilities and transferring them to the Soviet Union, commandeering the services of German technical personnel living in Soviet-occupied areas, and even making aggressive attempts to recruit Germans who were working for the Americans.
The United States countered these efforts with programs like Project Paperclip and the Alsos technical missions to Europe. In January 1946, as captured German personnel were being repatriated to Germany, Secretary of War James Forrestal pointed out to Secretary of State James F. Byrnes that such programs would “eliminate the potential threat of continued work by such scientists in Germany or elsewhere outside the United States.”16 Forrestal was right. Without programs like these, Schlicke, Menzel, and Bringewald—who all resided in areas of Germany that were under Soviet occupation—would undoubtedly have been commandeered for Soviet service. The Soviets did manage to collect enough German scientists and materials to claim early scientific victories, as evidenced by the development of a Soviet nuclear weapon in 1947 and the launching of Sputnik in 1957. However, among those German scientists who were afforded a choice of where to work, the best of them came to America, attracted by the lure of better living and working conditions. In the Cold War oscillations over whose Germans were the best, America ultimately emerged on top.
The United States would have defeated Japan regardless of Fehler’s decision to surrender that May morning in 1945; U-234’s story, while intriguing, was of little consequence to the outcome of the war. However, the surrender of U-234 did provide a measure of security to American servicemen by bringing to the attention of U.S. military intelligence the possibility of Japanese integration of German technology, in time for the United States to develop countermeasures should the need arise. Ironically, U-234’s biggest contribution was not in the continuance of the overt violence of total war but rather in the darkened battlefields of a war of deterrence; indeed, U-234’s passengers were among the first of the Cold Warriors. This is the niche in history that the men of U-234 can rightfully claim. Failing in their initial mission, they succeeded in a much greater arena: fostering the safety and security of free nations in the postwar nuclear world.