In the spring of 1941 many new devices to protect shipping were under consideration and were being tested. Many of them came down directly through the Battle of the Atlantic Committee which was meeting weekly at Ten Downing Street. They included equipping merchant ships with Bofors antiaircraft guns, outfitting fifty merchant ships with fighter planes, and piggybacking a Hurricane fighter on a B-24 bomber. Those measures were directed primarily against the Focke-Wulff condors that had been taking such a heavy toll on merchant shipping near Britain. By April 1 the first ships were at sea with their fighters, and took credit for driving off at least one German air attack.
But the building of aerodromes in Northern Ireland was to counter submarines, as was the employment by Coastal Command of American PBY flying boats as successor to the cumbersome Sunderlands. The first five PBYs had been handed over to the British in March. Further, with the movement west of the U-boats, there could be no further delay in securing the sea lanes around Iceland. After the SC 26 convoy disaster the Admiralty assigned four escort groups to work the Western Approaches as far west as thirty-five degrees, which meant the water south of Greenland. Also, ten Hudson bombers of the 269th Squadron were transferred to Iceland in April, as was a squadron of Sunderlands, which had a depot ship moored in Reykjavik harbor.
Shipping losses were continuing to escalate so drastically that Draconian measures were in order. The war committee was moving toward prohibiting the sailing of any ship that made less than fifteen knots except in convoy. The figures showed that fast ships could outrun U-boats, but slow ones had little chance. But the problem, as before, was the shortage of escorts, so the prime minister decided to let the present unhappy situation continue a while longer, on the principle that at least most of the ships were getting through.
The concentration of Prien, Kretschmer, and other U-boat commanders on tankers had created serious fuel shortages. At the outbreak of war rationing had reduced the average Briton’s mileage ration to thirty-five miles per week. If anything more was to be done, it meant the abolition of the ration altogether. But savings of 100 million gallons a year was needed on the basis of current projections. How were they going to achieve it?
By such measures as cutting out supplementary rations except in the most important cases, by cutting 10 percent arbitrarily out of industrial allocations, by cutting farmers’ allocations subject to appeal, and the same for fishermen.
When a government had to consider such measures, it was indicative of desperate conditions, and as the prime minister had already told Roosevelt, this was precisely the situation in Britain that spring. The sinkings were not decreasing, because while the British were sending more escorts and planes into the battle, Doenitz was attacking with more U-boats and Goering was sending more bombers.
Yet despite the apparently gloomy outlook, there was a new element of hope that could not be evaluated by any normal standard. It was the growing commitment of the United States to the British war effort.
In March, W. Averill Harriman arrived in London as the special representative of President Roosevelt. At the second meeting of the Battle of the Atlantic Committee, Churchill suggested that the minister for shipping take up the matter of better repair facilities in U.S. ports with Harriman. In April, Harriman was deeply involved in finding ways that the Americans could help without violating provisions of the United States Neutrality Act. He offered to intervene personally to get priority for British ship repair in American yards; he was discussing schemes of transshipment that would allow American lines to carry aircraft and other war materials to the Persian Gulf and India without violating the letter of the law. He was exploring ways to turn over thirty fast ships to the British, but cautioned that this should be done in units of five or six, in order not to arouse opposition within the United States Congress and from the isolationists. Harrriman also suggested that wool shipments from Australia to the United States be cut to free more for Britain.
By the end of April, Harriman was actually attending the Battle of the Atlantic Committee meetings at Ten Downing Street, and for a foreigner had unprecedented entree into the secrets of the British war effort.
At the meeting on April 23 Harriman offered the information that seventy-seven fast cargo liners would be launched in the United States in 1941 and another fifty in 1942, and that the United States government might be persuaded to hand over “a considerable number” if the British played their cards right. The best case, he said, was to ask for the ships to carry military equipment to the Middle East (the point being that the United States had a vital stake in preserving its interests in Middle Eastern oil).
Harriman was privy to the most intimate defense secrets at such meetings: the abandonment of the piggyback B-24 plan because the B-24 was as fast as the Hurricane, the improvement of the merchant ship fighter program, the progress of work on British airfields and ports, and the reports on bombing raids on German factories. What Harriman heard at these meetings could have been extremely embarassing if it ever got out. But Churchill knew he had nothing to fear from Harriman or President Roosevelt. Their problem was to manipulate American public and Congressional opinion into further support for the British war effort.
In April shipping losses were again high. Doenitz had more than twenty submarines at sea during the month. Most of them worked the North Atlantic, but some had moved south into the waters between eastern Africa and the projecting eastern tip of Brazil. They were working over shipping coming up from South Africa and also from South America. They sank fourteen ships that month. Overall the tonnage was worrisome: 216,000 tons lost in March and 232,000 in April.
May was to be worse.
It began with Doenitz’s move of many boats to the South Atlantic, mostly off Freetown on the West African coast. This port was the assembly point for shipping from South America and the Cape of Good Hope. To use the U-boats to Germany’s advantage, Doenitz had to arrange for supply ships to sail into the South Atlantic, and this was done in April. In May he was able to take advantage of the changes. U-38, U-69, U-97, U-103, U-105, U-106, and U-107 worked the South Atlantic successfully, sinking thirty-one ships, most of them lone sailers.
Doenitz knew that the British were strengthening their North Atlantic convoy system. The Canadians announced in May that they would open an escort base at Saint John’s, Newfoundland, and that seven corvettes were now ready for duty and fifteen more would join up in June. That meant a vital increase in the western defense forces: the Canadians had eight destroyers and twenty corvettes on escort duty. The increase meant that for the first time a convoy could sail from North America under constant escort protection across the Atlantic. It was a major change and the first convoy to sail under the new conditions was HX 129. The convoy did not lose a ship.
But the same could not be said of two other convoys that crossed the Atlantic that month. The first was the westbound OB 318, which was hit by the U-boats on May 7.
The convoy had been brought west as far as Iceland without incident by H.M.S. Westcott, H.M.S. Newmarket, and H.M.S. Campbeltown. In mid-afternoon the convoy received a signal from the Admiralty announcing that the convoy had probably been spotted by a U-boat which had reported to Admiral Doenitz about an hour earlier. The Admiralty was restrained. “Probably” was the key word. There was no “probably” about it; the Admiralty knew exactly what had happened, because the Admiralty was reading Doenitz’s radio messages. But that fact was not to be allowed to get out, or the secret that the British had breached the German codes would be compromised and one of the most valuable war assets in British possession destroyed.
By May the British had two communications successes in the battle of the Atlantic. First was the breach of the German codes by Magic, the superb decoding machine that gave the basis for the ULTRA messages warning of German activity. These had to be used carefully in the naval as well as the land war for fear of German discovery.
The second development was the perfection of land-based HFDF or Huffduff—the radio direction finding system that triangulated the location of radio broadcasts and told the Huff-duffers where the U-boats were. The British were still working on their seagoing Huffduff, but with the growing involvement of the Americans since the autumn of 1940 the British took advantage of the American Huffduff system. The United States maintained an arc of land-based radio stations around its perimeters, with headquarters outside Annapolis. Stations in Britain and North America could triangulate almost any North Atlantic broadcast. On the American side, the information was passed along to the United States Navy communications headquarters in Washington, which passed it to the British. But this sort of cooperation was not a one-way street. In return the British gave the Americans new information about their rapid development of radar with such finds as the cavity magnetron, which made it possible for the Americans to modernize their warships. Later, in the battles of the South Pacific, the radar would make all the difference in the war against the Japanese.
But as the British had already discovered to their chagrin, knowing what the Germans were up to and doing something about it were two different matters. The fact was that a wolfpack of U-boats was now assembling to assault Convoy OB 318, and except to warn the escorts on the scene, the Admiralty could do nothing further.
Knowing that the convoy was being trailed, the commodore ordered a change in course, from 290 degrees to 318 degrees, hoping at least to throw off the boats that were moving in following Lieutenant Kuppisch’s transmission. These were Lemp’s U-110, Lieutenant Adelbert Schnee’s U-201, and Lieutenant Herbert Wohlfarth’s U-556.
* * *
At 6:30 P.M. May 7 the convoy met H.M.S. Ranpura, H.M.S. Bulldog, H.M.S. Amazon, and H.M.S. Broadway, which had come down from the new base at Iceland. A little over an hour later the Westcott group turned back for Iceland and then Londonderry. Their fuel was running low.
When the commander of Bulldog learned of the course change, he said it was not enough; the course was then set at 318 degrees and the escorts formed up around the thirty-five ships in nine columns.
* * *
Lieutenant Kuppisch had spent the afternoon running up ahead of the convoy. At dark he made sure of its position, then dived and let it go over him, came to periscope depth and prepared to attack.
* * *
Just before 9 P.M. the night of May 7, the Bulldog had a radar contact 200 yards ahead. It was lost before it could be classified. The captain of the Bulldog was suspicious enough to turn and steam down between the seventh and eighth columns of the convoy.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later Kuppisch surfaced and attacked the steamer Ixion, the rear ship in the fifth column. She fired two rockets and they were still in the air when the Eastern Star was torpedoed ten seconds later. Kuppisch had used the machine gun approach, firing a spread of three torpedoes into the heart of the convoy. One had struck the Ixion, one the Eastern Star, and the other had missed. He turned and fired his stern tube, and missed as well.
The Eastern Star was loaded with a cargo of Scotch whisky and it went up with a beautiful blue white flame, lighting up the sea around. Two minutes later the commodore ordered an emergency turn to port to get away from that telltale light.
The steamer Nailsea Manor, the rear ship in the eighth column, altered course to port, and at great danger to herself stopped to pick up eighty-six men from the Ixion, then set out to rejoin the convoy.
* * *
The Bulldog was steaming down between the seventh and eighth columns when the torpedoes blew. Her captain realized that she must be very near the submarine, and he dropped a depth charge right there. He then turned up into the convoy, just as it was executing the emergency turn; there was a terrible mess, which kept the helmsman of the Bulldog swinging this way and that for fifteen minutes until the ship could get out. Then she joined the U-boat hunt.
H.M.S. Rochester began to sweep the starboard quarter of the convoy, and at 9:20 P.M., while turning to port, sighted a periscope on the port beam. An asdic contact came at the same time. She prepared to attack.
The Amazon’s captain decided the attack must have come from the rear of the convoy, so he sped down between the third and fourth columns at twenty knots and soon had an asdic contact. He also prepared to attack.
For the next hour and a half the three ships carried out six depth charge attacks. But the U-boat got away.
When the submarine attack began the other escorts moved to cover the convoy. The Broadway dropped one depth charge on the port quarter. The Primrose hurried up to guard the port flank.
An ammunition ship goes up with a bang in the North Atlantic
A Royal Navy destroyer—an “ocean greyhound”—hot on the trail of a U-boat
The result of a U-boat torpedo on an Allied ship
A British ship, its stern blown off by a torpedo, is towed into Gibralter
Another torpedoed British ship lists heavily to port
Survivors on a raft are rescued following a submarine attack
U-744 enters Brest harbor after a successful “cruise” in the Atlantic. Several weeks later it was destroyed by a British frigate.
Down, down a U-boat goes, sunk by British fire
Grand Admiral Erich Raeder, chief of the German naval forces for most of World War I1
Admiral Carl Doenitz, the U-boat genius, at the head of a naval inspection force
U-boat Captain Gunther Prien shakes hands with Admiral Schlachtschiffe after sinking the British carrier Royal Oak in Scapa Flow. Looking on is Grand Admiral Erich Raeder.
Gunther Prien in full uniform and decorations—one of the superheros of the U-boat forces
First Sea Lord Admiral of the Fleet Sir Dudley Pound on the bridge of the ship that took Prime Minister Winston Churchill to America for his last meeting with President Roosevelt
Commander Weir of the Royal Navy giving landing instructions to captured U-boat commander (in white cap)
Prime Minister Winston Churchill on a morale visit to British naval forces in Scotland at the height of the U-boat menace
Captain F. J. Walker of the Britis navy, the famous U-boat hunter, who died before the ultimate victory
The Angle took station at the head of the convoy. The Nasturtium also moved up to the head of the convoy, though she had a contact and dropped one depth charge.
The Dianthus dropped a charge and then took her old station on the side.
The Auricula kept her station. The Daneman was ordered to stop and pick up survivors from the Eastern Star and saved the entire crew.
The Marigold screened the torpedoed Ixion and picked up six officers and thirteen men. When the Ixion and the Eastern Star sank, the escorts moved on their way and rejoined the convoy.
At 10 P.M. the commodore decided they had evaded long enough and ordered an emergency turn to starboard to put them back on the base course of 318 degrees. Shortly after this, the escorts Aubretia, Hollyhock, Nigella, and St. Apollo joined up with four more merchant ships from Iceland. This was the Seventh Escort Group.
From London came the word that another U-boat was transmitting to Doenitz between 62 and 63 degrees north; the convoy altered course at midnight to 270 degrees.
The convoy now consisted of thirty-seven merchant ships guarded by sixteen escorts, a number that would have been impossible even three months earlier. This state of affairs did not last long; the Seventh Escort Group remained with the convoy for only a couple of hours and by 6 PM on May 8 they were going off to meet Convoy HX 123 and take over its escort.
At this point the escort of Convoy OB 318 was actually reduced, because the Rochester, out chasing a submarine, had not been informed of the course change and failed to find the convoy that night. So the convoy now had nine escorts for thirty-seven ships.
The weather that night was fine, with a slight overcast. The sea was calm, with visibility five miles from the convoy. The commodore was in fine spirits, believing that his course changes had outwitted the enemy and that the convoy was free of snoopers.
His dream was brought to an abrupt end just after 9 P.M. when the Admiralty reported that once again the convoy was being trailed by a submarine. The commodore altered course thirty degrees to port, and again was sure he had shaken off the enemy. There were no attacks that night of May 8. The reason was that Kuppisch, who had been out on patrol since April, had fired all his torpedoes.
All went well until noon, when the lead ship in the starboard outside column, the Esmond, was hit by two torpedoes on the outward side. Lieutenant Lemp’s U-110 had caught up with the convoy.
* * *
The Bulldog was stopped near Lemp’s oil slick when the asdic operator had a contact. This must have been Lieutenant Herbert Wohlfarth’s U-556, since Schnee had moved around to the rear of the convoy. The Broadway immediately closed on it, and began dropping depth charges. The two ships made several attacks, and remained in the vicinity for twenty-four hours, watching and waiting.
At 12:20 P.M., when the commodore of the convoy made his second emergency turn to port, the ships went to a course of 140 degrees. The escort Ranpura sighted a periscope, 5,000 yards off to the northwest, and the Amazon closed on the position.
At 12:28 P.M. the Empire Cloud was torpedoed and a few seconds later the Gregalia. This was Schnee’s work. The Gregalia sank but not the Empire Cloud. Immediately three escorts were on the submarine, and she went down, with no chance to finish off the Empire Cloud. The Amazon called for a tug to be sent to the ship’s assistance, and eventually the Empire Cloud was towed safely into Reykjavik harbor.
For four hours the escorts hung around the place where Schnee had gone down sweeping and dropping depth charges. Some oil came up, but the U-boat survived. Schnee did not, however, take any more ships from Convoy OB 318.
Ranpura, Hollyhock, and Daneman continued to escort the convoy. The commodore had considered scattering his ships at dusk for better protection, but in view of the fact that he still had three escorts, he decided against the idea, at least until any further attacks.
So OB 318 continued westward, thirty-three ships in nine columns, with three escorts.
At 11:45 P.M. the convoy altered course to 190 degrees and then at 2:20 A.M. on May 10 altered course again to 220 degrees.
* * *
Wohlfarth had finally escaped the attentions of H.M.S. Broadway and the Bulldog, and was trailing the convoy again.
At 2:50 A.M. the Aelybryn was torpedoed on the starboard column of the convoy. The commodore ordered an emergency turn to port, the Hollyhock went charging off to find the submarine and failed, and the Daneman stood by and picked up ninety-six survivors of the stricken ship.
The presence of the Hollyhock, however, did keep Wohlfarth from any further destruction at the moment. For the next two hours he was busy evading the escort.
* * *
When the Aelybryn was torpedoed the master of the Chaucer, the second ship in the eighth column, looked hard for a torpedo track as he increased his speed and turned to starboard. He was an intelligent man, for another of Wohlfarth’s torpedoes missed the ship by a scant few feet.
At 3:11 A.M., the convoy commodore made a difficult decision. He had thirty-two ships to protect. All the escorts were out chasing submarines or picking up survivors. The commodore decided to disperse the convoy. The ships were told that they were now on their own.
It might not have been the wisest decision. Three more ships of OB 318 were lost before they reached North America, two more to Wohlfarth and one to Liebe’s U-38. But twenty-nine ships of the convoy arrived safely. Nine had been lost, 50,000 more tons of shipping.
In May, then, the war between the U-boats and the anti–U-boat forces did not change as much as the British might have expected, given their increased emphasis on the battle of the Atlantic. To be sure, the British were extending their protection westward, but so were the U-boats now prepared to move west. The last two attacks on Convoy OB 318 had occurred between 32° and 35° west. Just a few weeks earlier the limit of U-boat activity had been 20° west.
The growing strength and range of the U-boat fleet was felt again in the North Atlantic on May 20, when Convoy HX 126 was discovered, again by Kuppisch, who had gone home and come out again on a new patrol.
Kuppisch moved far to the west on this search, past forty-one degrees, due south of Greenland. There he found the convoy without escort. U-94, U-556, U-111, U-98, U-109, and U-93 sank nine ships in two nights of battle. At dawn on May 21 the commodore dispersed the convoy and no more ships were sunk. It was re-formed again south of Iceland when the escorts and the escorting aircraft joined up, and made its way safely back to the United Kingdom.
* * *
U-boat sinkings of merchant ships were up. To counter the British advances in anti–U-boat warfare, Doenitz had new boats with longer range, capable of carrying more torpedoes, and his fleet was growing. More important than the number was the nature of the fleet. Earlier Doenitz had depended on his 250-ton boats, but now these were almost all retired. Each U-boat that came off the ways had more range and more power than the model before it. The pattern of battle had indeed changed. Where the British could put up enough aircraft and escorts to sea, they could keep the U-boats off balance, and cut losses to a minimum. But too many ships were still sailing independently. Of the sixty-six ships sunk in May, forty-one were traveling alone, and only twenty-five were sunk from convoys. And as the British gained skill in protecting the convoys, the U-boat captains gained skill in avoiding the escorts. If the British were to slow the depradations of the U-boats, they would have to do still better than they had done.