Fogbound EncounterChapter 2
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It was the night of 12th July 1918 in the Irish Sea. About 50kms southwest of the Isle of Man, U151 'U-Kreuzer Oldenburg' rolled heavily in the rising swell. The waves were starting to break around the forward 150mm-deck gun mount, swirling over the gratings before running off the deck or through the scuppers.
The submarine was the largest produced by Germany during the Great War, with the greatest endurance. It was designed first of all to be an undersea gunboat, to be fought principally with its powerful gun armament.
It was a miscalculation, however. It ignored the greatest asset of the submarine, its stealth. By surfacing to use it's guns, it put itself on the same footing as any surface vessel, most of which had greater speed and firepower.
Ill-suited for its intended role, therefore, the U-Cruisers became first supply ships for other, smaller U-boats and as weather ships, U 151's role.
Meteorologist Benny Sajer half climbed, half fell down the ladder to the control room below. Landing heavily in a shower of inky black water he told his Captain,
"Got it!"
"Good, give it to Radio and let's get under," replied the Captain.
'WW... W50NW... S3... D, ' Radioman Schultz scribbled on the pad.
"You're going to tell me what that means?" said Unterleutnant Lander, looking over his shoulder.
"Yes sir. WW, means West Wetterschiffe (Western Weathership), W50NW, means Wind 50kms from the Northwest. D means Dunk (Dark) or low visibility."
"Thank you," grumbled the Officer.
Lander passed the weather information to L68's Captain. Von Leichtenfels accepted the message with a nod.
"A storm is brewing. The Commander will no doubt seek shelter. We should run before it into the 'Bight'," he announced.
The raiding force of 11 airships was lingering off the East Anglian coast for nightfall, before proceeding on to London from the Northeast.
The timetable, however, was not their own but the Army's. The Army's air force, the Luftstreitkrafte, were having trouble with it's own strategic bombing campaign. Using twin engine LVG and Gotha bombers their initial success was now being hampered by increased anti-aircraft and searchlight defenses forming a ring around London.
The LSK were now introducing the new R class 3 or 4 engine bombers being produced by Zeppelin-Staaken. (R= Reisenflugzeug = Touring or cruising aeroplane). They hoped for immediate and spectacular success and pressured the Navy to assist the operation by a coordinated attack with its airships.
The airships would hopefully distract the defenses long enough to allow the bombers to slip in over their targets.
The operation depended on exact timing and communications between the forces using flares and radio. Base stations in France were suppose to communicate with the airships who were then to signal by flares to the aircraft that carried no radios. Naturally it had to be a clear weather operation.
Alarmed by the worsening weather forecasts the bomber 'staffeln' remained on their fields in France. The army communications centre was supposed to then call the navy communications centre and pass on the news. No one knows at what point the communications broke down. Suffice to say the 'Luftschiffe Geschwader' (airship flotilla) floating off East Anglia never received a recall message.
Captain von Dalwig zu Leichtenfels ordered the L68 to be brought into the wind. It had increased in strength the past - hour causing too much side drift.
"What is the old man waiting for?" he grumbled to none in particular. "Surely we will turn southeast."
"Signal from flag," announced Lander, squinting at the flashing light from the giant L70's control car.
"That or they're lighting their cigars," someone grumbled.
"West by south 110' speed 50," Lander read, "there must be a mistake."
"Signalman, send 'repeat'," ordered the Captain. The confirmation arrived back. They were heading for London.
"We're fucked!" the captain responded quietly.
Eliza read the 'London Illustrated News' on the bus as she rode home from the hospital where she worked. Typically it was filled with war news. The Americans held at Belleau Wood, Germans expected to advance on the French in the Marne area. Russia was collapsing into chaos, the Austrians and Germans were nearing Venice in Italy and the Bulgarians had the Allies pinned down at Salonika. The war's end seems as far away as ever.
"You come with us, Lizzie girl. You need a night out. We're going down to the club. There's lots of Yankee Doughboys there now. Well, we have to show them a good old London welcome now, don't we," Rosy, the girl in the room opposite suggested to Eliza as she arrived home.
"I don't think so, " she told the redhead, "I'm tired and I have letters to write to my family in Oslo."
"Oslo?" Rosy said in surprise, "what are they doing in Oslo. That's Norway isn't it?"
"My father is junior Consul at the British embassy. I came back to England to do my nurses training."
"Oh, I see! If it was me, love," Rosy said conspirationally, " I would have stayed put and found myself a tall blond Norwegian called Lars or Gunnar or something." She chuckled to herself. "Always fancied them blondies," she added.
Rosy and Eliza sat down together for their dinner. Eliza picked at her plate, seemingly disinterested.
"Eat up girl," Rosy told her, "don't look so glum. The war can't last forever, can it? Come with me to the club, grab yourself a handsome farmboy from Idaho or somewhere. Never know! He'll take you back to America eh? Better weather, no rationing, streets paved with gold and all that," she chuckled.
"I'm going to grab someone called Chuck," Rosy added, "he'll be from New York and we'll live in a big house, with servants. Do you suppose they have servants over there?"
"I don't know, Rosy," Eliza replied.
"You got a bloke overseas I hear?" Rosy asked.
"Overseas? Yes."
"Navy eh? Least that what I heard,"
"Yes, Navy," Eliza answered.
"Jane's Freddie is on Destroyers. Based in Harwich, but we're not supposed to know that, of course. He's a Lieutenant, you know. Trust her to bag an Officer, eh?"
"An Officer? Yes," Eliza answered, distractedly.
Eliza felt her big secret suddenly weighing her down. She hadn't been able to tell anyone the truth about her Kimi. She hadn't been able to prattle on like the other girls about boyfriends.
"Can I tell you a secret," she suddenly blurted out to the other girl, " a really big one!"
"Oo love! This sounds good! I won't tell a soul, you can trust old Rosy," the girl leaned closer.
"You won't get angry with me?"
"What for, love? I've got no time for that!"
"Well, my boyfriends name is Kimi, for short," she told her.
"Unusual name? Kimi, kind of nice though."
"He's in the Navy, but not ours."
"Foreign eh? I thought so, with a name like Kimi. Who's Navy is he in then, French? I do like the French, they're more polite than English men. Know how to treat a lady."
"No, he's not French."
"Kimi, hmm, C'mon don't keep me guessing?"
"German," Eliza told her in a small voice.
Rosy's mouth remained open, soundless.
Kimi and the Chief listened to the superstructure above them creaking and groaning.
"That frame will start to buckle if we're not careful," the Chief warned Kimi. "Hear that! The wind is picking up."
Kimi listened for a moment to the whistling around them. A piece of loose canvass began flapping somewhere over head.
"The gunners came down from the top of the hull a few moments ago," Kimi told him, "couldn't remain up there. They were soaked to the skin."
"Feel that!" the Chief warned, " she starting to rock with the wind. You'd better be careful on the ladder to the car. You'll get blown away."
It was becoming hard to talk against the noise of the storm.
"We should turn back," complained Lander to the Captain, "this weather is impossible."
"Our orders are to carry on," the Captain replied.
"But there'll be no aeroplanes up in this. Surely the operation's cancelled."
"Radio, anything?"
"L43, sir. Losing altitude... broached to the wind... out of control... Flag replies... save yourselves... good luck. One of the Kiel ships in trouble... L50... shit... broken her back, sir... going down," Schultz called out.
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