novelAbuy Chapter 405 Dönitz
Chapter 405 Dönitz
The three main gun turrets of the "Von der Tann" roared simultaneously. 1200-kilogram shells flew out of the gun barrels at a speed of 800 meters per second, and the recoil caused the 19000-ton hull to shake violently. In the engine room, Karl felt the deck beneath his feet suddenly sink, and the steam leak suddenly intensified, spraying out scalding water droplets.
"Pressure! Watch out for pressure!" Major Hansen roared.
On HMS Moltke, the situation was worse. The damage left by Jutland had not been fully repaired, and the hull emitted ominous creaks at high speeds. A British shell struck her bow, blowing off the anchor chain locker, and seawater rushed in.
"Damage Control Team! Plug the breach!"
The artillery battle lasted for twenty minutes. The German fleet fought and retreated, attempting to break out towards Norwegian territorial waters—once they entered neutral waters, the British fleet would have to cease its attack. But the British were faster, and the encirclement was tightening.
At 10:31 a.m., the Seydlitz was hit directly by a shell in its aft main gun turret. Although the armor withstood the penetration, the massive impact damaged the turret's rotating mechanism. Now, only two of her main guns are still capable of firing.
"General, we're surrounded!" Colonel Muller pointed to the nautical chart. "Battlecruisers are ahead, and battleships are appearing on both the left and right flanks. They're trying to force us to turn and enter the main fleet's firing range!"
Hipper stared at the nautical chart, his mind racing with calculations. Turning meant a direct confrontation with the British battleships, which would be suicidal; continuing forward would mean being entangled by battlecruisers, and waiting for the main fleet to arrive would also be a dead end.
"Release smoke!" he ordered. "All destroyers, advance and deploy smoke screens! The entire fleet, turn 30 degrees to starboard and slip through their gaps!"
"But sir, that direction is a minefield..."
"I know there are minefields there! But I also know the British won't dare to pursue us! Execute orders!"
Inside the conning tower of the U-68 submarine, Lieutenant Karl Dönitz was observing the spectacular view on the sea surface through the periscope.
The 600-ton ocean-going submarine was supposed to conclude its six-week combat patrol and return to Wilhelmshaven. Yesterday afternoon, they sank a grain transport ship from Canada, using two torpedoes. According to plan, they should now be returning at full speed, avoiding any unnecessary contact.
But the communications intercepted in the radio room changed everything.
"...encountering the main British force...requesting any friendly forces for support..."
That was a signal that the German fleet was in distress. Dönitz looked at the nautical chart: U-68 was located about fifteen nautical miles southwest of the combat zone, directly to the flank and rear of the British fleet.
"Sir," First Officer Lieutenant Otto Kretschmer said hesitantly, "we only have six torpedoes left, and... according to regulations, we should return to port immediately after completing the mission."
Dönitz did not answer immediately. The twenty-seven-year-old submarine commander possessed a calm demeanor beyond his years, his deep-set eyes like two pools of water. He recalled his instructor's words from training: "A submarine is not a warship, it's an assassin. An assassin waits for the right moment, striking with deadly precision."
Now the opportunity has arrived. The British fleet is fully engaged in pursuing German surface ships, and no one will notice a submarine that "should have already returned to port" has appeared underwater.
"Change course," Dönitz finally spoke. "Heading 045, full speed ahead. Torpedo bay ready, all six torpedoes rechecked."
"Sir, what's wrong...?"
"Let's give the British a surprise." Dönitz's lips curled into a slight smile, more like the expression of a hunter seeing its prey walk into a trap. "Telegram to 'Von der Tann': U-68 is approaching the engagement zone, with six torpedoes remaining. Should we commit them to combat?"
The telegram was sent. The entire crew held their breath. If Hipper refused, they would have to watch their compatriots besieged; if he agreed, U-68 would charge into the heart of the British fleet alone.
Three minutes later, the call came back with only four words:
"Join the battle."
Dönitz nodded and turned to the sonar operator: "Listen for the propellers of large ships. I need to know where the nearest British battleship is."
At 11:07 a.m., U-68 reached periscope depth.
Dönitz raised the periscope again. The view of the sea was breathtaking: the German fleet loomed in and out of the smoke, surrounded by at least twenty British warships, their muzzle flashes like lightning in a summer thunderstorm. The nearest British battleship was less than three kilometers away—it was HMS Iron Duke, one of Jellicoe's flagships, with a standard displacement of 25000 tons and armed with ten 13.5-inch main guns.
"Target, 30 degrees to starboard, large battleship." Dönitz's voice was as calm as explaining a problem in class. "Distance 2800 meters, speed 18 knots, heading 120. Calculate torpedo parameters."
The torpedo officer quickly operated the slide rule: "Set depth 6 meters, speed 44 knots, lead angle... 15 degrees. Sir, this distance is too far, the hit probability is very low."
"Then get closer," Dönitz ordered. "Dive to 20 meters, full speed ahead. I need to launch from 1500 meters away."
"Sir, sailing at full speed at that depth will make too much noise; the British will hear it!"
"They're busy with artillery combat, they can't hear you. Follow orders."
Like a steel shark, the submarine silently cut into the combat zone. Through the hydrophone, one could hear the thunderous roar of cannons and explosions overhead, as well as the rumble of large warship propellers churning the water. Each time a shell hit the water, the shockwave would cause the submarine to shake violently.
"Distance 2000 meters... 1900 meters... 1800 meters..." The soprano announced the numbers every thirty seconds.
Inside the torpedo compartment, six G7 torpedoes had undergone final checks. Each torpedo was 7 meters long, weighed 1.5 tons, and had a warhead of 200 kilograms. Theoretically, a single hit would be enough to severely damage or even sink a battleship.
"Sir, destroyer spotted on starboard!" the lookout suddenly shouted. "It's heading in our direction!"
Dönitz quickly rotated the periscope. Sure enough, a British Class V destroyer broke away from the main formation, its bow cleaving through the waves, heading straight for U-68. Had they spotted them, or was it just a coincidence?
"Dive! Emergency dive! Depth 40 meters!" Dönitz roared.
The submarine tilted downwards, and ballast tanks rapidly filled with water. All crew members grabbed onto anything that could hold them in place, listening to the groans of the hull under the pressure.
The sound of the destroyer's propellers grew closer and louder overhead. Then came the sound of depth charges hitting the water—plop, plop, plop…
"Hard to starboard! Full speed!" Dönitz shouted into the megaphone.
The submarine made an emergency turn. Seconds later, the first depth charge exploded not far to port. The shockwave slammed into the hull like a giant's fist, shattering light bulbs, causing leaks in pipes, and throwing several poorly secured sailors against the walls.