Memories of the war by German submariners. Images of German submariners in Soviet prose. Underwater Ace. The Story of Wolfgang Jordan Vause

Vice Admiral Leland Lovett (commander of the squadron that landed Anglo-American troops in North Africa on November 7, 1942) wrote after the war: “Most of us remember that in two world wars German submarines came dangerously close to the point beyond which began complete control over the main sea communications. The establishment of such control would change the course of the war..."

This book tells about the actions of German submarines in the Atlantic (where most of the submarine warfare took place) and in the adjacent seas. It is written on the basis of documents (submarine logbooks, personnel diaries), as well as memories of submariners. In places, the author, trying to avoid a dry retelling of events, weaves elements of fiction into the fabric of the story.

Perhaps the author is embellishing something. No, no, and the spirit of post-war apologetics will blow from the pages of the book (especially the last two chapters). For example, the provocation against Poland and the attack on it, which became the beginning of World War II, is neatly called the “Polish crisis.” However, who would call himself an aggressor?

One feels that the author paid his debt to the atmosphere of the Cold War during which the book was written. For example, in the last chapter, one of the submariners blows himself up along with the boat: the country is defeated, the parents were killed - and, of course, the Russians. Although his parents actually had many times more chances of dying from British or American bombing.

In general, the book is read with interest, and is primarily addressed to those who are interested in the history of the participation of the submarine fleet in the battles of World War II.

And the Reichstag declared in April that we no longer consider ourselves bound by any restrictions on the fleet. For the British this is not God's dew. And now we’re not hanging out in the North Sea for the sake of boredom, although it seems like we should be in the Baltic Sea at this time, off the Polish coast, there’s a mess there right now.

- Yes, we hang around here just in case, you never know. Don't forget, these islanders are always very careful about their own skins. – The mechanic patted his palm on the strong hull of the U-48. “The British haven’t forgotten how we almost drove them into a corner then.” Then, mind you, at the beginning of the war, we had few boats, but now there are about fifty of them.

“You are reasoning purely mechanically,” the boatswain objected. – You think in numbers and forget that cars and weapons are vulnerable things. Let's not attach much importance to what happened in that war. The enemy also probably had new methods and new weapons. By the way, they say that the British seem to have invented a new thing that detects a boat under water.

- Where are they from us! In any case, our boats are better. And the engineers are more skilled, and our guts are stronger.

- What are you talking about? We improved what we had in that war. Although they too. What we're really missing is you know what? Boats, boats and more boats. But Raeder has a heart for battleships. But you can’t build a battleship in a closed dock, and you can’t easily build a boat.

-You judge from your own bell tower. From a submariner's point of view, you may be right. But battleships, whatever you say, are the backbone of the fleet. At least for now.

“For a strong fleet, yes, that’s right,” continued the boatswain. “But the weaker side must use such weapons as the weakness imposes on it.” Submarines are the weapon of the weak side. And at sea, the weaker side is us.

“If you think like that, your knees will soon start shaking.” And behind you - and your people.

- Not at all. I just look at things soberly and see them as they are. How you look at your cars and see them the way they were made - calculated, measured.

More submarines or more battleships? Few minds in the navy were not occupied by this problem. The sailor furthest from the headquarters on Tirpitz-Ufer felt that there was an intense struggle going on at the top around this issue. Submariners, a people fanatically devoted to their type of weapon, gave their hearts to Dönitz, who was more than just a commander for them. Ordinary submariners said with a bitter smile about Raeder: “I know why our commander-in-chief doesn’t want submarines: they can’t have an orchestra on the upper deck to greet him with trumpets and drums.”

Young and enterprising submarine officers, whom Dönitz spoke of as the cream of the navy, did not condemn Raeder’s policies too energetically, but nevertheless stood wholeheartedly for “their” Dönitz and his position.

Heinz Schaffer

The legendary submarine U-977. Memoirs of a German submarine commander

PREFACE

This book is not only well written, but also represents a powerful piece of military history. If not for these two circumstances, I would never have touched this “depth charge.”

My point of view must be defined from the very beginning, because I do not want to be considered a defender of any military achievements of Germany. After the war, too many books, films, plays appeared, convincing that the Germans, misled, were basically honest people who fought valiantly, like any Christian soldier. I do not want to be one of the supporters of this opinion, especially since a determined attempt has been made to present Field Marshal Rommel (at one time the head of Hitler's personal guard and head of the Hitler Youth) as not a Nazi at all, but simply a decent officer who sought to do his duty as best as possible.

This nonsense is eagerly bought as buzzwords, presented as a novelty and packaged as a holiday gift. But it's still nonsense.

As you read this book, you will also make a remarkable discovery: there really were no Nazis in defeated Germany, just millions of “decent Germans” who suffered terribly because of the terrible things that others forced them to do. You will also remember that General MacArthur discovered the same thing in Japan: every last Japanese person was just gum-chewing democrats, waiting only for the Americans to arrive to show it. You'll remember the general willingness to welcome both the Germans and the Japanese - good guys who were just a little off track.

I don’t want to belong to supporters of this opinion either.

No one can say why the Western world accepts this particular type of blindness. For Nazi Germany was by no means a nation of honest simpletons. They all knew what they wanted and were prepared to go all the way to achieve their goal. Until they were defeated (then all the colors suddenly changed), they were absolute supporters of the idea of ​​​​world domination, wholeheartedly supporting a disgusting tyranny, which, if not checked, would draw the curtain on human freedom for all subsequent generations.

Now they sing sweetly (and others sing for them): “Let's love each other, let's shake hands over the trenches. Everything that happened was a terrible mistake.” But this mistake has already happened twice in the 20th century. Twice this people, and not any other, plunged the whole world into suffering and bloodshed, pursuing their dream of unlimited power. And then and now it is recognized as a mistake only because of defeat. We have forgotten about this, and this is dangerous.

Among the worst of the voluntary advocates of world enslavement were men who served on submarines, which brings us back to this book.

No one except a maniac, a sadist or a romantic of the sea can speak out in defense of submarine warfare. This is a cruel and disgusting form of human behavior, whether practiced by us or the Germans. This is betrayal, no matter what flag it comes under. According to the well-known Anglo-American illusion, German submarines are disgusting, ours are completely different, even wonderful. (This self-delusion is not confirmed by those who themselves have been under the gun of a torpedo.) Of course, this is the other side of the coin. It cannot be denied that submariners of any country are brave and skillful people. They are accustomed to doing their job in conditions of real danger, which, perhaps, is where real courage is manifested. But what constitutes their life's work - killing secretly, without warning and without mercy - is evil as much as it is skill. Moreover, evil prevails and, if you think about it, it has no forgiveness.

Before us is a book by a brave and intelligent man who was the embodiment of this evil. Having written the foreword to it, I do not advocate the principle of “forgive and forget.” The author and people like him tried to kill me and my friends for five years straight. Until the end of the Battle of the Atlantic I loathed and feared them. I still have a disgust for them. But it would be right now, when the fight is over and the German submarines are disarmed, to try to understand the other side. We must find out what the picture of war looks like from the other side of the periscope, understand what made these people act and, in acting, kill.

We learn about the training of young submariners, about their initiation into a special type of killer. We learn how they felt when they saw their victims, and, conversely, when, as often happened, they themselves became victims, and the depth charges exploded and rumbled around them.

We learn about the appearance of radar in the war at sea, this important weapon that changed the course of the struggle and finally made submarines and surface ships equal.

We learn about the enormous cost of preserving such an important artery across the Atlantic. It was here that swarms of submarines attacked the convoy and sometimes tore it to shreds, and sometimes they themselves died in the attack. And we really understand what we could only guess about or fear in those past bad days.

The book ends with the escape of U-977 to Argentina at the end of the war. This transition took three and a half months. The team was at times disciplined and at others on the verge of mutiny. The submarine spent 66 consecutive days underwater - a feat of endurance and determination that deserves every respect.

But in such cases there is always “something else”. For me, this “something” is a small incident with the sinking of a tanker, described at the beginning of the book. It was literally torn in two in stormy weather. Of course, there was no warning. They just saw him, tracked him down, his hand was on the start button, and that was the sweet moment of murder. When it was all over, the author says, when those who tried to escape were left to die and the wrecked ship was overwhelmed by the waves, “we put on a record and listened to the old songs that reminded us of home.”

The book makes us sympathize with the crews of other submarines that failed to reach the shores of Argentina; they sought in vain for “respect for the vanquished.”

Ah, Germany!

But read for yourself. This book is valuable for its authenticity and clarity in showing this type of warfare. It is even more valuable for understanding the root causes of the appearance of submarines. After reading it, you will not only feel the dirt and cruelty of the life of a submariner, but also understand how far politicians can go down the road of madness and what they can do to other people in their irrepressible thirst for power.

After the First World War, those who participated in it rushed to express themselves in print because, under those circumstances, they felt able to tell the full truth about themselves and their time. But very few German survivors of World War II broke their silence. The reason, apparently, is that their exploits were meaningless, and their future in our dramatically changed world is obscured by the threat of a new war.

I am just one of those unknown young Germans who went through the Second World War and would also remain silent if I could. But the mystery of the U-977 submarine has already become the subject of so many comments that I feel the need to tell its true story. I was the last commander of this submarine and, since I now live abroad, I can speak more freely than those who returned home. I realized my responsibility as soon as I started writing this book. Apart from Gunther Prien, who died in the first days of the war, I do not know a single submarine commander in the war of 1939–1945 who put pen to paper. Those who could tell everything better than me are either at the bottom of the sea, or caught up in the struggle for survival in the post-war world. However, I am afraid that what I can say means very little compared to what more eminent people could say. But still this means something, since while one or two books have already appeared telling about battles on earth and in

It seems to me that many veterans, veterans of the Great War and the home front, who were raised by their entire lives as patriots not ostentatious, who are like uncut dogs up there, maybe even due to age, I can’t wrap my head around how this can happen in THEIR Country, almost completely plundered, destroyed, humiliated and deceived.
Many have left, every day there are fewer of them, but human life is unique, inimitable, and therefore priceless. The maxim is well known. I don’t want the Great Victory Day to become an empty formality for our children and grandchildren. Where can they now hear living memories of That War?
My mother’s brother did not come back from the War. His father and brother, my dear uncle, fought. We returned safe and sound. They didn’t talk about the War in ceremonial speeches. On the streets of Northern Omsk, where I grew up, during my childhood, adolescence, youth, I heard a lot not only from those who were lucky enough to remain uninjured, but also from a neighbor who was blind from the War, from a legless invalid on a bearing cart, and simply from a drunk a passing artilleryman who managed to survive even with a hole in his skull, what a blast! You can stick your finger in.
In the family archive there are notes from my uncle Pavel Prokhorovich Pozdnyakov, most likely written by him in the fifties. About myself and about the War.
Here they are.

I was born in 1920, in September, into a peasant family in the village of Kormilovka, Kormilovsky district, Omsk region, and a few months after birth, my parents moved to the village of Vinogradovka, where I spent my childhood. In 1928 I went to study in the 1st grade. In April 1931 graduated from the 3rd grade, and in the fall of the same year he went to study in the 4th grade in Omsk. He graduated from the fourth grade at the Marianovsky Fighters school. In 1931 Parents also come to Omsk for permanent residence. In 1932 I entered the 5th grade at the “May 1st” school. In the spring of 1933, without finishing the 5th grade, I left with my parents for the village of Vinogradovka, due to a difficult financial situation.

It is written modestly like this - a difficult financial situation. But this is the year 33 - terrible and hungry. And in general, why would Prokhor Gavriilovich rush to the city, live with his sister, in a house in which there are fewer of his own? He was afraid of exile from Siberia to Siberia. And kill the children there. Having four horses is no joke. The children Agrafena and Katerina are adults, and Stepka and Pavlik are small. We need food and clothing. Write about the know-how of grandmother Marya Danilovna. My grandmother bought geographical maps on a calico base at a bookstore, soaked the paper, and sewed shirts for the little ones.

My father got a job at the district forestry department. In the frosty, bitter winter of 1934-1935. Together with my father, waist-deep in snow, I sawed wood all day long. I was 14 years old then. In the autumn of 1935 entered the 5th grade of Alekseevskaya NSSH (junior high school), which was located five kilometers from Vinogradovka. Total - 10 km per day of walking. In the 5th grade I studied well and rarely received mediocre grades. In the 6th grade - excellent, for which he was awarded by the school director (Anna Nazarovna Lazutkova). In the 7th year - excellent, I had great confidence in Anna Nazarovna, who, upon her departure, instructed me to conduct classes in botany and zoology with marking. In 1938 graduated from the 7th grade and received a certificate with excellent grades and a certificate of commendation.

In the fall, he entered the Omsk River Technical School for the navigation department. He was admitted to the technical school without testing, as an excellent student. It was a little difficult to study in the first year. They gave me a lot of material, so there was almost no free time. At the end of the 1st year, he was sent to training and production practice at the Nizhne-Irtysh Shipping Company on the steamer "Uralobkom". During this time I visited Tobolsk, Salekhard, and the mouth of the Ob. At the end of the practice, no one had any money left; in the parking lots they dried fish for the return trip. And somehow we got to Omsk on transfer ships. First there was “Zhoresse” to Tobolsk, then “Leningrad” to Tevriz. There, in order to get home faster, we boarded the Ordzhonikidze passenger express ship.
After a two-month vacation, I started studying in the 2nd year, and our course was serious, every week the overall course score was 4.7-4.8. At the end of the second year, he was assigned to practice as a full-time helmsman on the Volga steamship. But I didn’t find the Volga in the backwater, because... it came out of repair ahead of schedule. A radiogram was sent from the shipping company's management to take me on board another ship, but this matter was delayed, and instructor Georgy Pavlovich Rovkin advised me to find a place on one of the ships in Omsk without the knowledge of the shipping company. On the same day, April 24, 1940, I went to the passenger pier, where the tugboat Kamanin was docked. Its captain was Comrade Ermolaev, who accepted me into his crew.
Spring was early and the weather was good. He brought his belongings from home and in the evening we went to Semipalatinsk, where the Kamanin was leased for one navigation to the Upper Irtysh Shipping Company. There it soon became clear that Kamanin could not fulfill the industrial financial plan, because the pressure in its boilers could not be raised above 12 atmospheres, but technically it was necessary to keep 16 at. And at 12 at pressure in the boilers, the production of scheduled flights, with such a fast flow of the Irtysh, turned out to be impossible. Take the case above Ust-Kamenogorsk, when we walked one riffle for 4 hours. We walked against the current and the speed of the ship was almost equal to the speed of the river. After that, we were sent for repairs in Semipalatinsk for partial reconstruction. Our captain, Comrade Ermolaev, immediately got carried away by drinking and got so drunk that he was sent back to Omsk along with the ship.

On October 1st I went to classes for my third year. A few days later I received a summons from the draft commission, which left me without the right to leave until a special call. He took the documents from the technical school, but continued to attend classes as a volunteer. On October 27, I received a summons to appear at the district military registration and enlistment office on the 28th with the specified items for conscription into active military service.
On November 11, he arrived in the city of Vladivostok as part of the general naval crew. On November 14 at 19:00 he was seconded to the Submarine Training Detachment of the Pacific Fleet (UOPT TF). The commander of the detachment was captain of the second rank Skorokhvatov. Thus began my military life in new conditions, in a new environment where strict military discipline was necessary. There was drill training for 1-2 months, regulations, and then class lessons began. The Training Detachment trained specialists for submarines of various specialties - mechanics, electricians, navigator electricians, bilge technicians, torpedo operators, and gunners. I found myself in the department of helmsmen and signalmen. Radio operators and acousticians trained at the communications school on Russian Island. On April 15, he was sent to practice at the 1st Submarine Brigade on the S-54 submarine. Submarines, with their sophisticated technology, were very interesting to us. The first deep dives are unforgettable. After May 1, 1941, we went on an autonomous voyage to Vityaz Bay for 10 days. Upon our return, the practice period ended and we returned to the detachment. When classes ended at the end of July, the War was already underway in the West.
Tests were supposed to begin on August 3, but, by order of ORSU, the best cadets, without waiting for exams, were sent to the boats under construction. On August 2, I was sent to a special submarine division on the S-51 submarine. The boat was still being built at the 202 plant; only the main mechanisms were installed. The personnel had to put a lot of effort into studying the structure of the submarine, studying the organization, caring for the mechanisms and day-to-day monitoring of the work. After installing all the mechanisms and putting them and the boat in general in order, we began factory testing.

1On December 6, 1941, the following were raised on the ship: Flag, flag and pennant. Thus, the submarine joined the ranks of the ships of the Pacific Fleet. On December 17, they went to the winter in Vostok Bay, where they worked on tasks to strengthen the combat capability of the ship and move it to the first line. The conditions were quite difficult. I had to sleep at a cut-off temperature of + 2-3 degrees. Everything in the compartment was covered with frost. We slept in our clothes, tossing and turning from side to side, there was no place to dry our clothes, and we washed ourselves almost once a week.
On April 29, 1942, having finished the winter, we arrived in Vladivostok. We lived there all the time on a boat; we didn’t have a cockpit at the base. Several times we went to artillery and torpedo firing, and to night and day divisional sailing. At the roadstead of the village of Posyet, all the boats anchored and a bathing was arranged for the personnel of all ships. I remember well, since I still haven’t learned to swim, he was a dashing sailor. This is how the summer passed. There were almost no layoffs in the city, and if there were any, it was only as a collective campaign. All the wonderful summer evenings were spent at anchor in the Eastern Bosphorus Strait, from where we watched the lights of the illuminated city. Sometimes they heard music playing in the garden, the sailors were languid and upset.
At the beginning of August, the boat reached a position in the Sea of ​​Japan. We didn’t see the sun for all 35 days. Time passed extremely slowly and tiresomely. During all this time, only one Japanese transport was discovered through the periscope. It was already twilight and he gradually retreated to the shores of Manchuria.
On September 28, the boat was put into combat readiness. All personnel received new uniforms and bedding.

On October 5, the division, consisting of the submarines “S-54”, “S-55”, “S-56” and our flagship “S-51”, under the command of Lieutenant Commander Ivan Fomich Kucherenko, went to anchor in the Eastern Bosphorus. The division commander, captain of the first rank, Alexander Vladimirovich Tripolsky, was also on our boat. The boats were kept absolutely clean. We prepared to meet the commander of the Pacific Fleet, Vice Admiral Yumashev. After dinner at 18.30 I took up signal watch. At 18.50 I noticed a staff boat leaving the Golden Horn Bay under the flag of the fleet commander. Reported to the boat commander. A command was transmitted to the compartments through the speaking pipes for the personnel to line up on the aft deck. A few minutes later the teams were lined up on all the boats. Last of all, the boat approached our boat. The entry was played. The commander came aboard the ship, said hello, said that the division was moving to Kamchatka to the city of Petropavlovsk, the further route would be communicated by the command, and wished them a safe journey. All the authorities and the commander went up to the bridge where I was on watch. The hatches of the 1st, 4th and 7th compartments were opened, and the team quickly took up their combat positions. After inspecting the boat, the commander left for Vladivostok.
The next day, October 6th, at 7.00 we weighed anchor and went out into the Sea of ​​Japan. During the transition, a strong storm did not subside all the time. This seven-point storm was felt by many sailors, especially young ones who had never been at sea in such weather. Seryozha Korablin, a young engine mechanic, was completely green, he couldn’t even stand a watch, he was poisoning all the time, it was terrifying. Yes, and, unfortunately, I had to.
On October 9, 1942 at 16:00 we entered De-Kastri Bay. On the 10th at night we took on board a pilot who was supposed to guide us through the Tartar Strait. Past the shores of Sakhalin, which were visible to the naked eye, they entered the Sea of ​​Okhotsk. Some kind of transport came towards us. They began to call him by semaphore, but for some reason they could not accept him. The transport had already passed us, we had to stop the diesel engine, stop the cars and transport. Very slowly they began to transmit: “Immediately lower the boat, take the pilot from me on board.” Eventually the boat came to pick up the pilot. On transport, according to the international code, a signal was raised: “I WISH THE COMMANDER A HAPPY VOYAGE. CAPTAIN." We also raised a signal meaning “THANK YOU.” Divisional Commander."

So, we went out into the Sea of ​​Okhotsk, which was calm during our passage. On the morning of October 13, we approached the first strait in the Kuril ridge off the coast of Kamchatka. The sun illuminated the tops of the mountains, the high rocky shores of the southern part of Kamchatka loomed brightly. A transport without a flag was coming towards us from the Pacific Ocean. We began to issue a request for identification, but the transport, seeing the submarines, began to quickly move away without answering our call.
We passed the Kuril ridge. The Pacific Ocean greeted us harshly. The boats got lost in the waves and periodically, having climbed to the tops of the waves, showed themselves to each other. The roll reached 45 degrees. All poorly secured things in the compartments flew out of their places. The boat was tossed around like a piece of wood. Against such a huge ocean wave, the boat seemed insignificant. Completely downloaded. They endured as best they could. Stayed on course Nord along the eastern coast of Kamchatka at a distance of 6 miles from the coast.
On October 14, 1942 at 12.30 we entered Avachinskaya Bay, and at 13 o’clock we anchored in the roadstead of Petropavlovsk. On the 15th we weighed anchor and went to the floating base "Sever", where all the personnel went to the long-awaited bathhouse. That same day we approached the pier in one of the bays to pick up fuel. The city of Petropavlovsk is located at the foot of the hills on the coast of Avacha Bay. Its buildings are mostly wooden.
When leaving Vladivostok, all personal money, that is, Soviet currency, was turned over to field books, which could be used to get money at any savings bank. So almost no one had money and only a few saved a small amount, and on that day the command decided to send the sailors on leave to the city to get acquainted with it, to pay a farewell visit to their native land. Some of the sailors said that they would receive part of the money from the field book and buy boots, others did something else, they figured out who was capable of what.
At 14:00 on the 16th, almost all personnel were sent to the city, with the exception of the watch. My watch started at 16.00, so I didn’t go into the city. By evening, the personnel began to return from the shore. The division commander began to greet those who were fired, since almost everyone returned drunk. The boat kept coming up to one boat or another, disembarking the revelers. It’s already 10 p.m., it’s very dark, and many people are still missing from the shore. The division commander himself went into the city with some commanders to search for the missing, most of whom were found crawling on all fours.
The next day, many sailors received the corresponding saw. The personnel were lined up on boats, the division commander moved from one to another and announced that all drunkards would not be discharged in foreign ports.

The submarines of our division “S-55” and “S-54” left Petropavlovsk-on-Kamchatka one day earlier than ours. In addition to them, two submarines left the Kamchatka submarine brigade six days before our arrival along the same route - “L-15” and “L-16”. On October 17, 1942, the S-56 and S-51 weighed anchor and entered the Pacific Ocean. Until 23.50. walked along the coast in a northerly direction, and then set a course for the Aleutian Islands. There was the Great Ocean again, but the waves in the Bering Sea were much less. We passed near the Commander Islands.
On October 21st we passed the international border of the beginning of dates and for the second day now we are on the 21st. At the same time, they received radio from Dutch Harbor that an unknown submarine had torpedoed and sunk the L-16.
On the 22nd we approached the Aleutian Islands, that is, we arrived at the rendezvous point where American ships were to meet us. There was heavy fog, visibility was 2 cables, the meeting did not take place. Due to poor visibility, it was impossible to determine and we did not know our exact location. We decided to sail here before dawn on alternating tacks. At eight o'clock in the morning the fog cleared and we found ourselves at the very shores. An American plane appeared from behind the hills and came straight towards us at an altitude of 250-300 meters. To avoid any troubles, we began to provide identification with a searchlight. Having made a circle above the boat, the plane went in the opposite direction.
They began to approach closer to the shore. At this time, a boat came out from behind the cape heading towards us. Readiness No. 1 was announced. After exchanging identification numbers, the boat stopped the cars and the boat approached our side. The military attaché, Captain 3rd Rank Skryagin, arrived on the boat with a pilot who was supposed to take us to the bay where the naval base of Unalaska Island was located. On the coast of this bay was the city of Dutch Harbor - this is a naval base. There was no civilian population here, since the Aleutian Islands were in a war zone. During the period of the Japanese destruction of the port city of Pearl Harbor on the Hawaiian Islands, a massive air raid was carried out on Dutch Harbor, which was thoroughly destroyed. The Americans lost many ships. But by the time we arrived, almost everything had been restored. There were several ships in the roadstead: cruisers, destroyers, etc. In addition, there was a base for American submarines, with which we stood next to. Airfields were also located here.
On October 23, we moored to the pier, where we stayed for five days. All four boats were moored side to side. Many American sailors, pilots, and officers came to meet us. All the personnel of our boats were dressed in uniform No. 3.
They brought a lot of food, beer, and whiskey onto the boat. The Americans turned out to be very hospitable and polite in their behavior, which, I must say, we did not expect. We chatted animatedly with American sailors and pilots, visited their crew quarters, and exchanged souvenirs. They were delighted and considered it a great honor for themselves to receive a star, a badge, a guy, etc. as a souvenir.
On the 24th at 10.00 all the personnel of the boats were lined up on the decks to meet the American admiral. Soon the admiral appeared in a car. He was met by our attaché Skryagin and the division commander, captain first rank Tripolsky. Upon entering the first boat, the commander gave the command “at attention” and a report was given. Skryagin translated the report to the admiral and, entering in front of the formation, the admiral greeted him and walked along him. This happened on every boat. After the ceremonies, the admiral was invited to inspect our flagship boat “S-51” and was treated to Russian vodka in the wardroom.
Every evening after dinner, buses came to the boats for personnel and took them to the cinema. Small groups visited the American submarines that stood next to us. We walked around the compartments on our own, no one was watching us, we walked as if on our own boat.
On October 25, an American submarine arrived from the position, sinking a Japanese transport. On the same day we received US currency in the amount of 16 dollars for our brother.
On the 28th at 6.00, accompanied by two American destroyers, they left the Aleutian Islands. “S-55” and “S-54” left a day earlier than us. “S-56” was in our wake, the destroyers were abeam at a distance of 4 cables. The destroyers accompanied us to San Francisco. On our boat there was an American liaison officer, Mr. Chase, and a signalman, Branz, a cheerful and sociable guy who learned a lot of Russian words during the passage. Mr. Chase was very polite to us, he was always the first to start a conversation, and spoke Russian well.
If one of the boats slowed down, one of the destroyers stayed with it and asked what was the matter. It was necessary to negotiate with destroyers very often. Moreover, every four hours they gave their location - latitude and longitude at 00.00, 00.04 hours, etc.
In Dutch Harbor the weather was damp all the time, quite cold and windy, while approaching San Francisco it was just like summer weather, the ocean swell was slight.
On November 5, 1942 we arrived in San Francisco. Heading to the military base, we passed under the Golden Gate Bridge. The base had a good, convenient location. At the base itself there are alleys and paved paths all around, the cleanliness is perfect. There were several shops, a pub, and a cinema.
On the morning of the 6th, two buses arrived; part of the division’s personnel was released into the city. This time I went too. There was one American translator with us, like a tour guide. The nature was exceptional. We arrived at a suspension bridge, the cables of which were more than a meter in diameter. From here you can enjoy a panoramic view of part of the city and the bay. There is a small island in the bay on which a prison for especially dangerous criminals is located. They say there was no case of anyone escaping from it. We arrived at the Russian consulate and entered the reception area. After some time, the Consul General of the USSR, whose last name, as I remember, was Loshanin, came to see us. He greeted us, talked and advised us on a route around the city, places of interest where we should visit. Wishing seven feet under the keel, he said goodbye. We traveled almost the entire city - we visited the Museum, the aquarium, etc. We went shopping. We bought several boxes of different fruits and a few other things. The sailors wanted to go to Russian Hill, where almost only Russians lived, but our superiors, and the boat commissar Mironov was with us, did not allow us to go there. In the evening we set off to the ship in a different way, across another bridge, the length of which reaches 8 miles. This bridge is two-story. There are trams and trucks at the bottom, and cars at the top.
The Americans celebrated our holiday - November 7th. On the 8th a party was held, at which our officers were present. They brought a lot of different products, fresh fruits, and linen to the boats. All compartments were filled with canned fruit, butter, jam, sausage, bacon, etc. Eat what you want and as much as you like. There was no accounting, they managed it themselves.
On November 9, I went to the store to buy something and, accordingly, went to the pub. The watch commander asked me to go into the pub and send all the drunks to the ship. In the beer hall I actually found many of our sailors somehow able to stand on their feet. I decided to carry out such a manipulation. He sat down at the table where our guys were already there - Lebedev, midshipman Gruzdev and one American officer. After some time, I felt very intoxicated and did not drink any more, because at 16 o’clock I had to go on duty at the guy’s. We decided to get out of here. They took eight bottles of beer, two of which were broken on the way. Now we are approaching the boats, we see the division commander and the boat commissar on the bridge. Gruzdev and Lebedev were very drunk and were afraid to go to the boat in front of their superiors. They hid the beer on the wall and went back to the pub. But I need to get to the boat - the watch time is approaching. My squad commander, Friziev, was on watch at the gangway. Without looking around, standing on his feet, he entered the boat and went down through the hatch of the 7th compartment. I lay down on the bed and put the beer in the locker, where I already had a bottle of whiskey in reserve. In general, everything went well, I kept my watch.
On November 10 we went to the city again. We stopped at the consulate, and then went to the student town, which turned out to be extremely nice and green. There was one student with us all the time, who informed a certain Professor Kaun about us. He asked us to come to him. The guys agreed. When we approached his house, he came out to meet us overjoyed and began to greet everyone. We went to his office. He began to ask how we live now, what Russia has become. It turned out that he was in Russia in Ukraine, but for a very long time. I saw Lenin and lived with Maxim Gorky on the island of Capri. On the wall hung a small portrait of Gorky, painted by the professor’s wife back in Italy. On the shelves and cabinets of the office we noticed many books by Lenin, Gorky, and other Russian writers. After staying with the professor for some time, we said goodbye and left for the city.
On November 12, 1942 at 10.00 we left San Francisco. The last time we looked at the panorama of the city from the deck of the ship. The escort consisted of two destroyers, which accompanied us to the beam of Los Angeles (California). Every day it became hotter. There are less than ten degrees left to the equator. The signal watch was carried out in only shorts. The water in the sea was very warm. It became unbearable to rest in the compartments. And in the engine room it was pure hell. There are five degrees left to the equator. We are approaching the entrance to the Panama Canal. Two submarines more seaward than us appeared on the horizon. We exchanged identification. These turned out to be “S-55” and “S-54”, which left San Francisco one day earlier than us. It was November 25th. At 10.00 we approached the lifting locks of the Panama Canal. Entry was provided by an American pilot. After passing the first locks, we walked through a narrow strait, and then a lake, in which there was fresh water. We admired the picturesque shores covered with tropical vegetation. We approached the second locks. The distance from locks to locks was about 40 miles. We passed through the second locks and at 15.00 on November 25 we moored to the wall. Soon the buses arrived and we were taken to the bathhouse, and then assigned to the cockpit at the American base. American sailors from the boats also lived here. During the day we were on the boat, and after dinner, after washing in the shower located right here on the pier, we went to the cockpit assigned to us. And then they acted whoever was capable of what. Next to our location there was a beer hall, in which there were always a lot of our and American sailors. We never shunned the Americans, and complete mutual understanding reigned here. They drank together, despite the language barrier. It’s the same in the cockpit - dancing and singing together... Expanse. We didn’t have any bosses; we went to bed at our own discretion.
In the morning we went to the ship. From 8.00 to 8.30 there was cranking of mechanisms. And after that they did nothing. Every day at 9 o'clock a car came and brought apples, oranges, grapes and ice from the refrigerator. It was very hot, we didn’t want to eat anything, we lived only on fruit, and spent whole days breaking ice to cool the water.
On December 2, 1942, we left Panama. The escort was one patrol ship. There was a path ahead through the Caribbean Sea, which was called the graveyard of ships. Not a day went by without some American ship being sunk. German submarines, whose bases were probably in South America, pirated here. They walked across the sea in an anti-submarine zigzag. "S-55" and "S-54" left Panama one day earlier than us. They walked in wake formation, the S-55 was in the lead formation. The noise of the submarine's propellers was detected. A periscope appeared from the left side, and a torpedo passed from the right side at a distance of 5 meters from the nose of the 54th. We passed the sea safely.
We arrived at the military base of the island of Cuba, where we replenished supplies of fresh water and fuel, and on December 5th we entered the Atlantic Ocean. The escort accompanied us for another day. The excitement increased and a cold wind blew. The boats were hiding from each other in the waves; it was impossible to maintain visual communication. On the 9th at night the S-56 was lost and a hurricane began. The boat rose to the top of the ridge, then sank into a depression from which the horizon was not visible, and mountains of ocean waves rose all around. “S-56” arrived at the rendezvous point a day earlier than us.
On December 11, at 12.30, a destroyer appeared on the horizon, which, as it turned out, came out to meet us. He was accompanied to the Canadian port of Halifax. The excitement had subsided, but there was fog. On the same day, a fire broke out in the 6th compartment, which, fortunately, was quickly extinguished.
December 12 at 11.30. moored at the wall of Halifax. Ten days ago we were in Panama, admiring tropical plants and languishing in the heat, and now - real winter, frost minus 15. The L-15, which left for America before us, was found in Halifax. We went to the city every day. After dinner they were fired until 24 hours. The personnel of the boats gave a concert to the British. The British are completely different from the Americans - they are not sociable, they always stayed away from our sailors, even at dances.
On December 24th we moved away from the wall. At 12.00 we got to the slip. It was necessary to carry out some work in the underwater part of the ship. The work was carried out by Canadian workers. There were no layoffs that day; we walked around the plant. It was already dark when we passed the American destroyer. The sailor on watch from the destroyer signals for us to approach. Let's approach. He invited us into the cockpit. It turned out that they were having a pre-holiday evening, tomorrow was Christmas. The senior assistant came with a sailor and brought vodka. They began to treat us. The vodka was strong, it became difficult to understand. But they still carry it, they drank that too. Here the songs began - who can do what. Our guys began to invite the owners to their boat, they promised to come.
The next day we scrubbed the hull of shells. We notice a procession led by the destroyer's first mate with flowers and, obviously, vodka in his pockets. But the commander of the boat was on the ship at that time and he did not allow them to board. Well, we had to hide in the compartments; we almost burned out of shame.

This is where the notebook with the memoirs of Pavel Prokhorovich ends. I’ll add what I know about the division.
After Halifax the division split. "S-54", "S-55" and "S-56" went to the UK for repairs. The L-15 and S-51 boats moved to Iceland, to Reykjavik, where the S-51 still had to repair damage on the American mother ship.
On January 24, 1943, the boat was the first from the division to arrive in Polyarny, where it was assigned to the Northern Fleet. From Vladivostok, the boat passed nine seas (Japanese, Okhotsk, Bering, Caribbean, Sargasso, Northern, Greenland, Norwegian, Barents), two oceans (Pacific and Atlantic), made the first covert passage in the history of the Soviet submarine fleet, having spent more than 2200 hours at sea and having traveled 17 thousand miles.
The boat actively operated on enemy sea lanes. Completed seven military campaigns. Its crew mastered and put into practice the method of torpedo firing with a time interval at two targets simultaneously. Using this technique three times in attacks, the submariners invariably achieved success, having sunk 4 transports, 3 warships by November 1944, 2 more transports and a minesweeper received heavy damage.
On July 15, 1944, by Decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, the S-51 boat was awarded the Order of the Red Banner. The commander of the boat, captain of the third rank Ivan Fomich Kucherenko (later rear admiral), was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union in July 1945.
In 1976, the boat was installed on a pedestal as a monument in the city of Polyarny.

With the arrival in Polar, the war was just beginning for the crew of the boat. Seven military campaigns are hard and terrible work. With the passage of minefields, the grinding of minereps on the skin, with oxygen starvation, when it is impossible to emerge... Much is not recorded, has not been preserved.

This is how a boy from Siberia, a village with the wonderful name Vinogradovka, where grapes have never been found, except perhaps Siberian ones, that is, bird cherry, almost walked around the world, not a tourist at all. Returning from the War, he graduated from college and spent almost his entire life working at the Omsk lifting machine plant as the head of the first department.
Pavel Prokhorovich Pozdnyakov passed away in 1991.
In our memory, his many nephews and nieces, their children (since he did not have his own family), and everyone who knew him, he will remain a golden man, the closest and most beloved uncle.

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Wolfgang Frank

Sea wolves

German submarines in World War II

FOREWORD BY THE TRANSLATOR

This book was written around 1955. It was written by a German author - apparently, at the request of an American publishing house (this translation was made from English, but taking into account the fact that the original was made in German; perhaps the book was not published in German). From 1958 to 1972, when memories of World War II were still fresh in the minds of millions and millions of people, the book went through seven (!) editions in the New World - five in the United States and two in Canada. Read now, more than six decades after the Second World War, what the Americans did not shy away from publishing ten years later, although in the war described they suffered only less than the British.

The book is indeed written in the fresh wake of that war at sea and covers the period of German submarine operations from 1939 to 1945, plus a brief background to the development of underwater weapons, including the actions of German submarines in the First World War. The book ends with pages about the Nuremberg trials - for the main character of the book, Karl Doenitz, began as a submariner in the First World War, and ended up as Hitler's successor as the nominal head of state (for three weeks) and in the dock at Nuremberg.

There is little politics in the book, which at times acts as a backdrop to submarine operations. Note that the actions of German submarines in World War II began on September 3, 1939 against Great Britain (ships of neutral countries transporting cargo to Great Britain also suffered) - almost twenty months before Germany began the war against the Soviet Union.

However, the motives of big politics and post-war apologetics are heard in the general presentation of the material, and especially in the final two chapters of the book. Judging by the author’s tone, one might think that someone dragged poor Germany into an unnecessary war, and at the end of the book, his apologetics might seem funny if it weren’t cynical - this is when the author talks about Doenitz’s determination to continue the war... in order to save the German people from... further misfortunes, and also to prevent German prisoners of war from ending up in Russian camps... to the winter cold. One feels that the author had a good sense of which way the winds of the Cold War were blowing, and, keeping his nose to the wind, tried to push through to the American reader an argument that was suitable for that reader. For example, about murders, violence and arson committed by the advancing Reds. It seems that Dönitz, who did not find a word of condemnation against his former Fuhrer, had heard nothing of German atrocities in the occupied territories (so it is not surprising that in 1949 public opinion polls in West Germany showed that a large majority of respondents Hitler was considered a model statesman). However, in the author’s description of the consequences of the bombing of the German city of Lübeck, seen through the eyes of Doenitz, one can read a condemnation of the actions of the Allies. And this was in the fall of 1942. But both Doenitz and the author knew very well that German aircraft began raiding English cities in the summer of 1940, and in November of that year they razed Coventry to the ground.

The book involuntarily seems to be a biographical narrative about Karl Doenitz. The author molds him into the image of an honest servant who, until the end of the war, had never heard of Nazi concentration camps and mass murders - a justification familiar from the Nuremberg trials.

The main part of the book was obviously based on documents (submarine logbooks, other documents, press reports), as well as oral information. Only here and there the author, apparently starting from documents and stories, gives the presentation of events the character of fiction.

The book is equipped with a competent preface to the American edition, made by a famous American admiral, and no less competent footnotes from the editor of the American edition (they include numbers), where he refutes, corrects the author or supplements what he said. It is obvious that these footnotes were made after checking with British - mainly - and American archives. Of course, clarifying the geographical coordinates of sunken ships reflects the needs of that time and is of interest primarily to specialists, but we left these footnotes; they give the book an additional documentary character.

The book describes the combat operations of German submarines mainly in the Atlantic - where, in fact, the submarine war was mainly fought, and the submarine war against the Soviet Union is directly reflected in only one chapter. But since 1942, military operations on the Eastern Front have involuntarily acted as the main background to the operations of German submarines in the Atlantic; the argument of the commander of the Nazi submarine fleet, Karl Doenitz, has been repeatedly cited: every ship sunk off the coast of America is one less ship of cargo for Russia. And what is this phrase worth: “Berlin took the position that submarines could provide material support to the German ground campaign only by attacking the Allied polar convoys heading to Arkhangelsk and Murmansk...”

Footnotes with an asterisk are translator's notes; they provide the inexperienced reader with explanations about some historical events, characters, technical features of the design and functioning of submarines and terminology, as well as relatively little-known geographical names.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST AMERICAN EDITION

Most of us remember that in two world wars, German submarines came dangerously close to the point beyond which they began to have complete control over the main sea communications. The establishment of such control would change the course of the war, and its possible outcome could be defeat of the Allies.

In World War I, German submarines sank 11 million tons of warships and cargo ships. This historical experience seems to have been forgotten by the United States and Great Britain. Between the two world wars, it was widely believed both here and in Britain that the convoy system, with its improved anti-submarine warfare capabilities, had all but robbed submarines of their sting. Before World War II, Hitler and some members of his military staff also greatly underestimated the strategic value of submarines manned by highly trained and determined officers and crews. Some experts believe that if Hitler had fifty more boats in 1939, he might have won the war.

In The Sea Wolves, Wolfgang Frank admiringly recounts the saga of the extraordinary exploits of German submariners. He talks frankly about their successes and failures. The high-policy contradictions among the top German leadership, shown with particular emphasis on Admiral Karl Dönitz's struggle to increase the number of submarines and train more submariners, are reminiscent of the troubles of Grand Admiral von Tirpitz during the First World War. But the crew was far from this fuss; its task was to go to sea and disrupt enemy shipping. “Sink ships” was the short slogan of their dangerous mission, as it was for our brave submariners in the Pacific Ocean.

It should not be forgotten that while cargo ships and tankers cannot win wars, their deficiency can lead to defeat. “We must regard war at sea,” Churchill said, “as the foundation of all the efforts of the United Nations. If we lose, nothing else will help us." The British Prime Minister also wrote: “U-boat attacks were the worst of evils for us.”

“Evil” for the German “sea wolves” meant success when they raged across the ocean expanses that they called the “Golden West.” One of their greatest successes was the attack on convoy PQ-17 (July 1942), which was sailing into the ice-free waters of Murmansk with a cargo of British and American aid to besieged Russia: of the 33 ships in the convoy, 22 were sunk, including 5 American ones. If the tide had not been turned back, it is quite possible that the convoy system would have been suspended until a more powerful escort force could be secured.