All language subtitles for World at War e10 Wolf Pack; U-Boats in the Atlantic (1939-1944).en

(narrator) The Atlantic.
Britain's lifeline.

Treacherous enough in peacetime,

in war, black with menace.

U-boat packs stalk through the night.

Knowing the danger,
their victims still plough on.

(speaking German)

(narrator) Ships and cargoes go down.

Their crews—some of them—survive,

but early in 1943
it is Britain's survival

and the Allied hopes for victory
over Germany which are in doubt.

When war began,
Britain saw Germany's big ships

as the main threat to her sea trade.

So did the Germans.

Germany's surface raiders
savaged the merchant fleet

on which Britain depended
for much of her food,

most of her raw materials,
and all of her oil.

Germany's U-boats
were to operate in coastal waters,

sweeping up anything left
by the battleships.

Both Britain and Germany were wrong.

The real naval menace
was to be the U-boat.

At least one man knew this—
Karl Doenitz, chief of the U-boat arm.

He could've been wrong too, if Hitler
had delayed his war with Britain

until all the battleships planned
for the German Navy had been built.

As it was, Doenitz was certain

that with enough submarines,
he could win the war at sea.

He had proved it to himself
20 years before.

In October 1918,

(Doenitz) I was captain of a submarine

in the Mediterranean near Malta.

In a dark night I met a British convoy

with cruisers and destroyers

and I attacked

and I sank a ship,

but the chance would have been
very much greater

if there had been a lot of submarines.

That's why the idea of a wolf pack,

to put the submarines together
that they could attack together,

was very impressive,

and that's why in all the years
from 1918

until the year 1935

when we had the first submarines again
in the German Navy

I never had forgotten this idea.

(narrator) Underwater,
the 1939 U-boat was slow.

On the surface, it was faster
than any convoy of merchant ships.

With its low silhouette it could not
be seen easily, especially at night.

But its targets were outlined clearly
against the sky…

and with radio, the U-boats could
quickly assemble into hunting packs.

Doenitz knew Britain would try
to protect essential Atlantic trade

by a system of convoys
escorted by warships.

To attack these convoys,
Doenitz wanted 300 U-boats.

When the war started he had only 26.

And these boats had long,
dangerous voyages from base

before they could reach their targets.

When France fell,

Doenitz gained new bases
much nearer the shipping routes.

His Sea Wolves returned
to these French ports as heroes.

One especial hero was Otto Kretschmer.

In all, Kretschmer sank over a quarter
of a million tons of British shipping.

In October 1940,
he joined the first real wolf pack.

I remember that there was a signal
that a convoy was coming in

from America to England

and that its position was not known

and that Doenitz ordered
all the submarines there,

to the west of Ireland,

to form a sort of recce line,
a stationary recce line,

to let the convoy pass through.

And when the first submarine was sighted

the convoy made a signal,
its contact signal,

and this recce line
was dissolved automatically,

and every boat was free
to go in for the attack.

(narrator) Convoy SC-7,
on the night of 17 October 1940,

was passing Rockall.

34 merchantmen, four small escort ships.

Seven U-boats attacked on the surface.

The attack took the same form as
that we were used to,

which was a single ship being struck.

Very shortly after
that a second one was struck,

and then, within a matter
of five to ten minutes,

further ships were struck.

I tried to get through the escorts
into the convoy,

which was my own peculiarity
of attacking,

and failed the first time.

They saw me and shot star shells
so that I had to draw away again.

But the second time I succeeded
and was inside the convoy

going up and down the lanes looking
for the most important, valuable ships

and had the opportunity
to expend all torpedoes.

I had 12 in all.

(Sherwood) I could see ships
in various stages of sinking.

A Dutch ship had stopped

and was attempting to pick up survivors,

and whilst I actually
watched her doing this

and was considering what to do about it,

she also herself was torpedoed.

This, along with another torpedoing,

set the whole place ablaze.

(narrator) That night 17 merchantmen,
exactly half the convoy, were sunk.

The escorts had not been able
to damage a single U-boat.

I don't think I had ever seen more
than one ship sunk at a time before,

and this was something
very different indeed.

This really was the first time

that these tactics could be
experienced by all of us

and also by Doenitz himself,

who, of course, knew it
only from our peacetime training.

And the whole night, I think,
was a success.

It was called
the Night of the Long Knives

because so many ships were sunk.

(narrator)
In the first nine months of the war,

the Allies lost over 2 million tons
of merchant shipping.

In the next six months,
with the U-boats operating from France,

nearly 2.5 million tons more went down.

There were medals galore.

U-boat crews called this
“the happy time”.

(man) I saw the ship going up,
the stern going underwater.

She went right up on end,
then backwards.

And I went down with her.
After a bit I came to the surface,

and I was still sitting
on the overturned bridge boat,

when I saw the submarine surfacing.

He went round and started picking up
cases out of the water—

general cargo, possibly spirits,
foodstuff and so forth.

They looked at us,
circled round for a bit,

laughed at us
and went away to the northeast.

They never asked if we had any water,
if we had any damages or anything else.

And we were left
floating amongst wreckage in one boat.

We were halfway
between Brazil and North Africa.

The only thing I could think about

was trying to get to the land
as near as possible,

so I set the course
as near as I could to the northeast.

All we had was the one lifeboat,
which was made for 48 people.

We picked up 58.

There wasn't really room enough
for anybody to sit down.

The boat was leaking badly through
being on the chocks for some time.

You had quite a bit of trouble getting
the crew to move so you could bail,

and you bailed for nearly two days

until the wood of the boat
started to swell and to tighten up.

After that it wasn't so bad.

The worst days, of course,

were when there was no wind.

Absolutely becalmed.

The sun was terrific.

So we started off
by giving 4oz of water—

2oz in the morning and 2oz at night—
and one biscuit.

There was a lot of noise in the boat.
There were Chinese.

I said, “What's all the bobbery?”

Which is a lot of talky-talky,
you know.

He said, “I think number one
fireman go crazy.”

So he eventually jumped over the side
with a lifejacket on.

And after a wee while
we got him back again.

And later that night in the darkness
he jumped again.

We didn't get him back
because the sharks got him.

On the morning of the 13th—

I'd sit on the water barrel
to make sure nobody helped themselves—

and somebody shook me and said, “Hey,
Captain, we see lights, green lights.”

“Oh,” I said,
“you're dreaming, you're dreaming.”

And I looked round
and I saw some green lights.

It looked to me like New Brighton pier.
I couldn't make it out.

So I said, “Well, burn a flare.”

They burned a flare. Jimmy said,
“Burn another flare.”

They burned another flare.

And after a bit I saw the green lights
getting closer. More visible.

Then after a bit
I saw a red light above the green,

and then it dawned on me
that it was a hospital ship.

(narrator)
The U-boats had eyes in the air.

Focke-Wulf Condor aircraft
could range 1,000 miles out to sea

to scout for convoys.

When used to bomb shipping,
the Condors sank 30 ships in two months.

Luckily for Britain,

this partnership with the U-boat
was never properly exploited.

But Doenitz did exploit the fact
that German naval intelligence

had broken the British codes.

We were aware that the intelligence
for some reason was good,

but I myself put this down

to very superior hydrophone equipment

that the submarines had,

that the U-boats had in their boats,

probably being able to pick up
the noise of a convoy's propellers

up to 80 or even 100 miles.

But in addition,

I know that they would place
their U-boats

in a line across, at right angles
to the expected line of the convoy.

And this line for, say, five U-boats,
could be 100 miles from end to end.

And so with good hydrophones,

very little disguise of the position
of a convoy could be effected.

It was only after the war that we knew
that they were breaking the codes

and that they knew very well

the time of leaving port
that the convoys had

and how many escorts there were

and how many merchant ships
in each convoy.

(ticking)

(explosion)

(narrator) The Royal Navy,
searching for U-boats underwater,

had pinned its faith on asdic,
an echo-sounding device.

But U-boats were attacking convoys
on the surface.

The navy was not prepared for this.

(man) Convoy defence
is not very glamorous

and between the wars,
I think rather naturally,

the navy were inclined to concentrate
on more glamorous activities

like great mass torpedo attacks

and that sort of thing.

All the information about the lessons

of World War I were available.

For those who wanted to read them,
the lessons were there.

But I'm afraid no one bothered.

And as a result trade defence
as a whole, was very badly neglected.

(narrator) The neglect continued.

In the early days,
convoys could only be escorted

for about 300 miles
from each Atlantic coast.

There just weren't enough escort ships.

Those available lacked endurance and
their crews were virtually untrained.

(Sherwood)
My officers were RNVR officers.

One was a civil engineer by profession.

The other two were
Canadian sublieutenants,

both of the age of between 20 and 21,

who had come from Canada as passengers

and that was their seagoing experience.

The heads of department were regulars—

some of them had retired
and called back—

and there were two or three seamen
who were of the pukka service,

and the rest were straight in.

(narrator)
Air cover was to prove all-important,

but surprisingly the navy's carriers
did not at first supply it.

That task went to the RAF, although
Coastal Command was ill prepared.

(man) With the exception of Sunderland
flying boats, a very small number,

all the other aircraft
except the Anson were lash-ups.

They were borrowed
from entirely dissimilar functions

in order to do this job
in Coastal Command.

Secondly, the navigation aids
were not there.

It was entirely dead-reckoning
navigation.

And whereas an experienced navigator
can look at the sea,

estimate the wind and where
he's likely to be in an hour's time,

this is very difficult for a new boy.

And since the point to be navigated to,
the convoy, was often equally at error,

it was no wonder that we failed
to meet many convoys.

So lack of equipment,
lack of training and unsuitable aircraft

were certainly severe handicaps
at the beginning of the war.

What is more, cooperation between
the navy and the air force in the field,

while they're at sea,
was very bad indeed,

mainly due to stupid quarrels
between senior officers in Whitehall.

It took nearly two years before we had
anything like the right cooperation

between ships and aircraft.

It was a disgrace and a tragedy.

So many ships were sunk
and so many lives lost unnecessarily

during those first few years.

(narrator) So seamen suffer

from quarrels in Whitehall,
from the U-boats and from the sea.

(man) Now by popular request,
the Western Approaches signature tune.

♪ Someone's rocking my dream boat

♪ Someone's invading my dream

♪ We were sailing along
so peaceful and calm

♪ Suddenly something went wrong

It's very hard to describe to someone
on the land after a tough convoy—

by tough I mean bad weather,

especially in the wintertime—

what just over two weeks at sea is,

living on corned beef and hard tack.

And this is not a fallacy.

We used to do this quite often

when the seas came in
and put the galley fires out.

You couldn't just cook anything hot.

The lucky ones had hammocks

and the unfortunate ones
had to lie on the lockers,

and it was very discomforting.

You used to get chaps coming down
from the middle watch, four o'clock,

wet through,
just clambering on a locker

and the poor chap already
trying to sleep would get soaked.

There was no hygiene there.

We really started smelling after
about a week if you didn't watch it.

We had a feeling
that it was a necessary job.

I'm not sure we realised
that it was all that important.

To us it was a very boring job.

We were on lookout for anything that
might come up and it was bitterly cold.

It was an open bridge,
open to all weathers,

and we were more, really,
trying to keep warm,

trying to keep the cold out,
trying to keep dry,

rather than realise
that we were doing an important job.

(narrator) But they were
doing an important job.

They brought the cargoes, without which
Britain could not have kept going.

(man) You sit down in the cabin.
That's when you think:

“We're in the open sea,
we can catch a pack at any moment.”

(Butler) Many times
we saw little lights in the water

and we assumed these were survivors,
but we couldn't stop and pick them up.

(man) The normal comparison
that seamen made with their wage

for the hours that they worked
was with the ammunition workers,

who were making
a fabulous amount of money,

with no more risks
than our housewives left at home.

(Eyton-Jones) We lost one out of every
three men, and without them

this nation wouldn't have survived
more than three or four months.

(narrator)
But the Germans were still celebrating.

In the first half of 1941 they sank
nearly three million tons of shipping.

Ships were harder to replace than cargo.

If they could be sunk faster than they
could be built, Britain would starve.

But now the Canadian navy,
tiny at the outbreak of war,

was expanding to 50 times
its original size.

It would take on nearly half the burden
of convoy escort in the north Atlantic.

More and more convoys
were leaving Canada,

decks laden with tanks,
holds full of supplies

from the neutral United States
under lease-lend.

Alarmed at continuing losses,
the British war cabinet

set up a new Western Approaches
Command to reorganise convoy defence.

For the first time, the RAF and the navy
worked closely together.

And in March 1941,
Doenitz lost three of his ablest men.

Günther Prien, who had sunk
the Royal Oak at Scapa Flow…

depth-charged and killed.

Joachim Schepke, rammed and drowned.

And Kretschmer,
depth-charged to the surface…

and taken prisoner.

Only one third of Doenitz's fleet
could be on patrol at any one time.

His best captains had suddenly gone.

Now he could only keep
some half dozen U-boats at sea.

With this small number of U-boats,

of course any decisive success

in the battle of the Atlantic
was not possible.

That's why it was necessary
for the building of submarines

to get first place
in the German armament plan.

But this was not done,

in spite of all the requests

made by Admiral Raeder,

who then was chief of the German navy.

(narrator) Worse was to come for him.

The United States
was still officially neutral.

(PA) General quarters,
general quarters. On the double.

(narrator) But after Churchill's
Atlantic meeting with Roosevelt,

September 1941, America announced she
would protect ships of any nationality

plying between her shores and Iceland.

There were now enough warships

to provide continuous escort
across the Atlantic.

It was time to counterattack.

I got hold of
a number of escort commanders,

who I asked the question:

“When a U-boat is known
to be attacking a convoy,

as they do now by night”,

I asked them what they did,

and the answer in most cases was,
“Well, what can you do?”

“It's a very tiny little thing
and we can't see them.”

Radar, of course, in those days was very
elementary and we had very few sets.

But in fact there was
one escort commander

who had the idea,

which is still absolutely relevant,

that when an attack, of which
there is no warning, takes place,

that all of the escort
should do the same sort of thing

on a planned line

at exactly the same time

so that it has the maximum effect
over the broad ocean around that convoy.

And this, of course,
was the then Commander Walker.

(narrator)
Although he did not survive the war,

Walker was to sink more U-boats
than anyone else.

At the end of 1941
he set a new style for convoy defence.

The convoy was HG-76.

In it were 36 merchantmen
from all parts of the world.

They assembled in Gibraltar
for the trudge to Britain.

The navy knew there were at least
six U-boats on the convoy's route—

their signals had been picked up
by the admiralty.

When HG-76 sailed
on 14 December 1941,

it had an exceptionally large escort—
17 ships commanded by Walker.

Among them, for the first time,
an auxiliary aircraft carrier,

the Audacity.

Three days out,
Audacity's plane spotted U-131.

The escorts quickly sank her.

Doenitz homed five more U-boats
on the convoy.

Walker's team soon sank one.

But that night
the U-boats attacked again.

An escort and a merchant ship were sunk.
Walker counterattacked.

Walker's own ship
rammed and sank U-574.

In the air, Audacity's fighters
harried the German Condors.

One was destroyed. Others were damaged.

But some escorts were running
out of fuel. They had to leave.

A U-boat penetrated the gap.

Audacity was the next victim.

Another hectic night followed.
The convoy lost one more ship.

But Endrass, another U-boat ace
was sunk in U-567.

Next day, for the first time,
a long-range Liberator

appeared and attacked.

Doenitz decided he must withdraw.

Walker had justified his tactics.

Aircraft had proved their worth.

Four U-boats had been sunk.

But Doenitz was about to be given
his greatest opportunity.

(♪ “Moonlight Serenade”)

In December 1941, the United States
came fully into the war—

but left her peacetime lights on.

(explosion)

Doenitz's U-boats never had it so good.

This was the second “happy time”.

The Americans did not have enough
warships available for offshore escort

so there were no convoys there.

Many ships were convoyed
safely across the ocean

to be torpedoed
alone and unescorted offshore.

The slaughter went on.

In the second half of 1941

nearly 1.5 million tons of shipping
were lost.

In the first half of 1942 over
4 million tons of shipping were lost—

1,000 ships.

At this rate,
the Allies would lose the war.

We had to sink as many ships as possible

before our Anglo-American opponent

could develop
an effective antisubmarine defence

and could replace the merchant ships
which had been sunk.

(narrator) But most of Germany's
U-boats were not in the Atlantic.

They were patrolling off Norway,
defending Germany's supply lines,

or confined in the Mediterranean.

These dispositions infuriated Doenitz.

He had no doubts
where the U-boats ought to be.

(Doenitz) The German submarines
must not be used for any other purposes.

Their main strategic purpose
was to sink as many ships as possible

in the Atlantic.

But Hitler and the high command
would not listen.

(speaks German)

(narrator)
Although preoccupied with the Pacific,

the US naval staff were now willing
to rethink Atlantic tactics.

They finally established
a system of offshore convoys.

Sinkings of merchantmen dropped off.

Sinkings of U-boats began.

Doenitz now switched his boats
to the Caribbean,

where many ships
were still sailing independently.

(narrator) In two months,
78 ships were sunk,

more than half of them oil tankers.

(man) It was a very long time ago,
but I can see it now—

the people that lived aft
running around on fire

and throwing themselves
straight over the side into the oil

which was on fire all round.

In the meantime, I shouted
to the remaining people in the boat

to get the oars out
and push her off from the ship's side

because the rivets of the ship's side
had burst out and they were on fire.

We rowed around for a wee while
and we heard some screams for help,

and we pulled out of the water
a fireman, or greaser as we call them,

and he was terribly burned,
so much so that when we pulled him in

the skin of his body and arms
came off in our hands like gloves.

We set sail and course for Trinidad.
I had a rough idea where it might be.

And so we tidied up the boat
and set off.

But shortly after that the greaser,

who'd been in terrible agony all night,
he died,

and we laid him on the thwart
for a wee while.

And then shortly after that they told me
that the third steward had died too,

so I went to have a look at him,
and he was wrapped up in a blanket,

and I took the blanket away

and the whole of his stomach was
severely damaged and hanging out.

He'd been very patient during the night

and the only thing
he'd complained of was cold.

So we laid him on the thwart and covered
him with a blanket for about an hour,

because I wanted to really make sure
that they were dead,

because we had nothing to indicate…

Everything I did indicated
that they were so.

Eventually, after about an hour,
we committed them to the deep.

Morale in the boat at this time
was very low

because these were all young boys—
17, 18, 19, 22.

And by this time it was a boat-load
of miseries, pain and death.

(narrator) Only eight men survived
from the San Emiliano's crew of 40.

To Allied seamen
the U-boat crews were heartless killers,

but the Germans were brave men too.

They needed courage when depth charges
exploded around them,

sometimes for 12 hours at a stretch.

Eight of every ten U-boat crewmen
were to die in action.

(explosion)

(man shouts in German)

They called their U-boats iron coffins.

(German man)
The destroyer I met had radar

so he had me on his screen

and with full speed ahead

he rammed me for the first time.

And when I saw him
it was too late to dive.

I tried to torpedo him,

but the distance, 150 yards round about,

was too close,
so the torpedo wouldn't explode.

So I tried to get a bigger distance

between the destroyer and the boat.

And he was shooting during one hour
or two hours with machine guns.

An officer next to me was dead

and another officer,
he had got a bullet through his throat

and I had got a bullet in my chest

and I had some 30 shell splinters
in arm and leg

and a bullet in my head.

After one hour of stress

the sailors were very anxious

and one of the petty officers,
he lost his nerves

and said, “Oh, this madman!”
and, “Why don't we surrender?”

But this was the only one.

(narrator) But the time was coming
when courage was no longer enough.

(speaks German)

Radio had remained essential
to wolf-pack operations.

But new Allied direction-finding
equipment could pick up German signals

and plot where they came from.

With short-wave radar, escorts could now
locate a U-boat on the surface…

often sighting the U-boat
before her crew could see them.

The low silhouette
was no longer such an advantage.

(rings)

(speaking German)

(narrator)
Asdic equipment too was improving.

Escort ships
could track a submerged U-boat

as she twisted and turned
at low underwater speed.

There were new weapons,
like the hedgehog, for the kill.

The Germans did not realise the extent
of British and US technical advances,

nor did they match them.

The Germans had some very
high-class scientists

and some excellent engineers,

but they didn't achieve the results
they ought to have done.

Firstly, I think,
because they were mucked around,

and the Germans kept
altering the priorities,

and secondly because
I don't believe they were ever allowed

to take any interest
in the operational side,

as opposed to what happened with us,

where the scientists were made to feel
full members of the operational team.

I believe this, much more than
the question of weapons and devices,

was the reason why the Germans fell
so far astern in technological matters.

(narrator) And the Allies
were still behind in using

what would be the most effective
counter to the U-boat—

aircraft with radar.

Convoys could seldom be given
continuous long-range air cover.

When they were, losses were reduced
and U-boat kills increased.

The problem was range. Planes now flew
to the convoys from North America,

from Iceland, from the United Kingdom.

But there was a vast gap
in mid-Atlantic

which these escort planes
could not reach.

The U-boats could and did.

In the second half of 1942
over 3.5 million tons went down,

nearly 700 ships,
many of them in the Atlantic gap.

To close this gap,
escort carriers were needed

to sail with the convoys.

But few were yet available.

Or very long-range planes
like the Liberator.

But in 1942 the Americans needed
most of these in the Pacific.

Or Lancaster bombers,
but despite admiralty appeals

the RAF kept them all bombing Germany—

although they did release
other aircraft.

Bomber Command diverted
six squadrons to Coastal Command,

and if you'd said it would've been
better if they'd made that ten, yes,

but the line had to be drawn somewhere.

As a Coastal type I would've liked to
see a few more squadrons in Coastal,

but Bomber Command were pitifully short
of aeroplanes, too,

for the job they had to do.

Surely, if there had been
more Liberators allocated from America

we could have improved
the situation much earlier

and have saved the lives
of a lot of seamen.

(narrator) More and more, the war
effort depended on the United States.

Merchant ships and escorts
were mass-produced

to carry the material and men
for the invasion of Europe.

Unless the Atlantic was secured,
all else could fall apart.

In January 1943,
Roosevelt and Churchill decreed

that the defeat of the U-boat
be given top priority.

Improved escort vessels were built.

There were now enough of these
to go over to the attack.

But also in January 1943, Doenitz
took over as chief of the German navy.

He paid off most of the big ships

and released their crews
for the submarine service.

At last he could have U-boats
mass-produced.

17 new U-boats
were commissioned each month.

By early spring 1943,
Doenitz had over 400 U-boats in service.

Once again,
the convoys might be overwhelmed.

In May came what was to prove
the decisive battle,

around convoy ONS-5.

ONS-5 was a rather small, very slow

and, of course, unladen, empty convoy.

And we had a lot of trouble.

The weather was very bad,
the ships got disorganised,

and south of Iceland
after three or four days

we had several attacks by submarines,

most of which we drove off successfully,
and only had one ship sunk.

Then after a spell we had a long series
of very bad gales indeed,

combined with a little nip
into the ice pack off Greenland,

and at this stage
my ship was running short of fuel,

I couldn't fuel from the tanker because
of the weather, and I had to leave.

I got the signal from Gretton

that he had to push off
to Newfoundland to get fuel

and would I come back
and take over the escort?

Well, he didn't say “would I?”,
he said, “You're in charge.”

(narrator) May 3.
Four escort ships have left to refuel.

In bad weather
ten merchant ships have lost contact.

A line of U-boats is waiting.

As they move in on 4 May,

aircraft from Canada
sink one and damage another.

At about half past four to five o'clock
in the afternoon

the torpedoing started.

Well, I torpedoed two ships,

each with two torpedoes,

and one of these ships…

Well, it didn't explode,

but after the explosion of the torpedoes
another big explosion happened.

I looked back and I saw the captain.

I would suggest the bridge
was probably…

oh, 10 or 15 feet,
might be a little more, off the water

when he jumped off
the wing of the bridge into the sea.

There was a life raft nearby,
I know that.

Well, I couldn't stop and pick him up.

And, well, it was in…

I suppose a matter of half a minute
that I got one myself.

Once more I was lucky
by slipping through into a gap

between two of the escort vessels

and closing into the port column
of the convoy,

and I fired the two torpedoes

and both torpedoes hit the target ship.

(narrator) May 5. The U-boats
make 25 attacks in eight hours.

More ships are sunk.

The outlook for the convoy is grim
as Doenitz orders in still more U-boats.

We picked up quite a lot of signals
from other submarines

also getting contact with this convoy.

And so we thought that this convoy
would be absolutely dead

during the next night.

Somewhere in the region of 10 o'clock
the attack started

and they became fast and furious.

(Looks) Suddenly dense fog came up

and so it was nearly impossible
to find the convoy again.

I tried to do it,
but we couldn't find the ships again.

(Sherwood) Escorts were reporting
submarines coming in,

not ships being torpedoed,

and this, of course, was absolutely…

It was the first time it happened,
certainly to me.

Staying on the surface during
the dark time, now in the dense fog,

of course it was very dangerous.

They were coming up
all the time saying

that a submarine
was bearing so-and-so on radar

and then the next thing you'd get:
“Submarine close alongside.”

Another one: “Submarine
just ahead of me. I'm ramming.”

And this went on all night.

I got a very firm asdic contact

about 800 yards

from the nearest ship in the convoy.

My immediate reaction,

which I think was the correct one—

in fact I know was the correct one—

was to increase speed and give it
a five-charge pattern straight away

to keep the chap's head down

so that it would put him off his stroke
if he was going to fire torpedoes.

But I was short of depth charges
at that stage

and I thought the conditions
were perfect—

the night was relatively calm,
a bit of fog—

perfect for a deliberate attack.

And so I decided on a deliberate attack
with our forward-throwing weapon,

the hedgehog.

We saw two distinct flashes

a few seconds
after the hedgehog bombs hit the water,

and as we passed over the position

where our hedgehog bombs
had hit the water,

we were virtually… our bow
was virtually lifted from the water

as a result of the U-boat breaking apart
and escaping air.

And there was great exhilaration
on the bridge

because this was our first kill.

We had no feelings at the time,
I'm afraid, of destroying 70-odd people.

One had control of one's emotions
by then, after three years of war

and it was just the thought
that it's us or them,

and on that occasion it was them.

(narrator) May 6.
Although 11 merchantmen have been lost,

the escorts have beaten off the largest
wolf pack Doenitz can send against them.

Seven U-boats have been sunk,
others damaged.

Demoralised by their failure
to destroy the convoy

with the odds so much on their side,
the U-boats withdraw.

I think we really felt that at last
our training and technology

had got on top of the U-boats.

We sailed for the next convoy, SC-130,
on the top of the wave,

and despite the fact that we had
a very heavy battle

with about 20 U-boats, we sank three of
them and didn't lose one single ship.

(narrator) That month, May 1943,
41 U-boats were sunk.

In one of them,
Doenitz lost his younger son.

(Doenitz) In May 1943,

the German submarines had lost

the operational and tactical quality

of surface manoeuvrability.

(narrator) They never regained it.

Unable to range freely on the surface,
the wolf packs were beaten.

It was time to celebrate a victory
in North Africa and in the Atlantic.

More than 30 U-boats were certainly
destroyed in the month of May,

foundering in many cases with their
crews into the dark depths of the sea.

Staggered by these deadly losses,
the U-boats have recoiled

to lick their wounds
and mourn their dead.

Our Atlantic convoys
came safely through.

And now,
as the result of the May victory

and the massacre of U-boats,

we have had in June the best month
from every point of view

we have ever known
in the whole 46 months of the war.

(narrator) The Atlantic lifeline
was, at last, secure.