[Cpt.Thorne]

Marlena
This is exellent stuff. When I "ordered" for all this rescue operation to go further I surely didn´t excpect a book written but as it has happened now I think you should consider it published. Had the time to read through the U735 side of the story last night too.

CCIP
You are ordered to report to Bergen ASAP. So it has been here you have been lurking Flotille Kommandant wants to see you about your avoiding your duties. We will escort you to the HQ at Bergen compound! Patrol 20 is ongoing! Your boat and crew will be soon given out to some wet-eared Lt.z.S unless you take her out to the seas soon. Here are the orders.

[CCIP]

Herr Hellstrom,

Understood! Allow me to finish my paperwork here, and I'll be right on it :8

-Forster

[Dowly]

No need for the Word document. I copied your text already.

[Cpt.Thorne]

[CCIP]

Oh, I'm very 'around'

If I get a chance, I think I might write a nice big story of my adventures on U-177, too (of which I still have full records) - this stuff is inspiring But that's far in the future!

[Cpt.Thorne]

Truly enjoyed those stories already written on your actions at sea and being saved by Emmermann etc. and the touching poem about our fallen kamaraten. Just enjoy reading all these stories
Prost!

[Miss Behavin]

Once again, thank you all. The compliments have been overwhelming and truly appreciated. At the same time, I welcome constructive criticism too.

I have never read anything on "how to write" and other than the basic education we receive in school as children, have had only my imagination, a dictionary, and one severely dog-eared thesaurus for my tools. Even if it sounds like criticism, any suggestions how to improve my writing are appreciated as well.

Dowly, my friend, as a title, How does "Despite all Odds - Last Voyage of U-406" sound?

As far as a cover picture, were I an artist, a depiction of a surfaced U-boat being tossed about on rough seas, a mangled tower and foredeck, and desperate men abandoning her to life rafts. In the sky and very close, a large bomber, her guns blazing with bullets kicking up geysers of water about the stricken submarine and a bomb frozen in midair only a second or two from impact."

Unfortunately, I am nowhere near talented enought to draw such a scene. If you wish to use a picture or photo, I will trust your judgement as to what to use, bearing in mind any copyright protection on such.


By the way, the story is not yet quite complete and I will post more as it progresses into it's final chapters. I'm still waiting on the final outcome and this all depends on the success or failure of U-735 in getting us home.

Thanks again everyone for taking the time to read this and for your comments, good or bad.

Sincerest regards,

Heather

[Dowly]

I´ll use that name then.

I have a screenshot which I might use as a cover photo. It shows a uboat and a huge water pillar raising just aft of the boat. And on the foreground, RAF aircraft is taking altitude after the attack run.

Cant really explain it. I PM it to you, when I sometime today.

[kiwi_2005]

Man! Miss Behavin that was one long read!

[don1reed]

Else, meine Schatz!

My, my, your renoun has grown since leaving the 21te. Well done.

My friend, OLzs Herbertus Korndörfer, of the U407 (waw) passes on his best regards and much success to the survivors of the U-Spatz (U406).

You spin a great yarn lass, keep up the good work.

Cheers,

[donut]

"You spin a great yarn lass, keep up the good work." I'll second that. When might we expect the conclusion,to your short story? :ahoy:

[Miss Behavin]

[Miss Behavin]

Chapter Twenty-one - Too Stubborn to Die

8:43 p.m. April 13, 1944

My mind was befuddled as I struggled to get to the surface. My limbs felt as though they weighed a ton and a great pain filled my chest; I knew I’d been hit. Breath would not come to me and I realized I would soon drown should I not make the surface. Through the water above, I could still see the blurry Leigh light of the enemy bomber and knew that only death awaited me on the surface. Maybe better to just let go, to embrace peace and sink to the depths to join so many of my colleagues who had preceded me.

Distant voices I could hear and though some were strange to me, others I knew; Ringelmann, Pfennings, Dortmund, Wiese, and many others. My crew, even if only a few, were still alive and as long as they were, I could not give up. I could not abandon them, as much as the peaceful darkness beckoned to me; and him, my green-eyed Viking, I had fought too hard to give up now.

My head broke the surface and I cried out, “Wolfgang!”

As my vision cleared, the Leigh light became that of the lamp over the radio operator’s station. My breathing was shallow, but I was breathing, and it tasted sweet. As my head began to clear, I recognized my XO, Lt. Ringelmann, “Albert,” hovering over me and gently mopping the perspiration from my face.

Albert turned his head to call for the Doctor but found, instead, Kaleun Pedersen who had hastened to my side when I had called out for him, an expression of abject worry furrowing his brow. His hand grasped mine, gently holding it between his as Albert encouraged him, “The fever, it has broken. I’ll get the doctor.”

As Albert left, Wolfgang moved closer, his face near mine. I peered into his green eyes, and although my chest felt like someone had hit me with a sledgehammer, I felt as though his life force flowed into me through our touch and I could not help but feel a warm smile come to my face. My mouth and throat was dry and I fear my plea of , “Don’t let go of me Wolfgang,” came out more like a croak than anything audible. He understood though for his hands tightened on mine and shaking his head, a fire of heartfelt adulation burning in his eyes, he said, “Never, my love.”

Letting go only long enough to help me raise my head while he lifted a glass of water to my lips, he continued to assure me that I would not be lost to him. Over his shoulder, I could see someone arrive who looked like a doctor and it was with great obvious reluctance that Wolfgang moved aside to make room for him. With a stoic expression, the doctor began checking my vitals but my eyes were not for him, not once leaving Wolfgang’s; a gaze that connected us as surely as though our hands were still grasped.

As the doctor proceeded to inspect my wounds, recollection of the last few days was rapidly coming back to me, most of which had been explained to me by either my XO, Albert, Kaleun Pedersen’s XO “Bernard,” or Wolfgang himself; who had incessantly been at my side whenever duty did not require him elsewhere.

Only an hour or so past midnight, on the morning of the 9th, U-735 surfaced to successfully rendezvous with the captured patrol craft on which we’d made good our escape. With utmost haste, everyone was transferred aboard and the little vessel was left adrift to be reclaimed by the Amerikan navy. Less than five minutes later, the powerful search-lamp on the Amerikan-built bomber swept over the water where, only moments before, the tower of Pedersen’s boat had disappeared below the surface. Fortunately, their ASDIC-bearing destroyers were farther out and we would be well away from the area by the time one could arrive there. For now, we were safe.

At the time, I had only been semi-conscious and had struggled to stay alert enough until I knew for sure everyone had been safely brought aboard. Focusing on the pain of my wound, this helped me to do so while Bernard assured me that all of my crew was aboard and the wounded were being seen to by a medical staff that had been sent with them. Kaleun Pedersen had been busy at the time personally flitting about in seeing that everything was being seen to and the safety of the boat made good with our descent and flight from the rendezvous area. I remembered thanking him and that I had never given up hope that they would find us. Even better now, I knew the mettle of the man to whom I’d lost my heart to.

During the following hours when consciousness punctuated my sedated sleep, Wolfgang was at my side more often than not; and when he wasn’t because of his duties, somebody else was. It was as though a perpetual guard had been placed over me so as to warn death, should he arrive at my bed, to move along; he had no business here.

Between Wolfgang, Albert, Bernard, and the myriad of crew that came through to see and wish me well, both of the U-406 as well as the U-735, I learned that Kaleun Pedersen’s boat had been retrofitted into something resembling a submersible hospital before it had left Bergen. The only torpedoes aboard were in tube one through four, all others left behind to allow the forward torpedo room to be converted into a barracks. Even the rails and hoists for handling the torpedoes had been removed so that room would be available for carpenters to build a network of wooden scaffolding to be used as bunks. The same had been done with the aft torpedo room as well. In this fashion, enough bunks were available for the large number of men aboard to work a rotating watch.

The officer’s mess had been converted into a respectable surgery, whereas the petty officer’s quarters now served as a sick-bay for the treatment and recovery of the wounded.

Members of my crew who had not been wounded, had been incorporated into manning Pedersen’s boat for he had come with only the bare minimum of crew so as to make room for mine when they found us. I was pleased to learn that all of them worked together in a professional manner and the atmosphere aboard our rescue vessel was jubilant with renewed hope.

Although I did not remember doing so, I had been somewhat embarrassed to learn that I had threatened to shoot the doctor myself if he let a single one of my men die and had even demanded my .45, the M1911 I had liberated from the Amerikan Colonel, be brought to me. Needless to say, this order had been prudently ignored. Despite the pain that this caused, there were a few times, in my desire to see for myself the conditions and care being given to my crew, I tried to rise from my berth only to be forcefully restrained from doing so. After a few repeated warnings from the doctor, he made good his threat and was keeping me mildly sedated. I’m still not sure if that was to keep me in bed, or if there were ulterior motives just to make sure that I did not indeed come hunting him.

Those crew that I had lost, as well as the fate of the missing raft, haunted me and was quite often on my mind. This dread was lessened somewhat by the good news that the two worst cases, Thiel and Imme, would survive their wounds; and Thiel would even keep his leg, although it would still cripple him enough that for him, the war was over.

The unpropitious Colonel Weyland had been incarcerated in the aft torpedo room and placed under heavy guard. He thought far too highly of himself to consider trying anything that would get him killed and hence soon became a silent, deflated figure of a man and left alone to contemplate his future at the hands of his captors. Regarding him, I personally did not give much thought or care, other than that he was treated within the dictates of the Geneva Convention. His usefulness to me was past and I only hoped that he possessed knowledge that would prove valuable enough to warrant the trouble of bringing him along.

The following day, I took a turn for the worse when, despite the best efforts of the highly skilled doctor, I became somewhat delirious with fever and he kept a closer watch over me in fear that infection had set in. I remembered little or nothing of that time but had seen others in the same state before and only hoped that I did not ramble on too much while in this condition. There were some things I had to say but these were words reserved only for the ear of my beloved Wolfgang.

My thoughts were brought back to the present when the doctor finished examining the progress of his treatment and redressed my wounds. Satisfied with his findings, he allowed a smile to assail his normally stolid demeanor and, rising to his feet, he said to Wolfgang, “She’s past the worst of it Herr Pedersen. I am confident that she is going to recover fully. Providing no further problems develop, I imagine she will be up on her feet in a month.”

A big grin came to Wolfgang’s face as I found myself glaring at the doctor and saying, “Two!”

Turning his attention back to me, a tone of assurance in his voice, “Oh, no, Oblt. Hessler, in spite of your wounds, you are a very healthy woman. I am confident that you will recover quickly and be back up and about in no more than a month.”

I think Wolfgang was grinning because he knew me better and understood what I meant the first time. The doctor’s browse rose when I repeated, “Two, two weeks. I do not have time to languish about in a hospital bed any longer than that. Save it for those who need it more than I.”

Shaking his head and turning back to Wolfgang, “Does she not realize the seriousness of her wounds? Is she always this stubborn?”

Nodding his head in silent acquiescence, Wolfgang’s grin only grew wider as he moved closer in place of the retreating doctor to, once again, hold my hands in his.

Moving off to attend to his other patients, I clearly heard the doctor muttering, “I feel sorry for the foolish man that ever marries that woman.”

[Miss Behavin]

Chapter Twenty-two - One More Engagement

21 April 1944

06:24

The boat was secured and an overwhelming silence flooded throughout when the motors, after days on end of continuous running, were finally shut down.

The fever I had suffered a week earlier had left me feeling weak at the time, but I felt that I had gained sufficient strength to be able to exit the vessel on my own two legs. When I expressed this desire however, I was met with a resounding “No!” not only from the doctor but from Wolfgang, Lt. Ringelmann, Bernard, and at least a few others. It came out so simultaneously that it was almost as if it had been choreographed and I could not help but laugh and concede. There was no doubt whatsoever that I had been overwhelmingly outvoted. The thought of protesting crossed my mind but I could still see worry in Wolfgang’s eyes and I could not bring myself to do anything that would cause him undo anguish. I therefore allowed myself to be secured to a stretcher in preparation for disembarking.

While I listened to the hustle and bustle of the crew shutting things down and exiting, I allowed my mind to lazily drift back over the last week. I could feel the heat of a blush still come over my face as my memory went back to a few days after I had recovered from a fever-induced delirium, when Lt. Ringelmann had leaned close to whisper in my ear some of the things I had said in my incoherent state. I had been extremely embarrassed, to say the least; and especially when he informed me that I had been rambling on about the names Wolfgang and I would choose for our children. He tried to assure me that only a few had heard this and that it was kept discreetly secret amongst them. I was highly suspicious, however, that he was not being entirely truthful with me on this.

Raising my hand up so, for the hundredth time, I could look at the beautiful engagement ring Wolfgang had placed there; I realized that he’d had it for some time, even before engaging in this rescue mission. My vision blurred with tears of joyous emotion as I played back in my mind the little celebration he had held in the mess today when he announced our engagement. I would swear to this day that the cheer that went up from both crews would have drowned out all but the absolute closest of depth charge barrages. Despite doctor Wankel’s protestations, even I got to enjoy some of the celebratory Bolinger ’39 that had been broken out for the occasion.

Afterward, every crewman who was not otherwise occupied with duties or bedridden by their wounds came by to personally offer their congratulations. I could not help but be amused by the thought that Colonel Weyland, even were he allowed to come forward to do so, would most likely not be offering me any form of congratulations. There was no doubt regarding the venomous feeling he harbored toward me; and I suppose no one could particularly blame him.

All of my crew that came by, expressed right then and there that it was their desire to sail with me again once I got another boat and I returned their loyalty with an oath that I would do everything possible to see that they would stay with me when I received a new command. I knew that this would be difficult to do as many would most likely be reassigned to other boats during the time of my recovery in hospital. I would have to remember to bring this up to Kommandant Hellstrom to see if he could pull some strings for me.

I was still looking at the ring, a peacefully content smile upon my face, when another approached my side. Before even looking up to meet those green eyes of his, I knew that it was Wolfgang and, despite others moving by, he bent to kiss me before telling me it was time. Able crewmen, under the watchful eye of Wolfgang, took hold of my stretcher and, as though handling fine china, carefully extricated me from the interior of the boat.

As I was brought down the gangplank, I could see that a surprisingly large crowd had gathered and they began to applause. It was my sincere hope that this was in recognition of Herr Pedersen’s rescue efforts as I certainly did not feel worthy after having lost my boat and more than a few of my crewman. Would THEIR families be applauding were they here? I did not think so. Many of the faces were familiar to me and I scanned the crowd looking for old friends, especially Klaus and Adolf, but I did not see them. It was as well that I could not know that they had been lost on patrol and I assumed that they were currently engaged at sea or on leave.

As I was carried toward an awaiting ambulance, Kommandant Hellstrom approached and, with obviously sincere pleasure in seeing my return, offered his congratulations. I promised him I would be back soon and to have a boat ready for me but he countered it with a certainty that I would, but first to concentrate on getting well. Before they could lift me into the ambulance, Wolfgang was there and before God and everybody, gave me another kiss; much to the joy and cheering of the crowd present. I really wanted him to come with me but reminded myself that when all was said and done, we were both still officers in the Kriegsmarine and he still had much to do in seeing to his crew and other official matters before he could call the day quits. Nonetheless, our eyes did not part until the doors were closed and I could feel the vehicle start moving on its journey to the Bergen hospital.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-three – The Escape Artist

9 May 1944

It had been just a day shy of three weeks since my internment at the Bergen hospital. Even though Wolfgang had been there at every opportunity, and many were my visitors, my idleness was beginning to get the better of me and to say that I was anxious to get out of there would be an understatement. It was starting to show in my demeanor too as even the nurses were beginning to avoid me unless they absolutely had to. I could only imagine the derogatory nicknames that I had been labeled with; all probably well deserved. I do not make a good patient. I had even snapped at Wolfgang a few times and I felt horrible for it. He had been such a dear, even sneaking in goodies for me that one would never see on a hospital menu. I really needed to get out of there.

The medical staff and care at Bergen hospital were excellent and I felt a hundred times better than I had upon my arrival three weeks prior. It was 11:00 p.m. and the ward had grown still with most of the patients asleep. I could hear the lowered voices of the two nurses on night duty and make out enough of their conversation to determine that they were preparing to attend to a patient who had come in the previous day with serious wounds that required constant attention and redressing. I knew that even with both of them, this would take at least fifteen minutes and probably a little longer.

Sitting up I swung my feet to the floor and immediately regretted moving so suddenly as I sat there for a moment waiting for the dizziness that had washed over me to subside. I had been off my feet for over a month now and it had certainly taken a toll, not to mention my wounds. Carefully standing up, and profoundly hoping that no one else was awake, more for my own modesty due to the insufficient coverage my hospital gown gave to one’s backsides, I began to make my way to the nurse’s station, making sure to stay well within the many dark shadows cast by the few dimmed lights that remained on.

No cries of alarm or inquiry called out and with one ear attuned to the activity of the nurses, I slid into a chair at their station and began quickly searching through myriad of papers and forms. After a moment, luck was still with me as I found what I was searching for. I was fortunate in that the attending doctor who looked me over every morning actually had handwriting that I could decipher. Studying his signature on some other paperwork, I practiced it a few times on a notepad until I was relative sure that it would pass a cursory examination.

Even though I could not see them, I glanced in their direction and listening momentarily to be sure that the night-duty nurses were still actively engaged. I then proceeded to carefully fill out the blank discharge form that I was guessing would be the one that would be put with my chart by the authorized doctor. I had considered indicating that I was to be released for return to full duty status but on second thought, decided that might raise too much suspicion and hence, questions that I could not answer. Writing in a script in a reasonable facsimile of the doctor’s handwriting, I indicated that I could return to light duty for a period of no less than four weeks before being returned to full-duty status.
Examining his signature one more time, I carefully transcribed his endorsement to the appropriate line at the bottom of the form.

Putting everything back in their proper places, I rose, with papers in hand, and stealthily made my way back to my bed. With the exception of the discharge paper which I placed behind all of the other papers on the clipboard hanging at the foot of my bed, I hid all of the other ‘practice’ papers far beneath the mattress where it would be unlikely that any attendants would find them even when changing the bedding. Only if they were to turn the mattress would it be likely that they would be discovered.

By now I could feel a twinge of pain from my wounds and a slight shortness of breath. I congratulated myself in having enough foresight to have indicated a return to ‘light’ duty as I’m not sure I could handle an entire day on a full regimen. When the nurses returned to their station, I waited for them to notice anything out of the ordinary but after half an hour, no mention was made of it as I drifted off to sleep; a self-satisfied little smile upon my lips.

The next day, shortly after breakfast, the doctor came through on his morning rounds. After asking a few questions regarding how I was feeling, he spent a moment looking over my charts. While doing so I silently prayed that he would not go all the way to the back and discover the bogus release form I had hidden there the previous night. My luck held and he hung the clipboard back on it’s hook at the foot of my bed. Smiling, he started to inform me of how much longer I would be there but before he could get out enough for the attending nurse to hear, I spoke up indicating that he was the doctor, who was I to challenge his decisions. He looked at me a bit strangely for a moment, blinked, and then wished me well until he would be seeing me again the next morning. “Not if I could help it,” I thought to myself.

Listening carefully for anyone approaching my room, I slipped from under the bed-covers to make my way to the clipboard and, removing the discharge paper I had forged the night before, placed it directly on top of my charts.

About half an hour later, housekeeping came in to change the linens. I could have gotten up to make their work a bit easier but stayed put so as to make it more difficult for them to lift the edges of the mattress so as to tuck the sheets under. I certainly didn’t want anybody finding my ‘practice’ forgeries until I was well away from there. I asked them if they knew whether or not anyone had yet notified my HQ to send over some clothing for me so that I could return to base. Of course, they didn’t know but assured me that they would inform the charge nurse of my inquiry.

They apparently didn’t get in any hurry to do so as it was almost an hour later before said nurse came into my room. She gave me a curt nod of greetings and went immediately to my charts, a frown pasted upon her face with one brow rising in surprise upon discovering the discharge paper. In the meantime another nurse had come in but held her silence while her senior was reading the form.

Her frown deepened and when she said, “This will not do,” my heart sank as I realized she had seen right through my ruse.

“I would not release you so soon,” she stated to me, “but then, I am not the one who makes those decisions. For the life of me though, I wish that he would learn to use the proper forms!”

Turning her attention to her subordinate, “Olga, take this and a ‘correct’ discharge form to the doctor and tell him this must be filled out again.”

“But nurse Agnetha, he has just gone into surgery,” the nurse replied, “I cannot interrupt him there.”

Charge nurse Agnetha would have frowned even more deeply, if that were possible, and studied the forged document again. After a reprieve from believing I had been found out, I was certain that if she studied the paper much longer I most certainly would so I took a small sip of water from the bedside glass and faked a small coughing spasm. This worked in diverting the charge nurse’s attention and she watched me carefully until the coughing stopped. I assured her that I was alright and had only choked on the water. This seemed to placate her somewhat but she repeated that were it her choice I would be remaining here at least a few more weeks. “You should be more careful,” she warned, “especially so soon after recovery.” Turning to the other nurse, “Very well then. At least he is one of the few doctors here whose writing you can actually read. Take this and type it up on the correct form. We can get his signature on it later. In the meantime,” frowning at the bogus document, “this will have to do.”

She then informed me that my Kommandant would be informed to send someone over with a uniform and transportation to return me to base. She explicitly reminded me that I was returning to ‘light’ duty only and not to overly exert myself for at least another two weeks.

It was still plainly obvious that she was not pleased at my release and I fervently prayed that the doctor’s surgery would keep him too busy to question for at least a few hours.

A little more than an hour later, one of the female secretaries arrived with my uniform and informed me that a staff car was waiting out front. I had to be careful not to rush too quickly and hence bring on a wave of dizziness but at the same time, did not wish to dally any longer than absolutely necessary lest I run into the doctor in the hallway. In a few moments I was dressed and was enjoying the fresh air and sunshine on my face as we stepped out of the hospital and proceeded down the walk toward the waiting car.

[HW3]

I have really enjoyed reading your story, you do have a way with words. If you are not a writer by profession, you should be.