“Well? What do you see?”
“Keep quiet and let me concentrate”
Scanning 360 degrees, he almost missed the smudge on the horizon. “We have a target Comrade, and it is heading our way. If we hold this course, and they hold theirs, we should be in position in less than an hour.”
“That is excellent news comrade.” He reaches out and slaps his partner on the back making a wet squishing sound. “My God! Do we have a leak Luka?”
“No, it’s just condensation you twit.”
“Do we have time to surface and air-out our steel coffin comrade?”
“Yes, let’s do just that Matvey and get rid of some of this stale air while we’re at it. The dripping is getting on my nerves and we will make better time on the surface and meet our quarry sooner.”
“The sooner, the better; once we shoot these torpedoes the sooner we can return home as the heroes that we are sure to be hailed as… eh comrade?”
“Prepare to surface. You can practice your hero’s welcoming wave when we open the hatch. Careful, the sea is running a little rough and we do not have much time to waste.”
“Shifting the weights now; prepare to surface… valve three closed… vents open.”
Valves and levers are turned and pulled in a complicated dance that will take midget sub 243 on its rendezvous with the smudge on the horizon. The little bow cuts easily through the three-foot waves and the two torpedoes look as deadly as they are in the afternoon sun.
Morskoy Volk 243 will go on to make history. Not many of the Seehunds will; almost impossible to detect, yet large enough to weather the ocean currents. The little boats are a deadly surprise just waiting to use their two torpedoes to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting passing ship. Accidents, incompetence, poor workmanship and bad luck will claim many of the Seehunds but some will fulfill their missions and many tons of precious cargo will never make their intended destinations.
Sea Dog 243 will rendezvous with that smudge on the horizon. It will alter the course of the war in an unexpected way.[35]
Conning Tower
Former Kriegsmarine Type XXI U-Boat U-3041
Renamed Soviet Naval Vessel B-30
North Sea
At 100 Meters Depth
September 5th, 1946
“I can’t believe they’ve turned this beautiful killing machine into an oil tanker and supply ship. How stupid can they be back at headquarters? We carry many more torpedoes than those little midgets. We could do so much more damage than those two fish the midget carries.”
“Did you look at the condition of those crewmen after they crawled out of that little sausage? I don’t think they will ever walk properly again. What a joke to expect them to ever get back into those death-traps again. They are not meant to be out there so far from home.”
“Be quiet, Comrade First Officer. We only have six B-subs and there are hundreds of those midgets. If we can extend their range by giving relief to their crews and resupply them to double their range, that is a mission worth running. The Brits will never know what hit them; so many attacks, from so many places, yet no subs to sink.”
“I guess your correct Comrade Captain. Imagine their consternation when they finally catch one of those midgets and they are way past their normal cruising range. They will panic and for an extremely good reason. Are we actually expected to relieve those crews on the midgets?”
“The commissar has said we should call them ‘The Little Ones.’”
“Well, Capitan… Midgets or Little Ones, it makes no difference. They will not fare well in this kind of sea.”
“The joint attacks are set for tomorrow First Officer, and The Little Ones will create quite a splash, especially way out there where the NATO fools will never expect them.” Imagine their surprise when they finally get a hold of one and try and figure out how they went so far on their limited fuel. As for an incentive… the crews get to go home as heroes if they complete their mission. Heroes with money in their pockets, and from what I hear some of them will gain not only their hero’s welcome, but also a reprieve from going back to prison or even from execution. A successful mission means a lot to these men and their families, who are closely tied to their valor. No First Officer, I do not envy them but I do understand their motivation.”
“Tomorrow they should all be in position far out in areas never imagined by the NATO sub-hunters. Then whoever is left will meet with us, and our sister ships, to receive new supplies, trade crews and get a well-deserved welcome back home. Meanwhile, new Little Ones are making their way to meeting areas far away from the prying eyes of NATO”
Chapter Twenty-Seven:
Will The Wonders Never Cease?
The missiles glinted in the sun, each waiting for its time to fire into the sky. It was just a few hours until sundown and these special missiles were even more deadly than the previous generation. They were made for the night. Their guidance systems had been given night vision based on the German FuG 280 Kiel. These missiles are able to see the heat signatures of the British bombers.
The basic missile was the Wasserfal but the night vision was something totally different; painting ghostly images in lead sulfide on a glass plate once the missile was within four kilometers of its target. The night was no longer safe from predators. The night no longer guaranteed success over a once-blind foe. The night would now become a killing ground for both sides.
After the missiles are fired in the general direction of the sound of the bombers, the guidance system became active as soon as the maximum range was reached then ghostly images appeared to guide them on an intersecting path; a path that would end in perhaps as many as two or more bombers dropping like a flaming torch towards the earth below.
Thanks to the German scientists that the Soviets now had in their custody, they finally had a defensive weapon that could counter the RAF’s night-bombers and fighters. All they needed was time to produce the weapons, but production was slow. Once they had these night missiles in numbers the RAF would have to alter their assumptions about night bombing. It would become as deadly as daylight bombing.
The era of the untouchable bomber was coming to an end. The ground-to-sky missile was about to alter the course of history in favor of the Soviets. Another way had to be found. Another way had to be tried. Maybe the old ways were best in times of ever-shifting wonder weapons. Maybe it was time to re-read Clausewitz and Sun-Tzu. Maybe technology was not the answer.
“How many do we have for tonight’s raid Ivan?”
“An even dozen comrade.”
“Not enough to take the sting out of the expected raid, but enough to make the Limeys wonder just what the night holds. Maybe enough to make them think twice, before they strike at night again.”
“It should strike fear in their hearts. Imagine seeing missiles coming from the ground streaking unerringly towards your plane, or the plane next to you. Even if it does not hit just the fact that it knows where you are in the pitch darkness will give them nightmares.”
“The testing went well I assume.”
“Well enough for what is intended. Again, the British will be met with heavy opposition which will lead them to believe that we have overwhelming resources, resources enough to cover even such a strategically-insignificant target as Cologne. Imagine being their bomber command thinking this target will be lightly-defended only to have missiles that can see in the blackness, reaching up and striking their bombers, no matter what kind of countermeasures they try.”
35
Kemp, Paul (1999). Midget Submarines of the Second World War. Chatham Publishing. ISBN 1-86176-042-6.