“Sir, might I suggest another tactic we can exploit; we could use our fighter to lure the Soviet fighters over our flak-traps. This might cause problems with identification, and we should find a solution for our fighters to distinguish themselves from their opponents. Perhaps we could use the same type of markings that we use during the ‘Overloard’ invasion, the alternating black-and-white stripes come to mind sir, or some kind of electronic contrivance that we could turn on the could be seen during the day that would warn our gunners not to shoot at our own planes.”
“That is a problem we are going to have to work on but I don’t think it is insurmountable. Yes, I think I will present this to the minister and put the matter up for discussion. We must prepare and time is running out. Playing to your devil’s advocate, I would conclude that after weighing all the options, our best course of action will be to use the ‘Big Wing’ and concentrate our airfields, surrounding them with flak-traps and put our faith in the hands of the vaunted VT fuse and the 3.7-inch anti-aircraft gun. I know the fighter pilots will be chafing at the bit to tear into Ivan before he can reach their ground crews, but that’s what bomb shelters are made for eh?”
“Well I suppose you are right sir. It seems like we have to make some hard decisions involving some bad choices. Given the number of Ivans that are going to likely be in the air this will be a closely-run thing.”
The smudge on the horizon gradually became larger and larger. Luckily Seehund-234 did not have to move very far, as its submerged speed was only seven knots. The Liberty ship was going to reach ideal firing position, any minute now.
This particular spot in the ocean, where the intended target was about to meet its fate, was unusually crowded with man-made objects. A number of wrecks lay nearby.
One of the wrecks was the eighth HMS Vanguard of the British Royal Navy. It was an Audacious-class central-battery ironclad battleship, launched in 1870. It was a marvel of its age, powered by both sail and steam, armed with nine-inch muzzle-loading naval guns.
On 27 August 1875 Captain Richard Dawkins sailed out of Kingstown (now Dún Laoghaire) harbor commanding the HMS Vanguard. The Vanguard was in company with three other ironclads, Warrior, Hector and Iron Duke, and was en route to Queenstown (now Cobh), County Cork as they passed the Kish lightship a heavy fog came down which restricted visibility to less than a ship’s length.
Vanguard’s sister ship, the Iron Duke, was drifting off course and began returning to her proper station when a problem with her steam plant meant that her foghorn was inoperable. It could not be used to alert the other vessels of her position or course.
At about 12:50 a look-out on Vanguard spotted a sailing ship directly ahead. As Vanguard turned to avoid it, Iron Duke appeared out of the fog on her port side less than 40 yards away. Collision was unavoidable. Iron Duke’s underwater ram tore open Vanguard’s hull near her boilers.
Iron Duke freed herself after a few minutes, sustaining only minor damage. Vanguard, however, was sinking. The pumps were powered by the engines which shut down ten minutes after the collision when the engine room flooded. The only loss of life was the Captain’s dog.
Within spitting distance (if you could spit underwater) lay Unterseeboot-1051 commanded by the late Heinrich von Holleben. He, along with thirty-eight of his fellow crewmen, went down with their boat which now and forever more, serves as their tomb. U-1051 had already sunk the Galatea and the HMS Manners when it was itself sunk on January 26th, 1945. U-boats did not last long in the Irish Sea in 1945. Their time was over, and that’s one of the reasons the Seehund was invented.
After U-1051 torpedoed HMS Manners, she was located by HMS Bentinck and attacked with depth charges. Soon thereafter, HMS Bentinck was joined by HMS Aylmer and HMS Calder. The boat was forced to surface and came under fire by the frigates sinking after having been rammed by HMS Aylmer.
HMS Manners (A/Cdr. John Valentine Waterhouse, DSO, RN) was hit by one torpedo from U-1051. The frigate broke in two after the hit and the stern sank with the loss of four officers and thirty-nine ratings while fifteen others were injured. The forepart of the vessel was towed into Barrow-in-Furness and was declared a total loss.
The aft section came to rest almost on top of the wreck of the eighth HMS Vanguard.
On this day in history the Liberty ship #1853, the Daniel Appleton, now on loan to the British and named Samforth, waddled its way through the Irish Sea until it was almost on top of the HMS Vanguard. It was about 100 feet from the stern of the HMS Vanguard when the torpedo struck it amidships. The noise was the ungodly sound of a typical explosion, followed by secondary explosions and then horrendous screeching of metal on metal so often heard when a ship starts to break in two. It was at that point when the second torpedo struck the bow and sealed the fate of the Samforth. There were no notable explosions as she settled quickly by the bow.
Now this sinking would not normally be worth mentioning in the overall scheme of things. It was, after all, only one of dozens of ships sunk by the Soviet version of the Seehund that month and even though it was the first it still was unremarkable except for its cargo. In Samforth’s holds were almost a million VT fuses destined for use in 3.7-inch British anti-aircraft guns; again, not a remarkable loss considering that the U.S. was turning out 100000 of these fuses per month as soon as eight months ago.
The problem was that fully twenty-five percent of the U.S. electronics industry and seventy-five percent of the molded plastics industry was at one point, producing these fuses. Now it was down to ten percent with ninety percent of the production of each going towards consumer products. This ship was carrying almost sixty percent of the available-for-export VT fuses in the world. The U.S. had millions more for its own use but not for export and would not have appreciable amounts again at least for another six months.
Did Seehund-234 have knowledge of this fact before it got into position to sink the Samforth? No, it did not. The Samforth just happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
Another interesting fact… Remember the captain’s dog that was lost on board HMS Vanguard in 1875? One of its ancestors was the cook’s dog named Sea Hound, and was a stowaway aboard the Samforth. He perished within spitting distance of his great, great, great, great (you get the idea) grandfather. Not to worry though, Sea Hound had many a pup to keep the long line of sea-dogs alive. Remember the dogs the Soviets put into space? Well once again, that is a tale… or a tail, for another time.