THE SILENT SUB CHAPTER 1 - RUDE AWAKENING

"Captain! Splashes!"

The sonar operator's harsh whisper cut through the silence of the submarine's atmosphere and reached his captain's ears. Captain Hans Werner quickly gave his orders.

"Dive! Make your depth 100 meters, ahead two-thirds."

The planesman quickly pushed his controls forward causing the submarine to dip downward and dive deeper into the depths. Their speed increased as they dove, desperately trying to outrun the depth charges the destroyer had dropped. Too late. The deadly drums sank down and began to explode around U-684.

BAM, BAM, BAM!

Werner awoke from his dream to the sound of someone pounding at his door. Drenched in sweat, he swung his body out of the bed and called out.

"Who is it?" he shouted.

"I am Lieutenant Müller, Captain. I was sent by the Admiral to fetch you and bring you to headquarters," the disembodied voice answered.

"Can't it wait until later?" What a stupid question, the captain thought, keeping an admiral waiting. He had noted the time, almost 0300H. Three hours of sleep would have to do.

"He said not to delay, sir." There was no doubt in Hans' mind that he was in trouble. Why else would he be called at this hour?

"Okay, I'll just get dressed." He didn't open the door to invite the man inside and have a seat while waiting for him. If he was going to be reprimanded, he was not going to give the lieutenant any comfort. Where it used to take him five minutes to get dressed, now took him fifteen. Why hurry to a chewing out, he thought. I'll face it like a man but I'll delay it for as long as I can.

The drive to headquarters was quiet. Two soldiers sat on either side of him while the lieutenant sat in front with the driver. With this many escorts, the thought occurred to him that he might be going to a firing squad. He watched the trees along the road and wondered if there were any in the afterlife. I'll find out soon enough, he thought bitterly. It seemed so unfair, what had happened. His mind wandered to the events that brought him here.


First Patrol

U-684, a type VIIC U-boat, was on the surface, running at 10 knots on one of her two diesel engines. These engines were used to propel the vessel while it was on the surface. For underwater travel, the submarine's screws are driven by electric motors, which are powered by batteries. These electric motors, when connected to the diesels, become generators, allowing them to recharge the batteries. This was the reason why only one diesel was being used for propulsion. The other was being used to drive the motors and recharge the batteries. Fully charged batteries don't last more than a few hours at full speed, so running on the surface was generally preferred to staying underwater. It gave the sub longer range and allowed fresh air to be circulated around the sub's spaces. It was also easier to spot ships, or targets, on the surface.

There was one downside to staying on the surface, however. Allied aircraft now flew almost all over the Atlantic, launched by catapults from ships or from aircraft carriers. These aircraft could either report their position or attack them directly. To guard against this, at least four men were stationed at the conning tower, the structure that stood up from the submarine's deck. Each man was responsible for a quarter of the area around the boat. They used large binoculars to scan the skies and sea looking for prey...or hunters.

U-684, at this time, was charging her batteries in the dark of night. Recharging at night was preferable to recharging in daylight since there was less chance of being discovered. You'd want full batteries in case you had to dive quickly.

One of Werner's men came up into the conning tower. "Captain? We've got a message from BdU." BdU was the U-boat headquarters where all deployments and orders originated from.

Werner gave his binoculars to the Second Watch Officer and descended into the submarine. He went to the radio operator's station and read the message handed to him.

A convoy of twenty freighters, escorted by six destroyers were sailing about 200 kilometers south of their position. At their maximum speed of 14 knots, they could reach it in 8 hours or so. Unfortunately, that would bring them in range without the cover of darkness. Werner ordered a change in course to intercept. He would assess the situation when he got there.

U-684 sailed south for 7½ hours. Dawn was two hours ago and their boat was on full alert looking for ships or aircraft. They couldn't dive as yet because they wanted to conserve as much battery time as possible. If they ran out of batteries in the thick of battle, they would have to surface and that would make them as vulnerable as a beached whale.

"Captain, radar sets detected to the south-west. Signal levels are too low to detect us, however."

Werner decided to partially submerge the boat and allow only the conning tower to jut above the water. This is only possible in calm water which was the sea state at the time. Doing this lowered the chances of being detected by radar but it also slowed his speed. Presently, the lookouts spotted the smoke from the convoy's ships. It was time to dive.

"All crew below decks!" The lookouts quickly began moving into the boat with the captain being the last to go below. The dive was timed so that the hatch was closed just before the sea washed over the deck of the boat.

Werner intended to place himself in the path of the convoy, allowing them to pass over him. As soon as they had slipped by, he would fire his torpedoes.

Soon sonar detected the sounds generated by the convoy as it plowed through the waves at 11 knots. U-684, like all older model submarines, normally ran at 5 knots when underwater. They could run faster but that ran the risk of draining their batteries in a short time. Too slow and they might miss the convoy altogether.

Hunting ships from underwater is a lot like hunting for frogs in the dark. There are several dozens of frogs making sounds and you're trying to gauge the location of the critters just by listening and making educated guesses. The sonar operator can tell you the direction but can only guess at the distance. He might be able to tell you the approximate speed by counting the number of revolutions a ship's screw is turning but in a herd of ships, picking out a single screw from almost 30 is a skill most people do not have. As a consequence, most submarine captains raise their periscopes to determine the best angle for a torpedo shot. Captain Hans Werner was not an exception.

The periscope broke the surface and Werner began turning it around, looking for the targets as well as looking out for danger. He spied the convoy lying about 15 kilometers away on bearing 220. He was excellently placed to get into position ahead of the convoy.
Werner surveyed the convoy for several seconds. Unfortunately, that was more than enough for a pair of eyes to see him.

Lieutenant J.G. Vincent O'Grady saw the periscope's feather, or wake, as he flew his float plane ahead of the ships. He immediately radioed his destroyer that a submarine was stalking the convoy and dropped a flare. By then, Werner had lowered his periscope and did not know he had been spotted. A destroyer raced toward its last location and began using its sonar to search the depths.

Werner almost slapped himself in frustration. His own sonar had heard the destroyer approaching, forcing him to dive deeper to escape.

He was looking for a thermal, a rapid change in the water temperature as the submarine goes deeper. This tends to reflect the sonar pulses and submarines use it to hide. It's rather like an aircraft entering a cloud. You lose sight of the plane but it's there inside the cloud.
Luck was not on Werner's side, however. The destroyer found U-684 and began dropping depth charges into the water. Some of the deadly drums exploded quite close causing damage to the hull. U-684 continued to dive while making course changes to throw off the destroyer's attack. The sought-after thermal presented itself, however, and Werner decided to abort his attempt to attack the convoy. His new submarine was leaking badly in places, the control for the torpedo doors were damaged, and there were several injuries to his crew. He resurfaced after several hours and headed for his submarine base in France.

So now, here he was, on his way to his superior officer probably to explain how he messed up on his first war patrol. His submarine was in its pen being repaired and won't be sailing for several weeks. His injured crewmen needed to be replaced and experienced crew were hard to find nowadays. He'd be stuck with young, fresh recruits who probably went through just a few months of training.


Visit to the Admiral and the Secret Base

The admiral's home and office was in a French chateau. There were no lights outside but that was a typical wartime precaution. Keeping even one light on would be like a beacon for enemy bombers. Werner was escorted to the admiral's office on the second floor. The admiral's aide showed him in and closed the door behind him.

The office was plush. A large painting of Adolf Hitler adorned one wall and two others were displayed prominently. Werner didn't care much for art, however, and he only gave them a cursory glance. The admiral was talking on the telephone to someone about preparing a visit. When he finished he looked at Werner and gestured for him to sit.

"How are you, Captain," the admiral asked.

"I could be better, sir," he replied. No point in lying to this man, he thought bitterly. The admiral's aide sat to one side and slightly behind the captain. Werner wondered if the man was holding a pistol to his back.

"Too bad about your patrol, wasn't it?"

Here it comes, Werner thought. "Uhm, yes sir. I got too eager and someone probably spotted my periscope," he explained. Talking too much, he said to himself. Don't show him you're nervous.

"Do you think it would have been an advantage if you had not had to raise your periscope or stayed underwater for a longer time," the admiral asked.

Why did he ask that, wondered Werner.

"That would be ideal, admiral, but it's difficult to make an accurate assessment of the situation if you don't take a look and our submarines are not, as yet, capable of extended periods underwater." Keep it short, Werner, he warned himself.

"Tell me about the destroyer. Did your speed underwater hamper your efforts to evade him?"

He's getting ready to drop his bombshell, I could tell, Werner felt.

"Well, as you know admiral, our speed underwater is about a third of our speed on the surface. Evading a destroyer that's faster than you is a real challenge," Werner explained.

"What if I told you that we can do all those; find the enemy without using a periscope, move underwater for long periods of time, move faster than ever before and evade your pursuers easily?"

Werner struggled to understand what the admiral was saying. Was the man toying with him? He decided to answer the question directly instead of trying to analyze it.

"Sir, if we had such a submarine, we'd win this war," Werner answered. He believed that too. He was well too familiar with the limitations of the present crop of submarines. Is that what he meant? Or is he saying that I should have been able to do all those things he said?

"Captain, you will come with me for a ride. I want to show you something," the admiral said. Werner was getting puzzled at the admiral's behavior. Am I going to be given a lesson in driving a submarine or am I being taken somewhere to be shot?

The admiral's aide led the way to the staff car in front of the house. The car that fetched him earlier was still there, engine running except there was only the driver. The aide opened the door and the admiral waved Werner in before climbing in himself. The aide got into the passenger seat in front. They drove along the road until they turned into a dirt road some distance away. Werner had passed this road many times and never gave it a second look. Now, however, they were bumping along in a forest of trees so thick that the road was hidden from the air. At a bend on the road, they suddenly came upon a guarded gate. The admiral waited patiently as the guards verified his identity and even asked for a password. The gate was still hidden by the trees but just behind the gate was a rock face. It had a large steel door that opened to let the admiral's car in.

The rock face was sloped inward at the base, effectively hiding the door from the air. Inside, another large steel door waited for the outer door to close before it opened. Nothing was being left to chance. The two doors prevented any light from inside the inner door from reaching the outside where it might be seen. The driver parked the car and the aide let the admiral and captain out.

Werner looked around the man-made cavern. Soldiers stood around and workers moved about taking boxes and crates and taking them somewhere. What was this place? The admiral led him to a small door. The aide and driver stayed with the car.

The door opened into a larger cavern, lit with bright lights. Down a long flight of stairs was what was obviously a pier. The cavern was an internal dock and floating on the water was a large submarine.

GO TO CHAPTER 2

Problem Teacher

'Just got back from Iligan where my eldest daughter is studying Information Technology at the Mindanao State University - Iligan Institute of Technology (MSU-IIT). It was not a pleasure trip, indeed it was one that I wished had not been necessary.

My daughter is working on her thesis, which is a requirement for graduation. Instead of an individual thesis, however, theirs was a group thesis where there were three members in each group.

My daughter's group worked on their thesis fully expecting that they could finish before graduation last April 2015. Their adviser, however, had other plans.

After reviewing their documents, he pronounced them unfit for presentation and gave a long list of corrections. It became clear that they would not be joining their classmates in the graduation ceremony.

As a parent, hearing your child cry over the phone is heartbreaking because you know that she is heartbroken as well. I told her to just accept it and do as their adviser says. He's a teacher, right? He knows what a good thesis looks like, right?

So they resumed working on their documents. Soon a pattern began to appear. They would work on the corrections and submit them to their adviser for review. Then he'd schedule a meeting to tell them if it's okay. On the agreed day, he'd say that he had not read them and would set another schedule. On some days, they would have the meeting but he would read the document right there and make another list of corrections.

That became the pattern for the next three months; they'd work on the documents, submit them, chase their adviser around who would then add more things to be corrected. Anyone would be frustrated at this state of affairs and my daughter and her groupmate certainly were. The last straw came when the adviser made, yet again, another list of corrections and the kids showed their dismay. He said, "it's okay, graduations still months away."

My wife and I decided that we needed to talk with this teacher and let him know that his methods were not acceptable. The meeting was civil but did not go well. He insisted that it was his prerogative and that, since his name as adviser would be on the documents, he had a right to make sure that their thesis was perfect. No amount of counter argument could sway him. We were forced to take the matter to his department head who decided to include the assistant dean in the meeting (the adviser was excluded from this meeting).

The department head was sympathetic as was the assistant dean. It came out that my daughter was not the first victim of this teacher's methods. My daughter was just the first to make a formal complaint. They told us to write a letter, addressed to the department head, requesting for a change of adviser. They would then take it up in the department meeting. The only problem was that we had to find another teacher who would be willing to take my daughter and her groupmate on.

There lies another problem. The problem teacher was the most senior in the department and everyone seemed to be afraid of him. Anyone who would accept my daughter could suffer the wrath of the teacher.

So, this problem is unresolved at the moment. We can only hope and pray that things would turn out well.

Memory of an Elocution Piece (1975)

When you read the phrase “bloody, but unbowed,” what comes to mind? If I am right, most of you would say, Invictus by William Ernest Henley:

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

In my case, however, the phrase “bloody, but unbowed,” triggers a different memory.

Flashback to 1975, second year high school. Our English teacher gave us a piece of paper with an elocution piece entitled, “Bloody, but Unbowed.” This piece, however, was not Invictus. It was a portion of Edmund Campion’s, I am a Catholic. The same three words, however, were there. We were to memorize it and, after about a week or so, we would be required to recite it in front of the class (I believe it was equivalent to a quiz).

I got down to work. For the next several days, I went over and over that piece in typical memorizing fashion. I would start at the beginning and recite until I got to the point where I couldn’t remember the next line. I would peek at the sheet and then go back to the start. After about three or four days, I reached the end. I recited the piece one more time without looking at the sheet and, again, reached the end. That was it, I had memorized the piece.

On the big day, I waited for my turn and watched my classmates perform. A few stumbled but everyone finished the piece. My name was called and I confidently walked up the the front of the class. I started off well. And why not, I had memorized the piece, hadn’t I?

Somewhere near the middle of the piece, I stopped. I couldn’t remember what came next. I tried going back to the previous sentence but again stopped at the same place. I tried again but it was hopeless. I had well and truly forgotten the next line. After about half a minute, our teacher told me to sit down and wrote in his record book.

It was an episode I tried to forget.

Fast forward to 2015. The unwanted memory has reappeared after reading Invictus, triggered by three words out of 103. It was time for a personal evaluation. What have I learned in 12 years of public speaking that I can apply to an experience that happened 40 years ago?

If I had made it to the end during practice, why did I forget half the piece during the actual delivery? It wasn’t fear. I was confident that I had it memorized. I made two mistakes in the days prior to the event.

1. I had not given myself time to memorize. When I successfully recited the piece twice, I  assumed it would be enough. It was four days more to the big day. That’s four days that I should have used to make sure I completely memorized the piece. And since I had kept starting over from the beginning, I remembered the first half better than the last half and I probably forgot it in the stress of the moment.
2. I had recited the piece like I was reading it. The content and intent of the piece had no meaning for me. It was just another bunch of words on a sheet of paper, written in 1581, by a person I didn’t know. If I had taken the time to digest the piece, to get into the shoes of Edmund Campion (well, he was a prisoner. He probably didn’t have shoes on), I might have connected the words with the emotions that goes with it. Reciting the piece would, therefore, have had more meaning and I would have gone from memorizing to internalizing the speech. By internalizing the speech, it would have become part of me and I would have performed better.

The memory of this fiasco had been so efficiently buried that it had not figured in any way with my decision to join Toastmasters, which was fortunate. Otherwise, I might have not taken the chance and life would have been very different indeed.

Has it happened again?

There were a few close calls but, no, that terrible moment of the mind going blank has never reared its ugly head again. Toastmasters training made sure of that.


Your Honor, I stand here before you, a broken wreckage of a man. This trembling piece of clay that cowers at your feet, human brutes have battered to a bloody, senseless pulp. No part of it has not quivered under mailed fist or bludgeoning jack. These eyes that bore through you like a hunted beast’s have been drained of sleep for days on end. This body that scarce can stand upon its feet they have starved to skin and bones, till now it is a shadowy skeleton, groping blindly to its grave. Whatever fiendish torture the hounds of Hell could conjure, they have tried on me, till this flesh could endure no more, and there was only the razor’s edge between this life and the next.

They broke my body, Your Honor; they tried to break my soul. Into my weakened limbs, they injected drugs that slithered through my brains and coiled around the stronghold of my will like a brood of poisonous snakes. Ten times ten thousand harrowing moments, the citadel was all but fallen; the gates of the castle all but flung open. Today, I stand here before you, as my torturers hope, a man with a broken soul.

Your Honor, my soul has not been crushed to shattered fragments. By the grace of God it has come out bloody, but unbowed.

Update for Something's Wrong with Blogger

I've found out why I couldn't upload images or pictures into Blogger. When I opened Blogger earlier today, I noticed a message that said, "browser not supported" (the message is much longer than that but I condensed it).

I've been using Windows 10 and its built-in browser, Windows Edge. Google Chrome isn't built-in but I downloaded it a few weeks ago just in case Edge malfunctions. I opened Chrome and Blogger, tested it by uploading a picture into one of my posts and succeeded.

We're back in business. (",)

Book Review - Les Miserables

I finished reading Les Miserables about two months ago but it took me all this time to come up with a review. It took me about six months to finish reading the book (reading one to two chapters in the mornings while eating breakfast at the factory) and developed a love-hate relationship toward the book. I'll explain later.

Les Miserables was written by Victor Hugo and published in 1862. It is called a historical novel for good reason: it gives the reader a look into France in the years from 1815 to 1832. Yes, the novel spans 17 years in the life of France. It is not a history book, though you might be able to use it for that. As is my standard for making book reviews, I am refraining from talking about the story and give only my impressions.

I mentioned that I had a love-hate relationship with the book. Several times I just wanted to stop reading and erase the book from my mobile phone. It's not because it's so long (about 1,500 pages, maybe 150,000+ words) but because it digresses quite often. Many pages are devoted to treatise that have nothing to do with the story. There is one about the Battle of Waterloo, another about religious orders, and yet another about the sewers of Paris. There's more but I'm not going to state all of them. If Hugo excluded them from the novel, I believe the book would shrink by about half (maybe more).

If I don't mind the digressions, I can honestly say...the novel was great! I loved the story, which is about the journey of one man from bad to good, a mother's love for her child, a love affair from a distance becoming a love affair of husband and wife,  and the despair of a love lost. If there is anything I would have wanted to change (other than the digresssions), it would just be one.

There is a character in the book by the name of Epinone. Her part in the book is relatively short but I think her character could have been developed a bit more. Hers was a love that was unrecognized, that only she knew about. She reveals her love later but it was unrewarded, which I found a bit sad.

It was a relief to turn the last page and also a proud moment. I had successfully read one of the greatest books of the 19th century!

Something's Wrong with Blogger

For some reason, I am unable to post pictures here. The image selection  box appears and I can select an image to upload but it won't upload. It also hangs and won't close. I have to close the tab and re-open.

I won't be able to post pictures until it's fixed so please bear with me.

An Author's Work Is Never Done

I've been going back over my books, making corrections, creating new covers, and changing blurbs. I'm a bit disappointed at myself because I found mistakes in my books after having gone over them several times before publication. Fortunately, ebooks allow you to make corrections and re-publish them, unlike print books which are much more expensive to correct.

I've been using Microsoft Word to help me search for errors and I must say, it's a god-sent. It's not perfect though. Word has been insisting that I should use "its" in place of "it's." It made me think that I've been using "it's" incorrectly all my life. I did some research on the internet and found I had been doing it correctly. It also keeps insisting that I use the active voice (can't blame it for that). I believe there are instances where the passive voice is more appropriate. The makers of MS Word, intelligent people, are careful to say that you should "consider" using the active voice, implying that it was just a suggestion. I did, however, take their advice on several occasions.

I have also been changing covers. I make my own using MS Powerpoint, not Photoshop or any other imaging software. I've already changed Legend of the Moon and am working on Funny Stories from My Travels.

Here's a comparison; the one on the left is the old cover and on the right is the new cover.

Maybe one of these days, I'll make a post on how to make covers using MS PowerPoint. It'll be a bit of a challenge for me but rewarding as well.