Steel Boat, Iron Hearts Read online

  © 2008 by Hans Jacob Goebeler and John Vanzo

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Printed in the United States of America.

  Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available from the Library of Congress.

  First Savas Beatie hardcover edition 2005

  This book was originally published in a privately distributed paper edition as Steel Boats, Iron Hearts: The Wartime Saga of Hans Goebeler and the U-505 (Wagnerian Publications, 1999)

  ISBN: 978-1-932714-31-9

  Digital Edition ISBN: 978-1-61121-007-1

  First trade paper edition

  Published by

  Savas Beatie LLC

  521 Fifth Avenue, Suite 3400

  New York, NY 10175

  Phone: 610-853-9131

  Sales Offices:

  Savas Beatie LLC

  P.O. Box 4527

  El Dorado Hills, CA 95762

  Phone: 916-941-6896

  (E-mail) [email protected]

  Savas Beatie titles are available at special discounts for bulk purchases in the United States by corporations, institutions, and other organizations. For more details, please contact Special Sales, P.O. Box 4527, El Dorado Hills, CA 95762, or you may e-mail us at [email protected], or please visit our website at www.savasbeatie.com for additional information.

  This book is dedicated to Axel-Olaf Lowe, first skipper of U-505

  and

  To my wife Erika: I was, I am, and will stay as long as I live, even after my death, at your side.

  Author Hans Jacob Goebeler as a member of the Kriegsmarine in 1942.

  Author’s Collection

  Contents

  Preface by Horst Einbrodt

  Commander’s Note by Axel-Olaf Lowe

  Introduction by John Vanzo

  Foreword by Keith Gill

  Chapter 1: My Destiny is Fulfilled

  Chapter 2: My First War Patrol

  Chapter 3: Lorient

  Chapter 4: Caribbean Cruise

  Chapter 5: A New Skipper

  Chapter 6: Sillcock

  Chapter 7: The Long Way Home

  Chapter 8: Terror From Above

  Chapter 9: Furlough at Last

  Chapter 10: Sabotage

  Chapter 11: Goodbye to Zschech

  Chapter 12: Rescue at Sea 181

  Chapter 13: Brest

  Chapter 14: The Last Patrol

  Chapter 15: Captured

  Maps and Photographs

  Map 1: U-505’s Second Patrol to the Central Atlantic

  Map 2: U-505’s Third Patrol to the Caribbean

  Map 3: Collision Course: U-505 and TG 22.3

  Frontis: Author Hans Goebeler in the Kriegsmarine

  Additional photographs have been placed throughout the text for the convenience of the reader.

  Preface

  Out of the approximately 37,000 trained U-boat crewmembers in World War II, only about 6,000 survived the war to return safely to their homes in Germany, This represented the greatest percentage loss of any military service in our history. From the 1,000 or so German submarines in action during the war, only a handful remained after 1945. As unbelievable as it seems, the story of the U-boat men’s sacrifice has never been truthfully and completely told in Germany. Only now, as logbooks and war diaries are being released from British custody, is a objective source of facts being made available to journalists and historians.

  My friend and comrade Hans Göbeler has succeeded in describing in his book Steel Boat, Iron Hearts the day-to-day life of a wartime U-boat crewmember. The comradeship, the worries and fears, and the many unforgettable moments aboard his boat are all honestly portrayed in his autobiography. Many books have been written about the U-boat service, nearly all by the commander of the boat about his thoughts and decisions. What makes Hans’s book invaluable is that it is written from the perspective of an ordinary crew member. As a member of the control room crew, he had the best opportunity to experience the real atmosphere on board a frontline U-boat.

  Unfortunately, Hans did not live to see the publication of this honest (and what is sure to be popular) portrayal of the German Navy in the Second World War. Hans Göbeler passed away on February 15, 1999, after enduring a long period of severe illness.

  Horst Einbrot

  Oberleutnant zur See

  Crewmember, U-351

  Commander’s Note

  Hans collected material and worked on his memoir for many years before it was finally published. This letter was written to Hans from his former commander shortly before Lowe died in December 1984.

  In a highly praiseworthy manner Hans Goebeler, former crewmember of the U-505, has researched and gathered together facts about the boat and his crew to be published in the form of a book. May the purpose of this book, to bring together all those that can still be found in one single willing act of comradeship, be fulfilled.

  I put the U-505 into commission on the 26th of August, 1941, and in 1942 carried out three operations, including the trip to Lorient. At the commissioning, only two men had frontline U-boat experience, but the crew was brought to such a high level of professionalism that the boat was successful in the first year. The crew was, until the day I left and also thereafter, a first class crew in which no serious fall-outs occurred.

  And so, my words should be a salute to all the men who sailed on the U-505, who did their duties and lived in comradeship on the boat, through happy and difficult times.

  Axel Löwe

  Former Korvettenkapitän

  and the first commander of U-505

  Introduction

  Ever since that first day he stepped foot on her decks as a young recruit in 1942, Hans Göbeler’s life and soul revolved around U-505. During the war, he sent hundreds of photos and mementos of his experiences aboard the submarine back to his parents for safekeeping. After the war, he meticulously collected every article or passing reference written about her. This book is entirely the result of his efforts to memorialize his beloved boat.

  Hans was never shy about expressing his pride about U-505, and about the U-boat service in general. In the climate of harsh political-correctness that dominated postwar Germany, he was often made to suffer because of his refusal to demonstrate the expected shame or repentance. He would have none of that, he said, because none was called for. Till the very end of his life, Hans steadfastly defended the bravery and devotion of his comrades in the German Navy—no matter what the personal cost was to him or his career. “I’m no chameleon!” he was proud of saying.

  When U-505 was enshrined as a monument at Chicago’s Museum of Science and Industry in 1954, Hans vowed to move near her one day. True to his word, when he retireed 30 years later, Hans moved his family from Germany to a suburb of Chicago. Once there, Hans organized the first reunions of the crews of U-505 and the American ships that had captured her on June 4, 1944. Unbeknowst to many, he had also been gathering materials and writing his memoirs of life about U-505.

  Hans was generally satisfied with the published accounts of his boat’s history. During the 1950s, Daniel V. Gallery, commander of the task force that captured U-505, wrote a detailed history of the incident titled Twenty Thousand Tons Under the Sea. Gallery’s version is generally accurate, though Hans disputed his conclusion that the crew on U-505 was suffering from low morale. Hans was also pleased with the short memoir written by his friend and fellow crewmate Hans Joachim Decker, whose account was published as an article for the U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings entitled “404 Days! The War Patrol Life of the
German U-505.”

  All of this changed, however, with the apperance in 1986 of a book by Lawrence Cortesi called U-505 Victory. In Hans’s opinion, the book was filled with one egregious factual error after another. Horrified at what he perceived to be a perversion of his boat’s historical record, he accelerated the pace of work on his own autobiography to correct the historical record. Supplementing his remarkable memory with a copy of U-505’s logbook and interviews with many of his fellow crewmates, Hans produced a 300-page manuscript of his wartime adventures aboard the boat.

  For ten years Hans painstakingly penned his memoir. In the meantime, he had moved south to central Florida because of his wife’s health. And that is where we met in early 1996. Hans allowed me to interview him for an article that appeared in the July 1997 issue of World War II magazine. The piece was very well received and prompted Hans to seek my help in writing his autobiography in preparation for publication. I was honored to do so.

  Throughout the re-writing of his manuscript, I stayed utterly loyal to Hans’s uncompromising demand that this book be a completely factual account of his wartime adventures. Throughout our collaboration, he steadfastly refused every temptation to censor or romanticize his experiences. I warned Hans that he sometimes came across in the narrative as a less-than-sympathetic character. No matter, he insisted, the book must be true to his experiences—blemishes and all.

  What emerged is an authentic slice of life, a unique perspective on a critical point in history that has rarely been allowed to be expressed fully or honestly. It is a complex depiction, one that may displease those who seek to portray the German fighting man as either an inhuman monster or heroic superman. At its core, Hans’s story is the tale of an ordinary young man’s reactions to extraordinary circumstances. In its own way, it reflects the experiences of an entire generation of youngsters sent to war, regardless of nationality.

  Sadly, Hans Göbeler’s 75 years of life on this earth ended on the morning of February 14, 1999. Cancer and the noxious brew of chemicals doctors called a cure had whittled his once muscular body to a pitifully frail shell. On that chilly winter morning, his weakened heart finally gave out. His wife carried him to the living room couch, where he momentarily regained consciousness. Lying cradled in Erika’s loving arms, Hans’s eyes suddenly grew large and wide, as if staring at an incredible sight hovering over him.

  “No, not yet. Not yet.” he begged. A moment later, he was gone.

  No one who knew Göbeler thought his last words were an expression of fear. Hans had faced death many times, always unflinchingly. No, he was not afraid of dying. His words conveyed his anxiety that the writing of this book was not yet complete. In his later years, “setting the record straight” about U-505 and the men who served on her was his one and only ambition in life. My great sadness is that he did not live long enough to see this book in print. Steel Boat, Iron Hearts offers the most complete and accurate account of U-505, the first enemy ship captured on the high seas by the United States Navy since the War of 1812.

  I think Hans would be pleased.

  John P. Vanzo, Ph.D.

  Bainbridge College

  P.S. to Hans:

  Auf Wiedersehen, my old friend. Wherever in the cosmos your spirit sails, may you always have a hand’s breadth of water under your keel!

  Foreword

  I met Hans Göbeler in 1989 during the early months of my employment at the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago. At that time I was but a lowly assistant to the then-Registrar and Collections Manager and working to finish the restoration project of U-505 in 1988-89. To celebrate the completion of that restoration—the most aggressive since the arrival of U-505 in 1954—a re-dedication was planned and Navy veterans from both sides were invited to attend. Because I was a recent arrival at the museum, I was not directly invited to attend the reunion. However, my interest in military history in general, and U-505 in particular, drove me to crash the party anyway with the promise I would not interfere with the gathering!

  My most vivid recollection of that day was how impressed I was that former enemies (language barriers notwithstanding) could meet again under less deadly circumstances and freely discuss their experiences. They were genuinely happy to see each other. Some talked of the boat, some spoke of their individual roles on the morning of June 4, 1944, and others were just happy to be among friends old and new. One of these men at this reunion was Hans Göbeler.

  It was there I learned what an amazing man Hans was. Although he had been a “lowly” control room mate (and thus not an officer), he played a key role in organizing the reunion of U-505’s crew. Inside his 5’ 6" tall frame (an ideal height for a World War II submariner) was a much larger presence that impressed me each time we met until his death in the late 1990s. The former 65-year old Kriegsmarine member lifted weights to stay in shape, a routine that helped him maintain his youthful heavily muscled chest. He had an air of confidence and a devilish smile that naturally drew people to him. His eyes sparkled with humor and good cheer. Hans told me about the success he enjoyed as a student and entry into the U-boat service, and how the former paved the way for the latter. We shared many jokes over the years, and he was always ready to tell a good story about his time on “the old boat.”

  After several visits from Hans and many phone calls, I realized his stories were important to record for posterity. Passing them on to the tour guides working on U-505, so they could share them with visitors was one thing, but the recollections would eventually be lost or changed unless they were written down. In addition to his firsthand stories, Hans himself added a unique dimension to the U-505 experience. Whenever he stopped by, Hans loved to give informal tours to visitors. He became part of the exhibit for a day, standing in the control room talking about a piece of equipment or a particular experience to anyone who had an interest. Inevitably, a tour group would pass through and somehow its members would sense Hans had a direct connection with the boat. Perhaps it was his accent, or simply his obvious expertise, but once the cat was out of the bag, the only thing to do was to step back and watch.

  Touring U-505 with a former crewmember is both a rare and unforgettable experience. And for Hans, it was very satisfying. I always enjoyed watching the absolute attention he could command from the visitors as he spoke about life aboard U-505 while standing at his former duty station. The visitors, as one might imagine, were in total awe. Many took the opportunity to ask some tough questions about what it meant to be a German submariner in WWII, what was life on board like, how he felt at the time of the capture, and how he feels about it now so many decades later.

  I think all of this attention and outpouring of gratitude helped Hans flesh out and finish his memoir. I was relieved to learn he had been thinking for some time about penning his recollections, and had been gathering information from former comrades and checking his facts with them and through other sources. Hans wanted to be sure to tell his own story as well as he could, but also to represent the point of view of a common sailor. Fortunately for us Hans was more amused than deterred by any potential critics of his efforts, which likely made him more determined to complete his book. Unlike so many memoirs of service, Hans found a way to present his own personal experiences within the broader context of World War II very well. His recollections, which will be especially valuable to generations yet unborn, outline his path into the U-boats, his service on U-505 (Hans made every combat patrol aboard that single U-boat), shore leave, the capture of the boat on June 4, 1944, and his interesting life as a POW. I particularly enjoy the stories of life at sea and tales of the POW experience of the crew, which help breathe life into the 750-ton U-505 exhibit.

  In 1998, the Museum of Science and Industry began planning an important oral history project. Its purpose was to interview as many German crewmembers as possible, as well as the key players from CTG 22.3—Dan Gallery’s task group that captured U-505. The project was well organized and underway the following year, and we had identified the people
we believed needed to be interviewed for posterity. Hans cheerfully offered his assistance. He helped contact several of his comrades on our behalf and, naturally enough, agreed to provide an interview.

  And then tragedy struck. About this time Hans was diagnosed with the lung cancer that would take his life. He was optimistic throughout his battle with the terrible disease and encouraged us to wait until after his next treatment before we came to see him, for he was confident he would beat the cancer. I spoke with him on the phone shortly before he died, and by that time we all knew he was losing his battle with cancer. Erika, Hans’ wife, told us he did not look well enough to be on camera, and it was clear from his voice the disease had sapped his strength; he no longer had enough energy even for an interview. We were all deeply saddened when the news of his passing arrived. We also knew we had missed a valuable opportunity to preserve his legacy on film; thankfully, I had the foresight to made audio recordings of many of our conversations. Hans was the last living U-505 crewmember in the United States. When he died, there were eleven men left alive; today, the number stands at ten.

  Hans’ death was a great lost to both his family, the museum staff, and the U-boat community. Thankfully, however, Hans had worked tirelessly during the months leading up to his death to complete his memoir, which was originally published in a small-run private paperback printing shortly after he died.

  I know how proud Hans would today if he could see his “old boat.” U-505 has been moved indoors to a new protective underground environment and restored with her wartime paint (both inside and out). I am particularly proud to know that the long conversations with Hans and the expertise that only a former crewmember can provide are part of the experience every visitor will enjoy during the walk through the boat.