The calendar swaying on the wall with the ship's and the ocean's movement reflected the 25th of March 1943. Ensign Frank W. Petersen moved somewhat restlessly in his rolling bunk as the fairly heavy sea did not allow him to sleep very deeply. His subconscious mind had almost automatically registered the whistling in the voice tube from the conning tower, followed by the call: "Captain to the bridge!" which had been Ensign Johnny Bascha's voice, who headed the First Watch. Petersen knew instinctively that it would probably be only a matter of a few minutes before his presence on bridge would be likewise requested . . by Lieutenant (jg.) Hans-Hartwig Trojer, Class of 1936. He was the commander of U-221 and his nickname happened to be `Count Dracula' as he had been born in Transylvania, deep in the Carpathian Mountains of the Balkans that was now part of Romania.

Trojer wore a thick, black beard from being at sea for a month without shaving, nursing his beard and his reputation with outsiders as a gruff and tough guy. While in reality, he was a fun loving, practical joker type instead who looked after his men very well and was always patient to listen to their individual problems and help them, if possible, in his natural, friendly way.

Trojer had been a Watch Officer on U-34, a Type VII U-boat that had been commanded by Wilhelm Rollmann, Class of 1926 and later, on U-67, a Type IX U-boat commissioned by Heinrich `Ajax' Bleichrodt, Class of 1931.

The enlisted men almost adored Trojer and frequently he was just simply called `the Count', dropping even the Dracula. Hansi Trojer was seen amongst the U-boat commanders as a coming Ace. He was invariably referred to as `the OId Man' by his crewmen, though he was only 26 years old, thus younger than some of his crew.

Petersen mentally prepared himself for getting up, though he was still rather tired after some of the toughest and most confusing convoy night battle operations in the North Atlantic. He searched with half-closed eyes for his seaboots and grey leather pants and jacket the latter four sizes too big for him but the extra length kept his kidneys protected.

Petersen wound a thick terrycloth towel around his neck, tagging it tightly in, fished around for his hat then slapping it firmly on his wavy, curly hair which was much too long by navy regulations, if they were ashore.

The whistle sounded again & the call came through the voice pipe: "Petersen to the bridge - on the double! " Second Watch Officer Petersen signed, rose off his bunk, got moving, grabbed his binoculars, slung them around his neck and pushed through the circular, pressurized compartment door. He looked into the control room to get the drift of things.

Directing Engineer Lieutenant (jg) (Ing.) of the Engineering Branch Charlie Kolbig, looked half asleep leaning against the control desk, but he fooled nobody - always being wide awake and alert, never missing a thing.

The Third Watch Officer, Navigator Warrant Officer Georg Buschmann working with his calculating tools just pointed upstairs with his left hand. Petersen climbed the shining steel ladder like a well trained fireman, entered up and stepped onto the backside of the bridge, the only space not already occupied by others. Here was the so-called `Wintergarden' with one lousy and usually malfunctioning 20mm anti-aircraft gun.

Petersen straightened up and Trojer told him a few words:

"We have spotted some liferaft or rubber float and have just chang ed course directly towards the sighting. The seas prevent constant observation. We don't know if there are any people on this float or not, but should be able to tell shortly. Get Blume and also Kamp with one helper each up here and have them tie a knotted safety line, then get down on the deck! Watch for the rubber dinghy with a shooting line - pull that rubber boat over and don't waste any time! Here are your four men coming up! We are within Coastal Command range and about 100 miles off Cape Ortegal. Thus don't fiddle faddle around but check if there are any people alive on the float, dead or alive. Crab them and bring them quickly back so that we may be able to crash dive if necessary. Everything clear? "

Petersen nodded and said, "Yes, sir. Everything clear."

The five men now descended to the deck and moved in single file holding the safety line and stringing same along as they moved forward Blume. who was the walking newspaper of L'-221. bubbled over with excitement The radio shack had just decoded a that they Should look for come shot down Ju-88 aircrew. perhaps s the°: are on the rubber float Trojer now yelled, "If there are only dead bodies, take off their identification but put them back into the sea. If you are not certain, haul them aboard!"

Petersen waved with one arm, signifying his comprehension of the instructions. The shooting line was ready for firing as soon as they had approached the rubber dinghy close enough. There were some figures in it, holding tightly to the ropes and when the shooting line was clutched by some hands, Petersen knew there were some living people in that boat.

They hauled the shooting line in as rapidly as possible to bring the rubber float close and pull it on deck with the movement of the waves. Holy cow! Three haggard men were dragged aboard, almost at the end of their strength. But they were not part of the Ju-88 Luftwaffe crew - nay, these were Englishmen, wearing British uniforms or what was left of them anyway.

The howling of the wind made conversation very difficult and sign language seemed more practical, under the circumstances and Petersen waved his arm towards the bridge, indicating: "Get ready to pull the safety line - now. " Petersen held one of his gloved hands in front of his face to shield himself somewhat against the wind-driven biting sea spray. The men were shakily swaying and their knees seemed to be almost buckling, so the seamen of U-221 just grabbed these exhausted men with one arm, holding the safety line with the other and signaling: "Pull us back."

Petersen had jerked the first man towards himself to prevent his lurching back into the sea, as U-221 rolled quite heavily. Without thinking, Petersen switched to English without thinking about it. Instantly, he felt like an idiot.

"Good morning. " He said, then added "Welcome aboard. " The soaked and filthy figure hung on tightly to Petersen while the sailors dragged the other two men towards the conning tower already when Petersen thought he had been hit by lightning. A familiar voice croaked in his face. "For Heavens sake, Frank is that really you? What in the devil are you doing out here? "

Petersen's mouth fell open, but not a sound came out yet he kept pulling and dragging this man gradually towards the base of the conning tower. Petersen could not organize his thoughts, wondering `how does this miserable creature know my first name'? But the croaking voice continued. "Thanks by the way for picking us up in this lousy weather. We had almost given up all hope and thought we were for the chop. "

Petersen trembled as he thought, 'I must have a fever or some hallucinations. This just can't be true'. But it was true. His old Boy Scout friend and blood brother Telford Bassington was being dragged by him onto the wintergarden of U-221. The other fellows were already being lowered into the control room and now Trojer hollered at him. "Get moving man, step lively! Get this man under deck quickly."

Petersen went through the motions like some robot or automaton. He was momentarily disoriented but happy that Bascha still had bridge watch duty for another how before Petersen had to relieve him and the first watch. When they hit the floor, Bassington asked Kolbig, "Permission to come on board, whatever ship this happens to be. "

The Directing Engineer almost flipped out and hollered for the Sani , (the medic or corpsman) and some medical revival water. Paramedic Petty Officer Erwin Arndt worked already on the other two Britishers and answered, "As soon as possible. The Old Man has already authorized a double shot for everybody who got drenched, but the flyers first. "

Now Trojer also came down into the control room. The sailors and stokers had swiftly undressed, cleaned and dried them and wrapped them in somewhat smelly, mildewy blankets but there were no others. Arndt fed them cognacs and they were carried into some hot bunks that had been vacated in a hurry for these flyers by their normal naval occupants, who rotated when they did not have to stand watches.

Trojer asked Petersen, "Are you alright? Did you swallow too much seawater? Or did you see some ghost? Because you look as white as the walls of the Sheherazade's urinal stand."

EDITOR NOTE: The Sheherazade was the nightclub frequented by U-boat officers in Paris. It was depicted in the movie `Das Boot'.

Petersen just nodded, then declared that he'd be fine shortly and told Trojer in a few words about Telford Bassinton, pilot officer with the Coastal Command. Trojer just shook his head, mumbling "What will happen next on this operation?"

Trojer, who always had his antennas out for anything unusual in the works and was sensitive to the feelings of his crew, had known immediately that something extraordinary had occurred a just added "Take care of him. Who knows - the next time the position may well be reversed and we would prefer to be rescued instead of drowning."

Petersen was startled by Trojer's remarks, but just nodded gratefully. What a fabulous fellow is my captain, Petersen thought, realizing how he admired him more every day.

This is a long story, so we'll continue it next month in KTB #154. PETER, this is great history and well written. Vielen Dank, and we look forward to even more stories of history like this.