Our Foch Achelis. The pilot crashed into the sea and was nearly pecked to death by large sea birds!

Cape of Good Hope was soon behind us and the weather got rougher and cooler. Soon we saw a smoke cloud but it had been a way off. On my watch, we tried out our Foch Achelis gliding helicopter, which we towed on a cable against the wind and which gave the pilot a greater field of vision. At about eighty meters, the cable snapped and Achelis and pilot went in a soft swing to water. It rattled him badly. We had to get the man out quick because he was already attacked by large sea birds!

Kommandant suggested one day that we play a trick on our doctor, who had only a few hairs on his head left, being sort of bald and who used extensively Trelacen, a highly potent and odor rich hair lotion. Well, we obliged because we teased each other constantly. When the doctor slept, we tinkled a bit into the bottle, added some liqueur, sugar, glue and more lotion. We could hardly wait for the time of his grooming his scalp. I’d rather not tell the rest of this story because we nearly died laughing.

On another occasion I ground some carbon pills and poured the highly sticky powder into his sea boots. He was such any esthetically clean person of course, but since that time he secretly complained about the floorboards in the officers’ mess not being kept swept clean.

Soon we were on squares south of Madagascar waiting for ships on the tracks from Colombo, Aden and Australia to Durban. The calendar showed June 5th and we received the disturbing news that the enemy landed an invasion on the French Coast. Admiral Dönitz calls upon the U-Boat arm for an all-out fight. We check our timetable before deciding to haul towards Mauritius where we saw a CATALINA at close range and from there, zigzagging north.

Water temperature, about 84º Fahrenheit and in the boat 105º. Hallelujah - on June 19, we sank the GAROET 7,118 gross registered tons. Our boat passed the Maldives, south of India.

On board there were many tournaments - light athletics, U-Boat style card games and above all, chess. The fights were indeed dramatic. Kommandant and the doctor were the favorites. That’s where the intelligence set.

We passed the island of Minecoi and I suggested to have me put ashore in a rubber float and squeeze the lighthouse guard for news about passing convoys. Our so-called “Coward on Duty” pleaded against this plan and it never matured. Soon we had reached the west coast of India and we had to reckon with coastal planes.

July 15th, at 18:15 ship in sight. 21:50 radar detection, Naxos force 3 to 4. Pitch dark night. Twenty to eleven, attacking. Two hits. Name TANDA with 7,174 gross registered tons. Again Naxos force 5 to 6, the plane should be over us. ALARM! Dive, dive fast. Depths of water about only 150 feet, we had to be careful not to hit the ship below. Around noon next day, we surfaced although we knew they were looking for us.

Sure enough, ALARM for plane. The men tumbled down wide-eyed. The Third Watch Officer reported as calm as possible, “Plane out of the sun, saw too late. The BEAUFIGHTER, already that big!”

There were four extremely hard detonations, two on starboard and two on port side, like hammer blows on the hull.

The boat shook and trembled, all electricity went out. The high pressure valve blew off into the center room with incredible noise. The planes jammed with hard down. The list grew to 35 degrees, the electric motors had stopped for a short while, a coupling did not release. Overload - all fuses blew. Situation critical to say the least, but everybody kept cool under fire, discipline was great and all men acted fast and efficient, without having to be told.

Before we hit the call button, the chief engineer managed to shift the depth rudders from manual and get the boat under control. Starboard fuel bunker had cracked a leak and was blown out and filled with water. The gyrocompass had gone ape and was useless, and the magnetic compass was unreliable due to great deviation. We surfaced in the night in spite of strong radar activity, we hove to between the Lackadive Islands.

On July 20 on surfacing after a test dive we detected a ship right behind us high over the horizon. Why they did not see us is still a miracle to me. 1700 - two hits. 1703 - sunk! KING FREDERICK, 5,106 gross registered tons. Same night we heard over the radio about the assault on Hitler’s life by the officers group. Dönitz declared general alarm for the Navy.

Almost 4 at night, we were carefully approaching Pulu Penang. Our sharp night glasses suddenly revealed a dark shadow. It was the tower of a U-Boat, which suddenly dived. With full speed we were playing hooky. After the war we found out that it had been the HMS DRATAGAN under Lieutenant Perry. Sorry old boy, you just had bad luck!

On August 8th, we made Penang. We had been at sea 144 days. There were flying in the breeze four pennants, from our extended periscope, each designating one vessel sunk with a total of 24,772 gross registered tons. There were of course big welcomes by the highest ranking Japanese authorities and the German Chief, Kapitän Thomas and his staff. The boat had heavy wounds, which had to be mended and the crew needed well deserved rest.

In due time we called at Singapore and Djakarta, Java. We enjoyed the tropical and intimate oriental atmosphere.

The night was dark, sinister and hot when we headed for sea again on October 20, 1944. Homeward bound to some port in Norway. We had given all torpedoes with the exception of two ashore and had loaded on board every space possible and impossible, war materials of greatest importance for the badly suffering German war industry like for example 130 tons tin, 20 tons molybdenum, 100 tons raw rubber, one ton quinine, and some opium - all told about 240 tons.

We had become a blockade runner. We outmaneuvered enemy forces and soon we were deep into the Indian Ocean again. It was on November 1st when we suddenly saw a cloud of smoke at the horizon. A large single running tanker, 15 knots. We had tough time blitzing ahead of her and only an hour left between sunset and moonrise for our attack. Since one torpedo did not do the job with this big buddy, we had to use our last one too. She was the FORT LEE with 10,198 gross registered tons, which gave us a total of about 35,000 tons on this trip. In the Roaring Forty’s we had to box against mountainous seas. The diesels were overstrained. Worse, the babbitt and the main bearings was down to zero! The shafts were merely running on the bronze metal. The oil pressure was at its lowest and still we had 10,000 miles to go. No way!

We were forced to return to Java and finally Singapore for major overhaul. We built with bought means a snorkel and were again ready to head out to sea when Germany surrendered on May 5, 1945. Shortly afterwards the Japanese requisitioned our three remaining boats in Singapore and we went to the ex-British rubber plantation Batu Bahat in the Malayan jungle to watch the bizarre cruel fights and endless killings in connection with the last days of the Japanese Empire.

Cautiously we moved back to Singapore where the British Colonial Army finally caught up with us and marched us to the fortress-like huge Chang Jai Jail. It was by now September 1945 however our adventures in Southeast Asia did not end until mid-July, 1946 when we were shipped by EMPRESS OF AUSTRALIA to England. A time in British POW camps was often rough but had also some good and even hilarious moments.

The hour of freedom rang loud and clear for me mid-August, 1947. What I found was a broken and dejected Germany. My hometown, Bremen - that once so very proud and beautiful city, lay in shambles and ruins but thanks to God I found my dear ones alive. 65,000 nautical miles of wartime seafaring were behind me before I was ready to start a new and adventurous life. After having sat for my Masters License and I modestly agree with the old Latin phrase “Sumas quot Sumas”.”

I think our Members will agree that this was an outstanding and interesting memory of World War II submarine history. Many thanks OTTO; it was great!

This is the conclusion of the story of this boat, as remembered by OTTO GIESE (45-1984). This is great first-person history!

More U-181

U-181: Part I [KTB154]

U-181: Part II [KTB155]

U-181: Part III [KTB156]

Convoy Aftermath
1943 and 1944
Beyond Cape of Good Hope