To be sure, Himmler had every possible commander at his disposal. Kretshmer. Topp. Liebe. Schutze. All capable commanders with a stellar record for the Kriegsmarine, the German Navy. However, there was something in the eyes of Lieutenant Claussen that convinced Himmler he was the man to command this important mission. There was a fierce loyalty about him. One that was absolutely required to achieve their goal.
The mission was risky and not just because of the attack that Himmler planned. U-1226 would be required to evade the increasingly dense blockade of Allied naval vessels established off the Atlantic coast of Europe. Several U-boats had been destroyed in recent months. This mission would require Claussen to sail at depth for much of the initial journey until he reached the North Atlantic. Then he could proceed on the surface if necessary once he was out of range of British reconnaissance aircraft.
“Heil Hitler!” greeted Claussen as he arrived in front of Himmler.
“Heil Hitler! Is she ready?”
“Jah wohl, Reichsführer. The cargo is loaded, and the crew of fifty-six, including myself, are standing by for your final inspection.”
“Good. Good. And your personnel?”
“The seaman were chosen and interviewed by me, Reichsführer. The individual officers requested by your assistant have been included except for one, sir.”
“Who and why?” asked Himmler.
“The executive officer, my second-in-command, sir. He failed his medical evaluation. It appears he has tuberculosis, sir.” The disease was highly contagious and easily spread from one person to the next through the air. It would’ve been devastating for the sailor to be on board U-1226 while at sea.
Himmler frowned. He didn’t like surprises. “Who is his replacement?”
“He was a former executive officer transferred here from the 9th Flotilla—Lieutenant Müller.”
Himmler pressed his commander. “What do you know of him?”
“Very little, Reichsführer, other than by reputation through the comments of those under his command. He is most certainly capable. In fact, he was assigned to U-1226 before it was brought over from the 9th Flotilla.”
A seaman came running from the operations building that had survived last night’s bombing raid. “Reichsführer, an urgent call for you.”
Himmler thought for a moment and then he turned to Claussen. “God be with you and your crew, Herr Oberleutnant.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
November 1944
Aboard the U-1226
North Atlantic Ocean
Claussen successfully navigated U-1226 out of the fjord and along the coastal shelf until they reached deep water. They departed on the surface waters, allowing the commander and crew to take one final look at the fjord and submarine pen. The fjord had been carved into its fingerlike shape over hundreds of thousands of years ago by the relentless power of towering glaciers.
Claussen took in the black, wide shape of U-1226 effortlessly cruising along the surface of the water. He wondered if he’d ever see Norway again. Would it be his last mission? Would the cargo and weapons he carried make a difference for Germany? There were so many questions, but the answers really didn’t matter. There was no turning back. He’d written his last letters to his parents in Hamburg. He’d said goodbye to his sweetheart in Bergen. He was doing his duty for the man he admired most in Germany—Reichsführer Himmler.
“Prepare to dive,” he ordered his helmsman.
“Depth under keel, sir?” the young man asked.
“One hundred meters,” replied Claussen, taking one final look at the cloudy sky and receding cliffs of the Norwegian coast. The sky was dull and gray. The waters were black except for the whitecaps caused by the ever-present northerly winds. Going to sea was exciting.
As planned, three additional U-boats accompanied the U-1226 on that day as part of a four-submarine squadron to patrol the North Sea. As the other three U-boats peeled off to approach the Netherlands and Germany’s northern coastline, Claussen led his sub deep toward the North Atlantic.
He’d successfully avoided the Allied countermeasures that had effectively stifled the Nazi submarine activity at that point in the war. Once he was beyond aircraft range for the British fighters, he ordered Müller to surface. It was October 23, 1944, and it would be the last communication between U-1226 and the German Navy.
Via radio communications, Claussen reported trouble with the U-boat’s snorkel, the device that allowed a submarine to operate partially submerged while still taking in air from the surface. Prior to this mission, there had been several documented problems with the snorkels.
Reduced speed was the biggest complaint of the commanders. When patrolling, the U-boat was slowed to a maximum speed of six knots. Safety was another. The snorkel, also used to dispose of garbage when at depth, often became clogged, forcing the crew to store the refuse on board.
The third issue was that the snorkel masts tended to spontaneously close up, resulting in the diesel engines being starved for air from above. The engines compensated by pulling air from the submarine’s interior, causing issues with atmospheric stabilization. The seaman suffered in agony, much like scuba divers who ascended to the surface too quickly. Ear pains could easily turn to damaged eardrums.
There were no actual issues with the snorkel of U-1226. However, it was considered a likely reason for a German submarine to suffer a catastrophic failure while at sea. When Claussen issued his Mayday and relayed the problems with the snorkel, Nazi communications specialists were not surprised. When they lost all contact with U-1226 for days thereafter, she was declared to be lost at sea. It was later officially determined that the sub, along with its fifty-six-member crew, had perished. In actuality, the submarine continued on its long journey toward the United States.
Soon after the planned Mayday, Claussen began to have issues with the morale of the men on board. Because of the secretive nature of the mission, each of the
