Chapter 619: Four Torpedoes
As the battleship Yamashiro sailed into the range of Prien’s submarine, it was still maintaining a straight course. Without a second thought, Prien gave the order to attack. With his eyes pressed to the periscope, he commanded his torpedo officer to fire: “Bow torpedo room, tubes 1, 2, 3, and 4, fire in salvo!”
With a dull thud and a slight tremor from the submarine, seawater flooded into the torpedo tubes. A dense cloud of bubbles erupted from the launch tubes, followed by the torpedoes launching one by one from the bow of the U-boat.
“Torpedo 1 away! Torpedo 2 away! Torpedo 3 away! Torpedo 4 away!” After firing all of its bow torpedoes in one go, the crew of U-47 knew they would hit the distant target.
Starting in February 1938, British transport ships had begun to alter their speed and course during transit to evade potential submarine attacks. Before coming to Australia, Prien had not encountered such a simple, straight course in almost seven months. He fired his torpedoes with ease, without even making fine adjustments—it was so simple it felt unreal.
The torpedoes raced towards their target at their set depth, carving four white wakes on the ocean’s surface. These wakes gradually vanished into the sea, as if nothing had ever happened here. Prien kept the distant warship in his periscope sights, waiting for the massive, expected explosion—the familiar giant columns of water, the fiery blasts accompanied by flying steel plates. This was Prien’s symphony.
The ocean holds the power to destroy heaven and earth. After a torpedo explodes, it uses the repeated compression of seawater to twist humanity’s thickest steel and most confident structures. This was the ultimate contest between spear and shield, no longer a pale comparison on paper, but a real result, a result that all must bow to.
This was a contest between men, the fairest of duels, with life as the wager and death as the verdict. The most worthy warriors survive on the cruelest of battlefields to become a fleeting legend for a thousand years to come. The losers pay the price for their carelessness, only they will never have another chance to regret it.
“Kudo-kun, the weather in the South Seas is so hot. This damn weather,” a Japanese soldier yawned in the lookout post high above the Yamashiro’s massive and ugly bridge.
The weather in the South Seas in September was still muggy. Although a cool sea breeze blew against their faces, they could still feel the heat rolling around them. The all-white uniform of the Japanese Navy didn’t look very fashionable; one could say that its overly monochrome color was even a bit ugly.
The two lookouts on duty were both wearing steel helmets. They stared out at the sea, listless with boredom. After all, staring at the sea for a long time was a job that could definitely make one drowsy. Both of them were now yawning constantly, on the verge of sleep.
“Wouldn’t rain be worse? The visibility would be poor, and you wouldn’t be able to see anything coming from a distance. If you miss something, you get chewed out by the Sergeant Major,” the other soldier said, looking helplessly at the distant sea. He lowered his binoculars with a mournful expression. “I don’t even know what’s for dinner. If I’m late, there won’t be anything left. How did I get stuck with such an unlucky shift…”
“Hey! Kudo-kun, look at those four fish swimming over here. They’re pretty fast!” the first Japanese sailor said, pointing into the distance.
“You’ve asked the right person. Let me see… let’s see… let’s… those are torpedoes!” Kudo was so scared he nearly lost his wits and collapsed onto the metal floor. He grabbed the telephone and roared into it, “Quick! Hard to starboard! Quick!”
The other, less experienced sailor was so frightened he couldn’t even speak. He could only lean over the edge of the lookout post, staring at the four white lines, a strange sound gurgling in his throat. Facing an enemy attack for the first time, this man, who was dedicated to serving His Majesty the Emperor, was no better than any other raw recruit.
“Lookout! What the hell are you doing? Is that any way to speak to a bridge officer? Are you trying to get put on deck-swabbing duty?” the Lieutenant Commander who answered the phone grumbled, his brow furrowed. He had been listening to his superior, Captain Nagasaemon, complain for hours, and even the most good-tempered man would have a short fuse.
Kudo, on the bridge above, was shaking so badly he couldn’t hold the phone steady. He watched the distant torpedoes draw closer, his voice changing pitch, “Sir, Sir! Tor-tor-torpedoes! Turn! Quick!”
“Torpedoes? What torpedoes? Speak clearly!” the Lieutenant Commander didn’t react at first. Then, he suddenly sensed something was wrong. He looked through a window in front of him at the distant sea, and then he saw them: four white wakes churning through the water, already very close to the battleship Yamashiro.
“Captain! Captain! Torpedoes to starboard! Torpedoes approaching on the starboard side!” The Lieutenant Commander was clearly of a higher caliber than Kudo in the lookout post, as he was able to fully articulate the situation the Yamashiro was facing.
Nagasaemon was clearly annoyed that someone had interrupted his tirade, but when he heard “torpedo attack,” he too was startled. He didn’t dare waste a single second; he had to act as quickly as possible to prevent the Yamashiro from being hit. He immediately ordered his helmsman to take evasive action, his voice trembling with despair, “Hard to starboard! Avoid the torpedoes! Quick!”
No one knew better than him that the Japanese battleship Yamashiro was a giant dumpling with thin skin, a huge filling, and no folds. If it were hit by a torpedo, the consequences would be unimaginable. Nagasaemon, who knew this battleship like the back of his hand and was familiar with every part of its structure, knew that if even one torpedo struck a vital area, the ship would explode like an ignited barrel of gasoline.
At the same time, in Prien’s periscope, the massive hull of the Yamashiro began to turn. Prien gave a cold smile, because he knew that given the torpedoes’ speed and the angle he had fired them from, the Japanese battleship’s fate was sealed. Turning now was merely a death throe; it would have no effect.
“Only thinking of turning to escape now? Isn’t it a little late?” The first officer took the periscope from Prien, glanced through it, and then said with a wide grin, “We’ve hit the jackpot this time. Another battleship. I think it’ll be difficult for anyone to break our record now.”
“Difficult is an understatement. Our captain is probably going to be the unbeatable Battleship Killer!” a sailor standing by the valves chimed in, his hand resting on a valve wheel. His words sparked a round of laughter. Everyone knew this honor belonged to the entire submarine, to every one of them.
Today, U-47 would become a legend, a legend that could not be surpassed by those who came after. Prien would be forever recorded in the annals of history for sinking the most battleships, and U-47 would become a celebrated tale for its awe-inspiring combat record.
“Hit!” After Prien took back his periscope, he did not take his eyes off the eyepieces. When he saw a massive column of water erupt from the side of the battleship Yamashiro, he roared out the word. The entire submarine erupted in a chorus of ecstatic cheers.
“Hooray!” “Brilliant!” “Yeah!” Everyone shouted, the inside of the submarine filled with cries. Prien didn’t even try to quiet his men. He knew that at a time like this, everyone needed to vent their joy. The German U-boat force was a legend, and from this day on, they would become a legend within that legend. Whenever submarine warfare was mentioned, Prien and his U-47 would be remembered, just as one mentions Napoleon when speaking of France, or the Führer Akado when discussing the Third Reich.
Nagasaemon was thrown to the deck by the violent shudder. As he struggled to get up, another massive jolt slammed his face into the floor. He then felt a hot liquid flowing down his face. He didn’t have time to wipe it away as he struggled to rise, but a third massive explosion sent him sprawling back onto the deck.
This time, he didn’t have the strength to get up again. The repeated impacts had left him dizzy and disoriented, and his face was covered in blood; he was seriously wounded. It turned out his decision not to struggle further was the right one, because a fourth explosion followed, and the massive shockwave threw him, lying flat on the ground, more than a meter into the air before he slammed back down again.
“Ugh!” Blood from his twisted face was already flowing down his neck. His nose was clearly completely shattered. His face was now more hideous than a demon’s, and though his eyes were losing focus, they were more terrifying than a vengeful spirit’s. The final impact finally wrung a groan from him; though faint, his pain was audible.
Beside him lay the Lieutenant Commander who had just been on the phone. A pair of dividers from the chart table was embedded in his face, having stolen his young life. The entire bridge was a wreck. Everyone had been thrown about by the four successive, massive shocks.
“Bakayaro!” Nagasaemon let out a beast-like roar. He furiously tried to use his officer’s sword as a crutch to struggle into a sitting position. Four torpedoes had now hit the battleship Yamashiro. He had to remain at his post and fight for the Yamashiro’s last chance of survival.
But just as he struggled, a massive explosion erupted from deep within the ship’s hull. The entire warship was twisted and lifted by a tremendous force. Nagasaemon knew that the ship’s poorly protected magazines had finally detonated in a sympathetic explosion. The one thing he had feared most had finally happened.
Published: 2025-09-11T02:05:40.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2026-01-25T17:53:09.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c619-four-138630973
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