Chapter 740: Resupply at Sea

Darkness enveloped the turbulent sea. The North Atlantic seemed to forever display its capriciousness and brutality. By the light of the moon and the dim lamps on the submarine, Prien waited in the cold wind for his wolf pack.

Accompanying the wolf pack was a German submarine supply ship, disguised as a British merchant vessel. The young captain of this supply ship was overjoyed to see Prien. He insisted on jumping onto the submarine to shake the hand of his idol.

In fact, if one were to list the most dangerous military branches, the only ones who could compare with submariners in terms of losses were the soldiers on these disguised supply ships. Their ships had only one camouflaged 88mm cannon. This level of armament meant that if a disguised supply ship was discovered by the enemy, it was certain to be sunk.

What was even more tragic was that because they were disguised, the soldiers on these ships were not protected by international law. They would basically all be shot, or taken back to the rear to be interrogated and tortured in the cruelest ways.

It was precisely for this reason that if a disguised supply ship was discovered by the enemy, it would generally suffer heavy losses. Therefore, replenishing the crews for these ships also became a problem. In the end, these young crews were all filled by the most fanatical young men of the SS. The moment they boarded the ship, they had already resolved to give their all for the Führer and the Empire.

Looking at the youthful faces before him, Prien didn’t even know what he was fighting for anymore. He had become a naval officer to defend his country from its enemies, wasn’t that so that the young people of his motherland could have a brighter future? Now these young people were all on the battlefield. What were they fighting for? To make the babies happier?

Losing a father, losing one’s own brother, a complete family shattered. Would a baby who grew up like this really have no problems with his life? When they grew up, would they still need to fight for hatred? Prien frowned, numbly accepting the other’s embrace.

“Captain Prien, I have heard of your glorious deeds for a long time. It was to learn from you that I volunteered to join the SS’s naval affairs department. It is wonderful to be able to meet you here, to resupply your submarine with torpedoes and fuel,” the captain of the supply ship said with a smile to Prien as they shook hands and embraced.

Then this young man turned his head and ordered the equally young sailors on his ship, “Quickly! Hoist the torpedoes! We don’t have much time, begin at once! Fifth squad, you are responsible for loading the fresh vegetables and those canned goods onto the small boat, to speed up the resupply!”

“Yes, sir!” On the side of the ship, some SS soldiers who had been watching the excitement began to get busy. Some lifted the camouflage tarps on the ship, while others reassembled the dismantled crane, preparing to hoist the massive torpedoes for the U-47.

The tarps were lifted, revealing the torpedoes, their warheads painted red. The bright bodies of the torpedoes glinted in the faint light of the ship. A supply ship like this would generally carry a large amount of resupply ammunition to replenish as many German submarines as possible.

“How long have you been at sea?” Prien asked, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the conning tower of the submarine, looking up at the moon and exhaling a puff of smoke.

“27 days. We resupplied the X-33 flotilla once, and then we received the Neptune code and came here to rendezvous with a top-secret submarine. I never expected to run into you here,” the young supply ship captain said, refusing a cigarette. He added shyly, “Smoking is not allowed on a munitions transport ship, so no one on this ship can light any flames.”

The Neptune code was a new set of cipher procedures recently put into use by Germany. It was designed by Turing and his mathematics team and had an almost infinite number of variations. As the highest-level code in the German Navy, it was used exclusively for the most secret communications. For some unknown reason, the German codes were changed regularly and frequently. It was said to be a rule personally set by the Führer.

“…” Prien was silent for a few seconds, then took a drag on his cigarette, nodded, and said with a hint of world-weariness, “Thank you for your hard work.”

In the distance, under the dim moonlight, a crane was hoisting a long, slender torpedo, lowering it inch by inch over the submarine’s loading hatch. There, more than a dozen sailors were already standing, their arms outstretched on the swaying submarine, trying to catch the descending torpedo on the heaving deck.

As the steel cable was continuously lowered, the torpedo was finally caught by these soldiers. They then carefully aligned the torpedo with the loading hatch and pushed this thing, which was filled with explosives and other dangerous goods, inside inch by inch. Although the torpedo’s safety was not disarmed, for a submarine, something of this mass was still a very deadly object.

The first torpedo was quickly sent into the interior of the submarine. Because of this submarine’s streamlined design, the deck area was not as large as that of an older-style submarine. And it was precisely for this reason that the time required for at-sea resupply for this new type of submarine was passively extended.

On the other hand, at the stern of the submarine, a small boat had already come alongside the outer hull. The soldiers on it had tied the mooring lines and were carefully taking the canned goods handed over by the SS soldiers on the small boat. These things were precious treasures. On the tedious open sea, they had to rely on these supplies to get through the long days.

On the deck of the supply ship, the young SS soldiers were busy. They had already hoisted the second torpedo amidst shouts. On their way here, they had already resupplied three submarines with ammunition, so they could now be said to be very experienced veterans.

Watching these young men in black SS uniforms, without even rank insignia on their bodies, bustling back and forth on the deck, Prien helplessly threw the burnt-out cigarette butt in his hand into the sea and then lit another one. These young men could not even be considered soldiers; at best, they were just replacements for naval personnel. Driven by their love for their country and their personal admiration for the Führer, they had come here to carry out the most dangerous mission in the world.

“Go back, and don’t take on this kind of mission again. You should be in school. Even if you need to go to the battlefield, you should stay in a training camp for at least half a year,” Prien finally managed to say, with some difficulty. He had seen too many, too many young men go to the battlefield. This was not a sight he personally liked to see.

Too many young people had appeared on the battlefield. Prien had once seen in a newspaper a young man named Rein who, at a young age, had already become an ace tank commander. The number of tanks he had destroyed was countless, and in terms of the number of people he had killed, he was no different from a bloodthirsty demon.

It was said that there was another one in the air force named Hartmann, also a devil soaring in the sky. He was not yet 20 years old, but he had already killed more than 100 enemy pilots.

Of course, if one were to talk about the total number of people killed, Prien himself was the undisputed king. The enemy soldiers who had sunk to the bottom of the sea with the battleships he had sunk numbered at least seven thousand, if not ten thousand. But according to experience, people tend to forget to count themselves in such situations.

“If not here, where else can we go?” the young man said, his expression a little unnatural. “Everyone is contributing their strength for the motherland. But we are required to stay at home and wait for news of victory from the front. This in itself is unfair to us.”

As he spoke, he looked at his own disguised supply ship and continued, “In this war, no one is spared. For the Führer, we have sworn to fight to the last moment. Not for glory, not for anything else, but just so that one day in the future, when we stand in the sun, we won’t be pointed at by our younger brothers and told that we won the cruelest of wars by relying on our fathers and brothers.”

Prien was taken aback for a moment, then looked at this young captain and suddenly felt that his own thinking was a bit extreme. Everyone should contribute their strength for their country. If they could really do that, what could stop the rise of this nation, of this country?

“Like you, I have sworn an oath before the national flag that I will fight for my country, for the Führer. He led us out of the shadow of defeat and allowed us to stand up straight. Since he needs our help, we will help him do what he needs!” The young man saw that the fourth torpedo had already been sent into the submarine and shouted to his comrades to adjust the ship’s position to avoid a collision.

An oath? To give up one’s young life for an oath? Would you still say that on a battlefield where bullets are flying? Would you still say that when you see seawater pouring into your own ship’s hold, the bone-chilling cold making your legs lose all feeling? Prien really wanted to send these young lives home quickly, really wanted to remind them to stay away from these deadly fringes. But when he saw the young man’s vibrant and youthful face, he couldn’t say a word.

They were young, they were impulsive, they were striving for their oath. This spirit was worthy of encouragement. But this was a life-or-death war. Did it really require the sacrifice of so many young lives in exchange for the even greater splendor and glory of the entire country?

Another light appeared on the sea surface. It seemed that another submarine had arrived at the designated position. Prien’s wolf pack was almost fully assembled here. They were still waiting for the arrival of the last submarine, and then they would charge back into the heavily escorted waters of Britain and wreak havoc there.

“Good luck,” Prien said to the departing young captain after the last torpedo had been stuffed into the replenishment hatch. “Do your best to stay alive!”

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