In February, the Atlantic was at its coldest, with frigid winds from the Arctic slicing across the faces of those who ventured upon the sea. Despite the bitter chill, the German Navy's sailors continued their patrols across the vast waters.
A squadron of battlecruisers scoured the seas west of the British Isles, while submarines roamed freely, hunting their prey. Upon sighting a merchant ship or naval vessel bearing the British flag, they would strike without hesitation. When confronting warships, torpedoes were the weapon of choice; however, against merchant vessels, the submarines preferred to surface and use their deck guns to compel surrender. Capturing a merchant ship yielded far greater glory than simply sinking it.
One such merchant vessel, adorned with the British flag, sailed approximately a thousand kilometers off the west coast of Ireland. Its deck was heavily tarped, and the ship sat deep in the water, suggesting it was laden with valuable cargo.
A middle-aged sailor stood on the deck, smoking a cigarette. The icy sea breeze numbed his face, yet he remained vigilant, occasionally raising a military-grade telescope to scan the horizon.
"Damn it, where are the German submarines? We've been drifting out here for a week and haven't spotted a single one. Our luck is abysmal," he cursed under his breath.
This middle-aged sailor was Lieutenant Schmidt of the Royal Navy. Given his age, he should not have been on such a mission; he was formerly the captain of a destroyer. Yet, he had volunteered for this assignment, driven by a desire for vengeance for his brother, a sailor on a merchant vessel sunk by a German U-boat three months prior while returning from Canada.
"Captain, we still haven't spotted anything, have we? This cursed weather is unbearably cold," a young sailor remarked to Lieutenant Schmidt.
"Fool! I've told you not to call me captain; now, you must address me as 'shipmaster.' If the Germans discover us, none of us will escape!" Schmidt snapped.
"Fine, shipmaster. But we still haven't found the Germans, have we?" the young sailor muttered.
"Shipmaster, the first officer asked me to inform you that our supplies are running low. If we don't locate the German submarines before nightfall, we'll have to turn back," the young sailor reported.
"Damn it! Why couldn't we have taken more supplies when we set out?" Schmidt cursed.
"Alright, tell Simon that if we haven't found the Germans by nightfall, we're withdrawing. May God help us sink a German submarine! I must avenge my poor brother!" Lieutenant Schmidt prayed fervently.
Not far from the British merchant vessel, a German submarine glided on the surface. Due to the technological limitations of the era, submarines could not remain submerged for long periods and primarily operated above water, diving only to launch attacks or evade enemy ships. To defend against surface engagements, the submarine sported a twin-mounted 75mm deck gun at its bow.
This submarine, designated U-113, belonged to an earlier class, having been produced before the German shipyards ceased making these models after completing a hundred improved U-boats. Subsequent productions featured further enhancements.
As the submarine's hatches opened, a thickly-clad officer emerged, followed by several crewmen. Confined to the submarine's cramped quarters for extended periods, they would occasionally surface to stretch and enjoy some fresh air once the waters were deemed safe.
"Commander, we haven't made any captures this week! We've seen neither British merchant ships nor warships," one crewman declared as he extinguished his cigarette.
"Who knows? To encounter a British ship, we must rely on divine providence. Haven't we already sunk enough British merchant vessels and warships this past six months? They must be terrified of us by now!" the commander responded, puffing out a smoke ring.
"Indeed, British vessels have become rare in these waters. However, American ships are nearly everywhere in the Atlantic. If we could strike at them, it would be a splendid opportunity," another crewman suggested.
"Ha! American vessels are no easy targets. They remain neutral, and the Empire has no justification for attacking them," the commander shook his head.
"Commander, the Americans are merely hiding behind a façade of neutrality. I assure you, their shipments to Britain include plenty of minerals and weaponry. They're profiting handsomely from our war with the British!"
"Hmm, I wonder how high command is considering this. If only they would authorize us to engage American merchant ships! Each time I see one pass by, I can't help but drool!"
"Enough! How the higher-ups choose to proceed is beyond our control. If we are to engage the Americans, we must simply obey orders," the commander stated firmly.
"Yes, Commander!" the crew responded in unison.
"Rested? Then back inside! Let's continue north and test our luck!" the commander commanded.
"Yes, Commander!" The crewmen filed back into the submarine, with the commander being the last to enter.
Half an hour after the submarine began its northern journey, they received a telegram from the Navy Department: a reconnaissance ship had spotted a British merchant vessel to the north.
Instantly, the commander of U-113 ordered full speed ahead to pursue the British ship. The submarine, traveling on the surface, was far faster than the merchant vessel. However, the German sailors remained unaware that the British ship was merely bait, part of a trap set by the British to ensnare German vessels. The Royal Navy was lying in wait, eager for the German submarines to fall into their carefully laid ambush.