Meanwhile, on the HMS Harvester, tension filled the air as the crew scoured the seas for any trace of the elusive U-boat. The last sonar contact had placed the German submarine directly beneath them, but now… nothing.
Captain Albert paced furiously on the bridge, frustration tightening his face. His eyes bore into the sonar operator, whose gaze had shifted uneasily to the floor.
"No sign of the U-boat, sir," the sonar operator said, his voice low.
Albert's fist clenched. "How is that possible?! Then where did he go?" He glared out over the ocean as if his very gaze could drag the German submarine from its hiding place. "He has to be somewhere here. Keep looking for that German bastard!" he barked, his voice with anger. He despised the Germans, despised their cunning, despised that they seemed to slip away every time. He was starting to feel a dark, unspoken fear: This U-boat may be the end of us.
Up in the tower, Officer John scoured the vast expanse of the Atlantic, searching for any sign of a periscope breaking the surface or an oil trail. The destroyer's engines rumbled beneath him, but even their powerful sound could not shake a growing sense of unease. Captain Albert knew in his gut they were being outplayed. He could feel his defeat inching closer, a whisper he was helpless to silence. Why do the gods side with the Germans? he thought bitterly.
But the gods had nothing to do with it. Behind the massive destroyer, lurking just beneath the surface, was a creature far deadlier than any divine hand.
Quietly, U-534—the Black Wolf—started to rise from the ocean. Its large shape slowly broke through the surface, sending up a spray of seawater. A big steel front came up, shining with salt and dark shadows, like a creature emerging from the deep. On the bridge, a painted image of a black wolf looked out over the sea, with sharp teeth showing and red eyes glowing—a clear warning to its enemies that danger was close.
The destroyer's crew remained unaware, focused on searching the horizon in every direction except directly behind them. The Schwarze Wolf's hull gleamed in the moonlight, cold and calculating as it shadowed the unsuspecting prey.
Captain Albert sat in the dim light of the radio room, half-listening as he absently turned the dials, his mind lost in the frustration of their failed search for the U-boat. Suddenly, the static crackled to life, and a voice came through. Albert froze, gripping the receiver. The voice was low, cold, and unmistakably German.
"An Harvester: Ein einsamer schwarzer Wolf lauert im Schatten… Hungernd nach Blut, unbarmherzig in der Dunkelheit. Bereitet euch vor – das Meer wird rot gefärbt. Ihr seid die Beute. Das Meer wird euer Grab sein."
Albert felt a chill run down his spine as the voice ended, the static fading into silence. The ominous German words echoed in his mind, though he hadn't understood a word. His translator, a young ensign, quickly scrawled down the message, his hands shaking as he deciphered the last line.
The ensign's voice trembled as he read aloud, "To Harvester: A lone black wolf waits in the shadows. Starving for blood, merciless in the dark. Prepare yourselves – the sea will turn red. You are the prey. The sea will be your grave."
Captain Albert's face went pale, and he closed his eyes. He knew, at that moment, death was near, waiting just beyond the reach of the Harvester's guns. In an instant, he shook himself from his daze and barked an order.
"All hands, to battle stations! Move, now!"
Chaos erupted as men scrambled to their positions. Officer John bolted into the radio room, his eyes wide.
"Sir," he said, out of breath, "I've spotted the U-boat on the surface, dead astern! It's like… it's taunting us."
Albert didn't waste a second. He pushed past John and made his way to the observation tower, with John close on his heels. When they reached the top, Albert brought his binoculars to his eyes and scanned the horizon. There it was, barely 300 meters away—the U-boat, surfacing with a dark, almost arrogant grace.
The painted black wolf glared from its bridge, fangs bared and eyes red as if hungering for blood. The vessel sat low on the water, rocking gently in the ocean swell, as though savoring the moment. The symbol was clear: the Schwarze Wolf, the Black Wolf, was here to hunt.
Officer John, standing beside him, whispered, "You're right, sir. They are true Germans—born with madness."
Captain Albert felt a cold wave of fear as he watched the U-boat drift in the water, fearless and bold. This was no ordinary enemy; this was a hunter, savoring the sight of its trapped prey.
The Captain of the U-boat, standing at the bridge with his cap pulled low, watched the destroyer with unflinching, calm eyes. He knew they had the advantage, and he took a moment to let the quiet thrill of victory settle in. The black wolf was poised, silent, and ready to strike.
Without turning, he issued his orders in a low, controlled voice. "Prepare torpedoes. We're going to give them a lesson they won't forget."
The men moved swift and silent, arming torpedoes with lethal precision. The Captain's face remained impassive, almost amused, as he watched the destroyer's exposed stern sway helplessly ahead of him. To him, this was more than warfare—it was art, a calculated display of control over the sea, over the enemy, and over fate itself.
The Captain raised his hand, and his voice, though soft, carried power.
" Let them feel the teeth of the Schwarze Wolf."
The crew below heard their captain's command and sprang into action. The men worked swiftly, almost silently, the lethal machinery of war becoming an extension of their hands. The heavy clink of metal echoed through the narrow corridors, as they prepared the "eels"—torpedoes built for speed and devastation. Hans, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief, grinned and muttered to his crewmate, "I bet the Tommies will love our little gift."
Another sailor laughed, hefting a torpedo into place. "This one's for our lovely English lady," he taunted, sending a ripple of chuckles through the crew.
At that moment, the quiet strains of a familiar tune began to swell through the U-boat as one man began to sing:
> "Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein,
> Und das heißt: Erika…"
The rest of the crew joined in, their voices filling the tight, metal confines with the hauntingly cheerful melody of "Erika." It was their anthem, a reminder of home and purpose, echoing through the hull as if the steel itself were singing along.
Officer Richter, standing beside Muller, grinned and began to sing even louder. "Let them hear us. Let the Tommies know who we are!"
Captain Muller's lips curved into a faint smile as he watched the destroyer through his binoculars. The vessel was adjusting course, attempting a last, futile maneuver to escape. This was the moment he had been waiting for, a chance to strike with merciless precision.
"Röhre 1, fertig. Röhre 2, fertig (Tube 1, ready. Tube 2, ready,)" came the call from below.
Müller's hand stayed steady as he raised it, enjoying the control he had over this moment. To him, this deadly precision was a form of art.
"Tube 1—fire," he commanded, his voice as soft as it was deadly.
A hiss echoed through the U-boat as the first torpedo shot forward, cutting through the water like a lance. "Tube 2—fire," he ordered next, sending the second "eel" following the first in a perfect dance of destruction.
Captain Albert's eyes widened as he spotted the white trails streaking through the water toward his vessel. "Brace for impact!" he shouted, his heart pounding. But in his gut, he knew it was too late.
Back on the U-boat, Müller lowered his binoculars, a cold smile spreading across his face as the distant explosions echoed through the depths. Dieter let out a dark chuckle, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "Let them waste their charges," he said, his tone dripping with contempt. "They forget—out here, we are the hunters, not the hunted."
Captain Müller turned to his men, his voice calm and almost gentle. "Well done, Black Wolves," he said. The crew cheered, their voices filling the steel hull like the howls of wolves celebrating a fresh kill.