Photos of the model Type VIIC U-96 made for the greatest submarine film of all time -- Das Boot
Sure wish someone would do a doc film on the makings.
Das Boot, The Background, Facts and Goofs
Jan 11, 2016 Joris Nieuwint, Guest Author
In 1981, a film was released which is still cited as one of Germany’s greatest cinematic triumphs. It followed the exploits of U-96, a German submarine, based out of St. Nazaire, France, on the harrowing experience of U-Boat patrol. The film is, of course, Das Boot, and its incredible ability to capture the terrifying and suspense filled life of U-Boat crews has captivated viewers for decades.
The film, along with the book by the same name, was based on a true story, recorded by Lothar-Günther Buchheim. He joined the Kriegsmarine, the German Navy, in 1940, eventually becoming a propaganda officer, essentially a war correspondent.
The film, as Buchheim complained, was not always an accurate portrayal of U-Boat life. Rather than go scene by scene picking apart the movie, here are a few stories of U-Boat life from the man who served on U-96.
Periscope Attack
It is a calm, but foggy day in the Atlantic. U-96 is sailing along, bobbing in the choppy seas, the commander and Buccheim are sitting down to lunch, a brief break in the daily stress of U-boat life.
Suddenly a call comes down from the bridge “To the commander: masthead off the port bow!”
The commander sprints up to the bridge. He and the chief crowd onto the bridge tower, straining through binoculars to find their foe.
They are puzzled. It appears to be a lone steamer, unescorted in the middle of the ocean. They estimate distance, direction, and speed, the latter by trying to match it. Their diesel engines strain, pushing the ship to its fastest and filling the entire ship with a dull roar as they plow through the choppy sea.
Satisfied with their readings, the commander orders an attack. The call goes out to clear the bridge, flood the tanks, and dive to periscope depth. The crew has been standing by, tensely waiting to hear the order. It echoes fore and aft, each man passing it down the line. The ship jumps to life. The diesel engines are secured, the electric motors hum to life and then the ship is quiet again.
In the control room, the commander and chief hover over the hydroplane operators, watching dials, hand wheels, and gauges. The ventilators are turned off, and moisture builds up on every surface, including the men who are now drenched in sweat.
Periscope depth is achieved, The commander peers through the thin tube, with mirrors and magnifiers. A watch officer is constantly adjusting the torpedo’s guidance. Again, everyone is silent, tensely waiting for the commander’s orders.
“Tubes 1 to 4, stand by for underwater firing. Flood tubes. Open torpedo doors!” The call, again, echoes through the ship. This time a response comes back. The order had been completed, all clear and ready for attack.
The crew stands silently watching their leader move back and forth with the periscope. He swears. The ship is zigzagging, making it a difficult target. After minutes of waiting, finally, he has his opportunity. The call goes out.
“Tube 1!” A pause, the watch officer’s finger hovers just over the firing button. “Fire!”
The sleek metal torpedo explodes out of the tube, speeding almost silently towards the ship. The commander calls for Tube 2. Now two torpedoes, parallel, are charging towards their target. Immediately the chief floods the tanks to compensate for the loss of weight; every kilogram counts when keeping the ship safely submerged.
They surface to survey the damage.
The lone steamer had been cut in two by the torpedoes, each half floating away from each other, the crew trying to get into lifeboats. Over the next 2 hours, the two halves slowly sank while the U-Boat crew watched.
