Killer Ship

By J.E. Macdonnell

It was a remarkable invention—a camera that could to take one brief, flash-lit shot of the night sea and discover with amazing clarity exactly what might be lurking out there in the darkness. But when the equipment was trialled aboard H. M. S. Wind Rode, it set in motion a chain of events that could only end in death. For there was a German submarine out there in the deeps, on its way to mine Jomard Pass and effectively cripple Allied shipping for the foreseeable future. Furthermore, its commander was a fanatical Nazi totally dedicated to his job.
But Peter Bentley was equally dedicated—dedicated to stopping the German from succeeding in his mission ... and that’s when the deadly battle of wits began between destroyer and submarine really started ...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Piccadilly
• Release date: Jun 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215229392

J.E. Macdonnell

JAMES EDMOND MACDONNELL was born in 1917 in Mackay, Queensland and became one of Australia’s most prolific writers. As a boy, he became determined to go to sea and read every seafaring book he could find. At age 13, while his family was still asleep, he took his brother’s bike and rode eighty miles from his home town to Brisbane in an attempt to see ships and the sea. Fortunately, he was found and returned to his family. He attended the Toowoomba Grammar School from 1931 to 1932. He served in the Royal Australian Navy for fourteen years, joining at age 17, advancing through all lower deck ranks and reaching the rank of commissioned gunnery officer. He began writing books while still in active service.Macdonnell wrote stories for The Bulletin under the pseudonym “Macnell” and from 1948 to 1956 he was a member of The Bulletin staff. His first book, Fleet Destroyer – a collection of stories about life on the small ships – was published by The Book Depot, Melbourne, in 1945. Macdonnell began writing full-time for Horwitz in 1956, writing an average of a dozen books a year.After leaving the navy, Macdonnell lived in St. Ives, Sydney and pursued his writing career. In 1988, he retired to Buderim on the Sunshine Coast in Queensland. He died peacefully in his sleep at a Buderim hospital in 2002. He is survived by his children Beth, Jane and Peter.Macdonnell’s naval stories feature several recurring characters – Captain “Dutchy” Holland, D.S.O., Captain Peter Bentley, V.C., Captain Bruce Sainsbury, V.C., Jim Brady, and Lieutenant Commander Robert Randall.

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It was a remarkable invention—a camera that could to take one brief, flash-lit shot of the night sea and discover with amazing clarity exactly what might be lurking out there in the darkness. But when the equipment was trialled aboard H. M. S. Wind Rode, it set in motion a chain of events that could only end in death. For there was a German submarine out there in the deeps, on its way to mine Jomard Pass and effectively cripple Allied shipping for the foreseeable future. Furthermore, its commander was a fanatical Nazi totally dedicated to his job.

But Peter Bentley was equally dedicated—dedicated to stopping the German from succeeding in his mission … and that’s when the deadly battle of wits began between destroyer and submarine really started …

J E MACDONNELL 12: KILLER SHIP

By J E Macdonnell

First published by Horwitz Publications in 1958

©1958, 2022 by J E Macdonnell

First Electronic Edition: July 2023

Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by means (electronic, digital, optical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

Published by Arrangement with the Author’s Estate

Series Editor: Janet Whitehead

Text © Piccadilly Publishing

Visit www.piccadillypublishing.org to read more about our books.

Author’s Note

THE NAME OF Doctor Edgerton is mentioned in this story because he is the inventor of stroboscopic light. However, there is no intention of claiming in actuality that one of his experiments was carried out in the area south of New Guinea, as is described herein. But experiments were carried out with his equipment against U-boats in the Atlantic, in Burma and other places, with considerable success.

Also—though the fact has never been publicised outside Service circles—German submarines did operate in Australian waters. U-862 sailed from Penang (then Japanese-occupied) to the coast of Australia, sinking a Liberty ship south of Sydney on Christmas Eve, 1944, and another ship some seven hundred miles west of Perth, at the beginning of January the following year.

Finally, I would like to state that the then-secret weapons whose purpose and operation are described throughout the book are no longer on the secret list.

Chapter One

A RED AND unclouded sun setting into a purple ocean looked with a fiery stare upon the submarine. Within the visibility radius of fifteen miles from her sombrely black bridge there was nothing else for the sun to shine upon. The sea itself, darkening, drew all about the low shape the uncompromising wheel of the horizon—except where, to the northward, an arc of the smooth weld of sea and sky was broken into a fanged edge by the stone teeth of New Guinea’s mountains.

The submarine was a large boat, one of Germany’s latest. Her fore-deck casing was not level, but swelled into a hammer-head of a nose; into each side of this, like elephantine ears, her two hydrophones fitted snugly. Her stem where it met the water was very fine, so that she ran along with two thin spurts of water curving upwards. These twin bow-waves ran aft and met the saddle-tanks which bulged her belly, and slipped over them in little catspaws of white foam.

A voice came from the bridge.

Starb’d twenty.

The voice was quiet, and the last syllable of the number was clipped off in a manner that imbued the order with a sense of assured and definite command. The man who uttered it was the captain Kapitanleutnant Gunther Kamenz, Iron Cross with Oak Leaves.

The helmsman below in the control room applied the wheel ordered and U-221 heeled a little as her angled rudder-face took effect. Kamenz put out one hand to the periscope standard to steady himself. He was under six feet tall, but immensely broad, with the neck and shoulders of a wrestler. His bullet head was covered with black hair cropped so close that at first sight it looked almost shaved. His features were hard, and his eyes were yellowish and very pale.

There was only one other man on the bridge with him, the lookout, Seaman Klaus. A blond man with the pale face of one who spent most of his time hidden from the sun, Klaus had his binoculars up and was sweeping the horizon with a keen and dutiful stare. But his mind was really concerned with the pleasure of breathing again the clean, sun-washed air of the surface. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the draughts with almost the physical sense of drinking, feeling the tight head-achy feeling ease behind the bridge of his nose. The U-boat had been submerged all day, and the potash-cartridges issued by Engineer Lemp were no compensation for what Klaus was breathing now.

Midships. Steer one-oh-five.

The captain’s voice brought Klaus back to a sense of his duty—he had already been reprimanded by the captain once on this commission, and once was enough. He cleared his throat to make sure his report would be clear and concise, for Kamenz was particular in that regard also, and reported;

"Nothing in sight, Herr Kapitan."

He would like to have added what good visibility there was in these southern latitudes, and what a fine night it promised to be, for Klaus was a gregarious man. He was also a cautious man, and he kept his mouth shut. Unless you had a report to make, you spoke to this captain when you were spoken to, and never before.

Kamenz grunted in answer to his lookout’s information, and bent his great shoulders towards the voice pipe which ran like an extended throat down to the control-room twenty feet below.

Commence charging the batteries, he ordered, and before he came upright he heard his first-lieutenant, Oberleutnant Kranzbuhler, repeat the order. Kamenz straightened up and turned at the same time, so that he caught Klaus’ vacant eyes on him.

Get on with your job! Kamenz snapped. There is nothing in sight now—does that mean there will always be nothing?

Klaus swallowed. "No, Herr Kapitan." He lifted his glasses hastily and continued his search. From beneath the big twin lenses he heard the captain say;

Commander Murimoto on the bridge.

Seaman Klaus knew that he should devote the whole of his attention to keeping a careful lookout. They had surfaced a few miles to the south of the south-eastern tip of New Guinea, not far from Jomard Passage, the narrow strait which opened into the northern route to Guadalcanal, Bougainville, New Britain and the big Allied naval base of Manus. This was extremely dangerous territory, liable to be crossed by both enemy aircraft and destroyers. Which was the main reason U-221 had surfaced only after a meticulous periscope search, and just before dusk. Seaman Klaus certainly should be keeping the most stringent watch with his binoculars here; he knew that, but still he could not stop his mind from wandering along the train of thought sparked by his captain’s words;

Commander Murimoto on the bridge.

Seaman Klaus had heard many orders passed down that voice-pipe since they had left Kiel months before, but they had all referred, when names had been mentioned, to Kranzbuhler, or Lemp, or Cremer, or Fleige, the ship’s officers. But Murimoto ...

Klaus’ eyes lingered a moment on a dark shadow on the slope of a wave, and decided it was only a shadow. Murimoto. This would be a cruise to remember, to talk about back in the submarine base. They were certainly the first U-boat to be sent so far East, and most definitely the first to carry a Japanese submarine captain as a guest, though the Jap had enjoyed none of the rest that is synonymous with the title ‘guest’. Almost since they had slipped away from the dockyard pier in Kure their passenger had spent every waking hour poking around the boat with the captain, both of them talking, of all languages, English. No doubt, Klaus had long ago decided, because that was the only language with which they were both conversant. Come to think of it, it would be strange to hear Kapitanleutnant Gunther Kamenz, one of the old Junker Prussians, gabbling in sing-song Japanese.

What they talked about Seaman Klaus had no idea, but it was obvious to all hands that this Japanese was being shown every secret U-221 possessed—and they were plenty! Much of the time he spent round the big mines which the boat carried lashed to the launching rails, with First-Lieutenant Kranzbuhler explaining the process of laying the spherical bulbs.

Seaman Klaus was no Einstein, but he did not need to be, to guess that the prime object of U-221’s entry into the Pacific arena was to instruct the Japanese on, one, minelaying, and two, in the refinements of submarine attack and evasion from escort ships. Klaus, though he had no really definite thoughts on the subject, vaguely disliked the idea of revealing to these monkey-men the secrets of Germany’s best scientific brains. And he guessed the rest of the crew felt the same. There had been, of course, no outspoken comment—of all the Reich’s armed forces, discipline was harshest and most strictly enforced in the underwater branch of the Reichsmarine.

Neither did Seaman Klaus know where they were bound to this particular mission. And certainly it was a particular mission. Four times during the long run south from Kure, U-221 had sighted fat targets—one of them had been an American aircraft-carrier which, though adequately escorted, would normally have drawn a salvo of the submarine’s explosive teeth. Yet the captain had lowered his periscope as soon as he had sighted the little fleet and had crept silently away down into the depths. And that was certainly not in the least like their glory-hunting captain, who had once, to Klaus’ personal knowledge, pressed his attack on an Atlantic convoy until he had got inside the British destroyer screen and slaughtered merchant ships right and left.

It was all very strange, but Seaman Klaus consoled himself with the thought that shortly he would know what their object was—it had to be fairly soon, for even the fuel of a large mine-laying boat like U-221 was not inexhaustible; and they had to get back to Kure.

He stiffened, and attentively searched the dimming horizon as he heard steps on the vertical ladder leading up from the control-room. The Jap had learned much in the past weeks—he could still learn something of the efficiency of a German sailor’s lookout.

Commander Murimoto, when he eased his shoulders through the hatch and climbed on the bridge, was not interested in the efficiency of German lookouts—he chose to be his own lookout. He had his binoculars with him, and before he spoke to Kamenz he swung the lenses carefully right round the horizon. The action—both of them searching together—made Seaman Klaus feel slightly ridiculous. But Kamenz seemed not to find anything unusual in his guest’s preoccupation. He waited till Murimoto had completed his sweep, his eyes idly on the other’s face. Commander Murimoto was shorter than the German, but he was built strongly. Under the binoculars his face was hard and capable. The Jap lowered his glasses and Kamenz said;

A fine night, Commander. We should get in a good run on the surface.

He had raised his voice a little above the clattering throb of the big twin diesels, which were pouring back into the banks of batteries the precious electricity the day’s submerged run had drained.

Murimoto turned his head slightly, though he did not look directly at Kamenz. His voice was hardly accented.

"You will run all night on the surface, Kapitan?"

Kamenz nodded. He felt no irritation at the question, even though it implied some doubt of the wisdom of his intention. Murimoto had proved himself an attentive and impressed pupil.

Yes, he said. We must be in position off Jomard in plenty of time for our exercise tomorrow night. He smiled, but the gesture merely pulled down the corners of his hard mouth. You think it unwise?

Murimoto’s head was still in that turned position, as if he had been listening attentively to what Kamenz had said. He smiled himself, carefully.

"To run all night on the surface, Kapitan? Who am I to advise? Except ... "

Yes? Kamenz’s voice was tolerant.

"Except that the enemy has good radar, Kapitan."

"So? I understand that any ships in this area are almost certain to be Australian. I do not think