Text, photography and video by
Curt Bowen / Publisher Advanced Diver Magazine
Edit by Jennifer Bowen
Standing on the metal deck of the German U-boat, the commander whispers to his crew, “It’s a perfect night for ship hunting”. There was just a sliver of the new moon creating a faint glimmer of light across the calm seas. Several days of no wind had calmed the Atlantic off the coast of North Carolina to almost glass smooth.
The type IXB German submarine was creeping forwards ever so slowly, under the almost pitch black night sky. The crew couldn’t hear any other sound except for the low hum of the sub’s electric motor.
“All stop,” the commander hollers down the open hatch. As the sub slows to a standstill, the captain walks over towards the edge, peering down to the waterline lapping against the U-boats hall. “Dead calm,” he says to his crew. “Watch for the slightest change in the waves”. As the crew scans the surface, an ever so light ripple rocks the sub a few degrees. “There it is, a ship somewhere off our starboard side.” “All we have to do now is listen for the noise of its engine.”
“I don’t like this. It’s too calm. We are sitting ducks out here. We need some wind and waves to break this silence”. says Captain of the Papoose, Roger Zalnick. The Papoose is a 412ft fuel supply ship heading north to Providence, Rhode Island, to pick up a load of fuel oil to help supply the allied troops in Europe.
Tensions run high as the crew intensely gaze off into the darkness, looking for any shadow lurking in the calm waters. “Full Ahead,” the captain instructs. As one of his crew shifts the telegraph into position. Following the advice of the US Naval Routing Center, the ship should zig zag as close as possible to the shore and move quickly through the “Torpedo Junction”. An area just offshore of North Carolina know for heavy German U-boat activity.
A faint rumble of a ship’s engines off in the darkness reaches the U-124 crew as they sit motionless on the submarine’s deck, ears straining for any man made noise. “All below deck,” commands the Commander. Sliding quickly down the ladder, the last crewman closes the sub’s hatch, locking it tightly closed. “Dive 10 meters, up periscope,” the Commander orders as he pulls down the handles and stares into the scope.
Water drains off the glass as the scope reaches above the surface as the commander spins the eyepiece into the general direction of the ship’s engine sounds. All is dead quiet in the submarine as the Commander scans the darkness for an approaching ship. Minutes pass as the crew await for orders. A faint silhouette of a ship’s bow appears off in the distance through the scope, headed straight towards the waiting submarine. The Commander orders, “Load tubes one and two!”
“Speed is our only hope”, says the Captain of the Papoose as he commands the ship to turn 30 degrees to the port. The first mate swings the wheel hard to port as the ship turns swiftly. Seems to me, this Zig-Zag pattern is costing us precious time, the Captain thinks to himself.
Eyes straining in the periscope, the Commander of the U-124 waits patiently for the ship to come within the 2000 preferred meter target range. “2500 meters, stay on course,” the Commander hollers. “2100 meters, prepare to fire tube 1”. Suddenly, the ship turns sharply to port. Surprised, “She must have seen us, hard to starboard, quickly before we lose her”! the Commander commands. The jump of the submarine’s motors churns the dead calm waters behind the submarine, creating a large white swirl of sea foam on the surface.
“German sub” cries a crewman of the Papoose as he points towards the large white plume on the water’s surface. “60 Degrees hard to port” commands the Captain in an attempt to place his stern towards the submarine. Eyes filled with fear, the crew scramble to the outer decks, searching the surface for incoming torpedos.
Eyes glued to the scope as the U-124 turns quickly towards the escaping ship, the Commander screams, “2000 meters, Fire tube 1”! He knew he had only one slim chance before the ship would be completely out of range. The waters fill with a large air injection as the scream of the torpedo echoes through the hall of the submarine.
“Torpedo incoming”! screams a crew member as he braces for impact. The white deadly path of the torpedo slightly misses the stern as it roars along the side of the ship. “Hard to starboard!” hollers the Captain, in a last-ditch attempt to move the bow away from the threatening torpedo. Unfortunately, the torpedo strikes the port side of the ship just forward the pilothouse. An enormous explosion and the deafening sound of ripping metal rocks the Papoose. “Abandon ship,” the Captain commands.
A blinding fireball fills the periscope lense as the Commander yells “10 degrees to port, full ahead” we need to get closer!, as he quickly attempts to reposition the U-boat for a deadly engine room target.
Scrambling to the sides of the burning ship, the crew lower the lifeboats to escape the now floundering ship.
“Fire Tube 2!” screams the Commander as the second torpedo launches from the submarine.
Oars in the water, the frantic crew of the Papoose push their life boats from the side of the ship when the second torpedo smashes into the ship’s stern. A massive explosion splinters the side of the vessel, knocking several of the escaping crew from their lifeboats and into the churning waters. Fire engulfs the engine room as the ship quickly rolls onto its damaged side, narrowly missing the lifeboats.
Watching the fatal blow of torpedo number 2 through the scope, the Commander hollers, “Down periscope, all full 180 degrees, 100 meters”. He knew he must escape the area as quick as possible as the explosion will draw in multiple enemy vessels searching for his submarine.
Scrambling to pull their wounded crew members back over the edge and into the lifeboats, they oar as hard as they can to clear themselves from the edge of the burning ship. Fire and smoke erupt from the Papooses fuel tanks as the ship rolls over. Within a few minutes, the remaining fuel on the water’s surface burns out, leaving the crew clinging to their lifeboats in total darkness.
On my way home from work one day, I stopped at Hamilton Meats. A local butcher shop here in Johnson City, Tennessee, to pick up some three bone Dino ribs for my smoker and to shoot the shit with the owner Brian Hamilton, one of my CCR dive buddies.
As most of my dive stories start, it began with “I’m bored and need to get wet”. Brian came up with some really nice international dive locations such as cave exploration in the Bahamas with Brian Kakuk, fun drift CCR diving in Cozumel, or deep lake exploration in the Peru mountains. I laughed and said “How about something a little closer such as wreck diving off North Carolina”? Of course the answer from Brian was “Set it all up and I’ll go”.
While browsing through a few rebreather diving Facebook groups, several members suggested contacting Captain Kevin Littleton of Salty Dog Diving.
The initial contact is always a little awkward and typically goes like this.
“Hello Captain, I got your name off the internet. I would like to charter your boat to do some rebreather wreck diving. Nothing over 120 minutes per dive. Simple stuff.”
Then the typical reply is “And who are you and do you have the training?”
After the chest beating, c-card showing, and name throwing was over, we had to decide on a date and a price.
Rebreather divers Dave Kelly, John Howard and Greg Melzak join Brian Hamilton and myself along with Captain Kevin Littleton at the marina in Beaufort, North Carolina.
Because of the 75 mile round trip off shore our plan was to conduct a single 120 minute total dive time on the wreck of the Papoose at a maximum depth of 120 feet.
Loading our rebreather equipment on the 35 foot dive vessel, the Kelly Lynn we get comfortable for the two-hour run out to the wreckage. Once on site, the Captain and first mate set the anchor into the wreckage as the team prepares for the dive.
When descending the anchor line, the wreckage becomes visible at around 50 feet. At first I noticed the amazing amount of schooling fish covering the entire structure. Tens of thousands of small fish dart back and forth as larger predator fish like horse eyed jack, amberjacks and black grouper scurry off from the approaching divers.
When the torpedo from the U-124 struck the Papoose, it ripped a large hole in its side, causing the ship to roll over. The wreck stayed afloat upside down for a couple of days before it finally sank, crushing most of the superstructure under the hull. Over 80 years on the seafloor, the storms of Father Time and Mother Nature have continued to cause it to collapse.
Swimming towards the stern, there is a large hole leading into the engine room area where closer inspection you can see a boiler, broken catwalks, engine pipes, and the drive shaft along with schools of Jack’s darting in and out of the twisted steal. Rounding the stern, the rudder post rises thirty feet above the sand. The rudder itself has fallen off the post along with the now missing prop, obviously salvaged for its value in brass. Scanning off the stern across the flat sand, a large sandbar shark moves in to investigate why I’m not making any bubble sounds. Even for a large predator, the shark shy away as I attempt to move in closer for better footage.
Continuing around the wreckage, multiple large black grouper dart along the sand and disappear under pieces of twisted metal. Ahead, I see Brian and Dave hovering, looking out into the sand at several large Sand Tiger Sharks cruising along the side of the ship. Sand tiger sharks look very frightening with their mouths full of jagged teeth, but are typically pretty docile and fun to film.
Returning to the Papoose, I find another large hole in the hull just about midship. Adjusting the brightness on my dual Big Blue 24,000 lumen video light to full power, I squeeze through an opening and into the wreckage. Once inside, I find myself in a very large upside down space with lots of old pipes, broken metal and thousands of fish. Several holes in the structure allow light to beam in from the outside as the large schools of fish circle in and out of the darkness.
Exiting through another large hole, I continue towards the ship’s bow. The bright colors and obvious shape of several large lionfish catch my eye as I pass. Ahead, I can see CCR divers John Howard and Greg Melzak inspecting the large coral encrusted anchor still in locked in its hawser hole. As I descend to the sand in front of the bow, I see several large stingrays scanning the sandy floor for food.
My dive computer says it’s been ninety minutes and I have around 30 minutes of decompression to complete. Making my way back to the up-line, I again meet up with the rest of the team as we begin our slow ascent back to the surface and the end of another great wreck dive.
The papoose is just one of over a couple dozen wrecks off the shore of Beaufort, many with their own historic tale to tell. If you wish to visit the Papoose or any of the other local wrecks, contact Captain Kevin Littleton and Salty Dog Diving.
