[C38] FW: THE U-BOAT CAPTAIN WHO GAVE HIS VESSEL A SINKING FEELING

[Larry Malmberg]

Tom, are you telling us that for all the years he was Captain he only used
the head once?  BTW in 09 one of the delivery crew from HI to Long Beach
left the lever over in the wrong position on Hassle after docking in Long
Beach, the bilge pump wasn't working and she almost sank.  Had it not been
for our current Commodore Debbie, a live aboard, she would have.  A couple
of quick phone calls, lifeguards with pumps, and some real hollering by me
at the delivery Captain straightened it all out.  LOL  Just another Hassle
story.
 





Best regards,

Larry Malmberg
Team Hassle



  _____  

From: listserve-bounces at catalina38.org
[mailto:listserve-bounces at catalina38.org] On Behalf Of tdtron at earthlink.net
Sent: Thursday, July 19, 2012 3:54 PM
To: Catalina 38 forum
Subject: [C38] FW: THE U-BOAT CAPTAIN WHO GAVE HIS VESSEL A SINKING FEELING


The next time you cuss your marine toilet, think about this story.
 
Tom Troncalli
 
 

 







 

THE U-BOAT CAPTAIN WHO GAVE HIS VESSEL A SINKING FEELING.

 

The toilets in German wartime submarines were an engineering marvel, but
perhaps too complex for their own good.

 

THERE'S NOTHING quite like a good piece of engineering. But there's also,
sadly, nothing quite like the instruction manual that goes with it. In many
cases, the fault lies with an excitable (or lazy) translation from a
different language. Sometimes, however, it's simply down to the impenetrable
wall that can build up between an engineer and the people who use the
product.

If you were looking for a complicated manual then the Rigmarole Type VIIC
U-boat U-1206 manual would probably make the list. A magnificent piece of
engineering, 568 of this class prowled the world's oceans during the Second
World War. Not that U- 1206 had brought much terror. Since her launch in
December 1943, she hadn't sunk a single ship, although it was some comfort
to Captain Karl- Adolph Schlitt that neither had he lost a single crew
member.

 

It was now April 1945 and U-1206 was some 60m beneath the North Sea, 10
miles off Peterhead, hunting for British freighters. It was now that Captain
Schlitt made a decision that would change his and his crew's future forever.
He decided to go to the lavatory.

 

On the U-1206 few things were more complicated than the loo. The problems
were considerable. Whereas a sailor could go over the side, a soldier behind
a tree and a pilot could wait until he landed, a submariner couldn't just
nip outside. This problem did not daunt the engineers of the Kriegsmarine,
however, and they came up with a complex piece of equipment -the
high-pressure toilet. This marvel could be flushed while underwater but
required a complex series of valves to be opened and closed in exactly the
right order.

 

Indeed, so complex was the high-pressure toilet that it came with not only a
manual but also its own member of staff. On each boat, one crew member was
given training so that they could instruct the crew on how to safely spend a
penny, or pfennig in this case, while underwater.

What exactly happened in the moments after Captain Schlitt entered the
lavatory is a matter of debate. The first version of events, put forward by
the Captain himself, involved faulty equipment. The second, told by senior
crew members, involved faulty captaincy.

 

In the first rendering of events, Captain Schlitt finished his business and
swiftly operated the complex series of valves which flush the bowl in the
correct order. In the second, a nervous and slightly embarrassed captain
forgot how to operate the mechanism but, not wishing to look stupid in front
of his men, decided against calling out for help from the trained lavatory
supervisor and had a go at remembering as best he could - which wasn't very
well.

 

Either way, the result was the same. Levers were pressed, valves were opened
and gallons of high- pressure water from the bottom of the North Sea shot up
the u-bend, showering the captain in effluent and brine.

 

Being in a room with an exploding toilet would probably be enough to ruin
most people's day, but Captain Schlitt and his crew had the added
disadvantages of being underwater, in enemy territory and sitting on an
unfortunate piece of chemistry. Directly beneath the lavatory was the power
bay where the main batteries for the vessel were kept. When the seawater
began flooding this compartment, battery acid and brine formed deadly
chlorine gas.

 

In an enclosed space rapidly filling up with poisonous gas, Captain Schlitt
ordered an emergency surface. The boat shot up and the hatches were opened,
just in time to see a British coastal patrol plane arc overhead. As quickly
as possible, the boat was evacuated and the crew put in rubber life rafts.
As the plane aborted its run, perhaps seeing the trouble the vessel was in,
Captain Schlitt gave his last ever command as a U- boat captain - to open
the seacocks and scuttle his boat. He, and most of his crew, scrambled
ashore and were interned for the rest of the war, the victims of the only
submarine to be sunk by its own lavatory.

__,_._,___

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