BATTLE OF THE ATLANTIC: Death & Bombast

Last spring reporters were told by U.S. officials that the submarine menace would definitely subside after July 1.

On May 27 David Ignatius Walsh, chairman of the Senate Naval Affairs Committee, announced that the submarine danger had been “considerably checked and will be increasingly checked with the new plans.”

During the week of July 12, big-laughing Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox laughed off newsmen with optimistic noises. In that very same week, more Atlantic shipping was sunk than in any other week since Nazi Admiral Doenitz (TIME, Feb. 2) launched his well-prepared undersea attack.

To Vice Admiral Doenitz went a telegram of congratulation from Germany’s top sea lord, Admiral Erich Raeder. The telegram stated that total United Nations shipping sunk in all theaters in six months amounted to 616 ships—nearly 4,000,000 tons—most of it in American waters. This meant that not fewer than 20,000 seamen had been dumped into the ocean.

In Washington, the War Shipping Administration announced last week that sinkings have greatly exceeded new construction. WSA ordered deep cuts in imports & exports. Example: 85% less bananas.

Whether a reduction in U.S. official and semi-official bombast would equal the banana reduction remained to be seen. Floridians last week were particularly sensitive. They had seen ships sunk within a few miles of the coast. At one time two burning tankers were in view.

Even more disturbing in Florida were reports that confusion and mismanagement still hampered anti-submarine operations, in two instances causing a one-hour lag between the moment a U-boat was spotted and the time bombers or ships were dispatched to the scene. Meanwhile, there was no letup in the stream of haggard survivors into eastern ports, each with his tale. . . .

Kind Commander. A black-hulled U-boat, its conning tower decorated with a goat insignia, surfaced near two seamen swimming amid wreckage from their torpedoed cargo ship. Hauled aboard, Cornelius O’Connor, 19, and Raymond Smithson, 24, were given a tin cupful of rum by a fat officer in the conning tower. Suddenly a U.S. patrol plane appeared in the distance. O’Connor and Smithson were pushed down into the control room while the U-boat made a crash dive. Blindfolded, they were marched toward the torpedo room, where German seamen sponged off the oil coating the rescued men. They were given tea and black bread, questioned by the commander in perfect English. Two hours later the submarine surfaced, put the two seamen aboard a raft with water, hardtack and instructions to head south.

Evil Commander. Captain Madsen and 38 men abandoned ship when three torpedoes ripped into their Norwegian vessel, virtually splitting it in two. Near by a U-boat surfaced. Its commander shouted the usual questions, demanded the ship’s name, its cargo and destination. When Captain Madsen refused to give the enemy information, the Nazis cut loose with a machine gun, wounding Madsen in the arm.

Dead Men. Those who are drowned tell no tales.