Shadow Divers

In May 1993, Kohler and Chatterton returned to the wreck and found more artifacts, including an oxygen tank bearing the date April 1945, which provided additional insight. During this time, Nagle had serious health problems and his doctors warned him that any more drinking would kill him, but he continued to drink, and he died. Chatterton, though one of his closest friends, refused to attend the funeral. He told Kohler that he felt the man in the coffin was not Nagle; it was the man who killed Nagle. Kohler served as a pallbearer and was struck by the lightness of the coffin, a testament to Nagle’s severe decline in health.

After this, Chatterton received a letter from Robert Coppock, a British naval archivist whom Kohler had contacted earlier through Scotland Yard. Coppock had stumbled across some new information that he excitedly shared with his fellow detectives. U-869, the boat on which Horenburg had been the radioman, had originally been ordered to go to New York to patrol the waters of the East Coast. After it left port, new orders came in, directing the submarine to instead travel to Rabat, Morocco. U-869 never acknowledged the orders, which wasn’t unusual since radio communication could reveal a submarine’s position. However, Coppock believes that U-869 never received the orders at all, and continued on to the East Coast.

Newly galvanized, Chatterton returned to Washington, DC, to find all the information he could on U-869. He found records indicating that U-869 had been in a situation similar to that of U-857. A French vessel reported firing on a German ship near Gibraltar, but none of the French crew observed any signs of damage or distress or saw any wreckage. Despite the lack of evidence, this ambiguous event was later recorded as another probable sinking. Chatterton was no longer surprised by this type of “butchered history,” in which assessors tipped uncertain events in favor of a history of Allied victory. He informed Kohler of his findings: The submarine in question was likely U-869, Horenburg’s real ship.

This chapter diverts from the divers’ story, instead describing the known details about the commissioning of U-869. It disappeared on its inaugural voyage, so the time between its launch and its demise was a matter of weeks or even just days.

U-boats were staffed by soldiers with naval backgrounds but also by inexperienced volunteers and soldiers who had useful technical skills or backgrounds. One of the more experienced men aboard U-869 was Herbert Guschewski, who, despite his tender age of 22, was a veteran of three war patrols and a skilled radio operator. He worked with Martin Horenburg, his superior officer. Horenburg was a Funkmeister, or radio master. Their commander, Helmuth Neuerburg, was new to U-boats. He commissioned the boat by simply stating that it was commissioned. Guschewski reflected that this was a far cry from the beginning of the war, when U-boats were launched with great celebration. Now, the poverty of their surroundings and the grimness of the officers reflected the war’s turn for the worse.

Commander Helmuth Neuerburg, a naval cadet in the class of 1936, had once caused a stir by openly criticizing a fellow soldier’s antisemitic beliefs. He informed the soldier that he believed Hitler and the Nazis were causing Germany’s downfall. Although his friends begged him to keep silent, he only became more circumspect after marrying and having children. In 1943, the naval officers had the choice to join the air arm of the Navy or join the U-boats. The pilots would enter the conflict immediately, but U-boat commanders would get an extra year of training before having to enter combat. Neuerburg believed the war would be over by then, so he volunteered to command a U-boat. He still mentioned to his brother and his wife that he believed he would never return from submarine combat.

Neuerburg’s first mate, Siegfried Brandt, was an experienced and easygoing submariner that the crew liked. His chief engineer, Ludwig Kessler, was—at age 30—among the oldest in the crew. Another crew member, Franz Nedel, started out enthusiastic about the war and Hitler’s Nazi Party. However, in 1944, he mentioned to his fiancée that he, like Neuerburg, was sure he was never coming back. U-869 embarked at the end of January and indeed never came back to friendly shores.