Chapter 15: The Crushing Depth

Chapter 14: The Crushing Depth

The roar of the destroyer's propellers was so close that it vibrated through the hull of U-534. Muller could feel it in his bones, a grim reminder of how close they had come to annihilation. His hands were clenched tight, knuckles white as he surveyed the silent control room. They had just missed collision, but the real threat had only just begun.

"Scheiß Engländer," Muller muttered, his voice thick with frustration and a rare flash of fear. "They've surprised us, those sly bastards. We should have been ready for this." His words cut through the tense silence, and the crew exchanged uneasy glances. 

Then came Robert's frantic shout, cutting across the air like a blade: "Depth charges!" The words barely escaped his lips before the first explosion rocked the boat, shaking them with a force that seemed capable of tearing the U-boat apart.

Muller barked out orders, his voice carrying a sense of urgency that pushed the men into action. "Chief, take us deeper—now!"

As the boat angled sharply downward, another blast hit them from above, a violent eruption that sent men stumbling, clinging to pipes and levers to keep themselves from being tossed around like rag dolls. Plates, cans, and even books flew across the compartment, clattering to the ground in a chaotic mess. The men grunted and cursed, their bodies crashing into each other as they fought to stay upright.

The third depth charge struck with deadly precision, a direct hit that rattled the entire vessel. The lights flickered, then died, plunging them into near darkness as the emergency red lights flickered back on. For a heartbeat, everything was quiet, as if the sea itself were holding its breath.

"Silence!" Muller commanded, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of a scream. "All engines off. Switch to silent running."

The Chief Engineer's voice trembled as he relayed the orders, shutting down every auxiliary system that wasn't essential. The constant hum of the machinery faded, replaced by an eerie silence that only seemed to amplify the tension. U-534 hovered in the depths, now a ghost ship, drifting quietly and hoping to slip through the destroyer's grip.

The hydrophone operator's voice was a strained murmur, almost drowned out by the men's shallow breathing. "Target bearing one-two-zero… Second target at two-two-five."

Muller didn't need to be told what that meant. He could feel the asdic pings—sharp, distinct, relentless—striking their hull like invisible arrows. Each ping felt like a countdown, a merciless reminder of the enemy above, closing in for the kill.

A young sailor's muffled sob broke the stillness. Another man whispered a quick prayer, clutching a pipe as if it could save him from the forces of the ocean bearing down on them. Muller's eyes met those of his officers, all of them reflecting the same steely resolve, the same unspoken fear. They were veterans, but the terror of being hunted was always the same, no matter how many times they had faced it.

Just then, the destroyer loomed above them, and with it came the unmistakable sound: the splash of depth charges hitting the water. One. Two. Three. Each one an omen, a promise of destruction.

The explosions hit astern, sending shockwaves through the hull. The boat lurched violently, metal groaning under the strain. Somewhere, a light bulb shattered, raining glass onto the men below. But they barely flinched, too focused on survival to care about the small cuts and bruises.

Muller seized the moment, his voice a low, commanding growl. "Both full ahead together!" he ordered. "Hold your breath, sailors! This isn't over yet."

The engines roared to life, cutting through the water with a renewed sense of purpose. They surged forward, escaping the blast zone just as another set of charges exploded behind them, the concussive force rattling the boat but missing their mark. The U-boat groaned but held steady, refusing to surrender to the depths.

 U-534 crept silently through the abyss, carrying its crew deeper into the dark, uncertain waters of the Atlantic.