As with
U-550,
the divers considered such a discrepancy to be explainable. As with
U-550,
the
U-521
remained undiscovered.
Divers called each other breathlessly to announce their findings: it is either
U-550
or
U-521—
no doubt about it.
Yurga sent a letter to the National Archives in Washington, D.C. He made this request: “I’d like all the information you have on U-boats, please,” then gave his name and address.
A week later, Yurga received a letter from an archivist.
“Mr. Yurga, we have forty-three linear feet of floor-to-ceiling shelves of U-boat documents. This does not include drawings, just text. Perhaps you might be interested in visiting here to do your research.”
For his part, Nagle had done a bit of research into
U-550
and
U-521.
He trembled with excitement as he digested these stories and processed their implications. Both U-boats had been reported sunk relatively close to the mystery wreck site. Neither U-boat had ever been found. To Nagle, this was proof that the submarine they had discovered was either
U-550
or
U-521.
He phoned Chatterton and asked him to drop by the
Seeker
after work.
Around dusk, Chatterton pulled into the Horrible Inn’s parking lot. Nagle was on the
Seeker
’s back deck, standing watch over the pile of research papers he had accumulated.
“John, come on board, you gotta see this,” Nagle called to him. “Are you ready for some stories?”
For the next hour, Nagle walked Chatterton through the sinkings of
U-550
and
U-521.
With each detail, Chatterton became more convinced that neither U-boat was the mystery sub. When Nagle finished, Chatterton shook his head.
“Bill, no way.”
“What do you mean, no way?”
“It’s not either of those U-boats.”
“The hell you mean? Why not?”
“Bill, look at the reported sinking location for
U-550.
It’s a hundred miles from our location. That is a huge distance—”
“The Allies must have gotten the location wrong,” Nagle interrupted. “It was the heat of battle. Someone made a mistake. A slip of the pen—”
“Didn’t happen, Bill. You’ve got three destroyers there. They agree on the location—look at these attack reports. Are you telling me that three separate warships made three separate but identical mistakes? Are you telling me these destroyers knew how to find Northern Ireland but couldn’t accurately record their location in American waters?”
Nagle breathed hard for a minute but said nothing. Chatterton shrugged his shoulders in apology. Nagle’s eyes grew angry.
“Well, then our wreck must be
U-521,
” Nagle said. “If it’s not the
550,
it’s the goddamned
521.
”
“It’s not the
521
either,” Chatterton said. “Again, we’re talking about a United States Navy ship relatively close to the coast. Are we supposed to believe that the navy can’t tell if they’re off Baltimore or Brielle? The navy can’t tell where they are? How can you be sixty miles offshore and not know where you are?”
The veins in Nagle’s forehead popped out.
“Okay, wiseass! Which U-boat is it then?”
“I don’t know, Bill. But I’m pretty damn sure it’s neither one of those.”
A few days later, Chatterton decided to take a trip. Chicago’s Museum of Science and Industry was the permanent home of
U-505,
a type IXC U-boat captured by the Allies off Africa in 1944. The submarine had been kept in pristine condition and was open to the public.
“I want to walk through the submarine and feel it,” Chatterton told his wife, Kathy. “I know nothing about U-boats. But I want to go inside, stand in it, and absorb things.”
The airlines demanded a fortune to fly midweek with no notice. Chatterton paid it. He would take a day off from work, stay in Chicago for several hours, then fly home the same night.
Chatterton arrived at O’Hare airport on Wednesday, September 18. Only three days remained until the
Seeker
’s return to the wreck site. He took a taxi to the gargantuan museum and followed
U-550,
the divers considered such a discrepancy to be explainable. As with
U-550,
the
U-521
remained undiscovered.
Divers called each other breathlessly to announce their findings: it is either
U-550
or
U-521—
no doubt about it.
Yurga sent a letter to the National Archives in Washington, D.C. He made this request: “I’d like all the information you have on U-boats, please,” then gave his name and address.
A week later, Yurga received a letter from an archivist.
“Mr. Yurga, we have forty-three linear feet of floor-to-ceiling shelves of U-boat documents. This does not include drawings, just text. Perhaps you might be interested in visiting here to do your research.”
For his part, Nagle had done a bit of research into
U-550
and
U-521.
He trembled with excitement as he digested these stories and processed their implications. Both U-boats had been reported sunk relatively close to the mystery wreck site. Neither U-boat had ever been found. To Nagle, this was proof that the submarine they had discovered was either
U-550
or
U-521.
He phoned Chatterton and asked him to drop by the
Seeker
after work.
Around dusk, Chatterton pulled into the Horrible Inn’s parking lot. Nagle was on the
Seeker
’s back deck, standing watch over the pile of research papers he had accumulated.
“John, come on board, you gotta see this,” Nagle called to him. “Are you ready for some stories?”
For the next hour, Nagle walked Chatterton through the sinkings of
U-550
and
U-521.
With each detail, Chatterton became more convinced that neither U-boat was the mystery sub. When Nagle finished, Chatterton shook his head.
“Bill, no way.”
“What do you mean, no way?”
“It’s not either of those U-boats.”
“The hell you mean? Why not?”
“Bill, look at the reported sinking location for
U-550.
It’s a hundred miles from our location. That is a huge distance—”
“The Allies must have gotten the location wrong,” Nagle interrupted. “It was the heat of battle. Someone made a mistake. A slip of the pen—”
“Didn’t happen, Bill. You’ve got three destroyers there. They agree on the location—look at these attack reports. Are you telling me that three separate warships made three separate but identical mistakes? Are you telling me these destroyers knew how to find Northern Ireland but couldn’t accurately record their location in American waters?”
Nagle breathed hard for a minute but said nothing. Chatterton shrugged his shoulders in apology. Nagle’s eyes grew angry.
“Well, then our wreck must be
U-521,
” Nagle said. “If it’s not the
550,
it’s the goddamned
521.
”
“It’s not the
521
either,” Chatterton said. “Again, we’re talking about a United States Navy ship relatively close to the coast. Are we supposed to believe that the navy can’t tell if they’re off Baltimore or Brielle? The navy can’t tell where they are? How can you be sixty miles offshore and not know where you are?”
The veins in Nagle’s forehead popped out.
“Okay, wiseass! Which U-boat is it then?”
“I don’t know, Bill. But I’m pretty damn sure it’s neither one of those.”
A few days later, Chatterton decided to take a trip. Chicago’s Museum of Science and Industry was the permanent home of
U-505,
a type IXC U-boat captured by the Allies off Africa in 1944. The submarine had been kept in pristine condition and was open to the public.
“I want to walk through the submarine and feel it,” Chatterton told his wife, Kathy. “I know nothing about U-boats. But I want to go inside, stand in it, and absorb things.”
The airlines demanded a fortune to fly midweek with no notice. Chatterton paid it. He would take a day off from work, stay in Chicago for several hours, then fly home the same night.
Chatterton arrived at O’Hare airport on Wednesday, September 18. Only three days remained until the
Seeker
’s return to the wreck site. He took a taxi to the gargantuan museum and followed
Similar Books
