Our story of a SCUBA diving trip made in the Atlantic Ocean on a sunken WWII German submarine continues.

I was swimming along the bottom near the hull of the Papoose (a U.S. tanker sunk during WWII by the German submarine U-124) when I came upon a big hole in the side of the ship. Schools of fish were streaming out of this hole as though being shot out of a fire hose. That was strange. Just as I thought about swimming across the opening, a huge shark leisurely, but powerfully, swam out of the hole and turned away from me. Wow! It was so close I could see the small round pupil of its eye as it went past. A lot of exciting things happened on this dive, but that's another story. Eventually, I made four dives on this wreck and became comfortable with the sharks. However, over the last couple of years I have heard of divers being bitten by sharks while on this wreck. They were spear fishermen who were hanging their bloody catch on their belts. Luckily, none were seriously hurt. Tragically, last summer a man and woman died on this wreck when they ran out of air at depth. I can understand how this might happen. The water is warm and clear and the depth is deceiving. On one dive I found myself 130 feet down and 200 feet from the mooring line with only 900 p.s.i of air in my tank. I was much more cautious after that.

After getting back on the boat, a head count was conducted before we got under way. I saw that one of the crew had to take a dive scooter and retrieve a diver who was drifting away downwind. We changed gear, worked on our cameras, and relaxed as the captain motored slowly over to the wreck of the U-352.

When we reached the site of the U-352, I had time to watch the crew's procedure upon arriving at the wreck. When over the wreck, a diver from the boat's crew dove in the ocean in full diver's gear, including a surface communication headset. Amazingly, he had a hold of the anchor when he jumped in. Once on the bottom, the diver talked to the boat's captain and guided him exactly over the wreck. The diver then found a good mooring spot on the wreck and tied the anchor firmly to the wreck. With a mooring line into the wreck, the crew then lowered weights and lines over the side of the boat. Also lowered over the side, were extra regulators hooked to 100 percent oxygen tanks. The diver coming back up from hooking the anchor, stopped and arranged a hang line all the way around the perimeter of the boat at exactly 20 feet down. When finished, he boarded the boat. When ready to leave, another diver would do the unhooking procedure.

After this was accomplished, the boat's captain, who happened to be the discoverer of the U-352 - Mr. George Purifoy, called our attention to a chalkboard mounted on the front bulkhead. He sketched out the wreck, showed where the mooring line was attached, and described the current, temperature, and diving conditions. He emphasized we were to hit the water and go head first for the current line at 20 feet down. Strong surface currents would pull us away from the boat if we remained on the surface. He asked if there were any questions and reminded us to shout out our head count number as we jumped in the water. Again, some divers decided not to dive in the rough conditions. That was their choice and was a good call on their part. No one looked down on anyone who decided not to dive. Frankly, I wasn't sure if the guy sitting next to me was still alive, until he raised his head and groaned. I have to give him credit though. No one who was sick went to the captain and demanded to be taken ashore. They knew this would ruin the trip for everyone and they bravely stuck it out.

Suited up, I crawled and staggered to the table to get my camera. From there, it was a short lurch over to the exit opening in the side of the boat. I was surprised to see Purifoy already suited up and standing there. I held his crowbar as he adjusted his equipment. I handed it back to him when he was ready and watched him clip it to this weight belt. Since he was still holding his diving mask in his right hand, I started to say something to him. I was amazed when he dove in still holding his mask and disappeared from view. It takes a very confident and experienced diver to do that, and I had never seen it done before. (At the end of his dive, he showed me a German Luger pistol he had just found inside the sub. The handgrips fell off when he handed it to me, but otherwise it was well preserved by being buried in the silt.) When ready, I turned directly facing the water and looked down. It seemed like a six-foot drop to the water, but probably was less. I quickly realized that because of the rough water the height was varying greatly. The correct procedure was to time the waves so the drop would be as short as possible. I also worried that I was weighted correctly and that all the air was out of my buoyancy compensator, so I would not pop to the surface. Calling out my number, I clutched my camera and dropped over the side. Then I remembered something the first mate had said earlier, "Getting off a boat in rough water is easy. The hard part is getting back on." More on that later.

I hit the water hard and started kicking immediately while aiming downward for the hang line at 20 feet. Once there, I stopped and checked over my equipment. The water was very clear, but I could not see the submarine, which was resting on the bottom, 110 feet down. As I continued to descend I realized the sub was obscured by huge schools of fish. Getting closer, the fish moved away and the sub came into view. It was a sight that sent a chill up my spine. Even after being on the bottom for almost 50 years, and the subsequent deterioration of the wreck, it still looked like a silent deadly killer. It must be remembered that during the six months following the Dec. 7, 1941, attack at Pearl Harbor and the subsequent war against the Axis powers, the U.S. left the east coast and Gulf of Mexico virtually unprotected. German U-boats accounted for losses of 397 ships and nearly 5,000 lives in these areas during that period.

I was at the sub's stern looking forward and could see to the conning tower. To me, the wreck had the look and shape of a shark. This was awesome. The sub lay heeled over with about a 65 degree starboard list. About 75 percent of the outer hull and decking were missing. This was due to the marine environment and the sub's repeated depth charging. The pressure hull was intact and looked in good shape. Since I was at the stern, I dropped down to examine the rudders and rear diving planes. As I was looking at the port prop shaft, which was missing its propeller, a group of large Atlantic spadefish moved in around me. I was able to snap a couple of nice photos of them. While doing this I turned away from the wreck. That's when I saw a huge turtle gliding in from the gloomy distance and swimming toward me. His shell was easily 36 inches across. He was being pestered by some large amberjacks, and he quickly moved out of sight. Turtles may be slow on land, but are very quick underwater.

Turning back toward the ship and going forward, I passed the far aft torpedo loading hatch. Moving along, I came to the aft loading hatch and the galley hatch. Here I stopped and took a look inside. I had been told what to look for and was excited when I saw the electric cook stove on the high side of the interior. This stove was used to cook all the meals for the German crew. Stretching for a better look, I could see the doorway to the engine room. I could see that the sub's interior had a thick layer of silt on its bottom, and I was not going to attempt a penetration dive. The opening looked so small I was sure I would have to remove my tanks to get inside.

I continued on and passed an opening, which was the outside storage compartment. Looming above and in front of me was the conning tower. To me this was the most exciting part of the wreck. Everyone recognizes the classic shape of a sub's conning tower cutting through the water. This one looked somewhat different. Part of the exterior shell of the tower was missing. There was metal debris lying on the sandy bottom, and this may have been part if it. I saw four tubes extending upward from the tower base. I knew that one of them was the attack periscope. As I moved in for a closer look, I noticed that the upper conning tower hatch was open. Looking down into it, the lower hatch was also open and some of the equipment inside the subs control room was visible. This was very exciting to me. This is where most of the crew would have tried to exit during the sinking. It must have been a terrifying time for them. I was somewhat familiar with the interiors layout, because I had been inside a U.S. WWII sub while visiting Hawaii and had climbed from the control room up into the conning tower.

We will continue this dive next month.

Copyright © 2005 Ron Burkhard