Our War Offshore | Episode 2

When the big day came all the Beach Boys were excited. The word was out. There was a salvage crew at work offshore and the underwater divers and demolition team were due back at the docks around 5:00 PM.

We all knew about the Baja California and the War Offshore and the German U-boat that sank the British Honduran freighter west of Marco beach, but when we heard that an underwater salvage team was heading out to recover and bring to the surface the propeller of the ill-fated freighter, everyone wanted to see what a real-life undersea salvage team had brought to the surface, especially after 50 years under water. 

When the diving and salvage crew pulled into the old Marco River Marina (now Rose Marina) towing a giant bronze propeller on the inflated float bag used to raise the propulsion unit, everyone knew this was a real James Bond treasure seeking adventure. After all, there were underwater explosives used to free the giant wheel of a propeller, there were deep water divers rigging the explosives, and there was a crew of salvage experts knowledgeable about how to float and raise the old propeller. Adding to the excitement and the envy of the adventure was the knowledge that the crew also had a buyer lined up and were ready to sell the war relic for marine salvage cash.  

Long after the long-lost propeller came to the surface and arrived at the docks shining in the sunlight, the stories, and speculations of the War Offshore remained a topic of interest until the next even bigger discovery.

The German U-boats that were once the black wolves stalking the Gulf of Mexico have left a legacy of mystery, tragedy, and intrigue . . . and 56 sunken ships that still rest on the sandy seafloor today. Two of the ships sank during the war were torpedoed less than one hundred miles from Marco Island, and the second episode of this story tells another side and another point of view from the attacks on the water.

German submariners referred to the year of 1942 as the “happy times.” America was mobilizing fast and gearing up for the war against the Japanese, but the coastal defenses of the eastern seaboard and the Gulf of Mexico were not prepared for the long-range U-boat and a backyard naval war with Germany.

With the success of the U-boats obvious, the Gulf Sea Frontier Task Forces ordered coastal defenses strengthened and documented vessels conscripted and placed into submarine patrol service. The situation was so desperate; Commandant of the Coast Guard, Vice Admiral Russell Waesche, consulted with various yachting organizations to utilize small armed boats as submarine observation craft.

In Key West, Ernest Hemingway gathered machine guns, grenades, and a bazooka for his personal yacht, Pilar. As Captain, he routinely went on patrol, but only once saw a U-boat from a distance before the submarine submerged.

When entering the Olde Marco Inn and Bistro Soleil, mounted and framed scales of tarpon trophy fish are on display on either side of the restaurant entrance. Upon closer examination of the big silver scales, readers will observe the name of the fishing person, the date, and weight of the tarpon.

Between the years of 1942 and 1945, there are no trophy tarpon scales in the collection. This was not a time for fishing, but an era for coastal warriors to be out on U-boat patrol. Many on the fishing boats carried machine guns and underwater explosives.

Meanwhile, from the perspective of the other side of the conflict, a colorful story has surfaced about the behavior of a U-boat that was operating in the Florida straits and into the Gulf of Mexico.

Apparently, when this specific U-boat would discover a smaller ship not worth a torpedo, the submarine would surface alongside for an unusual altercation. The U-boat commander would come on deck with his gun crews and announce in perfect English:

“You have fifteen minutes to lower your lifeboats and get away from the ship. Do not attempt to use your radio as my radioman is listening and I will sink you immediately if I discover a call to report our position.”

When all the crew was off the doomed ship, the U-boat commander would then order the lifeboats to pull alongside the surfaced hull of the submarine. Many of the reports from the lifeboat crews were almost identical.

The U-boat commander would be wearing shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, with the only designation of military rank, his white officer’s cap. All the Germans that appeared on the surfaced submarine were also wearing shorts. The U-boat crew that operated the machine guns and the deck gun were shirtless with dark deep-water tans and when the captain was moving among his men, he appeared like a leading character directing a role in the movies.

When the lifeboats pulled up next to the U-boat, the commander with the Hawaiian shirt would hand out packs of cigarettes and sometimes offer a bottle of French brandy. On one occasion, he gave the stranded sailors a baked chocolate cake.

Before his crew with the deck guns began to shell and sink the abandoned ship, the U-boat commander would say, “Please don’t blame me or my crew for the loss of your ship; I’m just a naval officer doing my job and serving my country. For the actions today, blame Mister Roosevelt and Mister Churchill and have your shipping company send them the bill for the damages.”

As for the flamboyant U-boat commander who spared lives in the War Offshore, history does not identify him or his crew.

Horst Uphoff and the U-84 that torpedoed the Baja California west of Marco on July 19, 1942, was sunk with all hands by aircraft bombs in the North Atlantic in August of 1943.

Adolf Cornelius Piening and the U-155 that sank the Gulfstate south of Marco survived the war and returned to Germany.

Of the 40,000 German submariners that went to sea in U-boats, 30,000 were lost and never returned home.