The Mystery of U-33

Serialisation of the book by Nigel Graddon, author of UFOs, Aliens and the Fairy Kingdom and Celtic Tales of Evil and Wonder.

Episode 1 |

Synopsis

THE MYSTERY OF U-33: HITLER'S SECRET ENVOY

On the surface, the story of German submarine U-33 is a tragic but standard World War II footnote—a Type VII U-boat destroyed in the Firth of Clyde in February 1940. But beneath the frigid Scottish waters lies a web of espionage, cover-ups, and Nazi secrets that defied the official historical record.

Why did Adolf Hitler and Admiral Dönitz personally bid farewell to this specific crew? Why was a secret forest banquet thrown in their honor? And who were the phantom passengers aboard—men scrubbed from the official Kriegsmarine logs and buried under hushed, heavily guarded circumstances in a Greenock cemetery?

From whispers of mythological artifacts and the shadowy fate of SS occultist Otto Rahn, to covert drops of Nazi agents and secret connections to Deputy Führer Rudolf Hess's bizarre flight to Scotland, The Mystery of U-33 peels back the rusted hull of history. Packed with meticulous research, unredacted diaries, and startling new evidence, this is a clarion call to uncover the truth of a doomed "suicide mission" that the British and German governments wanted buried forever.

The truth didn't sink with the ship. It’s waiting to be found.

Preface

Like one,

Who having, into truth, by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,

To credit his own lie

Otto Rahn pointed a finger at the wake of U-33. By 2001 I had been researching the fabled German Grailhunter for six years, gingerly scraping away the accumulated cavern dust that had concealed his treasure seeking activities in the South of France and ancient European power centres during the 1930s.

Rahn was born 18 February 1904 in Michelstadt, the son of Karl Rahn, a civil servant, and his wife Anna. He grew up in a middle-class environment and developed an early interest in mythology, medieval history and legends of the Holy Grail. Rahn studied law, philology and Germanic literature at universities in Giessen, Heidelberg and Freiburg im Breisgau, though he never completed a formal doctorate. During these years, he became increasingly fascinated by Grail traditions and medieval heresies.

In the 1930s, Rahn explored caves and remote sites in southern France, particularly in the Languedoc region, searching for traces of the Holy Grail. He believed the Grail was not a physical object but a spiritual symbol connected to the medieval Cathars, focusing especially on Montségur as a key location. His ideas attracted Heinrich Himmler, head of the SS, who supported and directed Rahn’s expeditions as part of broader efforts to uncover mythological and religious artifacts tied to Nazi ideology. By 1939, Rahn had fallen out of favour, reportedly due in part to his sexuality. Under pressure and facing persecution, he died in the Austrian Alps, widely believed to have been a coerced suicide connected to the authority of Himmler.

In the mid-1990s, I heard a whisper from an informed source that Rahn did not die in the Wilder Kaiser Mountains, and that the subsequent particulars of his secret life and the activities of U-33 in the early stages of the war were linked. That was the full extent of the lead but in 2001, never one to dismiss a potential line of enquiry, I made a tentative start in reviewing the records of U-33, not seriously imagining that there would be any worthwhile return from the effort invested in the exercise.

One of my first actions was to contact the U-Boot-Archiv in Cuxhaven (Altenbruch) in Germany, a superb resource and museum run with the help of unpaid volunteers by its founder, Herr Horst Bredow who served as Watch Officer on U-288.[2] Not long afterwards I received a package of material. It contained a sheaf of items on U-33 and a trove of additional supporting material including various maps, charts, photos and Kriegsmarine records.

I learned that U-33 had met its nemesis in HMS Gleaner on 12 February 1940, having spent the preceding six months wreaking havoc in two successive excursions in British waters, sinking eleven ships in the process. These were interesting facts of historical record but none provided any clue to any aspects of U-33’s operations that one might term out of the ordinary.

Nevertheless, there were two items in the package that did grab my attention and which drove a more strenuous programme of research in a subsequent nine-year period. Herr Bredow had included copies of newspaper articles published in 1985 by the Largs and Millport Weekly News, a provincial newpaper serving the two North Ayrshire towns and surrounding areas, Largs being situated on the Firth of Clyde mainland faced by Millport across the water on Great Cumbrae.

Editor John McCreadie had written two articles, published a few weeks apart, in his “Out and About” column, concerning an event he dated as February 1940. Local (Firth of Clyde) residents claimed it had taken place at the mouth of the Clyde Anchorage (the “Tail of the Bank”). More precisely, the Largs and Millport Weekly News’ claims stipulated that the event took place in mid-February, a time period closely proximate to the date when U-33 was sunk by HMS Gleaner, thirty-five miles to the southwest by Arran. This was unexpected and exciting news.

The circumstances surrounding this alleged event and one of like nature and location reported by various parties to have occurred in November 1939 are the foundation for these investigations. One does not have to labour to marshal the facts about U-33; in time they present themselves. In some ways the riddles surrounding U-33 can be described as a provocative footnote to the account of Otto Rahn’s life but the story (or rather U-33’s untold story) is a page-turner in its own right and deservedly so. The receipt of Herr Bredow’s package dropped a depth charge upon my growing indifference to U-33’s relatively minor placement in WWII history. Its arrival kindled a sense purpose for a task not felt since embarking upon the Rahn research in 1995.

Every instinct told me that there was a headline story about U-33 that would not see the light of day until repeated dives brought it piece by piece to the surface.

Naturally, there is interest in U-33 among many other parties. One thing that struck me right at the start of my investigations was the global, intense interest in U-boat lore and history. It is a hugely important topic for countless enthusiasts. Many of these fans and aficionados were enormously helpful to me, a U-boat novice, in providing information, thoughts and opinions about countless questions. That help was invaluable.

But as the research expanded into new tributaries of enquiry, revealing aspects about U-33 that increasingly shocked and excited in equal measure, I noticed a growing trend among some quarters to adopt a policy of “radio silence” upon further commentary or assistance.

Like morning mist upon the Clyde an air of reluctance fell upon U-33 and its secrets. Had it been ruefully observed, perhaps, that long concealed facts about the boat and its final mission, which had been supposed would remain hidden were coming to light? But to one standing back, with a sense of detachment, what did it matter if an enthusiastic naïf had stumbled across a few facts about U-33 unrecorded by history? So what, for example, if there were more people buried from U-33 than was evident from the crew list? Were not side-stories such as these little more than insubstantial geegaws of fact, adding little or nothing to an understanding of Second World War naval history? What possible harm could come from presenting a more complete story about U-33 for public debate and scrutiny?

Nevertheless, decades after the event there still appeared to be a distinct nervousness in some circles about public dissemination of the true circumstances surrounding events in the Firth of Clyde in the early months of the war. The question bubbles to the surface and floats uncomfortably. Just what is the nature of the threat in the twenty-first century posed by exorcising the elderly ghost of U-33?

In the Rahn biography I offered the opinion that the medievalist’s ultimate destiny was intrinsically connected with international political and esoteric activity during and after WWII. Having reflected upon it at length, I believe that U-33 occupies a key nodal point along these geopolitical pathways. I believe, too, that it is linked in ways not yet fully understood with other significant subsequent events in Scottish twentieth century wartime history, principally Rudolf Hess’ flight to Scotland in May 1941 and the Sunderland seaplane crash on Eagle’s Rock, Caithness, in August 1942. These synergies are explored in this revised edition.

In the following pages we shall review U-33’s beginnings and its first incursions into British waters, before moving on to make a forensic investigation of the submarine’s forays into Scottish waters and their truly remarkable consequences.

Introduction

I’ll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I’ll drown my book

There are no features of the historical account of U-33’s final voyage which, at first glance, warrant the “mystery” tag in its re-telling in the twenty-first century.
U-33 came to the lower reaches of the Firth of Clyde in February 1940 intent on laying mines to destroy British shipping. Sinking enemy vessels was what U-boats did. It was their operational imperative.

In keeping with this prime directive, U-33’s Commandant, Kapitänleutnant (Kplt) Hans-Wilhelm von Dresky, was under orders from Konteradmiral (Rear Admiral) Karl Dönitz to inflict maximum damage upon the enemy. Von Dresky and his crew, forty-two dedicated professional fighting men, were loyal to that objective. On this occasion, the aura of impermeability that had protected the submarine while sinking eleven ships during two prior patrols in British waters since August 1939 drained into the freezing cold depths of the Clyde.

U-33’s practice of veni, vidi, vici stopped short of completing the objectives of its third patrol on 12 February 1940. Instead, it was the British who did the conquering and twenty-five brave men of the Kriegsmarine (the name given to the German Navy between 1935 and 1945) lost their lives, reportedly off the Isle of Arran.

The only factor of note surrounding the sinking of U-33 was the recovery of parts from the boat’s Enigma code machine. Had von Dresky’s order been obeyed faithfully, Obermaschinensmaat (Chief Mechanic) Friedrich Kumpf would not have reportedly stuffed three Enigma rotors in his trouser pockets to be found by the British after his rescue from the Firth of Clyde.

But the fine silt around U-33’s hull that denies curious divers today clear visibility of the wreck has also served to mask other tantalising features of its Scottish travails for eighty-five years.

In the mid-1980s Firth of Clyde citizens began to express beliefs that the February 1940 U-Boat incident took place not by Arran but thirty-five miles to the northeast in the closely packed and heavily defended Clyde Anchorage.

These opinions, running contrary to the official record, were aired extensively in the Largs and Millport Weekly News, championed by its enthusiastic editor, John McCreadie.

In 2001 I obtained copies of two invaluable articles written by McCreadie on the topic in which the main bodies of text were verbatim eyewitness accounts of the U-boat that had passed through the boom defences. These two pieces, in turn, referred to other associated articles but initial enquiries were unsuccessful in tracking them down.

McCreadie prefaced his reports about the U-boat that tricked its way through the wartime defences in the anchorage by dating its occurrence in mid-February 1940. For many years I believed that McCreadie must have been mistaken about this date. I suggested, unfairly, that he had been reporting reactively, insufficiently engaged with his correspondents and fixated on the well-known and documented U-33 story of historic record.

Because of my earlier assumptions my researches sought vainly to reconcile the irreconcilable. Fruitlessly, I struggled for many years to square the apparent fact that while on the same night in February 1940 when U-33 was sunk off Arran, a second enemy submarine was making mischief up at the boom netting between Dunoon and Cloch Point. In hindsight, it was a task doomed to fail.

McCreadie’s articles came and went. The story fell into renewed slumber. But another forty-five years would not have to pass before it was re-awakened.

Finally, in October 2008, I obtained copies of the remaining articles in the complete series on the U-boat incursion and related matters, which were published in the Largs and Millport Weekly News by John McCreadie between 1984 and 1986.

The new material established two very important facts, namely that the audacious U-boat incursion into the Clyde Anchorage had truly taken place (according to very strongly held opinions from time-witnesses) and that it had done so twice: in late 1939 and in early 1940.

A number of previously contradictory factors fell quickly into place, allowing me to join up more dots in the bigger picture than at any time since embarking upon the U-33 journey in 2001.

It would be unwise for hindsight to insist that U-33’s Scottish adventures wholly belong to the month of February 1940. The events in the Firth of Clyde in November 1939 and again three months later are profoundly and directly connected. A great number of the gaps about what may be discovered about them are now filled.

The whole canvas does retain a few patches of white here and there. Nevertheless, it has advanced well beyond the sketch stage to a level of detail and insight where all that is required are a few brush strokes to bring to life the Firth of Clyde U-boat episodes in their entirety. Even so, the picture that presently confronts the onlooker is bold and astonishing.

Maybe one or more of those who are drawn to this work will pick up their brush and, equipped with more knowledge, more interconnectedness with “those that know,” will complete the canvas and hang it up for all to see.

In essence, this book is a call to arms to those who, moved by the tale, are stirred to dive deeper upon the wreck of U-33 and bring its log book gingerly to the surface, wherein all may be revealed.

[1] Graddon, N., Otto Rahn and the Quest for the Holy Grail, Adventures Unlimited Press, 2008

[2] In 2007 the archive was re-named as Deutsches U-Boot Museum-Archiv