Keeling and the Escort Ships Repel Submarines

Keeling and the escort ships’ submarine action is presented as a contest fought not only against unseen enemies but against dwindling fuel, ammunition, and human endurance. The reported destruction of three submarines marked a major success, yet the ship’s final account also records casualties, the loss of Eagle, and only two depth-charges remaining aboard Keeling.

The Escort’s Dilemma

An uncertain sonar contact forced Krause to weigh the chance of destroying a U-boat against the danger of weakening the convoy screen. The four fighting ships were just enough, when in position, to search the convoy’s immense front. James lay three miles to port; on the current zigzag leg, the contact bearing placed the suspected submarine forward of the convoy’s port beam. The convoy was due to turn away from it in fourteen minutes, a fact that favored leaving it alone. The contact might not indicate a U-boat at all.

Detaching James to investigate would also consume the escort’s limited fuel reserve. She would have to build up speed, search far from the convoy, and then return at high speed while the convoy continued on its course. That pursuit could cost hours and several tons of fuel. Krause had been trained to keep a reserve for the crisis of battle, and the action was only beginning. But allowing a real submarine to escape carried its own danger: it could radio the convoy’s position, observe its speed and course, or summon other U-boats for a coordinated attack. The decision thus balanced an immediate expenditure against the possibility of a much larger assault.

Readiness Without Exhaustion

Krause declined to sound General Quarters merely because James and Viktor were pursuing a contact. Calling every sailor to battle stations would end ordinary shipboard work, interrupt meals and sleep, and leave routine maintenance undone. It was also a state that could be sustained for hours, whereas Keeling’s Condition Two readiness could be endured for days. Repeated alarms without a clear need risked making sailors slack when a genuine emergency came. Krause’s refusal was therefore not a sign that the threat was unimportant; it was an effort to preserve the crew’s ability to respond when the decisive moment arrived.

That calculation continued during the prolonged action. Keeling’s new weapons and instruments, together with the extra sailors needed to operate them, had strained the ship’s living space. There were not enough trained ratings to staff three watches in Condition Two, and Krause had divided the company into four sections, using watch-and-watch so that the men could obtain rest. He cancelled the routine General Quarters call otherwise expected an hour before dawn: with the ship already keyed for action, he judged that an additional interruption would impose strain without adding useful readiness. Most officers were working four hours on and eight off, and he sought to spare them an unnecessary call as well.

The Human and Technical Chain

The action depended on constant observation and on operators interpreting signals that offered no easy certainty. Seven lookouts swept assigned sectors from the bridge, pausing repeatedly to wipe spray from their binocular lenses. A U-boat might expose only a foot or two of periscope for no more than half a minute; a brief sighting could affect the convoy’s fate, while a promptly reported torpedo wake might at least give Keeling a chance to evade. The work required methodical attention even when the sea and the monotony made a lapse understandable.

Below, Tom Ellis listened for sonar echoes. Although trained at the Key West Sound School, he had never detected an echo from a submarine at sea and had received no refresher practice. The account stresses the difference that operator experience could make: a depth-charge dropped within ten yards of a target might succeed, while one twenty yards away would fail. Ellis had to recognize a returning signal and interpret its changing quality quickly, with the outcome resting on delicate adjustments and rapid judgment. The danger lay not in any presumed lack of courage but in the way pressure could make a person’s hands clumsy or thoughts slow.

Ammunition and the Final Account

The battle steadily consumed Keeling’s weapons. In one exchange, the crew reported that thirty-four depth-charges had already been expended and that the latest pattern brought the total to thirty-eight. More than seven tons of high explosive had gone over the side in twenty-four hours. Only six remained, including extra charges brought up from the crew’s living quarters. Krause ordered an end to firing patterns. The mathematics made the shortage consequential: halving a pattern reduced the searched area, and the chance of a hit, to a quarter; reducing it to a third left only a ninth of the former chance. Even a single explosion within a submarine’s hearing could still have value by deterring it or forcing evasive action, but the remaining stock could not sustain the earlier rate of attack.

In a later report over the ship-to-ship radio telephone, Krause stated that Keeling had fuel for fifty-six hours at economical speed and had suffered one slight four-inch hit to the aft main deck, with unimportant damage. Three sailors had been killed and two wounded. He reported that one submarine had fought on the surface and that Keeling had got it; he thought they had got two more. The senior officer’s response treated three submarines as the result, while Krause’s own wording preserved the distinction between the one he considered certain and the two he considered probable. Asked about ammunition, he reported that Keeling had two depth-charges left. He also praised the other escort ships’ conduct. The same report confirmed that Eagle had been hit in the engine-room and had sunk at midnight, despite efforts to save her.

Achievement and Cost

The action’s significance lies in the contrast between its reported success and the depleted force that remained. The escorts had confronted multiple submarine threats while preserving enough discipline to keep the convoy protected, but Keeling’s ammunition had fallen from dozens of charges to two, and the ship had lost three crew members as well as suffered damage. Eagle’s sinking made the wider cost unmistakable. The account does not present victory as the product of a single decisive blow: it depended on sustained watchfulness, trained coordination, restraint in using the crew and the ship’s reserves, and the escort ships’ combined effort. Their achievement was real, but so was the fragility of the protection they could continue to provide.