And the lost U Boat won't go away. Rather than start a new thread, I decided to continue the one from last year. While the whole thing is long on speculation, missing only chemtrails to bring it up to date, it probably will never go away. It is reproduced from the National Post site under the Fair Dealing provision of the Copyright Act.
Group on mission to prove there is truth in legends that Nazi submarines went far inland from Canadian coast
Tristin Hopper | 13/04/19 | Last Updated: 13/04/20 2:33 PM ET
It was the fall of 1944 and the Canadian navy corvette HMCS Arrowhead had just finished escorting a convoy into Goose Bay, Labrador when its skipper, Lester Hickey, ordered the vessel to stop outside the Inuit community of Rigolet.
The skipper tossed an explosive over the side and when a school of stunned cod rose to the surface, he scooped them up, cut off their heads and threw the prime fillets and the rest of the fish back into the sea. All he wanted was the critical ingredient for his signature cod head soup.
“The soup went down pretty good,” said Glenn Martin, 90, a former Arrowhead crew member now living in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan.
Fast forward to 1954 and Mr. Martin is a young machinist in Prince Albert getting a routine chest x-ray from a Czechoslovakian-born doctor.
The men began chit-chatting about the war and, upon learning that Mr. Martin was aboard the Arrowhead, the doctor said, “Remember the time you went fishing off of Rigolet?”
The doctor had also been off the Labrador coast that day, he explained, hiding just beneath the waves in a German U-Boat. “He was watching us through the periscope,” said Mr. Martin.
This month, Mr. Martin’s story of a sub lurking at the mouth of the Churchill River became valuable evidence for an East Coast group on a mission to prove that a strange protrusion recently discovered near Muskrat Falls in central Labrador is a long-lost Nazi submarine that went down nearly 200 kilometres inland from the coast; much farther into Canadian territory than any German U-Boat is known to have gone during the entire Battle of the Atlantic.
It is a theory that has long lingered in the minds of elders who swore they saw dark shadows floating under the surface of nearby Lake Melville and the author of a 1992 novel about a war-weary German crew that scuttles their submarine in the river before escaping to safety. “What was fiction is becoming fact in our mind,” Perry Trimper, one of the alleged sub’s discoverers, told the Prince Albert Herald last week during a visit to Mr. Martin.
However, with the claim flying in the face of every conceivable scrap of historical evidence, experts fervently maintain it is just another Canadian U-Boat legend.
Almost since the opening shots of the Battle of the Atlantic, the Maritimes and the coast of Quebec have abounded with legends about U-Boats that prowled the East Coast in the latter half of the Second World War.
“German sailors, the stories go, were everywhere,” writes Michael L. Hadley in the introduction to his 1985 book, U-Boats Against Canada.
Future prime minister Pierre Trudeau hiked into the Gaspé region in 1943 and 50 years later told in his memoirs the local tales of U-Boat crews coming ashore to buy provisions from genial Quebec shopkeepers.
During the war, records hold that a Newfoundland woman called in a report of a flying U-Boat. Other villages around the Gulf of St. Lawrence yielded “people who claim flat-out that they were out in their fishing vessel and they went aboard a u-boat and they were held there for several days — very convincing stories,” said Roger Sarty, a professor of history at Wilfrid Laurier University and author of the recently released War in the St. Lawrence.
Even Mr. Martin has his own story of a Nazi close encounter. In 1944, he and his crewmates were drinking at a Quebec City tennis club, when, several tables over he remembered hearing the distinctive guttural inflections of a group of men speaking German, although he dismissed it at the time.
Looking back at Canada’s light coastal defences – and Quebec’s reputation as a province that was not altogether unsympathetic to the Axis cause – Mr. Martin thinks it is entirely within the realm of possibility.
“There was nothing to stop them, there was no police on the shores.… It would have been the easiest thing in the world.”
‘To these parochial communities, speaking Norwegian would be all the same as speaking German’
.Mr. Hadley, a former Navy Reserve captain and Germanic Studies professor, is well-regarded as the Canadian expert in the movement of U-Boats through Canadian waters during WWII.
Over a matter of many years, he dug up every available U-Boat log, every German navy dispatch record and every confirmed Royal Canadian Navy U-Boat sighting, and meticulously plotted the data on maps that now hang in the collection of the Canadian War Museum.
His conclusion? “The closest they got to what you could call the Canadian heartland is within 172 miles of Quebec City in the St. Lawrence River,” he said.
The farthest-inland U-Boat, thus, would have come roughly within sight of Baie-Comeau just as a young Brian Mulroney was taking his first steps.
As for Germans stepping ashore, “it’s all nonsense; what people were confusing is flight trainees from Norway,” said Mr. Hadley. “To these parochial communities, speaking Norwegian would be all the same as speaking German.”
U-Boat crews themselves have had a similar reaction to Canadian tales of German naval dash.
One of the more persistent East Coast U-Boat legends concerns U-190. Only days after the submarine sank the HMCS Esquimalt just outside Halifax harbour, the vessel received word that the war was over and surrendered to Canadian corvettes, including Mr. Martin’s HMCS Arrowhead.
When the captured German crew members stepped ashore in Halifax, say accounts of Royal Canadian Navy veterans that lingered until the 1980s, they carried in their pockets Halifax streetcar tickets, Canadian cigarettes and even pictures of Canadian girls.
FilesThe U-190, a German U-boat, which was surrendered to the Canadian navy in 1945 and later commissioned as HMCS U190, one of Canada's first naval submarines...Werner Hirshmann, a crew member of U-190 who later immigrated to Canada, dismissed the claims as “the product of an overactive imagination” in a 2004 memoir.
From the perspective of a submarine commander, many of the Canadian stories just do not make strategic sense. U-Boats were vulnerable to even the smallest hole in the hull; a strong motivation to steer clear of the shoreline for something so frivolous as a night of drinking.
Snaking up narrow rivers, similarly, is unnecessarily risky, particularly when they had a whole Atlantic Ocean in which to hunt Allied ships. “U-Boats ultimately abandoned even the St. Lawrence River.… With airplanes regularly over top, they were just paralyzed and useless,” said Mr. Sarty. “They alway preferred deep water.”
Which is not to say that U-Boats were not a regular presence along the Canadian shore. U-Boats sunk 23 vessels in the St. Lawrence and, in 1942, in a mission to drop off a spy, a U-Boat skulked so close to shore that it was briefly caught in the headlights of a passing car, although the driver did not notice.
The spy, Werner von Janowski, was quickly captured, although not before he checked into a New Carlisle, Que. hotel and attempted to pay for his room with large out-of-circulation bills from 1917.
In his book, Mr. Hirshmann told of an emergency that forced the U-190 to surface just outside Halifax harbour for more than two nerve-wracking hours. “Today, I find it hard to believe that we could spend so much time on the surface near one of the busiest ports in the world and not be discovered,” he wrote.
A year later, a U-Boat crew stepped ashore into Northern Labrador to install an automated weather station that would remain undiscovered until the early 1980s.
The supposed Churchill River U-Boat first emerged in 2010 when crews were scanning the waters below Muskrat Falls for signs of three drowning victims when they came upon a mysterious shape.
A sweep of the area with a remotely operated vehicle in August proved inconclusive because the object had subsequently been buried with sediment and clay from nearby cliffs. Still, said diver Brian Corbin st the time, “there’s something there.”
For years, the people of P.E.I. spoke proudly of an obscure 1943 battle in which quick-thinking air and naval units sunk a U-Boat that was attempting a brazen mission to rescue a breakout of German prisoners of war from an island POW camp.
A U-Boat did indeed attempt the manoeuvre, but there are no records of any battle. Naval corvettes were indeed seen turning sharply offshore, but it was simply because of a navigational error. Locals heard explosions, but it was merely a live-fire exercise. There was low-flying aircraft in the area, although they were conducting a routine patrol.
“Myths,” wrote The Beaver (now Canada’s History) in a 2007 account of the supposed battle, “must always be treated with caution.”
As for Mr. Martin’s mysterious doctor, he did not catch his name nor the vessel’s and the doctor was transferred to another hospital before the two veterans could trade war stories over coffee.
And the question remains; if a U-Boat spotted the HMCS Arrowhead sitting idle at the mouth of the Churchill River, why did they not sink it?
In 1993, Mr. Martin shared a table with the U-190′s Werner Hirshmann at an event in Halifax where the former submariner expressed pride in seeing his crew survive the war, a rare feat for a German submarine crew.
Similarly , Mr. Martin thinks his life may have been spared by a commander who wanted to assure his crew a similar fate.
“If those guys would have attacked us, then somebody would have attacked them,” said Mr. Martin. “I don’t think they were in a fighting mood.”