For the U-boat commanders, March 1942 had turned into their "Second Happy Time." Of all the U-boat commanders off rhe American coast, perhaps Kaleun Johann Mohr was the happiest. He had not only mauled the American merchant fleet, but a recent observation had convinced him that he would have no trouble finding more targets for his remaining torpedoes. The American freighters and tankers had begun sailing close to shore, practically steaming over the buoys that marked the dangerous shoals off the capes of North Carolina. Mohr believed there could only be one reason for this foolhardiness. The merchant masters must believe that the U-boats could not operate in such shallow water. If it had been the coast of the British Isles, Mohr knew this might be sound reasoning. The U-boats needed depth to maneuver and hide when the Royal Navy was around. But the American Navy Mohr only needed 30 feet of water, perhaps less, because he and the rest of the U-boat commanders were willing to attack from the surface in American waters. That meant all they had to do was go to a buoy and wait. It was 31 March, just after midnight, when Mohr and his U-124 again saw a target dat interested them. They were just south of Prying Pan Buoy. Lookouts on the conn had spotted che blinking light of the buoy and some jest had been made of it, Mohr laughingly thanking the Americans for leaving their navigational lights on for "the tourists." Shortly afterwards, a lookout an- nounced a rapidly moving shadow against the lights from shore. Whatever the ship, it was several miles away and it looked big. Mohr aimed the U-124 for an intercept. Big and fast... it had to be a tanker! Mohr was correct. She was the Esso Nashville, loaded with a full cargo of 78,000 barrels of fuel oil. As she neared Frying Pan Shoals, there was no moon and a drizzle of cold rain was falling. Captain Edward V. Peters had retired to his quarters, confident that he had done everything he could to pass Cape Hatteras without: trouble from the U-boats. His ship was blacked out: and was moving as fast as he dared. He had also repeatedly drilled his men in launching the lifeboats, often calling the drills without warning. Someone very wise had told him years before that the best way to avoid trouble was to prepare for it. Captain Edwards was prepared as best he could be. He was also alone at night on the bullseye of Torpedo Junction. The U-124 shuddered slighdy as the first torpedo jumped from her bow tube. The men on the conn stared after it while the chief counted the seconds below. Mohr strained to see through his binoculars. But nothing happened. A dud! Captain Peters jerked his head off his pillow. He had heard a thud far below as if his ship had brushed against a buoy or some wreckage. He got to his feet and headed for the bridge. Chief Mate Christian A. Hansen also felt something hit the ship on the starboard side. Third Assistant Engineer Henry H. Carig, going off watch at midnight, was heading for the petty officers' messroom with Oiler Tom Hemphiil and Fireman-Watertender Austin Wolfe when they also felt it. Carig turned to the others and said, "Well, we got it" Carig met the chief engineer, Aloysius J. Kist, coming out of his room, Kist wanted to know what was going on. "I think weve just been torpedoed," Gang answered. The two men decided to go to the engine room to prepare for additional steam if needed. They would barely have time to get there. Mohr had launched a second torpedo. The Essp Nashville, fully loaded, and with 13,000 deadweight tons, was suddenly picked up and slammed down on her starboard side. A massive shock wave flashed across the water and through the sleeping rookeries of gulls and pelicans on the near banks. The birds cried and wheeled in confusion as a fireball rose from the sea. Mohr watched it all through his periscope. Success! Captain Peters gave the order to abandon ship and, because of his drills, an orderly evacuation began. There was a supply of the new lifesaving suits on board, rubber pullovers designed to protect against cold warer, and mosr of che men were wearing rhem. One of the men who wasn't was Oiler Leonard Mills, 56; a navy veteran and a retiree from the Akron, Ohio, fire department who, for patriotic reasons, had gone back to sea. He had not been able to find one of the new suits in the confusion but had, at least, put on a life preserver. When one of the younger men yelled that he couldn't find a life preserver, Mills took his off and threw it to the man. Carig called to Mills "You'll need that:, Leonard," "I'll be OK," was Mills' reply, "I can swim. He can't ". It was starting to rain harder and the wind was frigid. Carig found his lifeboat was too full. With every wave, water sloshed in and it appeared it might sink at any moment, "All men with rubber suits into the water" he ordered. The first man in was Leonard Mills, clad only in trunks. Carig ordered him back into the boat but he refused. Seeing the nearly naked, older man in the water was enough for the men in rubber suits. They followed him. Mills and the others would remain in the freezing water for four hours before daybreak and a calming of the sea. Mohr and his crew had not allowed themselves any sort of a victory celebration. Another tanker had been found. With the Nashville just below the horizon, the tanker did not know of the previous attack. Unconcerned, she ran righr up to the U-124. Mohr, however, was having problems lining up the fast-moving ship. He screamed down to his chief to give him more power. He wanted this tanker! Mohr kept chasing but an hour later was no closer. Frustrated, he decided to try a, long-distance shot and sent two torpedoes speeding away. Three minutes and twenty-one seconds passed before there was a bright flash on the tanker's side and a rewarding ruble across the sea. A hit! But the tanker was still speeding north, too fast for Mohr to catch her, so he reluctantly stopped chasing. Captain Montague of the Atlatic Sun was indeed heading out of the area. As soon as the torpedo hit, he called in an SSSS and veered toward shore, entering the harbor at Beaufort, North Carolina. He would not venture out again that night. While the Allantic Sun was running for her life, the survivors of the Esso Nashville were rowing toward shore. On the settling tanker, however, one man remained. Captain Peters, given up for lost by his crew, was still aboard and very much alive although suffering a broken left leg. The next morning, the first survivors of the Esso Nashville arrived in Norfolk. They reported that all the crew had managed to get off except the captain who had bravely died trying to rescue secret documents. They were certain their ship had gone to the bottom of the Atlantic since it had been completely broken in two. At that moment, however, Captain Peters was waving in the destroyer McKean and the coast guard cutters Agassiz and Tallapossa. He was taken off and the stern of his tanker towed in behind him. In one year, the Esso Nashville would be completely rebuilt and back in service. She would deliver oil for the remainder of the war all over the world. Captain Peters would be given the American Legion Medal for outstanding heroism and made master of another Esso tanker. As for the crew, all would go back to sea, most of them on other tankers. In fact, Oiler Leonard Mills, the heroic fire department retiree, would die aboard the torpedoed tanker R. W. Callagher just four months later.