CHAPTER XIII

ROUNDING UP FRITZ

There are only two or three conditions under which a destroyer can hope to surprise a U-boat on the surface, and none of these is approximated at the end of a clear North Sea summer afternoon with the stalking craft trying to approach from a direction which silhouettes its leanly purposeful profile against the golden glimmer of the sunset clouds. This particular capsule of Kultur, rising with typical Hunnish effrontery for his evening constitutional in an especially well-watched area while it was yet broad daylight, still had the advantage of visibility sufficiently on his side to make the thing a good deal less risky than it looked. The skipper, doubtless coolly puffing his pipe as he lounged over the rail of the bridge and filled his lungs with fresh air, must have seen the masts and funnels of the speeding _Flash_ for a good half hour before the latter's look-out sang out that he had picked up the conning-tower of what looked to be a U-boat two points off the starboard bow; so that all that was needed was the change of course which followed that report to give Fritz fair warning that it was time to hide his head for a while. Indeed, he must have been going down even as he was sighted, for it was the matter of but a very few seconds more before the _Flash_ found herself tearing at upwards of a thousand yards a minute into an empty sea.

Under the circumstances, it is probable we gave that Fritz a fairly good run for his money in showering the spot where he had disappeared with what depth-charges we could spare, and then, like a fox-terrier after a rat, standing by and "watching the hole." Unluckily, we had used a good part of our stock of "cans" the day before, when a rather more promising opportunity for attack had offered itself, while as for "watching the hole," this particular patch of the North Sea chanced to be one in which that way of playing the game was fraught with special difficulties because it was sufficiently shallow for a submarine to lie doggo on the bottom without danger of having its shell crushed in by the pressure of the water. This defeated the uncannily sure way of tracking the U-boat down by "listening," and demanded another form of special treatment, which we were not, however, at the moment prepared to administer.

Slim as the chance was, the captain was reluctant to leave while any hope remained, and it was only a signal ordering the _Flash_ to join in some other work that had turned up (a destroyer is subject to as many kinds of summons as a country doctor) that took him off in the end. Mooring a buoy to mark the spot for "future reference," the captain saw her headed off on the course she was to hold till daybreak, and then took me down to the Chart House for a bowl of ship's cocoa before turning in. It was some question I asked about the practice of placing buoys over possible U-boat graveyards, to make it easy to resume investigations if desired, that started him on a train of anti-submarine reminiscence that led back to one of the smartest achievements of its kind in the whole course of the sea war.

"There are times," he said, leaning back on the narrow couch that served as his "sea-bed," and bracing with outstretched legs against the twisting roll, "that a Fritz will do things that would lead a superficial observer to think that he had a sense of humour. Of course, we know that he hasn't anything of the kind (any more than he has honour, sportsmanship, decency, or any other of the attributes of a normal civilised human being). But the illusion is there just the same, especially when he tries on such little stunts as the one he incubated a couple of months ago in connection with a buoy I dropped to mark the spot where there was a chance that my depth-charges might have sent him to the bottom.

"It was just about such an 'indeterminate' sort of a strafe as the one we've just had--no chance for gun-fire, not much to go by for planting depth-charges, and, in the end, nothing definite to indicate that any good has been done. So, in case it was decided that my report was of a nature to justify further looking into, I left a securely moored buoy to furnish a guide as to where to begin, quite as we have to-night. Well, it chanced that the S.N.O. at Base reckoned that there was just enough of a hope to warrant following up. Indeed, you may be sure there isn't much that isn't followed up these days, now that we've got our whole comprehensive plan into operation and adequate craft to support it with. So he sent out quite a little fleet of us--craft fitted to do all the various little odds and ends of things that help to make sure one way or the other what has really happened to Fritz. Luckily, _Flash_ was able to return with them. If she had not--if someone who had not seen the lay of things after the strafe the night before had not been along to 'draw comparisons'--Fritz's little joke might have turned out a good deal more pointed than it did.

"We picked up the buoy without any difficulty, as the day was fine and the sea fairly smooth--just the weather one wanted for that kind of work. While we were still a mile or more distant, the lookout reported a broad patch of oil spreading out from the buoy for several hundred yards on all sides. This became visible from the bridge presently, and at almost the same time my glass showed fragments of what appeared to be wreckage floating both in and beyond the 'sleek' of oil. Now if there had been any evidence whatever of either oil or wreckage the night before I should not have failed to hail this morning's exhibit with a glad whoop and nose right in to investigate. But as, when I gave up the fight, I had dropped that buoy into an extremely clean patch of water--even after the stirring my depth-charges had given it--the plenitude of flotsam did not fail to arouse a certain amount of suspicion.

"Ordering the sloops and trawlers to stand-off-and-on at a safe distance, I went with the _Flash_ to have a look at a number of fragments that were floating a couple of cables' lengths away from the buoy. A piece of box--evidently a preserved fruit or condensed milk case--with German letters stencilled across one end was undoubtedly of enemy origin, as was also a biscuit tin with patches of its gaudy paper still adhering to it. I did not like the careful way the cover of the latter had been put on, however, and, besides, tins and cases are quite the sort of thing any submarine throws over just as fast as it is through with them. It was some real wreckage I was looking for, and this it presently appeared that I had found when the bow wave threw aside a deeply floating fragment of what--even before we picked it up--I recognised as newly split teak. Closer inspection revealed the fact that it was newly split all right, but also the fact that an axe or hatchet had had a good deal to do with the splitting. What had probably been a part of a bunk or locker had apparently been prised off with a bar and then chopped up into jagged strips. Attempts to obliterate the marks of bar and axe by pounding them against some rough metal surface had been too hasty and crude to effect their purpose.

"'That settles it,' I said to myself. 'Fritz is trying to play a little joke on us by making us think he is lying blown-up on the bottom, while, in fact, he is probably lying off somewhere waiting to slip a slug into one of the most likely looking of the salvage ships. Now that we've twigged the game, however, we'll have to do what we can to defeat it.' As senior officer, I ordered the three destroyers present to start screening in widening circles, while--on the off-chance that there really was a wreck on the bottom--a pair of trawlers were sent to drag about the bottom under the messy patch with an 'explosive sweep.'

"My diagnosis was quite correct as far as it went, but it did not go quite far enough; still--by the special intervention of the sweet little cherubim who sits up aloft to keep watch o'er the life of poor Jack--my plan of operation was quite as sound as if I had all the facts of the case spread out before me. Had the U-boat really been lurking round waiting for a pot at some of the ships trying to save his supposed remains--something that we never gathered any definite evidence on--our screening tactics would probably have prevented his success; while the trawlers, with their sweep, furnished the best antidote for the little surprise party that he already _had_ prepared for us.

"Scarcely had the trawlers entered the oily area than the jar of a heavy under-sea explosion jolted against the bottom of the _Flash_, which, a thousand yards distant, was just beginning to work up to full speed. Almost immediately three or four other explosions followed, coming so close together as to make one rippling detonation of tremendous violence. An instant later I saw several columns of grimy foam shoot skyward, two or three of them so close together that they seemed to 'boil' into each other as they spilled and spread in falling. Although neither of the trawlers appeared to be immediately over any of the explosions, both of them received terrific shocks. One of them I distinctly saw rear up till it seemed almost to be balanced on its rudder-post as a round hump of green water drove under it, while the scuppers of the other spurted white as they cleared the flood that a spreading foam geyser had thrown upon the deck. It seemed impossible that either of them could survive such shocks as I knew they must have received, and I fully expected to see nothing better than two foundering wrecks emerge from the smother which hovered above the scene of the explosions. Imagine my surprise, then, when two junk-like profiles (they were both of the marvellously sea-worthy 'Iceland trawler' type) came bobbing serenely into sight again, and I noted with my glass that neither appeared to have suffered serious damage. On the score of lives, a tom-cat has nothing the best of a trawler. If it had been otherwise our whole fleet of them--and they, with the drifters, form the main strands of the finer meshes of our anti-U-boat net--would have been wiped out many times over.

"At the instant the jar of the first explosion made itself felt, the thought flashed through my mind that there actually was a U-boat lying on the bottom, and that the explosive charge on the sweep had been detonated against its hull. The 'bunched' explosions immediately following also lent themselves to this theory, and it was not till the distinct columns of blown water began rising in the air that I surmised the real cause of them--mines, probably laid so close together that the explosion of the first had set off the others. This fact we were shortly able to establish beyond a doubt.

"What had happened, as nearly as we could reconstruct it, was this: The U-boat had been a mine-layer, probably interrupted on its way to lay its eggs off one of our main fleet bases. The chances are that it had been sufficiently injured by my depth-charges to make it more of a risk than its skipper cared to take to proceed farther from his base; quite likely, indeed, he had to put back at once. Then the chance of preparing a little surprise party for the ship responsible for his trouble must have occurred to him, and the result was that a snug little nest of mines was laid all the way around the marking buoy. Having more mines than he needed to barrage the buoy, he had scuttled several of those remaining after the first job was completed, and these had been the ones set off by the explosive charge on the trawlers' sweep. The spreading of wreckage as bait around the trap was probably an afterthought, for it was so hurriedly done that it really defeated the end it was intended to accomplish. I am inclined to think, in fact, that, if the mines had laid round the buoy, with no spread of oil or wreckage left to decoy us into them, they might have had a victim or two to their credit. They were laid shallow enough to have bumped both sloops and destroyers, and the exploding of a mine against the bows of one or the other of these may well have been the first warning we had of Fritz's little joke. As it was, that part of the show was so crudely done that it gave away that something was wrong.

"Yes, I have always thought of that as 'Fritz's little joke,'" continued the captain, bracing himself at a new angle to meet a rollicking cork-screw action that was working into the ship's wallowings. "It was just the sort of a plant I would like to have left for Fritz, if our rôles had been reversed, and for a while I felt rather more kindly toward all Fritzes on account of having knocked up against it. That feeling persisted until three or four months later, when the fortunes of war--in the shape of a luckily-planted depth-charge--paved the way for an opportunity for me to tell the story to a certain Hun _Unterseeboot_ officer during the hour or two he was my guest on the way to base. He spoke English fairly, and understood it well; so that I was able to run through the yarn just about as I have told it to you. He gave vent to his approval in guttural 'Ya's' and grunts of satisfaction until I ended by asking him if he didn't think it was a jolly clever little joke. And what do you think he said to that?

"'Choke,' he boomed explosively; 'choke, vy, mein frent, dot vos not ein choke ad all. He vos dryin to zink your destroy'r. Dot ist no choke.'"

The captain stretched himself with a whimsical smile. "How unpleasant it would be to be shipmates with a chap like that who couldn't see the funny side of being blown up," he observed presently.

"Just as unpleasant," I replied, "as it is pleasant to be shipmates with a man who _could_."

After thus rising to the occasion, I was emboldened to ask the captain to tell me a little more about that "luckily-planted depth-charge" he had referred to so casually, and its train of consequences.

"Here is the result," he said with a smile, handing me several small kodak prints from his pocketbook. "What little yarn there is to tell I'll rattle off for you with pleasure after I've been up to the bridge for a bit of a 'look-see.' Seems as if she is banging into it harder than she ought for this course and speed."

The light went out as the automatic switch cut off the current with the opening of the door, and when it flashed on again, as the door was slammed shut, I found myself alone, with the prints lying in the middle of the chart of the North Sea. Two of these showed a thin sliver of a submarine that might have been of almost any type. A third, however, showed an unmistakable U-boat, heeling slightly, and with a whaler alongside, evidently in the act of taking off some of the men crowded upon the narrow forward deck. And in the background of this print was lying a long slender four-funneled destroyer that I recognised at once as either the _Flash_ or another of the same class. On the back of this print was written "Quarter view of U.C.--at 14.10. _Flash's_ whaler transferring prisoners; _Splash's_ whaler's crew clearing decks of wounded."

A fourth print, similar to the third but much covered with arrows and writing, appeared to be a kind of key to the latter. An angling sort of bar, which appeared as a black line above the bows in the photograph, was labelled "Nut Cutter," and several other characteristic U-boat devices were similarly indicated. These all established points of great technical value, doubtless, but a keener human interest attached to the legends penciled at the feather ends of arrows pointing to two figures on the deck of the submarine, just abaft the conning-tower. Opposite the one that appeared to be leaning over a light rail, with one arm extended as though he was in the act of giving a command, was written, "Deceased captain of submarine." Against the other, a sprawling inert heap huddled up against the conning-tower, appeared, "Man with both legs shot off (alive)."

There was a lot of history crowded into that scrawled-over print, and I was still gazing at it with awed fascination when the opening door winked off the light, and then closed again to reveal the captain, dripping with the blown brine of the wave that the _Flash_ had put her nose into at the moment he was coming down the ladder.

"Rather more of a sea than I expected to-night," he said as he pulled his duffel-coat over his head and sat down to kick off his sea-boots; "so I've slowed her down a few knots and we'll jog along easy till daylight." Then, as he recognised the photo in my hand, "Rather a grim story that little kodak tells, isn't it? You'll find just about all of the yarn you were asking for down there in black and white."

"Not quite," I replied hastily, recognising from long experience the forerunning signs of a modest man trying to side-step going into details respecting some episode in which he happens to have played a leading part. "Not quite. It chances that I've heard something of the bagging of U.C.--from Admiral ---- not long after it occurred, and he said it was one of the cleverest bits of work of the kind that anyone has pulled off. I didn't connect you and the _Flash_ with it, though. But now that you're caught with the goods, the chance to hear several of the details the Admiral had failed to learn is too good to miss. How did you manage to slip up on her in the first place, and did you wing her skipper at the outset, and----?"

Evidently figuring it would be best not to let me pile up too big a lead of questions for him to answer, the captain sat down resignedly and took up the thread of the story at somewhere near the beginning.

"How did we manage to slip up on her?" he repeated. "Well, principally, I should say, because she was 'preoccupied.' I told you last night that I used to get away for a bit of tiger shooting while I was on Eastern stations, and you mentioned that you'd had a go at it yourself now and then. So we both have probably picked up a smattering of the ways of tigers. Now I've always maintained that the fact that I had given a bit of study to the ways of man-eaters was a big help to me in understanding the ways of Huns. A hungry tiger, on the prowl for something to devour, is about the hardest brute in the world to stalk successfully; while, on the other hand, one that has made its kill and is sating its bloody lust upon it is just about the easiest. It's just the same with a U-boat. The one best chance we have of surprising one on the surface is while it is in the act of sinking a merchantman by bombs or shell-fire, or just after the victim has been torpedoed and the pirate is standing-by to fire on the boats and pick up any officers it may think worth while to take prisoner. That was what was responsible for the luck that befell me in the instance in question. The U.C.--a day or two previously to the one on which she was slated to meet her finish, had sunk the British merchantman _Hilda Bronson_, and carried off as prisoners the captain and mate. These men, after we rescued them, were able to give us some account of how their hosts spent the morning of the day on which they encountered the _Flash_. Their general practice, of course, was to submerge in the daytime and run on the surface, charging batteries, during the night. Emboldened by two or three recent successes in sinking small merchantmen by gun-fire and bombs, they appeared to have become very contemptuous of our anti-submarine measures, and declared that they were just as safe on the surface in the daytime as at night. Bearing out the probability that these words were by no means spoken in jest, is the fact that they did not dive at daybreak, but continued to cruise on the surface on the look out for unarmed ships which could be safely sunk without risking the loss of a torpedo or damage to themselves by gun-fire. This class of ships--fortunately, there are few of them left save under neutral flags--was the U-boat's favourite prey.

"About eight o'clock their search was rewarded. The two British sailors heard a number of shots, and presently understood the U-boat skipper to declare that he had just put down a small Norwegian steamer with shell-fire. As they were still full up with the stores looted from the _Hilda Bronson_, no attempt was made to take off anything from the sinking Norwegian. All morning the pirate continued cruising on the surface, diving only once. Great attention was given to surroundings, stops being made about once an hour to heave the lead. In this they displayed good sense beyond a doubt, for it is worth a lot to a submarine to know whether it can dive straight on to the bottom without encountering a pressure strong enough to crush it in.

"About noon another helpless victim--this time a British merchant steamer--was sighted, and the imprisoned sailors counted nine shots before tremendous consternation and confusion spread through the submarine as fire was opened on her by some ship coming up from the same direction as the merchantman bore, and she dived with all possible dispatch. This was where the _Flash_ began to take a hand in the game.

"Now the fact that this particular Fritz ought easily to have sighted us at twice the distance at which we opened with our foremost 12-pounder bears out exactly what I said about the traits the Hun and the tiger have in common. They are both 'foul-feeders,' and begin to see so red, once the blood-lust of prospective satiation is upon them, that they are half blinded to everything else. If this fellow hadn't been so absorbed in doing that little steamer to death he need never have let us get within a range that would have permitted more than a swift shot or two at his disappearing conning-tower. It was his sheer 'blood-drunkenness' that gave us our chance.

"It was a day of very low visibility--not over a mile and a half, or two miles at the outside--and I was out on a bit of an escort stunt of small importance. The first intimation I had that anything out of the usual run was afoot came in the form of sharp gun-fire on my starboard beam. It sounded fairly close at hand, and though no ship was visible, there was just a hint of luminosity in the mist-curtain to indicate the direction of the gun-flashes. The helm was immediately put hard-a-port and the telegraphs at Full Speed, and off went the _Flash_ to investigate. Scarcely had I turned than a wireless signal was brought to me on the bridge repeating the calls of assistance of a steamer that was being shelled by an enemy submarine. That little 'flying start' of mine, which involved leaving the ship I was escorting and jumping out without waiting for orders, gave me the minute or so to the good which probably made all the difference between success and failure. But that is quite characteristic of destroyer work; more than in any other class of ship, you are called on to decide for yourself, to jump out on your own.

"The first thing I saw was the dim blur of a small merchantman taking shape in the mist, and as the image sharpened, the splash of falling projectiles became visible. She was throwing out a cloud of smoke and zigzagging in a panicky sort of way in an endeavour to avoid the shells which were exploding nearer and nearer at every shot. As she caught sight of the _Flash_ she altered course and headed straight up for us, and, busy as my mind was at the moment, I could not help thinking how like her action was to that of an Aberdeen pup I used to own when he saw me coming to extricate him from his daily scrap with a neighbour's fox terrier.

"It was just at the moment that the merchantman turned up to get under our wing that the sharpening gun-flashes began revealing the conning-tower of a submarine. We had gone to Action Stations at once, of course, and I am practically certain that the opening shot of the fo'c'sl' gun was the first warning Fritz had that his little kultur course was about to be interrupted. Under the circumstances, the fact that he effected his disappearing act in from thirty to forty seconds indicates very smart handling; too smart, indeed, to give us a fair chance to get in a hit with a shell, although the gunners made a very keen bid for it. Their turn came a few moments later, however.

"Once Fritz had passed from sight there was only one thing to do, the thing we _tried_ to do to-night--depth-charge him. And there really was no difference in what we did on the one occasion and what we did on the other--nothing, I mean to say, except the result. Estimating his course from the point of submergence, I steered directly over where I judged he would be and let go one of those very useful type '----' charges. Well,"--the captain smiled in a deprecatory sort of way--"the depth-charge isn't exactly what you'd call a 'weapon of precision,' and so it follows that when you hit what you are after with one it must be largely a matter of luck. Judgment? Oh, yes, a certain amount of it, but I'd rather have luck than judgment any day. At any rate, this was my lucky day. Within fifteen seconds from the moment I felt the jolt of the detonating charge Fritz's conning-tower was breaking surface on my starboard beam. Helm had been put hard-a-port as the charge was dropped, so that all the starboard guns were bearing on the conning-tower the instant it bobbed up. This was right on the outer rim of the 'boil' of the explosion--just where it would be expected--and, of course, it presented an easy target. To say it was riddled would be putting it mildly. One shot alone from the foremost six-pounder would have made it out of the question for it to dive again, even had other complications which had already set in left it in shape to face submergence.

"A second or two more, and the whole length of our bag was showing, riding fairly level fore-and-aft, but with a slight list to starboard. We had now turned, and from our position on the submarine's port quarter could plainly see the crew come bobbing out of the hatch on to the deck. Each of them had his hands lifted in the approved 'Kamerad' fashion, and took good care to keep them there as long as they noticed any active movement around the business ends of our guns. As a matter of fact, as there had been no colours flying to strike, those lifted hands were the only tangible tokens of surrender we received. As we had her at our mercy, however, they looked conclusive enough for me, and I sent a boat away as quickly as it could be lowered and manned.

"It was not until this boat returned that I learned of the two British merchant marine officers who had been aboard her through it all. The Huns had crowded them out in their stampede for the hatches, so that they had been the very last to reach the deck. Mr. X----, who was in charge of the whaler, compensated as fully as he could for this by taking them off first. The experiences they had been through had been just about as terrible as men could ever be called upon to face; and yet, when they clambered aboard _Flash_, they were smiling, clear of head and eye, and altogether quite unshaken. You've certainly got to take off your hat to these merchant marine chaps; they've fought half the battle for the Navy.

"The story they had to tell of what they had seen and heard during their enforced cruise in the U-boat was an interesting one, but on the final act--largely because the curtain had been rung down so quickly--there was little they could add to what had passed before my own eye. The shock from the depth-charge--which appears to have detonated just about right to have the maximum effect--was terrific. The whole submarine seemed to have been forced sideways through the water by the jolt, and just as all the lights went out one of them said that he saw the starboard side of the compartment he was in--it was what would correspond to the Ward Room, I believe, a space more or less reserved for the officers--bending inward before the pressure. Instantly the spurt of water was heard flooding in both fore and aft, and that alone was sufficient to make it imperative for her to rise at once. As it was only a minute or two since she submerged, everyone was at station for bringing her to the surface again, so that not a second was lost in spite of the inevitable confusion following the sudden dive and the explosion of the depth-charge.

"There had been a mad lot of rushes for the ladders and hatches, but the skipper, it appears, got up first, through the conning-tower to the bridge, as the official leader of the 'Kamerad Parade.' He was just in time to connect with the first shell from our foremost six-pounder, and that, or one of the succeeding projectiles which were fired before it was evident they were trying to surrender, accounted for several others in the van of the opening rush. The officer in charge of the whaler reported seeing several dead bodies lying on the deck and floating in the water, among these being that of the captain, which was taken back to Base and given a naval funeral. There were also two or three wounded. Of unwounded there were fifteen men and two officers, out of something like twenty-four in the original crew. One of the officers claimed to be a relation of Prince Henry of Prussia, but why he didn't claim the Kaiser himself, who is full brother to Prince Henry, I could never quite make out. As this was the same officer I told you of as not being able to see a joke, I didn't think it worth while to try to follow the ramifications of his family tree any farther. The engineer asserted that he had already been in eight warships which had been destroyed, these including a battleship and two or three cruisers and motor launches. I did the best I could to comfort him by telling him that, in case the _Flash_ wasn't put down by a U-boat in the three or four hours which would elapse before we made Base, he need have no further worries on the sinking score for some time to come. Just the same," he concluded, with a shake of the head, "I was glad to see that chap safely over the side. No sailor likes to be shipmates with a 'Jonah,' especially in times like these.

"By the time we had finished transferring the prisoners the _Splash_ had joined us, and her captain, being my senior, took charge of the rest of the show. On my reporting that I had several severely wounded Huns aboard, he ordered me to return to Base with them.

"I think that's about all there is to the yarn," said the captain, rising and starting to pull on his sea-togs preparatory to going up for another "look-see" before turning in. Then something flashed to his mind as an afterthought, and he relaxed for a moment, red of face and breathless, from a struggle with a refractory boot.

"There was one thing I shall always be glad about in connection with that little affair," he said thoughtfully, a really serious look in his eyes for almost the first time since I had seen him directing the dropping of the depth-charges early in the evening; "and that is that I didn't know in advance that those two British merchant marine officers were imprisoned in the U.C. '----' with the Huns when we came driving down to drop a 'can' on her. My duty would have been quite clear, of course, and, as you doubtless know, some of our chaps have faced harder alternatives than that without flinching or deviating an iota from the one thing that it was up to them to do; but, just the same, I'm not half certain that the instinct, or whatever you want to call it, which seemed to jog my elbow at the psychological moment that charge had to be let go to do its best work--I'm not at all sure that instinct would have served me so well had I known that success might have to be purchased by sending two of my own countrymen--yes, more than that, two sailors like myself--to eternity with the pirates who held them as hostages. Yes, it was a mercy that I didn't have that on my mind at the moment when I needed all the wits and nerve I had to get that 'can' off in the right place."

Visibly embarrassed at having allowed his feelings to betray him--a British naval officer--into a display of something almost akin to emotion, the captain stamped noisily into the stuck sea-boot and disappeared, behind a slammed door, into the night.

* * * * *

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

1. Numerous inconsistencies in capitalization, hyphenation and spelling have been retained as in the original publication.

2. The four brief footnotes have been moved to the end of the relevant paragraph.

3. The sole occurrence of bold text has been marked with = =.

4. oe-Diphthongs have been changed to a simple "oe".