U-995 & Lübeck, Germany

7 min readApr 16, 2023

As I make my way south through Schleswig-Holstein, I’m never far from the ocean. The North Sea is to the west with the Baltic to the east. Throughout the centuries, Germany’s ports along these waters have influenced its history from the Hanseatic League through both World Wars.

Near Kiel, the Laboe German Naval Memorial was originally intended to honor World War I war dead of the Kaiserliche Marine when building commenced in 1927. Today, it is dedicated as a memorial for the sailors of all nationalities lost at sea.

After I toured the memorial, I walked to an adjacent beach where the German submarine U-995 was preserved. Type VII U-boats (“U” for “Unterwasserboot” — literally “underwater boat”) were the most common type of German World War II submarine with 703 built.

I was about to board the lone surviving example.

Germany’s U-boats in the First and Second World Wars terrorized merchant convoys in the Atlantic in a concerted effort to choke supplies shipped from Canada and the United States to the United Kingdom. U-boats ranged from the Atlantic coast of the USA and Canada to the Gulf of Mexico, and from the Arctic to the west and southern African coasts.

U-995 was commissioned late in the naval war in September 1943. By then, British radar advances and American naval protection had turned the tide against German submarines. She sunk five Russian and one American ship before being surrendered to the British at the end of the war. U-995 was then transferred to the Norwegians for service before finally being offered back to West Germany in the 1960s as a memorial.

As I explored the tight quarters inside the sub, I found it hard to believe 60 men could share this confined space for patrols that lasted weeks at a time. They were crammed into every possible spot, even sleeping in shifts under suspended torpedoes. I quickly surmised I would have preferred another assignment.

Back in the car, I headed for a smaller-scale war memorial located along the road to Lübeck. I’d have easily driven past the spot if I wasn’t specifically looking for it. Remembrance Place Voßberg was built by German soldiers after a British bomber crashed into a searchlight-emplacement in October 1941. In the crash, all four British crewmembers and four German soldiers on the ground were killed.

Later, in April 1943, an anti-aircraft gun emplacement here was hit during a bombardment and five German soldiers were killed, including the men who built the memorial. Today, it shared its quiet spot with a cluster of daffodils.

I finally arrived at my Airbnb in Lübeck, unpacked and went to bed after a long day. The next morning, I jumped on a local bus and headed into the old city center of Lübeck. Again, a light rain dampened the morning but the sky slowly cleared toward noon.

Lübeck was famous as the cradle and de facto capital of the Hanseatic League, a medieval commercial and defensive confederation of merchant guilds and market towns in Central and Northern Europe. Its rich merchants built the city of brick, much of which survives today.

The unique brick architecture spread throughout the areas dominated by the League which is why preserved Belgian, Dutch, German and Scandinavian port cities share the look today.

I strolled along its narrow streets and ducked into several tight passages for a look at medieval urban sprawl. Due to its commercial success as the head of the Hanseatic League, Lübeck’s population swelled in the 1300s.

Living space within the city walls was no longer sufficient. So enterprising merchants and other clever homeowners came up with an idea: they built tiny one-story and often windowless “stalls” in their backyards to rent out.

Today, you could duck into passages under street signs with the word “Gang” in German (for “course” or “corridor”) and you’d emerge in a compact courtyard surrounded by small houses and apartments. I hadn’t seen this living arrangement before in another German city.

This being the coast, every church had a model ship hanging prominently inside. It reflected an old Nordic tradition of giving offerings for the protection of loved ones at sea and as a reminder of those lost at sea.

St. Jacob’s, the seafarers’ church, even had a chapel devoted to a specific German ship. In 1957, the Pamir was caught in Hurricane Carrie and sunk in the middle of the Atlantic. Of the 86 people on board when it set sail, only six survived. A smashed lifeboat on display was all that remained.

I then ventured over to St. Mary’s, the merchants’ church. The French Gothic structure had two towers that reached over 400 feet and it boasted the tallest vaulted brick ceiling in the world. Everything I looked up at today had been restored.

Lübeck was the first German city to be attacked by a massive Royal Air Force raid in World War II. On Palm Sunday, March 29, 1942, the RAF dropped 400 tons of bombs on the historic city center. St. Mary’s sustained extreme damage.

During the bombing, the church bells fell from nearly 400 feet and crashed into the floor. Today they remain exactly as they fell. The bells were in a shattered heap, partially melted into the ground beneath the vault. They served as a poignant reminder of the horrors of war.

After all that, it was good to get back outside and take time to locate and appreciate the many small parts of Lübeck that still hinted at its powerful past.