“Deep-shipwreck diving is among the world’s most dangerous sports. Few other endeavors exist in which nature, biology, equipment, instinct, and object conspire – without warning and from all directions – to so completely attack a man’s mind and disassemble his spirit. Many dead divers have been found inside shipwrecks with more than enough air remaining to have made it to the surface. It is not that they chose to die, but rather that they could no longer figure out how to live…”
- Robert Kurson, Shadow Divers: The True Adventure of Two Americans Who Risked Everything to Solve One of the Last Mysteries of World War II
A submarine is not necessary for a great story, but it sure doesn’t hurt. By their very nature, they bring the drama.
As antagonist, the submarine is a terrifying force multiplier, an alpha predator that stalks unseen and strikes from below. As a protagonist, the submarine is nothing less than a composite of primordial fears: of darkness and drowning, of suffocating and claustrophobia.
If you have a tale to tell, and it involves a submarine, I am willing to listen.
Robert Kurson’s Shadow Divers gives a sly twist to the robust literary sub-genre devoted to vessels traveling beneath the sea. Instead of driving the action, the submarine here is an unusually passive character. In point of fact, it is a German U-boat sunk off the New Jersey coast during the Second World War and rediscovered in 1991.
Despite being permanently out of service, this particular sub retains its potency. Even in death, it proves deadly, a lethal attraction for adventurous men. As such, it easily holds the center of this gripping tale of deep-wreck diving, historical detective work, and the curious pathways of human obsession.
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Everything you need to know about the premise of Shadow Divers can be comfortably captured in a single sentence: a couple of divers risk their lives to ascertain the identity of a Nazi sub lying in 230 feet of water, sixty miles from America’s shoreline.
The divers in question are John Chatterton and Richie Kohler. Though others participated in expeditions to the U-boat – including onetime scuba legend Bill Nagle, who descended into alcoholism – Kurson focuses on this pair for obvious reasons. Both were renowned divers; both were consumed by the quest; both eventually ended up on the History Channel; and both were willing to be interviewed extensively. Their enemies-to-besties bromance provides the narrative with interstitial tension between trips to the wreck.
In 335 brisk pages, Kurson describes the initial discovery of the U-boat; the difficulty in finding any ironclad identification; the growing preoccupation of Chatterton and Kohler to name the sub, even at the cost of wrecked personal relationships; and the final daring dive that finally gives them the evidence they need. While most of the time is spent on the sea, Kurson also provides biographies of Chatterton and Kohler, recounts their out-of-water research efforts, and describes a bit about life on a World War II-era undersea boat, where conditions were extreme, and life expectancies short.
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Shadow Divers is an example of a book that could – with proper editing – make for a wonderful long-form article. This is my way of saying that Kurson adds a certain amount of filler that, strictly speaking, might be unnecessary. Though others have argued to the contrary, I don’t think that filler is inherently a bad thing. Here, I appreciated Kurson’s efforts to expand the story in various ways. It makes for a richer book, and also helps modulate the pace. Furthermore, Kurson writes so well that this never overstays its welcome.
But the selling point here Kurson’s thrilling descriptions of the dives themselves. While I may appreciate the expanded view, I bought my ticket to experience a low-grade panic-attack-by-proxy. I definitely got my money’s worth.
As he points out quite early, Chatterton and Kohler were not engaged in shallow-water excursions in a tropical paradise with crystalline waters. They were in the deep, the dark, and the cold, where one could see for only a few feet, and could remain for only a few minutes. At the depths in which they worked, they experienced nitrogen narcosis, which caused impaired judgment akin to intoxication. They also had to carefully decompress on the way up, meaning that if something went wrong on the bottom, they could not simply rocket to the surface without risking excruciating pain and possible death.
Kurson has a real ability to put you into this extreme environment, one that most people will never know firsthand. For instance, there is a hair-raising account of two divers who panicked on the wreck, and then got the “bends” from coming up too fast. Aside from wholly capturing my horrified attention, it really helped me pare down the list of things I want to do someday.
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Shadow Divers is a quick and entertaining read. It has its flaws, but they are rather minor. For one, Kurson seems to have relied very heavily on Chatterton and Kohler as his sources, to the exclusion of other participants. This can make for a somewhat unbalanced perspective. Indeed, another wreck diver went so far as to write an entire volume trying to debunk this one. This did not bother me as much as the folks on the subreddit I found.
The conclusion about what caused the sinking of the U-boat has also been criticized. Kurson – following the lead of Chatterton and Kohler – believes the submarine was destroyed by its own faulty acoustic torpedo, which circled back and slammed into its side. Even before I did any outside research, this seemed a stretch, if only because it violates Occam’s Razor.
In any event, these quibbles did not dampen my enjoyment. Shadow Divers is the nonfiction equivalent of a roller coaster: fast and fun, with a few twists along the way. If there are some inaccuracies, some differences in opinion, some friction between the viewpoints of different participants, that’s okay. In the grand arc of history, it’s just not that big a deal.
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Given its general tenor, which favors action over introspection, it is not surprising that we never get a satisfactory answer as to why Chatterton and Kohler kept risking their lives just to put the right number next to the “U” in U-boat. To be sure, they provide some justifications, including honoring the men aboard the sub. However genuine the sentiment, this does not really feel like the truth.
In the end, I’m guessing Chatterton and Kohler themselves aren’t really sure. Like mountain climbers and skydivers, they engaged in an essentially pointless activity, wagering the thrill of facing doom against the very real chance they might actually meet it. Within them was an unspoken recognition that death is inevitable, and faced with those odds, they chose to do what they loved, no matter the cost. It might seem like a poor bargain, but then again, any meaning that life has is the meaning we give to life.