By James Heinz 

The World War II submarine USS COBIA has been docked in Manitowoc, WI, since 1970. She serves as a memorial to all the submarines built in Manitowoc during the war and the men who served on them. I have previously written about the Manitowoc subs, the COBIA and its history, and the one man who died on her in other articles on this blog. 

It is less well known that for the past 16 years, a group of dedicated volunteers has acted as World War II re-enactors aboard the sub. On special occasions, they will gather, wear authentic period uniforms, and conduct submarine tours for visitors. They also man a booth at other World War II re-enactment events to educate people about World War II naval service. None of them ever thought this would result in their starring in a movie. Not until they met a most unusual amateur filmmaker at a re-enactment at Old Falls Village Historical Park in Menomonee Falls. 

Andreas Forrer was born and raised in Switzerland. He came to the U.S. thirty years ago as a portfolio manager for Swiss Bank at the Chicago Board of Trade. He stayed because he likes America and for the usual reason that ruins a man’s life, “I met the love of my life here, and so I stayed.” 

I made a joke about a movie about the Navy being driven by a man from a country with no navy. Andreas said that Switzerland does have a navy, although it is part of the army and only consists of a few small patrol boats that guard Swiss lakes. Andreas knows about the Swiss Navy since he served in the Swiss armed forces, achieving the rank of captain in a hospital unit. 

Always interested in videography and historical re-enacting as hobbies, Andreas has re-enacted World War II GIs. His interest in submarines started as a child when he played with a radio-controlled submarine in his parent’s swimming pool. He made a WW II movie and one about the V-2 rocket. His interest in the WW II U.S. Navy was sparked by his father-in-law’s service on the last U.S. destroyer to be sunk by a kamikaze. 

Andreas chose to merge his various interests by creating a film about the COBIA, featuring re-enactors from the same vessel. He re-enacted the sub’s fifth of six war patrols because “they did it all on the fifth patrol.” The sub fired torpedoes, used its deck guns, and was depth-charged by the Japanese.  

Andreas was very concerned about historical accuracy. He did not write the script; history wrote the screenplay. He constantly referred to one or more books written about COBIA. The film is entitled “Blindly We Fought,” which is a good metaphor for submarine warfare. 

However, there are limits to how much historical accuracy can be achieved by a filmmaker with a budget of approximately zero. That was evident when the re-enactors and I mustered in the Wisconsin Maritime Museum conference room.  

There were about 16 of us. Not only were there too few of us to reproduce the 80-man crew of the COBIA, but we were also much older, fatter, and either bald or grey-haired. And one of us was a woman, “Lizzy,” the WMM community engagement person. She was there to ensure we didn’t steal the submarine and sail off to raid Sheboygan. From Andreas’ point of view, our lack of authenticity was offset by one significant advantage: we worked for free. 

The re-enactors had all come with authentic period clothing and equipment. They had so much of it that I volunteered to join their happy crew and participate in filming. It was my big chance to break into show biz, so I donned Navy dungarees. I was told that I had chosen the “cleanest dirty clothing available” since all the clothing was realistically oil-stained. 

Some re-enactors had life experiences that paralleled the character they portrayed. The pharmacist mate had been a real-life pharmacist for 50 years. The man playing the part of the executive officer had been a real-life U.S. Navy submarine sailor. He had been a torpedo man, and as a re-enactor, he had played the same role.  

However, the re-enactor scheduled to play the executive officer could not attend, so in the words of the former enlisted torpedo man, “I got demoted,” to the officer. At least he got to wear clean clothes. 

The father of the man demoted to XO played the captain of the sub. So, when his son referred to the captain as “the Old Man,” he meant it literally. Re-enacting the COBIA is a family affair. There were three other father-son partners in the re-enactment group. 

An argument ensued among the re-enactors about who had seniority, defined as who had been “on the boat” the longest. My claim to be a senior enlisted man because my father had taken me on a tour of the sub as a kid when it was docked in Milwaukee was contested by another re-enactor who claimed the same experience. I won the argument by pointing out that I had more grey hair than anyone else in the group, and he had to yield to me since he had no hair at all. 

Andreas had a shooting script, and I was cast as “Crewman #4”. He told me my part would be played in the control room at about 4 p.m. I was to be number 4 at 4. But first, Andreas filmed some scenes in the conference room against a green screen. The CO-XO, father-son duo filmed several scenes in the conference room.  

We then adjourned outside to the sub itself. Andreas had planned to film topside scenes the following day, but there was snow in the forecast, and it would be hard enough to re-create the sunny South Pacific in grey, gloomy, overcast Manitowoc without snow blowing through the scene. 

The three-inch deck gun was put into action. I had a feeling of kinship with the COBIA. Filming was done on November 25, 2023, and the COBIA was launched on November 28, 1943, making the sub 80 years old almost to the day. But when I discovered that the gun still elevates, depresses, and rotates, I was jealous of the sub because that is more than I can say for my left knee these days. 

After that action, it moved to the bow. The crew re-enacted the WW II crew retrieving Japanese life rings from the sea, one of which is at WMM. Some scenes were filmed with the Captain and XO on the bridge. 

Filming was moved to the rear of the Conning tower. The crew elevated, depressed, and turned the 40 mm gun, which is more than my left knee can do. As they did so, the sharp-eyed imitation warriors spotted a target of opportunity approaching. What was the target? 

The target was the oldest ship on the Great Lakes. 

Today’s ST. MARYS CHALLENGER was built in 1906 as the WILLIAM P. SNYDER. For 107 years, she sailed the Great Lakes as the oldest self-propelled cargo vessel on the Lakes. In 2013, her boilers failed inspection, and she was cut down into the barge component of an integrated tug-barge ship to be operated in conjunction with the tug PRENTISS BROWN. 

And there she was, a prime target slowly oozing outbound down the Manitowoc River, past the COBIA. The 40 mm crew, trained to a high state of readiness by watching World War II movies, tracked her with the gun as she slowly moved past the COBIA. The CHALLENGER blew her whistle as she passed the sub, either as a gesture of respect to the veteran warship or possibly as derision towards her ersatz crew.  

The CHALLENGER escaped sinking because the sub’s guns could no longer fire, something I can still do if sufficiently motivated. Lizzy, the WMM lady, had wisely declined to provide us with any live ammunition. No cement boat sailors were harmed in the making of this movie. 

I have heard actors say that much of movie acting is just sitting around waiting to be called, and so it proved to be the case with me. While waiting for my scene to be filmed, I encountered a group of people touring the boat with facial expressions both puzzled and alarmed as if to say, “Are we being transported back in time on a boat full of crazy people?” Some were having a flashback to an old episode of The Twilight Zone. 

To reassure them, I told them that we were filming a movie since Andreas and his camera were out of sight. I asked them where they were from, expecting them to say something mundane like “Chicago” or “Sheboygan.” They replied, “Brazil.” 

As I stood on the cold, windswept deck of the COBIA under the grey, lead-colored skies of Manitowoc in November, I said the only thing a Wisconsinite could say, “Brazil? Where it’s warm? Why are you here? Are you going back? Can you take me with you? Please, please take me with you.” They laughed and said they found the weather “refreshing,” the politest euphemism I have ever heard for November weather in Wisconsin. They said they also appreciated the lack of insects. 

After filming a scene in the torpedo room, the action shifted to the forbidden zone of the conning tower. This area is directly above the control room and where the periscope would be operated.  

The tower is accessed by a ladder from the control room, with a sign saying “DO NOT CLIMB LADDER.” I got to climb the ladder and squeezed myself into the conning tower, being careful not to touch a piece of equipment with signs reading “DO NOT TOUCH” on it, which everyone warned me not to touch even though no one knew what it was or why it would be harmful to touch it. 

When the conning tower got too crowded, which didn’t take too many people, I climbed back into the control room. And then it happened, what I thought would be my moment of cinematic glory, only to see it snatched from my grasp by the most significant enemy a creative genius like me can face: historical accuracy. 

Andreas wanted to film a scene with me in it in the control room. However, the former torpedo man/current XO informed him that, in reality, that action would have taken place in the now vacated conning tower, whose ladder no one seemed eager to climb again. So, Andreas cut my scene from the movie.  

All I could think was, “Gee, thanks, Mister Historical Accuracy Person.” I had already been practicing my Academy Awards acceptance speech (“I would like to thank all the little people who helped me get here today, but I can’t, because I did it all myself, and because modesty and humility are only two of my many great qualities.”) 

Andreas then decided to film a scene where the COBIA is depth-charged. He consulted with the crew about what dialogue was spoken as recorded in the books. A map of the island of Iwo Jima on the chart table added to the realism. Andreas was trying to be as accurate as he could be on a production budget of nothing. At least his film cannot be accused of going over budget because there was no budget. 

In the real depth charge attack, the Japanese dropped 800-pound charges of high explosives on top of the sub, which detonated and struck the sub with hammer-like blows, apparently driving it down into the mud, where it got stuck, resulting in the real crew having to rock the boat to free it from the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. This experience is nowhere near as much fun as it sounds. 

The real depth charges blew out all the lights, which Andreas wanted to re-create. At this point, Lizzy, the WMM lady, earned her pay since she knew where all the light switches were. I was demoted from sailor #4 to a lower position. Andreas pointed vaguely at the port side of the control room and told me to grab something and look like I was doing something.  

As a former government employee, I am very experienced in standing around looking like I am doing something while not doing anything, so I felt I could bring authenticity to my role. 

I grabbed a large red wheel labeled as one of the diving plane controls. The lights were then turned off, and we were directed to improvise our dialogue by shouting in fear while simulating the sub’s emergency lighting by activating the flashlight feature on our smartphones and waving them around.  

My only lines of dialogue were, “I can’t turn the wheel. The wheel is jammed,” or something like that. At least it was a speaking role so that I could get a credit in the movie as Man With Back To The Camera Holding Large Red Wheel. I was photographed from behind, which everyone agreed was my best side. 

And that was it. My chance for cinema immortality was over almost as soon as it had begun. I had to leave, but the dedicated thespians of the COBIA re-enactor group would continue to perform until an estimated time of 7 pm and then a half day of filming the next day. I had a great time. Someone asked if I was disappointed I did not get more on-screen time. All I could say was: 

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” 

The End. Roll credits. 

After sending this story to Andreas for his review, he replied, “The half day of filming the next day was canceled due to 2 inches of snow on the deck of the Cobia. So, we just said our goodbyes and left for home where warm coffee and a shower awaited us and where the wives would enjoy the fresh smell of Diesel reeking from our clothes.”

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James Heinz is the Wisconsin Marine Historical Society’s acquisitions director. He became interested in maritime history as a kid watching Jacques Cousteau’s adventures on TV. He was a Great Lakes wreck diver until three episodes of the bends forced him to retire from diving. He was a University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee police officer for thirty years. He regularly flies either a Cessna 152 or 172.