From the Journal of Kurt Tödlich

[Missing Name]

Yes, yet another member has decided to try his hand at writing sub stories.
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September 25, 1939.
Tödlich. It's a name fitting for the path I have chosen, yet none of the family knows who was the first Tödlich. Was it a warrior or hunter generations ago? A cheesemaker? We might never learn.

I had shown great potential with a Type II in training, but the lack of secondary armament worried me. I mentioned this to Admiral Dönitz, and his response was to laugh.

"You'll certainly live up to your name!" He then mentioned he had what I wanted: a Type IX at Wilhelmshaven, whose captain was removed for reasons I couldn't be told. "You have a large deck gun on that, bigger than what we can mount on a Type VII." After some pondering, I decided to go ahead and take command. And all because of one little comment... he must really want someone to take that boat.

September 29, 1939.
I think I found out why the admiral wanted to get rid of this boat so quickly.

By my head in the captain's quarters, someone has scratched a scoreboard of some sort:

http://i874.photobucket.com/albums/ab303/MissingName/Clipboard01.png

After some rumor searching, I found out that three sailors had been crushed when on of the engines was being lowered into the boat. Two were killed when the chain lowering the deck gun down snapped. One was killed after a torpedo slipped and hit him in the head. The original captain got sick the moment he stepped on the boat, and had to be removed.

And the one point for us sailors? We got the damn thing in the water.

I only got the boat because all the other commanders thought it was cursed. This bodes well for my career.

[Sailor Steve]

Maybe you will be the man to turn that luck around.

But just in case - It's been nice knowing you. :dead:

[Missing Name]

Since each entry covers an entire patrol, these will be long.
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September 30, 1939

We have been christened "U-127." I am not sure why they chose this number; I thought we were only up to the 110's. Engineer Rahn asked if we had a goat to sacrifice on the bow before we set out.

Ludwig Peters, our gunner, has managed to acquire extra 105mm shells. How, I don't know. And I don't know where to put them either. If he's good enough to get them, perhaps he can store them in his locker.

I also received my new sidearm, to replace my old revolver that pretty much fell apart during target practice. It's a brand new Walther, in 9mm kurz. It's accurate, but now I have a cut on the skin between my thumb and index finger.

December 1, 1939

We left Wilhelshaven early in the morning. There was a slight glow of sunlight, but as usual, mainly clouded out. At least there wasn't much wind.

My friend Capt. Striefen also set out today. We trained together from the beginning. He has been given a Type VII; says he is waiting for modifications to bring it up to VIIB standards. Capt. Richter clapped me on the back and asked how many bodybags we had onboard.

What made me uneasy was that our medic asked the same exact question, except with a deadly serious expression. After that, he vomited and muttered something about "that damn woman."

December 10, 1939.

We are off the west coast of Ireland. Nothing for days. I have now learned all of the names of my crew.

December 12, 1939.

I received reports of high traffic, south of France. Kähler is skeptical. We are now heading towards the Bay of Biscay.

December 14, 1939.

We have just arrived in the bay and already have sighted to small dots on the horizon. The darkness makes it difficult to identify the targets.

- water damage -

We are fortunate to be alive. One destroyer hit us as we were diving, but he also apparently tore his bow off. We heard him hit the bottom. Both of our engines were disabled and the compartment was taking on water. Fortunately, the damage was light to the port side, so we were able to keep from sinking as quickly. The second destroyer was closing in, presumably homing in on the frantic repairs going on in the aft of our boat. Diving deeper was not an option; we had no idea what condition the pressure hull was in.

My nutcase weapons officer Kriegshammer believed he would be able to hit the destroyer with a stern shot. I said no, but he pointed out that our enemy was already on a straight path at us and closing fast from the rear. Turning either way would mean simply presenting a larger target for a fast torpedo.

Indeed, the destroyer turned to port when the fish went out. But at only 400 meters, there wasn't enough room to maneuver. She took it directly midships, listing heavily and stopped dead in the water.

We watched her sink from 10km away. That was too close for my liking. Rahn said there was no chance of recovering the 3.7mm, seeing how most of it was simply gone from the collision. Other than that, we are in remarkably good shape and with no casualties. We are still returning to base, though. U-boat 7, Sailors 2.

- later -

We have finally intercepted a freighter. They ignored the order to stop. One torpedo and several shells later, we sank her. They should have listened. The crew are in good spirits.

December 15, 1939.

Damn these torpedoes! All four failed to explode. We surfaced and stopped the merchant, Canadians. She was a good-sized ship, hauling wool coats. We just didn't tell them about the failed fish. Scuttling charges sent her to the bottom.

December 17, 1939.

Another freighter. What is it with the French and not stopping? There were many bodies in the water. Felt sick, but I suppose this sight will only become more common. Morale is high.

December 22, 1939.

We are home. Everyone is shocked that they are alive. Capt. Richter owes me a beer; so much for body bags. But this was only one patrol. Yes, we laugh about it now, but the destroyers came very close to killing us.

Folkers wishes to paint an emblem on the conning tower. I'm going to let him do so. Gebauer wants a spade, Wermuth wants a nude lady, and Oesten wants a swastika. When the swastika was brought up, we all looked around uneasily. Oesten didn't seem to notice. It will be up to Folkers, though, so we just have to wait and see. He's got a canvas covering up his work.

One patrol down, unknown number ahead.

[Tessa]

"You'll certainly live up to your name!" He then mentioned he had what I wanted: a Type IX at Wilhelmshaven, whose captain was removed for reasons I couldn't be told. "You have a large deck gun on that, bigger than what we can mount on a Type VII." After some pondering, I decided to go ahead and take command. And all because of one little comment... he must really want someone to take that boat.

At that point in time no captain/officer would have refused a command of any submarine, there would have been no hesitation just a "yes sir". Had you told Donitz to "wait while I think about" it the position would have been filled pretty much right after he walked away from you. Getting a command of any u-boat was only given to the most experienced/most promising captains (Kretschmer's first command was a IIA). Early in the war they were very picky on who those chose to command boats (the only time when they had a large pool of experienced men to choose from) even getting a type II would have been a big career boost.