[Bosje]

The first port of call is FdU, our meeting is short and to the point. 'What do you know about the Mediterranean, Beckman?'
'Different latitude, same war, I suppose. The Tommies and the Macaronies being their usual annoying selves. But with a nice climate.'
'Exactly, Oberleutnant. Things are a bit awkward now that the Italians switched sides, but no matter, you can expect any contact to be hostile. Plenty of targets, plenty of enemies. As for the climate, it helps them more than it helps you. Try to keep your boat and crew in one piece, we are on our last legs here in these waters. Your boat is the latest to have made the crossing through Gibraltar. Did they tell you what happened?'
'No Sir, all I know is that there was some trouble and the Kaleun got killed.'
Rudi is standing beside me in the office and he stirs a little. Flotilla Commander Jahn looks at him. 'Perhaps you can indulge us, Herr Leutnant?'
Rudi's voice is shaky: 'Ehm well, first patrol, all the way around England and through the Straits into the Med. We were almost through, as deep and silent as we could. Then the Kaleun wanted a look around and we were both in the conning tower at periscope depth. Foggy, smooth sea, sound contacts all around but we could not see a thing. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a destroyer charged straight into the periscope and made a mess. Water rushing into the conning tower, Kaleun was crushed between the periscope and the hull, he shouted at me to get down and close the hatch, leave him there, save the boat. I did. We limped all the way over here. I'd rather talk about something else, please.'
I raise my eyebrows. So now I know how he got that Iron Cross. Quite a tale.


The Flotilla Commander takes over again: 'We buried the man covered in posthumous decorations but it's a troubling affair. The only thing we can think of is that their radar can detect a periscope. Quite disturbing. Anyway, the boat has been fitted with an all new conning tower. And the rest of her was still brand new to begin with. She went through her sea trials back in the Baltic but I do not trust these local boys as far as I could throw them, they aren't too happy about our occupation last year. So your first order of business is to take her out for a test run, see if it all holds together at depth. Get to know the boat and the men, then you'll go out on patrol. Questions?'
'No Sir.'
We shake hands. 'She's all ready to go, all we were waiting for was you, Herr Oberleutnant. You'll set out tonight. Bon voyage, as they say.'


We make our way over to the docks. This was the home base of the Vichy French fleet, they scuttled all their ships last year when the tank divisions made a show of themselves, adding this part of the world to the Reich. The wrecks create a slightly surreal scene in the otherwise peaceful surroundings which remind me of Riviera holiday brochures. Then I am in for a shock. Several U-boats are moored against the quays, no bunkers, no heavily protected shelters, they are simply sitting there in the open air.
'Tell me, Rudi, what do you do when they decide to drop some bombs here?'
'I dunno, Sir. We've only been here a month. Pray perhaps?'
'Pray? When was the last time God favored The Stupid?'
'Ehm, well the Channel Dash was a huge success, wasn't it? And a pretty stupid idea, at that.'
'Ah yes, touché.' We both laugh.
'Look, there she is, U-293. Pretty, isn't she?'
My eyes follow his stretched arm to a dark mass of steel, small figures crawling over the deck. The first thing I notice is the absence of a deck gun. The only thing sticking up out of the familiar slender shape of a Type VII hull is the conning tower, like some kind of medieval weapon. A straight angle up from the decks at the front, gradually sloping down at the rear with a two-stage wintergarten AA platform. An unassuming paint job in shades of black and gray, everything about her is a testament to her role of predator: the silent hunter. I shiver. 'Yes, Rudi. Very pretty indeed.'


The Duke