[Bosje]

'Kaleun?' I get up and cut the bootsmann off as he comes through the hatch from the control room. 'What is it?' - 'Smoke on the horizon, Sir!'
I rush up the ladder onto the bridge in too much of a hurry. This new boat is not yet fully accustomed to me, or the other way round. Either way, my right foot misses a rung and slips, my knee taking most of the impact as I collide with the rim of the open hatch. A most ungentlemanly curse echoes through the conning tower but I get back up on the ladder and finally scramble onto the bridge, trying to ignore the pain. 'Alright, show me that contact.'
There, the tell-tale trail of smoke far away. It is definitely a ship. No radar transmissions registered on our Biscay Cross yet. A lone merchant? I hope it is, and I hope it is flying an enemy flag. I myself can hardly see a thing through the binoculars though, my eyes are watering from the fierce pain in my knee. God that hurt. But even I can see that the smoketrail is moving slowly across our path. The hunt is finally on, after all those months.


Minutes later we dive, it was actually three ships in keel formation, coming more or less our way. We won't even have to spend half the day getting into position. Could be a trap, could be anything, really. But at first glance it's just a small and rather slow moving endeavour: two merchants and a corvette. The escort is circling carelessly around in front of the formation, we will try to stay quiet, letting it pass ahead and then we will be in position to launch some torpedoes at the flanks of those merchants, from around two thousand meters. The boat slips into position, I take very short peeks at my prey as they slowly get ever closer. My plan is working. I am muttering values, doing mental math after each peek. We have all bow tubes loaded with electric eels, relatively slow and un-sophisticated but perfect for this situation. It is broad daylight but the opportunity is too good to pass on. The mini-convoy is sailing at 5 knots on a course of roughly 300, they are all English. We are ready.


'Range 1900, bearing 351.'
A whisper: 'Fertig!'
'Einz los! Zwei los! Range 1800 bearing 8.' - 'Fertig!' - 'Drei los! Down scope.'
Rudi and I climb down from the conning tower. A periscope torpedo attack just before noon in perfect conditions. It was only three years ago but it seems like a lifetime since I last did anything like this. The first Happy Times. We will soon see what the corvette has to say about this. First, we will have to make the most of our headstart. The torpedoes will need a while to reach their targets, time we had better spend to make our escape.
'Heinz, ahead at 100 revolutions, rudder port 20, steep dive.'
Heinz is the chief engineer, the LI, taking the boat to where I want her to be. Gradually, we start to look for something to hold on to. The steep dive gets us to reasonable safety even at this slow speed but it's impossible to stand upright on the tilted floorboards. I hold on to the ladder while Kurt, the navigator, says: 'Twenty seconds for the first torpedo.' We pass 40 meters when the rumble reaches us through the hull. And immediately a second rumble. And a third. I allow myself one of my old grins: 'I hope that corvette commander just choked on his lunch. Number two, make a note for the log: Enemy contact while en route to patrol area. Fired three torpedoes at an ore carrier and a small merchant, detonations on all torpedoes...'
The ASDIC rudely interrupts and wipes the grin off my face.



I still love the rush of adrenaline as depth charges explode. Not even close, barely close enough to be felt at all inside the boat. As the corvette started its first run, we increased speed and let the boat slide down and away. Pretty standard tactics but the Tommies above us have so far acted like they are green as grass. I scratch my chin which is still relatively smooth, decide we are fine and casually order a reduction back to 100 rpm. But I have to remember that my men have not yet grown accustomed to the U-boat war, despite their training. They look quite impressed with the action. Excited but also nervous. For now, just being here and being calm is enough. I use the time we have to further our distance and depth. Then, as the last echoes of the depthcharges fade away, we go silent. Now we wait, while my body remembers it is in pain. Silly how you can ignore such discomforts in the tension of the hunt. Now it really starts to hurt like hell, I fear the joint is damaged. I try to crouch down to get in touch with the radio shack but my leg won't bend. Nothing to do but wait while the corvette tries to re-establish contact with us. 'Passing 100 meters.'



The Duke