(U-51, patrol 6, continued...)
We broke through the surface and the diesels roared to life. As I scanned the horizon and found it empty I marveled at how grateful I was to see nothing but sea and sky in every direction. How many days and nights had we plowed our appointed way through wave and wind, more numb from tedium than from the elements, and then grumbled to ourselves and each other as yet another hour passed with no contacts, no enemies, no anything in sight that might alleviate the boredom?
Today, for a change, no one would curse our fate at being the only evidence of human existence as far as the eye could see.
After a full inspection of our damage both within and without, and a consultation with my officers, we decided to set course for Vigo and the supply ship anchored there. The LI assured me we had enough fuel to return directly to Wilhelmshaven, but our forward battery was still out of action and the remaining battery aft refused to recharge despite his most fervent ministrations. Both the radio and the hydrophones were dead and our 'scopes could not be fully repaired with what we had on hand. Neither could the deck gun, although the flak gun had been dutifully repaired and - along with one stern torpedo - would be our only means of attack and defense should either prove necessary.
The compass, thank heavens, still worked, but as much as we would've liked to see it pointing us homeward with all possible speed, the journey there without the option of submerging for any reasonable length of time - and the certainty of being effectively deaf and blind should we do so - was not one I wanted to contemplate. How much could be repaired once we reached Vigo remained to be seen, but everyone agreed that we couldn't possibly leave there worse off than we already were. At the very least they could send our compliments to BdU and thus allay the fears of those at home who might otherwise assume us lost at sea.
So, to Vigo - and then, with any luck, home.
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