[Schöneboom]

At 1900 that evening, off the coast of the Peloponnese, we turned westward to cross the Ionian Sea. So far none of our U-Boats had reported contact with the enemy in this narrow band. With luck we would have perhaps 24 hours of peace before reaching Calabria.

On the chart Willi drew a circle around Malta indicating the range of British air coverage. It encompassed almost all of Sicily, but just grazed the southern tip of Calabria, the toe of Italy's boot.

"That's being optimistic," I commented.

"This takes into account the fuel expended in searching their sectors," said Willi. "Of course they could fly farther, if they have coordinates for a specific target."

"Ja, quite so. And we mustn't forget their submarines. They could be anywhere." I recalled von Tiesenhausen's claim that the Tommies were patrolling near Ustica, north of Palermo.

Tonight at least, we were granted a reprieve. But it was a mixed blessing. In idle moments one becomes keenly aware of the torments of U-boat life: the cramped quarters, the perpetual damp, the filthy stench, the--

"Verdammt noch mal!" Rolf pounded the mess table hard enough to rattle the dishes. "Cursed, disgusting cockroaches! They're driving me mad!"

"Easy, Rolf," I said. "A few more days till La Spezia, then we'll have the boat fumigated."

"If only I had a flit-gun, I'd wipe them out!" Rolf growled.

"Are you kidding? You'd poison us as well!" said Heinrich. "Just ignore the beasts!"

Oskar and I came up with a new diversion: Off-duty men could play the music of their choice on the gramophone and act as "radio announcer" over the intercom. This stimulated their creativity to an unexpected degree, especially in the case of Matrosenobergefreiter Johann Rebholz.

None of us had suspected Johann's talent. The things he said, or implied, in a mock Wehrmacht news program (complete with mimicry and sound effects!) would have gotten him arrested back home. But among us U-boatmen, the unwritten rule was: What we say on board, stays on board.

And how we laughed! It was a breath of fresh air after all the shameless propaganda we had been fed day and night. Of course Johann could not resist poking fun at "Reichsmarschall Meier", also known as the Fat Man, the embodiment of corruption and our favorite scapegoat.

The humor was not as therapeutic for me, though. In the privacy of my bunk, doubts returned to haunt me. To blame Goering was too convenient. The absurdity of it all, the waste, the empty promises...

Three years. So many ships, so many U-boats, so many lives lost... What difference did any of it make? What victory could we hope for now?

Johann closed his show with a recording by the Comedian Harmonists, a group not heard on German radio for years. Applause, whistles, and cries of "Bravo!" and "Prima!" resounded through the boat.

Johann switched off the intercom and gramophone, then turned to me. I realized then that he was very likely the bravest man on board.

"Did you enjoy it, Herr Kaleun?" he asked.

"I laughed, didn't I?"