[Schöneboom]

The final 500 kilometers of our journey to La Spezia were fortunately uneventful, with only sporadic sightings of Italian fishing boats and merchant vessels.

Though every passing hour brought us closer to safety, my nerves steadily deteriorated. The nightmares were even worse than those I'd had right after Lampedusa, which made me afraid to sleep. Lying awake in my bunk, for the first time I suffered intense claustrophobia. To look up at the curved wood paneling made me feel I was inside a coffin.

Deprived of sleep, I became lightheaded and hypersensitive. When a crewman dropped a spanner on the deck, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Everyone tried not to notice my shameful condition. Had I been seen on a city street, I could have been mistaken for an alcoholic tramp.

I had to carry on, pretending as best I could that I was still fit to command. The next night, during one of my frequent visits to the bridge to escape my tomb, Rolf finally whispered to me, "Herr Kaleun, I'd be glad to take on some of your duties until we reach La Spezia."

"I'm fine, Rolf," I said with barely-suppressed rage. "Mind your own duties! You'll have your chance to command soon enough!" I regretted my outburst, but I didn't apologize.

I knew something was broken inside. When I shut my eyes, all the horrors I had ever witnessed and imagined swept over me like a rogue wave. I wanted to believe that all I needed was a long furlough.

One vision sustained me during that interminable night before our return to La Spezia. Standing under the full moon, I imagined her beside me, on a balcony overlooking the calm, glittering sea, in a world finally at peace.

It was not Eva I was thinking of.

After breakfast the next morning we came upon a minesweeper south of the harbour. We announced ourselves by Varta-lamp, then drew alongside to communicate by megaphone. They radioed the base about our impending arrival and escorted us the rest of the way.

Our four victory pennants could not be displayed in the usual way; both periscopes were jammed in the down position, and the Wintergarten railing and flagpole had been blown off. Still, we managed to string up the pennants from the DF loop antenna to the deck gun.

Given our severely damaged decking, I decided against having the men stand on it for the cruise into port. As we approached the breakwater, Heinrich joined me on the bridge.

"I hardly ever see you up here, L.I."

"We're home, Herr Kaleun. That's reason enough," he said. "Sorry I couldn't fix this port list."

"Doesn't matter now. They'll take care of it in drydock."

"If we were based in Kiel or Lorient, and we brought the boat home in this condition, they'd say, 'It's totaled, forget the refit! We'll get you a new boat, fresh from the shipyard. Better for everyone that way.'"

"That's not going to happen here," I said.

He shook his head ruefully. "Not in La Spezia. No new boat for us. We'll fix this wreck and send it out again and again and again... till it doesn't come back."

"Ja, ja... She'll need a lot of inspection and testing. You've got your work cut out for you."

"I'm still taking my furlough, of course," said Heinrich. "Don't want to go crazy, you know." He glanced at me again, instantly regretting his choice of words.

"You and me both, Heinrich."