In fact the men did get together and stitch together a rudimentary holster belt and cowbow hat out of some old canvas for me. And I looked quite the part in my checked shirt and Navy oilskin trousers as rodeo chaps.
They're trying to persuade me to wear it all when we come back in and take the salute in St Nazaire.
The Flotilla guys might get the joke, but the Party BigWigs who always congregate for a photo opportunity on these occasions are not known for their sense of humour. And nor, publicly, is Uncle Karl.
As for carrying the luger around with me, I've gone a year without even remembering it's existence, and it would get in the way when moving through the hatches.
Also I have far better ways of dealing with both the enemy and an unruly or wavering crewman.
Plus there are no more bullets left anyway. We really are terrible shots, and used the lot!
In my defence, when I was eliminated, I'm sure Bruno suddenly swung the helm on the Bridge every time I took aim.
Lt de Bunsen, U-46
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