[MantiBrutalis]

As experienced by captain Georg Braun, 7th January 1941, 9 PM, U-104, somewhere in the Atlantic.

There’s a deafening screech while we are all swept to the right. My face arrives at a bunch of pipes. Then the body comes, my side stopped by something very pointy. The sound of traction between metals continues for a second, then stops. We are quite turned to our side, nearly horizontal.

A quick glance toward the depth meter – we are still pretty much at periscope depth, though I have my doubts about reliability of the device after such a hit. The only sound belongs to the ship right above us. It looks like there is nothing in need of urgent repairs, the crew is silently standing up and waiting … for my orders! They really are hero material.

But the fact remains, we are still on our side. I reach up for the periscope, using it as a support ,climb a bit and try to look what it has to show me. It works! Although there’s nothing to see. Suddenly, a giant screw comes from nowhere. It misses the periscope by inches, followed by a trail of bubbles.

My brain goes into turbo mode. The ship hit us somewhere in front of our tower. Tubes should be fine. Men in torpedo rooms… I don’t know. Not much time has passed, we are still near the surface. The convoy didn’t have the time to react yet. I am not going into the depths without a ship accompanying me down there!

“Open all tubes!” I shout. They obey. I try to remember where the ships should be now. “Tubes one and four. Salvo, bearing 350, spread 4. Fire. Tubes two and three, salvo, bearing 350, spread 10. Fire.”

I try to imagine where the ship behind us is. Not much of a chance, but I’ll take it anyway. “Tubes five and six, salvo, bearing 200, spread 6. Fire.”

I wait for the sound of the last salvo leaving the boat. And now… run. “Ahead flank! Dive fast! Damage report!” We start rocking from side to side. Men are doing their jobs anyway. Good.

I try to calm myself. I realize I have trouble breathing, drops are leaving my chin. I broke my nose.