5 NOV 39
U-4
03:38
I should decorate our Master Chief for his weather prayer, the sea is smooth as glass with clear sky's!
I'm on the bridge. The sounds of "Deep purple" by Bea Wain drift up from the open hatch.
06:30
The morning sun is starting to rise aft of us. A friendly merchant tug follows along side our port side, within shouting distance. I match speed with them. I call down below for volunteers to the bridge. The gramophone is brought up from below and set by the megaphone.
With the volunteers gathered on deck, "Finnegans Wake" is played on the gramphone. We sing the lyrics of the song, in our best Irish tenor voices across the waves to the tug:
"Whack fol the da O, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you?
Lot's of fun at Finnegans wake!"
The tug's crew cheers. Smiles all around. "Good song, Capt'n", my 1st says. "Circle of life, gentlemen", I say. The tug stays with us for four hours, then turns South. The sun sets. The sea remains calm. I enjoy a cigar while on the bridge.
This evening's schedule calls for a propaganda film to be shown in the bow compartment. The film projector and screen of canvas are assembled, the off-duty watch is seated. The film rolls; goose-stepping grunts on parade. Half-way into the film, the sound narrative stops and the English song "The Lambeth Walk" takes it's place. Jackboots stepping to the tune of "The Lambeth Walk". Ever laugh so hard your jaws ache?
Her Goebbles would not be happy.
9 NOV 39
We reach our patrol area , AN26, on Her Donitz's chess board. We turn North. We are surprised by am Englishman bearing gifts of depth charges from above. I assign Sauer to the machine gun aft, Totenhagen and I stay on the bridge. "Come back again, Tommy, we will stand and fight!"
09:36
Ship spotted. A small freighter. Dive, periscope depth, get close for observation. "Its an English flag, gentlemen, battle stations!", I say.
Set up solution, open bow caps, fire!
The merchant's crew get into a life boat. They probably have a wireless set in the lifeboat. I radio the British authorities anyway concerning the sinking position just to make sure the lads get back home again.
The merchant slowly sinks by the stern. We approach the life boat.
'What's the name of your ship?", I shout to them.
"The Mount Kyle!" is the reply.
"What's your name, sailor?", I ask.
"Murphy, Electrician's mate, 2nd class, from Newfoundland." he says.
"Tell me, Murphy, what was it like to grow up in Newfoundland?", I ask.
"Well, only the rich kids packed meat sandwiches in their lunch pails for school. Us poor kids packed lobster sandwiches!"
I find the Mount Kyle in the manifest, 2343 tons.
We dive, return to course and do not surface again until we are ten kilometers away from the life boat.
Carl A. Lange Jr. sub-Lt.