[Schöneboom]

1 Sept. 1941.

U-67 was finally removed from the maintenance pen after getting a clean bill of health from her LI, Oblt. Karl-Hermann Gocksch. Not a moment too soon, as we have only 3 days left to ready her for patrol. My new LI often comes across as high-strung and demanding, but his perfectionism suits me. At our first meeting he sized me up, much the way Gisele's father did when we were first introduced. I promised Gocksch I would do my best not to break his boat -- but I could not promise anything about the Tommies.

This morning I got a call from Krvkpt. Viktor Schütze, the 2. U-Flottille's Kommandant: "Ullmann, do you have your white dress uniform?"

"Ja, but it needs pressing. Why?"

"Get it pressed. At 1900 we're having dinner with The Lion."

Schütze gave me a lift to "le Chateau des Sardines" -- our nickname for the Villa Kerillon at Kernéval, whose original owner had made his fortune in the fishing industry. It was a gorgeous place, though incongruously fortified with anti-aircraft guns and an underground bomb shelter. Seeing the immaculate officers striding the halls of this opulent chateau, I had to remind myself they were doing important work, too.

"Careful you don't end up like one of them someday," whispered Schütze.

It struck me that this is exactly the life that Gisele and her parents envision for me in their wildest dreams. When Gisele wept at my leaving, it was partly because I had given up a comfortable rear-echelon job, one that could've led to a prestigious administrative career. Instead I would be risking my life far from home for weeks at a time. I share her grief at our separation, but I'm also irresistably drawn to the sea, despite its dangers. Will she ever understand?

Vizeadmiral Karl Dönitz joined us in the cavernous dining room with his entourage of staff officers. A few U-Boot skippers - the ones not on patrol or on leave - also joined us: Heinrich Schuch (U-38), Richard Zapp (U-66), and Wilhelm Kleinschmidt (U-111). The dinner was top-notch, the main dish being of course the plateau de fruits de mer (fresh seafood platter), washed down with chilled muscadet. Coquilles St. Jacques, lobster florentine crepes, and moules à la bretonne were also popular choices.

As the new arrival, I was reserved a seat next to Schütze, quite close to Dönitz.

"So, Der Spanier has returned at last," said Dönitz, shaking my hand. "How do you like our new headquarters, Ullmann?"

"If one cannot go to sea, Herr Admiral, I guess this will have to do." For a moment, Schütze looked worried. The other officers watched for The Lion's reaction.

Finally Dönitz smiled. "Spoken like a true U-Bootmann!"

Visibly relaxing, Schütze added, "I reckon a year of teaching cadets was more than enough, eh?"

"Let's just say it deepened my appreciation for experienced personnel."

"It's a tough balancing act," said Dönitz. "We need men like you both at the front and at the Academy. How is Fregattenkapitän Hartmann, by the way?"

"The 2nd Training Division is lucky to have him. He seems to enjoy the work, too."

Schuch interjected, "Hartmann has the sea in his veins. One day he'll beg to trade his desk for a boat!"

Kleinschmidt spoke up: "Na, by that time, the war will be over!"

"Do you really think that?" I blurted.

"Don't you?"

My fellow officers gawked at me in astonishment. Dönitz, however, kept his poker-face on.

Zapp said with a tolerant smile, "I didn't know you were a pessimist, Ullmann."

"On the contrary," I replied, "I'm being quite realistic. Britain alone has no hope of beating us, but we can't invade Britain either. Clearly, they're not weaklings -- it could take years to starve them into quitting. And if the Wehrmacht doesn't take Moscow before the winter, things could turn sour for us there, too."

The well-manicured officers who were chatting among themselves suddenly fell silent. It was as if I had farted in church!

Dönitz finally spoke up, assuming the role of wise patriarch. "Young man," he said to me, "Are you seeking a post on the General Staff?" The others laughed gently, sensing that was the appropriate response. But the way he addressed me, I could not be sure he was only kidding.

"If I am mistaken, Herr Admiral, please correct me. No doubt you are privy to things I know nothing about."

"Without giving anything away, I must concede that our final victory may not come as swiftly as we would like," he said to us all. "Even if the Soviet Union falls like a house of cards in the next few months, the Wehrmacht will face the daunting task of occupying that immense country."

Schuch muttered, "Gott sei Dank we only have to sink ships!"

"Mein lieber Schuch, you've hit the nail on the head!" Dönitz said. "Fate has chosen us to turn the wheel of history. To do this, we must all perform our duties impeccably. In our case, we must sink as many ships as possible. But ultimately, it comes down to a contest of wills. Either we or the enemy must break."

Then he looked me straight in the eye: "Would you agree, Herr Kapitänleutnant, that the German people will never break?"

"Absolutely, Herr Admiral!" And I meant it, too.

With that, Schütze raised his glass: "Here's to the German Will!" We eagerly drank a toast (the first of many).

Driving back to Lorient, Schütze said to me in disbelief, "Ullmann, you lucky Schwein..."