[Bosje]

Summer 1942, Norway


The train is shaking violently all the time, much like U-93 used to do. It makes writing quite hard. I wonder how Bernard managed to write in his war diary all those times he retreated to his quarters. He was my friend and I miss him a lot, Oberleutnant zur See Bernard Vom Bosch. All that remains of him and his boat are me and the worn-out old journal in my pocket. It has suffered greatly from the salt water and rough treatment it received since I found it among the debris as I was looking for survivors. There were none. We had been tracking a convoy near Gibraltar in very bad weather when suddenly shells started hitting the water around us. Before we could dive, the destroyer came charging out of the heavy rains, guns blazing. How he found us was a mystery to me until I recently started hearing spooky things of this new radio waves location device, called radar. Whatever caused him to find us, our boat got shelled intensely by this bastard, bodyparts of the watchcrew were flying all over the place as I was hurled out of the open bridge into the heavy swell. By the time I came to my senses, the boat was gone along with all my comrades. The destroyer was nowhere to be seen either, he vanished as quickly as he had appeared. All I found was my Kaleuns journal, stuffed it inside my jacket and started to swim for the Spanish coast.

Several hours later I was picked up by a fishing boat which dropped me off at their home port in Spain. There I was, on my way back to the fatherland. Shaken and distraught: Leutnant zur See Freiherr Beckman, known to his mates as 'The Duke'. First Officer and sole survivor of The Rooster. Now, 6 months later, still alone in the world and on a train to the Norwegian port of Bergen. After half a year of waiting, training and more waiting, I am now being given my own command. I am officially a veteran after the war patrols under Kaleun Vom Bosch so everyone has full confidence in my abilities, but it is an entirely different war now. Radar and far extended air cover as well as improved asdic have made life very unpleasant for us, the gray wolves of the Atlantic. But we are not defenseless and I was always one to enjoy the hunt. I do admit I am scared and I purchased a small writing journal of my own when I arrived in Oslo last week. It seemed to help my old Kaleun deal with his fears and I guess it won't hurt to vent my emotions through my pen, even if I am already well established as a cocky and arrogant but also aggressive and capable U-boot man. We shall see.

A brand new type VIIC boat, U-735, is waiting for me in Bergen to take her into commission. Our first testruns are scheduled for september 1942 and after that I will take the boat to war. This journal will be on board.

The Duke