[Bosje]

Strange, we made an awful noise after hitting that battleship. But the escorts insist on depthcharging our initial firing position. We are slipping away, deep and silent, slowly passing 100, 120, 160 meters. No hurry, let them waste their amatol behind us all they want. I can't believe the Yanks are this incompetent. Maybe we should reload the forward tubes, turn around and engage them. But no, let's not tempt fate too much. Fifty marks on the board so far, all behind us. As we are listening to the cracks of the depthcharges, the boys start to relax. Already they are getting used to it. Suddenly the boat is pushed to the right and down. What the hell? A single depthcharge exploded quite close. Are we about to be exterminated? No screws are heading for us on an attackrun though. Alfons reports all compartments secure and for now, I put it down to pure luck on their part.


Indeed, that single explosion was the closest they ever came. Perhaps a stray charge out of a K-gun. Half an hour later Klaus reports all contacts sailing away to the north at high speed. We stay submerged for the rest of the day and we begin the short stretch home at nightfall. Three days later we dock at the Bergen pens, heralded as heroes because BdU has already received confirmation that two American capital units have been sunk near the Faeroer on new year's day. As the crew are lined up on the deck, waving and cheering, Hans turns to me on the bridge and whispers: 'You are a mad fool, stubborn as an ass, those wild attacks of yours will some day get us all killed, but you are one hell of a hunter, Herr Kaleun. Congratulations.' I take it at face value as Alfons chimes in, s******ing: 'Maybe we should paint an ass on our conning tower.' I grin and say: 'I don't mind, anything but that damn swastika will do just fine.'


Oberleutnant zur See Freiherr Beckman
(aka The Duke)