A Letter Home

[Dodger01]

10 September 1939

Dearest Lili,

Do you remember how excited we were when I received my orders? Straight out of command school, and my own boat! We opened a bottle of wine, and had such an evening! They'd said that these older IIA boats had been outfitted for blue-water, that they would do the job as well as any. And I was just so happy to have a command that I believed them.

U-9 has just this night returned to the quay in Kiel, and I feel as if the life has been sucked out of me, bit by tiny bit. I don't think I got more than three hours in a row in my bunk over the last 10 days. She leaked from almost every rivet, sparked from almost every fuse. The crew, as good as they were, was not large enough to have regular shift rotations and we were forced to sail with many duty stations under-manned most of the time just to avoid utter exhaustion. We had barely enough men to keep the boat running, let alone engage the enemy. It's a good thing the only ships we saw were Norwegian.

It was the simple fact that my crew was a good mix of both fresh and experienced sailors that saved us. And me, to be honest. I found myself often seeking advice from some of the non-commisioned officers who'd seen sea-duty many more times than I had, and they offered it easily.

But I still feel so dissapointed right now, my sweet, and I am filled with such a deep desire to be next to you in our bed.

I've been told we'll have a full compliment for our next patrol, and that things should be different this time. As I write this, I sit in my small bunk as we take on fresh supplies, looking at your photo, and my heart sinks at the thought of another patrol like this last one.

All my love,
Heinrich