Back to sea once again...

[Kpt. Lehmann]

Cheers, Kaleun Volk and company.

You've inspired me a bit. It has been a long time since I've smelled the sea salt myself. Hopefully I can dust off the diesels and cast off again soon.

Good hunting, gentlemen.

Sink'em ALL!

[Rambler241]

It has been a long time since I've smelled the sea salt myself.

It's not sea salt you're smelling, it's the remains of last night's beef stew, lovingly prepared by Otto in the sparkling, pristine galley, and still lurking deep in your week-long beard. Otto was a pig farmer, BTW, and I don't think he's washed his hands since he left to join the KM. Beef stew - not much beef, or what passes for beef in these austere times, and too much stewing (give it another full Watch or so). The family of rats in the forward torpedo room hasn't been seen for two days, either.

[UKönig]

Like the Bomber crew that roasted their lucky bird mascot, in the mistaken impression that they were retired, and then got handed One. Last. Mission...

[Rambler241]

and then got handed One. Last. Mission...

Meaning "last" in the sense that the lucky mascot "worked" for all preceding missions? I wonder what sort of bird mascot would be worth roasting?

[UKönig]

Well, bomber crews had their own superstitions (who wouldn't). And like the U-boats they would be slotted only X number of patrols before they would be retired, protest though they might. With U-boats it was 12 patrols, with bombers it was 30 sorties. After 1943, it became a major accomplishment for a U-boat to survive past its 3rd patrol. Getting up to that magic number for a bomber crew must have been similar. I saw it in a war movie once, so it may not have been wholly accurate, the bit with the Lancaster crew that barbequed their 'lucky' mascot, in the mistaken belief that they were done with it. Oops.

[Rambler241]

BTW, we had the unexpected delight of dumplings in the beef stew last night. Unfortunately they were green, and tasted what might be described as "funny". When pressed (which means two stokers sat on him until they got an answer), Otto revealed the source of the green blobs. He'd pared off the mouldy outsides of our remaining loaves, looking for any white bits lurking within. There were none, so he lighted on the brilliant wheeze of using the green parings to make the dumplings. The only reason he's still cook is that no one else wants to spend all their time (except for fag breaks on the casing) in a tiny, foetid, hot galley with only steaming pans and dirty plates for company. However, to give him his due, after 5 days in heavy seas south of Iceland, the crew would moan about the food if it was expertly prepared by a Michelin chef.

The watch crew had their eye on a circling albatross, and one even requested permission to take a pistol up top, in case it got close enough. I pointed out that a plucked albatross is a lot smaller than one might think, and as I'm much better read than they are (the crew, not the seabirds), there are ominous precedents for shooting an albatross.