The Perfect U-boat Commander

[Brag]

09 September 1941
Lorient, France.

As he marched toward his boat, Capt. Leutnant Schramm was sure his tailor was the best. Fresh out of the cleaners and perfectly pressed, his uniform fit better than Doenitz's.

The grey block of submarine pens hummed with activity. Tractors towed torpedo racks, welders sent flares of sparks. Pipe fitters banged on metal parts. A large diesel motor travelled suspended from an overhead crane.

On reaching Berth #6, Schram stopped and admired U-321. His boat gleamed with fresh paint, there wasn't one microscopic speck of rust on it. Schramm considered the U-boot Waffe as most disgraceful. On going through the hatch it was like leaving the Kriegsmarine and entering a hell hole for outcasts.

Now, that he had his own command, this has changed. He had requested working parties from the Schtraff batallion who had thoroughly cleaned out the bilges. The crew were provided with new matresses, the inside of the ship scrubbed from stem to stern.

Schram smiled. He had the best looking boat in the Navy. After twenty days of hard work, the boat and crew were ready to perform their duty.


Hr went down the gangplank.
The first WO saluted and called the crew, formed on the afterdeck, to attention.

The crew twirled and presented arms.

"What was that?" Schramm demanded, not believing his eyes.

" That was the twirl and present arms, Herr Kaleun."

"There is nothing like that in the Naval Drill Manual!"

"No, but it is very hoochie woochie."

Schramm took a deep breath. He would deal with this twit later.

"Männer," he started.
The crew twirled.
Schramm thought his temples would explode. He looked at his watch to insure he was awake.

To be continued.