"Schuster, come on!" a man shouted, sweat pouring down his forehead.
"Give me the handle!" he yelled again, finally snapping the young man in front of him out of his daze. Schuster, a skinny blond kid, stood frozen in the middle of the torpedo room.
"Yes, Sergeant Seehof!" he shouted in panic, grabbing the handle and passing it to his officer. Seehof was barely a few years older, yet coming from a prestigious naval family he always seemed to earn the officers' praise.
"One, two, three!" Seehof shouted, slamming the torpedo hatch shut with a heavy metallic bang.
"Tube one is ready!" he called into the telephone, then exchanged a quick high five with the man beside him.
Schuster sighed and wiped the sweat from his tank top.
"The time?" Seehof asked.
"One thirty-five," Schuster replied, drained of all energy.
"Shit!" Seehof barked, slamming his fist against the steel wall. "That needs to be faster next time, guys." He glanced at Schuster. "You too," he added with obvious irony.
Moments later, the U-boat began to rumble again.
"Come on, let's take it out again," Seehofer said, pointing toward the tube.
The other sailor unlocked the tube with a loud clack, and the heavy torpedo was rolled out, its stretcher rig hanging in the air.
"Once again," Seehofer called, everyone rushing into position. "One... two... three."
They heaved the massive torpedo upward. Schuster held his breath under the weight. Then, suddenly, someone slipped. The torpedo crashed down with a deafening clang.
For a heartbeat the entire world froze. No one moved. No one breathed.
"Ahhh!" a sailor screamed.
Schuster stared at him in shock. The man's leg lay crushed beneath the torpedo, twisted in a way that made Schuster feel sick. Everyone understood instantly what had happened, and Seehofer's face shifted from pale green to yellow to furious red.
After several tense seconds they managed to lift the torpedo again and slide it back into its rig, freeing the wounded man. That was the moment Seehofer erupted.
"Shit! Fuck!" he roared, pointing wildly. "You! It was you!"
Schuster stumbled back in horror as Seehofer's finger locked onto him. He stood frozen, unable to breathe.
"I... I... it wasn't... me," he stammered, barely forming the words.
"Stop lying! You weakling!" Seehofer shouted, taking a step forward before a hand caught him by the shoulder.
"Seehofer, calm down. It was me," another sailor said.
"You... it was you?" Seehofer asked, suddenly thrown off.
"Yes. Sorry. It just slipped," the man muttered, eyes cast down.
"Well... don't apologize to me. Apologize to your comrade. Look at him," Seehofer said, tilting his head toward the wounded man.
The injured sailor still lay on the floor, his leg crushed in a way Schuster found almost unbearable to look at.
A medic arrived moments later and lifted the wounded man onto a stretcher. Schuster followed instinctively, still shaken. As they hurried down the narrow corridor, they passed an open cabin door. Inside sat a broad-shouldered man, elbows on his knees, watching them with unsettling calm. For a brief second their eyes met. A cold shiver ran down Schuster's spine before he quickly looked away and followed the stretcher onward.
Paul had been watching the young soldier from his doorway, if one could even call it a doorway. The cramped little room he shared with Werner and Heydrich barely qualified as a living space.
He pushed himself up from the thin mattress and glanced around. Despite the commotion outside, Werner was still asleep, breathing steadily. Heydrich lay motionless on his bunk, entirely undisturbed, as if nothing on earth could rattle him.
Still sleeping through all this noise? Paul wondered, shaking his head slightly.
He picked up his Luger pistol from the edge of his bunk.
Never too careful, he joked to himself as he stepped out of the cabin.
The hallway was narrow and cramped. Paul had to crouch every few meters, squeezing through open watertight doors, occasionally bumping into sailors rushing past him with urgent purpose.
Suddenly the submarine lurched into a turn, nearly throwing Paul against the steel wall.
He sighed and continued forward, used to the constant disturbances.
"Is this the fourth manouver Prien has ordered?" he muttered, gripping a pipe as another turn rolled through the hull. "The war hasn't even started yet."
When he finally reached the command center, chaos greeted him. Officers shouted across the room, slamming switches, turning valves, and spreading stacks of paper across the central table. Only one man remained perfectly calm.
Prien. This guy, Paul thought, watching the captain issue orders with steady precision, taking quick glances through the periscope before turning back to Hoffmeier, his second officer. He even found time to sip from his coffee.
"Greetings, Oberst," Prien called out with an enthusiastic grin. "Sleep well?"
"Why shouldn't I have, Captain?" Paul replied.
Prien raised an eyebrow, amused.
"You don't like U-boats?" he asked.
Paul shrugged. "Let's just say I have certain prejudices. And some bad experiences."
He briefly recalled the submarine that had transported him 90 years back.
"Each man his own," Prien said, then began another sentence before Paul cut him off.
"Let me guess. You like them."
"You guessed right." Prien straightened with pride. "It's my life. Morbid as it sounds, I hope to die aboard this U-boat one day."
"As you said, each his own," Paul answered. "How are we doing on time?"
"Well..." Prien picked up the map spread across the central table. "We passed this marker about ten minutes ago. If everything goes according to plan, we should reach American territorial waters sometime tomorrow evening. At that point we'll have to reduce speed to be absolutely certain."
Prien traced their planned route with a finger, eyes narrowed in focus, until suddenly they relaxed.
"Care for some fresh air, Jaeger?" He asked.
Paul raised an eyebrow, not quite following.
"Surface!" Prien shouted.
The submarine began to rise, its hull groaning softly as it ascended. A sailor called out the depth every few seconds.
"Fifty!"
"Forty!"
"Twenty!"
"Ten!"
"Surfaced!" he shouted, receiving a curt nod from Prien, who gestured for Paul to follow him.
The three men, Prien, Paul, and Hoffmeier, climbed the ladder step by step. Prien pushed against the hatch, the metal creaking and screeching in protest under the pressure. After a moment it finally gave way, and the first streaks of sunlight broke through the opening, illuminating the pale faces of Prien and Paul as they reached the top.
Paul exhaled deeply as he stepped out onto the conning tower. Leaning against the railing, he allowed the cool seabreeze to brush against his skin. He watched the waves roll and break around the steady, drifting submarine. A few seagulls circled overhead, one even landing on the steel hull for a brief rest.
"Feels like you're alone in this vast world," Prien said, leaning beside Paul.
"Feels like the world offers endless opportunities," he continued, watching the seagulls with him.
"The only one who knows we are out here," Paul noted quietly, watching a gull take off into the wind.
"Indeed... Do you have family, Jaeger?" Prien asked, tilting his gaze toward him.
Family, Paul thought. The old pain stirred, creeping back into his chest.
My family is dead. Unreachable. Unattainable, like death itself. Heinrich has one, though I have never once visited them, Paul reflected, mentally noting to change that someday.
"They are... alive," Paul said awkwardly, receiving a confused glance from Prien, who chose not to dwell on the subject.
"Seven o'clock, Captain," Hoffmann interrupted.
Prien quickly grabbed a pair of binoculars he had taken with him.
"Our little secret should stay with the seagull, don't you think, Herrn Jaeger?" Prien said, gesturing for Paul to climb down.
The hatch closed swiftly, sealing them inside. With a quiet hiss, the U-boat submerged once again. Only ripples remained in the cold Atlantic, evidence of its brief presence on the surface.
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