C.47--and say goodbye to Zoe.
I ran to my room and made the corridors echo with shouts for my
faithful Adolf. The excellent man was soon on the scene, and whilst he
stuffed underclothing, towels and other necessary gear into a bag he
had purloined from someone's room, I rang up Zoe. I wasted ten minutes
getting through, but at last I heard a deliciously sleepy voice murmur,
"Who's that?"
I told her, and added that I was off; to my secret joy, an intensely
disappointed and long-drawn "Oooh!" came over the wire. So she does
care a bit, I thought. Mad ideas of pretending to be suddenly ill
crossed my mind--anything to gain twenty-four hours--but the Fatherland
is above all such considerations, and after some pleasant talk and many
wishes of good luck from the darling girl, with a heavy heart I bade
her good-night.
The Old Man's car, which is a sixty horse-power Benz, was waiting at
the Mess entrance, and once clear of the sentries we raced down the
flat, well-metalled road to Zeebrugge in a very short time. The guard
at Bruges barrier had 'phoned us through to the Zeebrugge fortified
zone, and we were admitted without delay. In three-quarters of an hour
from my interview with old Max I was scrambling across a row of U-boats
to reach my new ship, U.39.
I went down the after hatch, reported myself to Von Weissman and
delivered his orders to him, of which he acknowledged receipt direct to
the Commodore according to instructions. Von Weissman is a very
different stamp of man to Alten; of medium height, he has
sandy-coloured hair, steel-grey eyes and a protruding jaw.
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