We had been hit in the casing, well forward, and, as was
subsequently proved when we dived, little material damage was caused to
the boat.
This enemy success caused a temporary cessation of fire. The two
wounded men were cautiously making their way aft to the conning tower,
and I called for a couple of stokers to come up and carry away the
third, when Von Weissman suddenly gave the order to dive. The gun's
crew at once made a rush for the conning tower, and were down the hatch
in a trice, one of the wounded men fainting at the bottom.
I was unaware as to the reason of this order to dive, and thought that
perhaps the Captain had sighted a periscope. As I was turning to
precede him down the conning tower hatch I distinctly saw the man lying
by the gun lift his hand. I felt I could not leave him there, and
instinctively cried, "He is still alive!" But Von Weissman, who was
urging the crew to hurry down the hatch, pressed the diving alarm as
soon as the last sailor was half in the hatch.
I knew that this meant that the boat would be under in 30 to 40
seconds, so I had no alternative but to get down the hatch as quickly
as possible.
I did so with reluctance, and I was followed by Von Weissman, who
joined me in the upper conning tower.
I forced myself not to look out of the conning tower scuttles during
the few seconds that elapsed as the casing slowly went under, until at
last nothing but waving green water showed at each little window. I
feared that, if I had looked, I would have seen a wounded man, stung
into activity by the cold touch of the Atlantic.
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