Well, perhaps it is for the best. I
am not sure that a member of the U-boat service has the right to get
married in war-time, for unless he is of exceptional mentality it must
affect his outlook under certain circumstances, though I think I should
have been an exception here. Then the anxiety to the woman must be
enormous; as every trip comes round a voice must cry within her, this
may be the last. The contrast between the times in harbour and the
trips is so violent, so shattering and clear cut.
With a soldier's wife, she merely knows that he is at the front; with
us, at 8 p.m. one may be kissing one's wife in Bruges, and at 6 a.m.
creeping with nerves on edge through the unknown dangers of the Dover
Barrage--but I have strayed from what I meant to write about--my first
command and her crew.
The quarters in this class are immensely superior to the U.C.-boats.
Here I have a little cabin to myself, with a knee-hole table in it. My
First Lieutenant, the Navigator and the Engineer have bunks in a room
together, and then we have a small officers' mess.
On this job up here, as we are not to return to Germany for supplies,
and, consequently, I should say we may have to live on what we can get
out of steamers, I don't propose to use my torpedoes unless I meet a
warship or an exceptionally large steamer.
The gun's the thing, as Arnauld de la Perriere has proved in the
Mediterranean; but half the fellows won't follow his example, simply
because they don't realize that it's no use employing the gun unless it
is used accurately, and good shooting only comes after long drill.
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