m. I simply had to come up again and get a charge on the
batteries.
From 7 p.m. to 10 p.m., at regular half-hourly intervals, a
depth-charge had gone off somewhere within a radius of two miles of me.
Needless to say, I was only crawling along at about one knot and
altering course frequently. What was so terrible was the patent fact
that the patrols in this area had evidently got some device which
enabled them to keep in continual touch with me to a certain extent.
These monotonous and regular depth-charges seemed to say: "We know, Oh!
U-boat, that we are somewhere near you, and here is a depth-charge just
to tell you that we haven't lost you yet." [1]
[Footnote 1: Karl was quite right; it is evident that he had the
misfortune to encounter one of our new hydrophone-hunting groups, just
started In the Fair Island Channel. The incident of the depth-charges
every half-hour was known as "Tickling up." Probably the patrol only
heard faint noises from him.--ETIENNE.]
As an hour had elapsed since the last depth-charge, I felt fairly happy
at coming up, and on making the surface I was delighted to find a
pitch-black night and a considerable sea. From 10 p.m. to 1 a.m. I
actually had three hours of peace, and in this period I managed to cram
a considerable amount of stuff into the batteries. The densities were
rising nicely and all seemed well, when I did what I now see was a very
foolish thing.
I made my 1 a.m. wireless report to Nordreich, in which I requested
orders at 3 a.
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