I poke my beak over a dusty rockface and peer down onto a raider camp. They're a long way away, and my beak is invisible because I'm wearing the Boogeyman's Hood over my face. If I wasn't, they might notice that I'm Chinese. But not at this range. At this range I can just barely see the bobbing head through my crosshairs. But barely enough - BAM - cha-ching: 30 xp for another greasy raider popped. I pan around the massive vista. Plenty of bobbing heads to choose from. Two clips worth of red mist blow off into the desert canyon and my XP jumps. I descend over the rocks and drop down behind an scraggy old shack. I swap the sniper rifle for my scoped .44 and sneak around the corner. There's a raider walking out of the shack. VATS - BAM - arm detached, raider gushes hard. I pocket the XP and I sneak further in. Pop around the corner and I find two uglies, and this time they see me. I lean back out of the way of the lead and reload the 44. I pop back around and VATS - BAM - a quick head-to-mist transformation and XP grab. The other one is obscured so I work up behind some scrap metal. Lead on lead's going bing-bing-bing. She reloads. I unload. She drops and I grab that good XP. Things are quiet for a bit until I 'perceive' another shithead somewhere inside this shack. I sneak in and find her entranced by the flickering light of a garbage-fire. She's facing away. It's slightly unfair. I walk up until the hair on the back of her head is brushing the end of my barrel. I click and she does a front-flip with no head. CHA-CHING. Gimme that 30 xp damnit.

A strange magic sound - I've leveled. Holy fuck - this is Level 20. I'm there. I apply the points and I pick the perk: Grim Reaper's Sprint. A fitting addition to my other proud attributes: Commando, Finesse, Sniper, Contract Killer, Better Criticals, Cannibal, and Gun Nut. Damn that was a long level, but damn was it worth it. I warm up the Grim Reaps on a few slaves in the slave pen. Dismemberment ensues with an all new fluency. I am pleased. But something's different. No Cha-ching? Balls. I shuffle out to the road and line up my sniper sights on the slave that's running for her pathetic life. I consult VATS, and judging from the gore and the low gutteral wail, her knee was knocked, say...into the next town I think. But no cha-ching. Sweet jesus - could it be - frantically load up pip-boy and flip to my stats. There it is, written in the top right corner, like my wasteland epitaph: "XP: MAX". OMFG. I see stars. I almost pull a Tony Soprano and fall through my table. I frantically drink an old beer and bite down on the soggy cigarette butt. What the fuck do I do now? I've explored like 40% of Fallout 3 and now I have to do it with no more incentive than the sadistic thrill of VATS dismemberment. And that might not be enough. Jesus - XP. XP is reason we fight. I'd drink ghoul blood for another level. Hell, if you unlock me to level 30, I'd sell my NPC to supermutants. I can't even remember hitting the max in Fallout 2. I don't know if I ever made it to 40. For some reason Bethesda decided to compress the game - turn 40 levels into 20, and give you a perk every level. Why-oh-why. The Fallout 3 wasteland is frickin' massive. Why lock us out of our experience? WHY? ANSWER ME DAMN YOU!

Introducing Hans Jackel, Leutnant Z. s, born 05 Aug 1914 in Flensburg. He joined the Kriegsmarine in April 1935, and completed commander training in March 1940. Now he's been assigned to command of U-71, part of 7th Flotilla out of St. Nazaire France. U-71, a Type VIIC Uboote, is tasked with the interdiction of allied shipping in the Altantic both military and merchant. Hans is an old friend of mine; we found ourselves in the same primary school class, and since then we've kept up with one another. When he moved to Dresden with his wife, Petra, our relationship turned to paper. Two years ago, when the war began and it was clear that he would see action, we agreed that I'd collect his war diaries, by mail, for safe-keeping. He was afraid to send them to Petra, given the grisly events they would likely contain. In addition to his patrol reports, he's been sending me pictures that he has taken while in France. It is his desire to put his story of the war to writing, upon his return, and hence the archive I am creating will serve as an excellent resource when that time comes. What follows is his first letter, which captures some of the experiences he's had during training at St. Nazaire, in preparation for his first combat patrol.

Fritz Kuhl
Jun 13, 1941
----------------------------------------------------

18 Apr 1941

Intense training over the last few weeks. I arrived a month after the keel had been laid for U-71, which, upon reaching full construction and passing all tests of seaworthiness, will be my new command. I’ve been admiring the wonderful curving metalwork and the imposing German steel that makes up the hull plates. They are due to attach the conning tower in the next week, and put her in the water soon after.

In the meantime I’ve completed an officer’s training course in advanced submarine tactics, taught by ace Uboote captain Joachim Schepke. To this class of young officers, Schepke is a great role-model and a hero. His natural aptitude for submarine warfare has earned him 153k of allied shipping in the last two years, and he has rotated off combat duty to teach new generations of fighters. Maybe someday members of this class will earn such an honour.

I made a close friend in these weeks – Philipp Pauss – during training. He will take command of U-99, which is currently undergoing systems testing. On the off hours we spent some time in the pretty town of St. Nazaire. The architecture is quite delightful and the spring air is warm and fresh. This place has become our second home. While some of the locals avoid us outright, and won’t even speak to us if addressed, others are quite friendly, acting as if Germany and France had never had any differences.

Philipp has also been teaching me how to drink beer. I never had a particular lust for drinking, but it appears to be the primary activity in the officer’s club, and almost all the good stories only begin to be told after about 5 pints worth. Uboote captains have a manic way about them when they are ashore. I’ve found two types of them: those that keep to themselves, perhaps calling their family often, reading, or gazing out over the bay with a pipe in hand. The other type tends to drink constantly and live in and out of the brothels. Philipp is the latter kind of captain. He’s in love with three women, concurrently, and has some way of making it all work. An odd friend, but a good friend. Under all that noise, I think there’s an honest core.

Great news from the front. The enemy is in retreat on all sides. Our Ubootwafte owns the sea, slashing allied shipping and inflicted continued physical and psychological trauma upon the English. It appears that god’s will is that we are victorious. I will have my chance to hasten the approach of this event with my service, soon, very soon.  I am eager, but the truth is that deep down I wonder how I will react to the pressure of combat. What will it be like? Schepke told us of the tension of being depth-charged by escort ships, of running deeper than he thought possible and gambling on the workmanship of his pressure hull. He described the state of shock he entered after torpedoing a destroyer and watching with watery eyes as the crew scrambled to jump from the quickly sinking ship, only to be consumed by a lake of burning oil on the ocean surface. War is going to change me. That much I know. But what will I become?

14 May 1941

1750: leaving St. Nazaire. There is a lot of excitement aboard U-71. Most of the crew are green, with the exception of my XO, Albert Mayer, who has recently transferred from a Type II out of Kiel, U-15. Last night was full of drinking and gleamy-eyed last-minute promises, and I think some of the boys may have even thrown back the last of it before dinner this evening. At the pier we were greeted with great cheer by a marching band and a crowd of friends, loved ones, and patriots. With a slight deja-vu of U-99’s departure, I order ahead one-third and the diesels begin to turn water. The boat is purring nicely now as we leave harbour at 6 knots, and my 24 sailors and 13 petty officers are settling in to their duty. Our first patrol will take us to AM24 (north of Scotland), where, with god's blessing, we will intercept a fat Eastbound convoy and claim our prize.

17 May 1941

2035: Convoy spotted BE39! We find ourselves in the path of a large Southbound convoy which is leaving the channel and heading into Biscay. Moving into attack position. Will attempt to sneak in between first and second convoy lanes - one of Schepke's secrets.

2117: Perfect - snuck into convoy undetected. Ship Sunk! Large Tanker. Fired two T2 fore torpedoes: the first hits. Second impact not seen: dud? Third torpedo - T1, fast - hits amidships and causes deafening explosion; fatal. T1 in Tube 4 fired fast at Medium Tanker - hit, mid-aft. Ship continues at 8 kts. T2 in Tube 5 fired at Large Cargo ship - hit. Dive to 165m, proceed perpendicular to convoy. SO reports ominous groans and quakes as Large Tanker plummets to unknown depth.

0231: Warship screws fading - return to PD. Spot crippled Medium Tanker, stopped. Fire fatal blow to stern. Surface and proceed parallel to convoy at flank.

18 May 1941

0445: ran at flank for three hours, loading tubes and moving external stores into the boat. Moving into position in front of convoy for second attack.

0515: T2 in tube 1 hit Medium Tanker engine room, Tube 2 - dud.

Tube 3,4 fired at Large Cargo ship - one hit, one miss - no obvious damage. Tube 5 fired at Large Cargo - hit, bow. Dive to 165m, proceed perpendicular to convoy.

0600: Warship screws have faded - return to PD. Spot Medium Tanker and Large Cargo dead in the water. Convoy visible on horizon. Waiting for more distance.

0730: Weather clear - surface to engage crippled ships with deck gun. Men have abandoned both ships and can be seen roughly 1km to our west in lifeboats, rafted together. 50 rounds into Tanker causes fire and terminal list. Turn to Cargo - 50 rounds HE cause explosion at stern, ships sinks quickly. Startling roar as boiler explodes. Tanker still afloat, burning. Return, 30 rounds more 88mm rounds cause quick sinking. Turn 180 and evade returning escort at flank. This experience proves that my sailors need more practice with the 88mm. Roughly 2/3rds of their shots hit, and only about 1/3 were strong shots below the waterline.

0845: Radio to BdU - torpedoes spent. Radio message received - RTB.

20 May 1941

1352: With clear skies above us and a barely noticeable breeze, we return to St. Nazaire at flank turns.

My men are exuberant. We have passed our first real-life test with flying colours. Our training has proven true. While I am secretly very pleased with the crew for giving Tommy a cruel beating this week, I don't want this victory to make them careless. We inflicted great harm with no consequences on this patrol. The escorts were probably green, for they never detected us and did not launch a single counter-attack. We cannot expect this kind of fortune to last forever, and hence must keep firm discipline. We will drink tonight and celebrate, deservingly. But I will drill my men this month for at least one week prior to leaving port for the next patrol. It can only get harder for my brave sailors.

Awarded Iron Cross, Second Class

Ships sunk: 5

Hull Integrity: 100%

Patrol tonnage: 46942

20 Jun 1941

1128: Leaving St. Nazaire.  Sober spirits - we are about to take another risk.  I think the men may have started to suspect the fickle nature of luck.  While in port I spent some time at the Officer’s Club with Philipp, exchanging lessons learned.  He had enormous success on his first patrol, netting 85k and essentially halving the number of ships in a convoy Eastbound for Liverpool.  He told me of the feeling of invincibility that engulfed him, and his crew, as U-99 prowled along the convoy lanes like a hungry nocturnal predator, claiming the largest ships for its meal.  The convoy escorts were unable to locate him, circling far outside the perimeter without the slightest clue that U-99 was actually inside the convoy and eating its way out.  On his way home, traveling boldly on the surface through the rainy night, U-99 was surprised by a destroyer patrolling the channel.  During the emergency dive he was nearly rammed by the destroyer, but subsequently was able to give his attacker the slip.  Over a dark pint, we reflected on how the impression of safety can quickly shatter into panic when the mind collides with reality.  Never trust the feeling of safety. 

Albert Mayer, Oberleutnant z. S., XO. 

Today we're headed to AM24 once again. Clear skies and soft waves at 10 kts.  My XO is content with the mood of the boat; his crew is appropriately serious.  The green is beginning to stain with salt and rust.

23 Jun 1941

0345: Radio Report - Large Convoy BF41.  Closing on intercept course at flank.

0745: Visual Contact - convoy.  Plotting course.

0903: Inside the convoy.  Fired fore tubes at 2 Large cargo ships.  One of them is hit twice and breaks up.  Second is hit by one torpedo, amidships, second torpedo duds.  Tube V fired at Large Cargo but detonates prematurely.  Rats. Dive to 165m, run perpendicular to convoy.  Warship screws overhead…passes without incident.

1115: Screws fading, go to PD.  Spot convoy - large cargo ships still in line - no stragglers.  Surface and plot course to flank convoy.

1400: Moving into attack position - tubes loaded and external stores moved inside.

1429: Ship sunk!  Large Cargo ship.  Two tubes fired at second Large Cargo - crippled, engine stopped.  Tube V to third Large Cargo.  Dive to 165m, move against convoy.

1455: back to PD, convoy passed.  Surface and sink crippled Cargo with 50 deck gun rounds.

1730: Shadow convoy, move into attack position. 

1817: Ship Sunk!  Large cargo - final T1 cracks hull of tanker.  Silent running to 165m, move perpendicular to convoy. 

1900: Surface.  Radio Bdu: torpedoes expended before reaching patrol grid.  BdU: RTB.

25 Jun 1941

1023:  Arrive at St. Nazaire.  Another deadly strike against our enemies!  Never detected by escorts!  The men are becoming very confident.  Our Uboote technology is superior to allied ASW and we attack with impunity.  Our only weakness now is in our torpedo technology.  I've noticed that about half of our eels are duds, or do not detonate.  Also, there have been several premature detonations with the magnetic pistol.  We were warned about this and will set to impact.  However, even with eels that reach their targets, many do not detonate.  This is very wasteful.  We have been inflicting major damage, but would be even more deadly if we could count on proper torpedo performance.

  
Nevertheless, our first two patrols have been exceedingly convenient.  We’ve encountered abundant shipping activity in Biscay and have eaten our fill without needing to transit to our patrol grid.  The enemy is slinging an incredible amount of tonnage across the Atlantic.  This means that we have to work harder to cut them off.  So much easier it would be if all of our torpedoes were functional!

Promoted to KapitanLeutnant
Awarded Iron Cross, First Class
Awarded Knight’s Cross
Awarded U-Boot-Front Clasp

Ships sunk: 4
Hull Integrity: 100%
Patrol tonnage: 29286

26 Jul 1941

1153: Depart St. Nazaire.  Patrol Grid CG77.  My brave crew sets out again today after an early parting lunch; maybe the last formal meal for several weeks.  This time BdU sends us south to the funnel area near the entry of the Mediterranean.  We hope to catch a convoy there, or, as has been rumoured in the Officer's Club, a military taskforce.  On his last patrol, Philippe was hunting in the Irish Sea and spotted the lengthy smoke trails of a fast-moving group of warships.  He never had the chance to engage them, and quietly admitted that he was slightly relieved that this was so.  Despite this risk, we owe it to Germany to sink these ships.  Battleships and cruisers routinely pass through Gibraltar, and if god is willing, we will have the chance to rend the hull plates of one of these monstrous ships.  My men whisper about this possibility, but no one wants to jinx our chances with bold talk.  We will see what the father of war has for us this time out...

30 July 1941

0245: Entered Patrol Grid.  Weather clear - 15km visibility.  Plotting Z-pattern for patrol.

Jurgen Luth, Oberleutnant z. S.: Navigator.

01 Aug 1941

0300: Radio BdU: Patrol Complete - no contacts.  Requesting permission to move to CG94, mouth of Gibraltar.

0455: Report received - permission granted.  Set Course ENE. 

1945: Merchant ship sighted CG78 - closing for intercept.  Small Merchant - British flag.  It is a bright clear evening, and the wind is low.  Decide to attack with the deck gun.

2020:  Ship Sunk!  Small Merchant.  Quite a battle.  Our quarry turned out to be armed with a light gun.  However, its crew was hopeless and despite firing over fifty rounds at us, it never came close to a hit.  We shot 45 rounds of HE into its waterline and it blazed and sank gradually.  As I write this, we sit at periscope depth and my XO is watching to make sure the burning hulk finally vanishes under the darkening waves.  Pretty soon we will move to clear the datum. 

03 Aug 1941

1423: Radio Report - Enemy Convoy leaving narrows.  Moving to intercept. 

1840: Convoy Sighted - CG94.  Plotting course and moving into position.  Medium winds.

2119: In position inside of convoy facing second convoy lane (roughly 350m away).  Southhampton Cruiser sighted in center of convoy!  Target with Tubes I,II, electric eels.  Wait 20 seconds, fire III, at Large Cargo ship in line behind Southhampton, IV fast at Large Cargo in line past cruiser, and Tube V at Large Cargo at 180...Torpedo Impact - Large Cargo hit.  No report from electric torps at cruiser - two duds!  Torpedo impact aft!  Large Cargo Hit.  Tube IV miss.  Diving to 165m, moving perpendicular to convoy. 

2230:  Sounds quiet.  Started to ascend to PD around 2145, only to be pinged by escort still circling the area.  Flanked back to 165m, heard DCs in wake.  Lost escort...screws fading to 270.  Surfaced, flanking convoy, loading tubes and moving externals.  Our first attack has failed - all ships still with convoy. 

2350:  Convoy changed course to straight W.  Corrected plot and moved to attack position.

0019:  Ship Sunk!  Southhampton Cruiser.  Electric eels to fore and aft ammunition bunkers caused massive explosion.  Hulk burns. 

0022:  Ship Sunk!  Large Cargo.  Third tube into Large Cargo behind Southhampton - broke the ship in half.  Tube IV into far Large Cargo - hit amidships.  Tube V to same Large Cargo as before (180).  This time it seems crippled - engine stopped.  Dive to 165m, move perpendicular to convoy. 

0040:  Ship Sunk!  Large Cargo.  sinking sounds heard by SO - 270 degrees - victim of Tube V!

0105:  Came to PD and torpedoed wounded Large Cargo moving at 2kts.  She sinks rapidly astern. 

0344: In position for final attack on convoy - last two torpedoes.  One for far Large Cargo - hit, slowed.  Knuckle to port and fire Tube V fast.  Hits bow and causes fatal explosion.  Dive to 165, move perpendicular to convoy.  Pinged by escort.  No DCs.  Leave the area in silent run. 

0810: Radio BdU - torpedoes expended.  BdU - RTB.

1425:  Ship spotted - Tramp Steamer: CG83.  Weather has cleared.  Engaging with deck gun.  Ship returns fire - often close.  Keeping our distance at 3000m, remain facing target to minimize silhouette.  Enemy gunners lose sight of us on and off.  Shells landing left and right of us, whizzing close by as we pound the small steamer with over 100 HE rounds.  It sinks on fire.

05 Aug 1941

0935: Crew wishes me a strong new year upon my birthday, and produces a bottle of Schnapps.  I share it with the officers over dinner and when finished, fill it with our hopes for the future, cork it, and throw it overboard. 

07 Aug 1941

2017: Arrive at St. Nazaire.  Success Again!  And this time, 10 thousand tonnes of military steel.  The men are bragging in the bar right now, hopped up wild on beer and confidence.  We have inflicted terror and destruction upon our enemies.  I have distributed medals and honours.  The crew is no longer green. 

My XO and I have discussed the last patrol: the escorts were not amateurs.  Though my men may not have realized it, we were ambushed by an escort that had shut off its engines and waited for us to surface after our first attack.  We both agree that the reason we escaped so easily was the high sea and poor Asdic conditions.  It was a bit of luck, once again.  That's not to mention the duel with those merchant gunners.  I was surprised to find them armed.  If they had been anything but fool gunners, we might have been scathed.  And, I am still disappointed by our weapons.  The first attack on the cruiser could have been a perfect kill, but BOTH T2s appear to have been duds. We had complete stealth and a long lead up, and so I'm sure that our target-motion data were perfect.  This is totally unacceptable.  How many times can we be expected to line up the perfect shot? 

Awarded Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves
Awarded U-Boot Badge

Ships sunk: 7
Hull integrity: 100%
Patrol tonnage: 41540 (including 10725 military tonnage)

7 Sep 1941

1132: Depart St. Nazaire for Grid CF88 - our final patrol of the summer.  With any luck, things will go as they have on our last three glorious patrols: intercept a convoy, move into position undetected, sink prime targets, and escape undetected.  The men know the routine now and we're working as single functional unit.  Once again we're headed back to the Gibraltar area.  Who knows – maybe there’s another unsuspecting cruiser out there waiting for its doom. 

I’m feeling shades of sadness today.  My wife came to visit at the end of August and we had a warm, bittersweet stay.  Naturally she’s always worried about me, especially with the silence that follows my departure on each patrol.  I can’t really console her, but try to have some effect with brave talk and confidence.  The truth is that I will do everything in my power to keep U-71 safe, for her.  I owe her my safety, and this responsibility competes with my loyalty to Germany.  I will serve both powers, for I love them both.  With a long kiss goodbye, I walked the gang-plank to U-71 and nodded to Mayer, who then barked the order for departure.  Wissman, my Watch Officer, seems to have the blues as well but he won’t speak of it.  Anyway, I’m confident that he also believes that first and most importantly, above all else, is our responsibility to U-71. 

Helmut Wissman, Oberleutnant, z. S.  Watch Officer. 

13 Sep 1941

0400: Radio Report - Enemy Large Convoy CF83 heading SSW.  Moving to intercept.

0610: Convoy Sighted Grid CF86.  High seas, overcast sky.  Plotting course and moving into attack position.  Father of war has smiled upon us again.  

0703: Ship Sunk!  Large Cargo.  Other tubes fired at second and third Large Cargo ships.  2 hits, but neither crippled.  Break contact at silent running, depth 165m.

1145: Ships Sunk!  Large Cargo and medium tanker destroyed in second attack.  Dive to 165m.  Pinged, DCed - nothing close.  Escort DCed the area for about half an hour. 

1549: Ship Sunk!  Large Cargo in third attack.  Second Large Cargo and Medium cargo hit hard with remaining torpedoes.  Dove to 165m, moved perpendicular to convoy route. 

1729: move to PD.  Crippled Large Cargo and Medium cargo visible, both stopped.  Men can be seen preparing to abandon ship.  The sea is very high – they don’t stand a chance.  Surface and attack with 2 of 3 remaining torpedoes.  Both sunk.  Proceed in flank pursuit of convoy with one remaining torpedo. 

1759: close pass by two Black Swan Frigates moving back from convoy to intercept/rescue.  It seems that our grey hull is disguised in the rolling sea.  

1917: lost convoy - fog closing in.  Then - ship sighted!  Medium and Large cargo - moving NNE - a small convoy!  Moving for intercept.

1951: Ship Sunk!  Large Cargo.  Last torpedo hit the engine room and blew up the ship.  Dropping to 60m for a few hours - can still hear Black Swan screws off to 80 degrees.

14 Sep 1941

0204: Radio BdU - torpedoes spent.  BdU - RTB.

15 Sep 1941

0626: Aircraft Spotted BF76.  Crash Dive.  No DC.  Ran at PD for the whole day. 

18 Sep 1941

1160: Return to St. Nazaire.  Great patrol - ended the summer with a bang, and put a lot of allied tonnage below the waves.  The air patrol over Biscay was foreboding - it's the first time we've encountered air cover.  The crew response was rapid, and we were quickly out of danger.  But, it may now be necessary to spend the days at PD, especially in Biscay.  We’re off to celebrate another victory.  U-71 sits high on the leader boards now, very close to U-99.  I try to be a modest person, but it’s hard not to bask in the warmth of glory.  The men in training look upon us with awe.  We are now highly decorated, and many of the crew have achieved special qualifications.  I never have to pay for drinks anymore – there’s always someone eager to trade a pint for some talk about the strategy and tactics that have brought U-71 to fame. 

Awarded Knight's Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords
Awarded German Cross

Ships Sunk: 7
Hull Integrity: 100%
Patrol tonnage: 45158

Philipp had a close run with death on his last patrol, arriving on the 13^th with a badly damaged boat. His orders took him to AM15, the north entry to the Irish Sea, where the largest North Atlantic convoys finish their route. Bad weather prevented him from attacking his quarry, and he shadowed the convoy into the shallow waters, where on the morning of the 10^th, running at PD, U-99 hit a mine. His radio room was flooded and the radio/sonar crewmen killed by concussion. The flooding was capped, but not before even more peril had befallen the boat. An escort destroyer rushed to the scene, and, with the help of patrol planes that had been scrambled, were able to detect his damaged boat. He was running back seaward at flank, surfaced, for fear of hitting another mine. A pair of Spitfires managed to strafe twice before being scared off by counter fire from U-99’s flak gun. Meanwhile, the destroyer had steamed within visual range and began shelling them. Philipp was forced under in evasion. He was afraid to dive deep because of hull damage, but was afraid to stay shallow because of mines and the DD’s Asdic sensors. With luck that epitomizes the man’s charmed way, he was able to sneak away from the angry destroyer and limp back to base. But he was far from proud of his escape: “I felt the strange guilt of a thief having been caught by police carrying too much loot: my greed almost sunk us”. Out of radio contact for three days, we all feared that U-99 had been lost. There was a great panic and rush of joy to see the scarred hull drive into Nazaire. I was overjoyed to see him standing on the tower. His mood, however, was not one of celebration, for he had buried two of his best sailors at sea.

20 Oct 1941

2028: set sail from St. Nazaire. It's a cool night. No more sunny freedom of the summer. We're headed back to the Gibraltar entry area - grid CF99. I just had a shiver thinking about Petra back at our Dresden home; leaves turning, autumn breezes and overcast skies. I have faith that the good Lord will keep us winning, and bring us home soon.

25 Oct 1941

0245: Ship spotted CG21. Small Convoy - two small merchants and an armed trawler. Stalked it for almost an hour - determined it to be neutral French.

Note: air cover seems to be absent in West CG.

26 Oct 1941

0429: Ship spotted CG45. Two small merchants. Set course for intercept.

0457: identified as French.

0502: Ship spotted: another small convoy - traveling parallel to French ships. Setting course for intercept.

0526: more French steamers...

0955: Radio Report - enemy Large convoy CG75 heading NNW 6 kts. Moving to intercept.

1729: Convoy Spotted - moving into attack position at flank. Heading straight into the setting sun. Golden/purple reflections off the water make it seem like paradise. It's perfectly still and clear. This feels both inviting and dangerous.

1807: Approaching from the northeast, on a diagonal. Attempting to past the lead Clemson destroyer and into the second line of the convoy.

1830: Clemson passing - all stop, quiet as can be - for a moment he turns directly towards us and speeds up. I open tube 3 and set it to 3m impact (T2). Then he turns and continues on convoy route. I am free to attack the convoy. These escorts are really jumpy. A Black Swan is closing to my immediate area. That Clemson seems suspicious.

1855: Ships Sunk! 2 x Large Cargo (fore and aft torpedo, each at range of 350m). Gave magnetic pistol T2s last chance - they failed. Two perfect keel shots - no warning at two Medium Cargos 1km away. They didn't detonate. Impact from now on. Final Tube - fast steam - dud. Diving to 165m, running underneath convoy, perpendicular to route.

1944: escaped escorts - after diving we were simultaneously pinged by two ships-triangulating. After about 10 minutes, one stopped and tried to lure us out. Am now satisfied that the last escort has rejoined the convoy and am moving to PD.

2240: Second attack. Ship Sunk! Medium Cargo. Wounded another Medium Cargo and a small merchant. 1 dud fore torpedo. Moved under a passing Medium Cargo and further into the convoy; almost scraped the conning tower on its keel. Used aft torpedo to destroy wounded Medium Cargo, making two kills in total. Going to 165m, silent running. Last spotted small merchant listing severely to port.

2232: Caught in asdic on egress. Ping-triangulation by armed trawler and Black Swan. Waited for depth charge run and then blasted down to 165 at flank. All DCs exploded well aft. Cut to silent, and put both escorts at 180. Lost them. Waiting for Black Swan to leave but can hear him doing circles and dropping DCs at 180, medium range. He must think we're catching hell, but he's just blowing up fish.

27 Oct 1941

0044: Surface to engage wounded small merchant. Sank it with 30 shells. Clean work by my deck gunners. Surprised by Black Swan who doubled back at flank and got within 3km before my watch spotted him. Pulled 180 and dove at flank, zigged to 120 degrees at last minute and cut to silent running. Caught in asdic window. First DC run close and heavy - about 15 or 20 DCs - too shallow though - maybe 50m above us.

0244: Back to PD - Black swan returning to convoy. Proceeding in flank pursuit.

0745: Lost convoy. Radio BdU: Continue search or set course for patrol grid? BdU: set course for patrol grid.

0850: Radio Report - enemoy convoy - CG48, 5kts, NNW. Found them! Setting course for intercept.

1600: In attack position for final attack with 3 fore torpedoes and 1 aft. Broad daylight, no wind. Escorts know we're about and are searching. Convoy still holds firm.

1627: Ship Sunk: Medium Cargo. First tube splits the cargo ship in half. Second tube hits small merchant amidships, and third fore tube hits another Medium Cargo amidships. Turn 180 and fire aft torpedo at wounded Medium Cargo. Facing armed trawler moving in from port side of convoy perimeter, which is pinging us. Dive to 165m.

1800: Pinged and DCed. Escorts inaccurate - lost us. Returning to PD.

2009: Ship sunk! Medium Cargo. 45 Deck gun shells put the wounded medium cargo into a terminal list.

2127: Ship Sunk! Small merchant. 50 deck gun shells ended the small merchant's stay on the surface. Radio BdU: Torpedoes spent. Bdu: RTB.

Georg Kaeding, Leutnant z. S. Weapons Officer. (camera shy).

28 Oct 1941

0636: Ship Spotted - Medium Cargo. Moving to intercept (100 88mm shells remaining).

0717: Approaching – cargo ship appears to be armed with rear cannon. We’re sailing into the rising sun so it's very hard to see the ship’s flag. We might only find out identity upon the first volley of shots...yep - there it is. Time to fight.

0809: Forward Deck Hit! I guess we had it coming. She's fired over 100 rounds at us without a single hit. Lucky though - because of our angle, it glanced off the forward hull without piercing. Gunners are okay, but a bit shaken. Unable to sink the merchant - ammo spent.

1217: conducting depth test to make sure the hull can handle 160m following damage. Loud groaning at 100m - that impact may have done more damage than previously thought. I'm imposing at 60m floor for safety.

31 Oct 1941

1635: return to St. Nazaire. Safe at port again. Black feelings this run – we were hit. Invulnerability flashed away in a second, as Philipp said it would, when I realized that the merchant had fired a good shot. Most shots give a wild scream as they pass. This one made no sound, and almost vanished as it leapt slightly up from its barrel and followed an arc that would carry it directly to U-71’s forward deck. No one had time to react. With a solid, low-pitched THOK, that resonated a few seconds in our ears, sparks jumped from the deck and a pink flash, and the gunners dropped flat. The spinning richochet could be heard whizzing away with a terminal, slowing reverberation and a splash. All was quiet on the deck. I peered up over the conning tower, terrified to see what lay below. Alas, there were three healthy, shaken sailors staring up at me. Quickly they regained their stance at the gun and fired off our remaining shells. Before diving, and still under fire, the gunners crept forward to inspect the damage, revealing that it was a perfect richochet, leaving a dent in the outer hull: a miracle. We quickly submerged and watched the cargo ship through the periscope, which, unfortunately, had not sustained any critical damage from our attack. My gunners are to be decorated for their bravery and ruthless commitment to their duty, in the face of stark danger.

Awarded Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves, Swords, and Diamonds

Ships sunk: 8

Hull Integrity: 91.5

Patrol tonnage: 39248

8 Dec 1941

1952: U-71 has been transferred to the new 29th Flotilla based at La Spezia.  BdU is trying to squeeze the allies in the Mediterranean, and U-71 has been ordered to bring some eels into the fray.  We are ordered to patrol grid CF99, and then on through Gibraltar.  I've heard nervous tales in the Officers Club about the pass at Gibraltar and so we'll have to be on our toes.  U-89 was sunk two weeks ago making the very same run we are about to make.  Nevertheless, I have faith that if we make the run at night, and fast, we should make it through just fine.  After all, 71 is certainly a more lucky number than 89.  This transfer is a bit heavy with feeling, because we will be far away from our families now.   BdU should transfer us back after a few patrols.  If not, I will make the request.  For those of my men that have families waiting for them, I think the month ashore after each patrol is needed medicine.  And the good Lord knows that I won't make Petra wait for long; love her too much.  As for those who don't have families, I'm sure that Italy will provide all the comfort and hospitality that they could ask for.  I said goodbye to Philipp with a handshake and with a salute to his crew, who gathered at the pier out of respect for U-71.  Wrought with anxiety about our unknown and dangerous future, we spoke little, exchanged grins, and departed. 

9 Dec 1941

1201: Radio Message - BdU informed us that we are now at war with the United States of America.  This news sends a cheer through the boat. One less flag we have to worry about sinking by accident.

10 Dec 1941

0156: Surprised by aircraft with searchlight BF76.  Crash Dive.  Depth charges land to stern.  So much for the nighttime being safe for surface running.  Will run under for 2 hours then surface to charge batteries before daylight.

1606: Radio Report - Enemy Warship AM46 heading S at 17kts.  This takes him right across our path.  Moving to intercept at flank.  He should cross CF99 tomorrow some time.

11 Dec 1941

1519: Blast!  Rain and fog.  It will be impossible to engage the task force if this keeps up...

12 Dec 1941

0914: Sound contact - warship screws approaching at 82 degrees.  Task force?  Screws turning a little slow for anything big...  Plotting course. 

0941: closer now - definitely sounds like something big - and there are two of them.  Carriers?  Still shitty visibility.  Will try to take an acoustic shot.  Can actually hear the engines without the hydrophone…

0949: Just about got run over by King George class Battleship!  Frantically fired all fore tubes - all duds!  No detonation!  Maybe range, maybe pistols.  We swung the end around and got off Tube V - scored a hit, amidships.  No obvious damage - she didn't slow.  Moving to 165m and perpendicular.  Will try to catch up to the task force because they don't seem to be traveling too fast.  Maybe the damage will slow down KG. Maybe not. The good thing is that with all this fog I may be able to slip ahead unnoticed.  Surfacing at flank. 

1029: Ambushed by destroyer in the fog.  Crash Dive.  Received shell hits to bow and stern.  Not sure if the pressure hull is compromised.  Now at 140m and being pinged, DCed...

1156: warship screws have faded to 90 degrees.  Surfacing and attempting to keep pace at flank.  There's a small chance the KG is running slower due to flooding.  Still foggy and rainy.

1937: Radio BdU - contact update, attack report.  Bdu - "Disregard assigned patrol co-ordinates.  Proceed to Gibraltar at flank, intercept enemy warship in the narrows.   Then cross into Med. and on to La Spezia.  Be More Aggressive". 

13 Dec 1941

1151: Contact Report - enemy warship CG85, SSE 23kts.  He's ahead of us, and moving very fast. We may not make the intercept..

2024: CG83 Ship sighted - almost hit a small merchant in the inky black rain.  French flags.

14 Dec 1941

1445: Fog and rain still heavy.  At mouth of Gibraltar - radio reports show that KG has passed through the narrows.  We lost him.  Too dangerous to cross narrows in this condition.  Will patrol here until weather clears.   

2300: CG89.  Rain has stopped and sky is clearing. Proceeding towards the pass. 

15 Dec 1941

1948: At the entry to the narrows.  We're heading in at flank and will hug the south edge.

2053:  Ship spotted - tribal destroyer 248 degrees, 4km.  Hoping to pass it by.       
 
2055:  Ship spotted - Hunt 1 destroyer 270 degrees, 4km.  These two are probably the west entry patrol. 

2105:  The smokestacks of four patrolling warships are visible. 

2237:  Seem to have been spotted by PT boat because it turned and is headed straight for us.  Nearby Tribal is also approaching fast.  We're in shallows (124m) about 1/3 of the way through the pass.

2257:  Warships closing from all directions - 6 in total.  Some are probably PT boats but there are at least a few DDs.     

16 Dec 1941

0030: Gave them the slip.  Surface, proceeding at flank. 

0100: Detected again by PT boat.  Diving fast to 140m to try to get ahead of the datum.  I don't think PTs have hydrophones, but I can hear destroyers closing from the southwest, west, and northwest. 

0120: Pretty sure that PT boats don't have hydrophones - all the destroyers are far at 180 - somewhere around where we were last seen. 

0240:  Came to PD.  Heard a sloshing sound - started to raise the periscope and saw screws - a PT boat zipped right over us!  It had no idea of our presence, and blasted off into the channel at 40kts.

0307: Surface flank.  Spotted immediately by PT boat.  Back down and evade. 

0443: Surface flank. 

0447: Task Force Spotted!  Line of ships entering narrows - Carrier spotted among them!  Moving to intercept!

0513: Moving into attack position - Clemson escort steers right down our bearing and detects us.  Frantically fire off all four bow tubes at carrier and dive at flank.  Machine gun fire damages the periscope and forward deck.  DCed at point blank - they missed but almost rolled the boat over with the blasts.  Two escorts pinging and DCing.  Hear two torpedo impacts in rapid succession - too early to be the carrier - probably the Dido cruiser that was overtaking our firing angle on the carrier. 

0837: Pinged and DCed for last 3 hrs.  Have given them the slip.  Small convoy passed over us while they were attacking.  Two small ships and an escort.  They didn't seem to mind the water and dead fish spraying everywhere.  We're into CG96.  Most of the warship screws are well to our stern, and we will probably spend the rest of the day at PD, and run our battery right down.  I want to wait until nightfall to surface, if possible.  Then we can repair and recharge.

0915: Depth charges in the water!  Destroyer in attack run!  I don't know how he surprised us, but my sound man didn't pick up his approach!  Where did he come from?  How did he find us?  I'm guessing that the all-night terror in the channel has dulled everyone.  Maybe our silhouette was spotted by a plane?  Just when we thought we were safe, I hear propellers running over us and the boat jumps sharply left and onto portside.  Must have come up in our baffles.  For the love of god, we are so fortunate that he missed.  He could have easily split the boat in two.  Now...just to escape his sonar search.

1855: Surface.  Just shy of critical Co2 and half battery.  Time for repairs, torpedo reload, and recharge.  We made it.  Inspection reveals that the flak gun was jammed by impact.  The deck gun's swivel was locked and the forward deck is dented by machine gun bullets.  That will have to wait to be hammered out at port.  Otherwise, the boat is sea-worthy.  Since that run in with the KG escort, I haven't taken the boat too deep.  It can still handle ~140m which was enough to get us out of all that stickiness back there.  Radioed BdU to tell them we made it.  BdU: "Be More Aggressive".

2323: Ship Spotted CH74 - C Class Destroyer.  Escorting Large Cargo.  Moving to intercept. 

2359: DD got suspicious.  Decided to torpedo him to avenge the hours of terror the crew has suffered.  Dud.  Fired second tube on his turn to investigate.  Either missed or dud.  Pinged.  Turned astern and fired rear tube.  Hit!  Large explosion and fire on DD.  It steams off at 20 kts.  DD starts firing star shells - about 20 in rapid succession.  It returns, slows, and gets back on its original course.  Massive fires aboard, but no major list.  Meanwhile, reload aft torpedo.  Fire at merchant.  Dud.  Leaving area. 

17 Dec 1941

0604: Ship Spotted CH81.  Tramp Steamer.  Shadow...British flag.  Engage with deck gun. Major sighting problems from the damage received earlier - missing a lot of shots.  Ranging off too - barrel may be warped.  Receive return fire.  Decent enemy gunner - a shot clips the bow torpedo room and collapses torpedo tube 1.  No flooding.  Ship Sunk!  She rolls over and goes under.  With all the damage we've taken, I don't want to do any more diving. PD is as deep as we should have to go - straight to port from here. 

21 Dec 1941

0810: Sail into port at La Spezia.  Made it, but barely.  The feeling of elation is great.  We are far from home, but for the time being, we are safe.  We cut peaceful waters into an empty port.  No parade, no party.  But that’s almost better – nerves are shot throughout the boat.  U-71 is scarred by the gauntlet at Gibraltar.  For now, it’s quiet drinking with my officers, and time to explore the town.

Ships sunk: 1
Hull Integrity: 82%
Patrol tonnage: 2120

21 Jan 1942

1630: Depart Spezia.  Patrol Grid: CH74.  Back to Gibraltar...bad vibrations here.  The worst part is that we just arrived.  We’ve had barely a month here – long enough to repair U-71, but not long enough to calm our nerves from the last patrol.  The men are wound-up tight.  None of us want to be anywhere near that pass now.  We've been ordered to patrol the East entry, which, as we learned in December, is full of activity.  Thankfully, we don't have to get to close to the port, which is surely heavily guarded and probably mined.  We will try to stay outside the range of the hunter-killer groups that were swarming the area during our passage before Christmas.  We're going to have to stay at PD during the day.  Though we never saw a plane in December, there's no doubt that the area is swarming with Allied air cover.

29 Jan 1942

0208: Entered patrol grid.  Setting zig-zag search pattern across exit shipping lane.  Pretty much anything coming in or out of the channel will come within 25km of us. 

1535: Sound Contact.  Merchant, medium speed, bearing 333.  Plotting course and moving to intercept.

1609: Ship Sighted - tramp steamer.  Sea too high to engage with gun, and directives are to save torpedoes for targets >2000 tons.  Breaking engagement.

1821: Radio Report - Enemy Convoy CG95 6kts - entering narrows.  Some time tomorrow afternoon they should stumble into our trap.

Conning Tower – my beloved attack periscope; a finely tuned instrument of war.

30 Jan 1942

0235: Convoy Spotted - small convoy - one escort, 3 ships.  Going in for a closer look.

0258: French Flags.  Moving on.  Still no sighting of the Eastbound convoy.

1116: Radio Report - Enemy small convoy - CH74 WNW 8kts.  We’re sandwiched between two convoys.  Busy, busy grid coordinates.

1211: Ship sighted - small merchant and a destroyer escort.  Moving to intercept. 

1230: Tube 3 (T2) fired - perfect shot at engine room, 700m.  Escort Lagging 1km behind...Dud!  Arg!  Diving slowly.  Small merchant is not worth another eel.  Destroyer slowed down and is listening - probably heard the torpedo explode at depth.     

1258: Destroyer left with merchant.  It circled back once at flank but then steamed off.  Decided to risk air attack by surfacing to bring in external fore torpedo, get clean air and charge battery before convoy engagement.  Risky, but I want to go into this fully charged.

31 Jan 1942

0945: Convoy never showed.  Must have stopped at Gibraltar.  Damn. 

My luxurious quarters, situated in a strategic position beside the hydrophone and radio station. 

1 Feb 1942

0339: Ship spotted - tramp steamer and a destroyer. 

0428: Decided to torpedo the destroyer.  Hit it with a T2 - bow.  It slowed from 30kts to 15kts, and we hit it with a T1 amidship.  Explosion, burning.  Turning in circles and firing star shells.  Suddenly boiler explodes and she sinks quickly astern.

0827: Sound contact - merchant - from the West.  Plotting course. 

0959: French flags. 

1134: convoy spotted - medium cargo and destroyer escort.  Plotting course.

1250: Tube 5 to medium merchant (T2) - hit amidships.  Turn alongside - fire tube 1 T1 fast - hit stern.  Destroyer approaching.  Fire remaining T2 its way. Dive to 165. Miss with T2.  Pinged by destroyer.  Passed by....Merchant screws slowing - probably flooding. 

1415: PD.  Merchant sighted - listing, slow.  Destroyer Escort moving slow, shadowing wounded ship.  Will attack destroyer to allow free room to finish off the merchant.

1432: fired T2 torpedo and hit destroyer.  Explosion - fire. 

1441: Destroyer capsizes and sinks in 5 minutes.  Moving to finish merchant. 

1540: Engine room shot - merchant explodes and breaks in half - sinks in under a minute.

2 Feb 1942

0413: Ship Spotted.  Tramp Steamer.  To rough for deck gun engagement - will let it pass.    

2028: Small convoy spotted.  Plotting course. 

2100: French.  Aborting approach.

2242: Small convoy spotted.  Plotting course. 

2306: French.  Aborting approach. 

3 Feb 1942

0010: Ship Spotted.  Medium Cargo - close range.  Moving into attack position. 

0016: Greek flag.  Firing tube 1 - fast T1.

0018: Dud.  Firing tube 2, fast T1.  Hit - amidships.  Slows to 7kts.  Firing Tube 5.  Miss.  Too rough for deck gun.   Surface – flank the ship under cover of darkness.  Tube 4 - aimed at bow.  Hit – explosion; ship sets fire, right through to stern.  Secondary explosions.  Burning men fling themselves into the water.  My watch crew stand with wide eyes and mouths agape as the sounds of panic and death echo across the night. War sits ugly, in front of us.  Merchant sinks quickly astern.  Time to leave the area. 

1700: Small merchant spotted, escorted by destroyer.  Fired T1 fast at destroyer - miss. Fired final T2 at merchant - miss/dud.  Diving to evade.

2203: Radio BdU - torpedoes expended.  BdU: RTB.   

8 Feb 1942

0625: Blaze into Spezia at flank.  Storm clouds gathering to block the rising sun.  Mixed moods on the boat.  Disappointment in some, and relief in others; we have had a light patrol. 

Awarded Knight's Cross With Golden Oak Leaves, Swords, and Diamonds.

Ships sunk: 4
Hull Integrity: 100%
Patrol tonnage: 12290

We’ve had four months of much-earned R&R.  U-71 was dry-docked for a major refitting.  A new Flak emplacement was installed below the first, aft of the conning tower, allowing twice the anti-aircraft firepower that we had before.  I’m very pleased with this; the air threat has become increasingly real.  Many systems have been upgraded.  The deck gun was overhauled for a newer recoil mechanism.  Probably a good move since the warping that occurred at Gibraltar.  An active sonar device has been added, allowing us to determine target-range exactly while submerged.  This may provide very useful.  We also have been given active radar, allowing target detection at a great distance while running on the surface.  I must admit that I can’t imagine relying on active sources of target information, as U-71’s primary advantage is stealth.  Nevertheless, it is better to have these functions that to be without them.  Finally, and much to my satisfaction, the Bold decoy system has been installed.  We can now deploy acoustic decoys that should confuse Asdic and draw attackers away from our position.  This technology could make a big difference for us in the patrols to come. 

I had a visit with Petra.  We spent a glorious time together at home in Dresden, much like it was before the war.  In fact, it was so long and familiar that I almost forgot about the boat.  Almost.  I saw Fritz in late March, and he confirmed that he was receiving my posts.  Miraculously the Ubootwafte has not censored my reports, though they have surely read them.  Petra came to visit Spezia and to see us off.  My noxious and reliable crew proceeded to greet her, and then to offend her.  Following that we had a week together exploring the area and enjoying each other’s rare company.  For all the worry that sits in our minds, this has been the strongest love I have ever known.  We held back tears at the pier, and struggled to part.  Once again, she waits for U-71 to return.

15 May 1942

0840: Leave Spezia.  Patrol Grid CN66.  We’re headed to the junction of the East and West Mediterranean, a shipping hotspot. 

16 May 1942

0343: Ship sighted.  Italian hospital ship, no escort.  Maybe we’re the escort? 

18 May 1942

1548: Sound contact - warship.  Plotting course.

1607: Ship spotted - warship - task force!  3 cruisers and 5 destroyer escorts.  Racing to attack position at flank, PD.

1616: Fire both T2s at Fiji class cruiser (center ship).  Wait for 45 seconds, fire one T1 fast to follow up.  Second T1 fast goes to Dido in rear of formation.  Both T2s duds.  T1 to center cruiser hits - explosion.  Fiji burns from bow to stern.  Last T1 misses.  Dive to 165.  Rushed and DCed by escort.  Turn away from scene in silent run.  Ship Sunk!  Fiji Light Cruiser.     

1700: Warship screws fading to 180.  Surface, reload Tubes, transfer fore external store.  Can’t catch the TF – it’s too fast.

19 May 1942 

0702: Sound contact. Warship.  Plotting course.

0710: Ship spotted - Black Swan escorting Troop Transport.  Moving into firing position.  British flags. 

0721: Fired two T2s at troop transport - amidships and stern.  Both hit - second causes fatal explosion.  Entire ship burns from bow to stern.  Diving to 165m.  Dark emotions run through the boat - we all know that no one got off that boat alive.  The only comfort comes in knowing that the men that have died were, in all likelihood, soldiers... 

0837: Warship screws fading, return to PD. 

21 May 1942

2000: Entered patrol grid.  Awful weather - heavy rain/fog.  Running at PD when possible.

22 May 1742

1500: Weather cleared. 

23 May 1942

1223: Enemy Task Force Grid CO27, WNW 14kts.  We have a chance to intercept them due North of our patrol grid.  Moving to intercept. 

24 May 1942

2300: Giving up search for task force.  Returning to CN22 - choke point. 

28 May 1942

0023: Military convoy spotted CN22: DD escort, hospital ship, cruiser.  Plotting course.

0110: In firing position – stealthy approach, but the Black Swan is suspicious.  Both the hospital ship and the cruiser are identified as British.  Will let the hospital ship pass.  Hit Southhampton cruiser with 2 torpedoes - bow and amidships.  Send Tube V coup-de-grace before diving....Cruiser's boiler explodes before third torpedo hits. During dive hear third torpedo hit - she's doomed.  Black swan closing fast - pinging.  I had to use the Echolot because we're in shallows (turned out to be 142m).  Pretty sure the Swan heard the ping because he turned down our bearing and increased speed to 15kts.  Now at 80m, turning away from the convoy.  SO reports hearing the cruiser hit the bottom - a loud ominous 'klang' followed by a series of dull scaping and groaning sounds.   

0345: Warship screws fading.  Surface, continue Z search of CN22.

29 May 1942

1140: Sound contact - warship.  Plotting course.

1240: Visual contact - flower corvette & small merchant.  British flags.

1320: Ship Sunk!  Small merchant.  Single T2 from aft tube splits merchant ship in half.  Diving to 140m - no time to echolocate the bottom, map shows shallows - assumed to be >160m, but not sure.

1501: Never detected by escort - back to PD for the rest of the day. 

30-31 May 1942

Rain, rain, rain and fog.  Running at PD, only surfacing to recharge.

Conning tower, attack station. 

1 June 1942

0622: Warship, merchant sound contact.  Weather still terrible.  Probably have to let these ones go.  Plotting course.

0738: Detected by escort on approach.  Pinged, DCed close, hard - 10 charges or so.  Flank to 165m, change course to oblique angle on convoy course.  Passing under convoy. 

0935: Screws fading.  Back to PD - clear.  Surface and flank. 

1345: In front of convoy - moving into attack position at flank.  Weather still terrible.

1414: Black Swan flying British flag passes in front at 600m.   All schtop, silent, watch it pass.     

1422: Landing Ship-Tank spotted, British flag.  Fire last T2, dud.  Fire T1 as second shot - hit, bow.  Fire 3rd T1 amidships - hit.  A second ship passes at 500m - troop transport.  Saving last aft torpedo to finish wounded LST.  Diving to 165, against convoy.

1425: SO reports sinking sounds.  We claim an LST! 

1530: Warship screws faded.  Surface to flank for final attack.

1713: Lost contact with convoy.  Can't hear them anymore.  Giving up pursuit, returning to Z search. 
 
2 Jun 1942

0500: weather clearing.
 
3 Jun 1942

1634: Sound contact.  Plotting course. 

1746: In firing position - British Large Cargo ship.  Ship Sunk! Large Cargo.  Targeted engine room - critical hit - ship splits in half and burns. 

2013: Surface. Radio BdU - torpedoes spent.  BdU: RTB.

5 Jun 1942

1110: Return La Spezia.  U-71 has begun to inflict its wrath upon the Mediterranean.  That old confidence has returned to the crew.  We are very, very good at what we do.  We claimed a record amount of capital ship tonnage this patrol.  We also claimed a troop transport and a landing ship – both kills that will directly impede the Allied effort here.  With the fear of our close call at Gibraltar fading in memory, we are now unleashed upon the Mediterranean and will conduct our duty with honour.  U-71 is back. 

Ships sunk: 6 (2 military)
Hull Integrity: 100%
Patrol tonnage: 42068 (21450 in military shipping)

16 July 1942

0840: Depart Spezia.  Patrol Grid CN26.  Back to the Mediterranean junction.  The men are salty.  The summer is blazing here, and we ride out of Spezia shouting war cries.  On to the hunt!

19 Jul 1942

1515: Grid CN25.  Thick fog and rain.  Faint screws heard behind us - moving to intercept. 

1644: Lost contact - giving up search. 

20 Jul 1942

0115: Entered patrol grid.  Plotting Z search pattern. 

1035: Sound contact - warship.  Plotting course.  Still rain & heavy fog. 

1145: Lost contact. 

1743: Sound contact - warship.  Plotting course. 

1852: Tramp steamer and escort.  Not worth a torpedo.  Letting them pass. 

2147: Radio Report - enemy task force CN62.  Too far - can't make the intercept in time.   

21 Jul 1942

0138: Radio BdU: Patrol complete, no contact.  BdU: U-71 assigned to new patrol grid CO51. Be more aggressive.

26 July 1942

0743: Radio report: Enemy Task Force - CN66 headed E.  This should come right across our path.  Plotting course for intercept.

27 July 1942

1300: Giving up search - they must have got through. 

1533: Radio report - small convoy CO56.  Moving to intercept.     

1611: Sound contact – merchant, slow.  Plotting course. 

1634: Visual contact - V&W destroyer and Large Cargo ship.  Weather clear.  Flanked until 6.5km away then dive.  Moving in at flank on battery to close remaining distance. 

1639: Escort suspicious - in snake search pattern. 

1702: Identify British flag on Large Cargo.  Fire T2 for engine room.  Hit.  Fire second T1 at stern.  Hit - fatal explosion, ship breaks up.  Turn against convoy and dive to 165m. 

1817: Lost escort DD - back to PD. 

1855: Task Force Spotted!  Setting course for approach at flank!  Three cruisers sighted, moving medium speed.  Flanking ahead.

1943: 10km ahead of TF, fore external moved.  Dusk.  Moving into attack position.  TF a single line – Southhampton cruiser, Fiji cruiser, Fiji cruiser.

2013: Two T2s to leading Southhampton cruiser.  One T2 to Fiji, second in line along with a T1 fast, delayed.  Southhampton hit twice, small fires, no slowing.  Fiji hit once. No obvious damage.  Turn and fire aft tube at Fiji - dud/miss.  Turn 180 to TF - aim for gap in escorts.  Pinged, but not detected.  Continuing at PD.

2033: Explosion in the distance - Southhampton's boiler?  Ship sunk - Southhampton cruiser.

2204: flanking, loading aft external. 

2205: ambushed by river destroyer escort - came up in out baffles.  Diving.

28 July 1942

0220: back into firing position.  Task force has calmed.  Fire T2 at damaged Fiji.  Quickly fire 3 t1s fast at second Fiji.  We’re directly in the path of convoy's portside escort.  Cut engines, wait.  TF sees torpedo steam trails 5 seconds before impact.  Searchlights go on...then...Impact x 4.  Second Fiji rocked by 3 successive blasts.  Massive fire.  First Fiji hit amidships. Pinged by escort - he passes.  We continue 180 to TF in silent running, PD.  Escort makes a second turn/pass, but doesn't detect us.  Continue running at PD, silent.  Two other escorts converge, ping, don't find us.  In the distance, second Fiji can be seen to capsize.  Ship Sunk - Fiji Light Cruiser! 

2043: First Fiji capsizes.  Ship Sunk - Fiji Light Cruiser!  Escorts have lost us.  Exiting area in silent run. 

3 Aug 1942

0110: ship spotted - tramp steamer.  Moving to engage with deck gun.  British flag.

0332: engaging.  Rough seas - decks awash. 

0415: Ship Sunk - tramp steamer - sporadic return fire.  Rolls over and fires go out.

4 Aug 1942

0232: Radio report - enemy convoy CN25 SSE 7 knots - moving to intercept. 

0417: sound check - warship screws – loud…Convoy?  Task Force?

0519: Lead escort sighted.  Moving into attack position at PD, flank.  Have moved into littoral waters. Depth check - 198m under keel.  High seas, overcast skies.  The bottom has been churned up, turning the sea brown.  Medium Fog.   Perfect attack weather. 

0526: Convoy spotted - Dido Cruiser, Hospital Ship, Passenger Liner - military convoy!  Convoy changing course - heading SE. 

0543: Flags identified - British.  Approaching silent through the tumbling waves. 

0553: Standing orders hold that Passenger Liners in military convoy are to be sunk.  Fire T2 at Passenger Liner engine room.  Torpedo Impact!  Secondary explosion!  Passenger Liner doomed!  Fire surges through entire ship.  I recoil from the attack periscope in excitement. 

0555: Turn 180 to convoy.  Wait for Dido to pass – target it with Aft T2 (900m) amidships.  Begin Dive to 140m.  River destroyer escort passes right in front of us.

0557: Torpedo Impact!  Explosions heard! 

0601: Sinking sounds heard 150 degrees - Dido Cruiser Sunk!  Warship at 60 and 180 degrees.

0614: Warship passing us off to starboard - moving back to remaining convoy ship (hospital ship).   

0617: Wrong - it doubled back - passing over us!  A single ping chills us. 

0620: He's back - pinging.  Passes obliquely over our stern.  The ghosts of the Passenger Liner and the Dido wail into the hydrophone at 180, far. 

0647: Warship screws fading.  Moving back to PD.  Radio BdU: Military convoy attacked, capital ships sunk.  Hospital ship flying British flags remains.  One torpedo remaining.  What are our orders?  BdU: Attack and sink military hospital vessel.  I am chilled to read these orders.  We have been sent to attack a Hospital ship.  Though military, it is clearly flying hospital flags – surely full of wounded soldiers.  I’m not sure how to handle this.  My XO glares at me, and instructs the NO to plot a course for ambush. 

0704: Surface, flanking to catch convoy.  Reloading final torpedo in stern tube. 

0810: Sound check - convoy ahead of us - far. 

0845: Aircraft spotted.  Crash dive, no DC. 

1019: Black Swan doubles back.  Dive to PD - not spotted.  Swan steams back to convoy at 20kts.   

1247: Aircraft spotted - medium range!  Ambush!  We break right hard and the spitfire drops a bomb in our wake.  Crash Dive. 

1405: Positioned in front of convoy.  Tricky shot - aft tube.  Trying to take oblique angle to evade detection by lead destroyer - he's suspicious, and is doing a snake search. 

1411: Weather has cleared.  Wind has died.  Our Asdic cover has ended…

1424: Hospital ship in sights.  Line up shot for ammo bunker - hit.  No secondary explosion.  Escape at 1/3.  Pinged immediately. Turning 120 to TF.

1430: Ping-triangulated by 2 escorts - dive at flank and set depth to 165m, turn 45 degrees to port. 

1432: Very close DC!  Through the observation scope I watched it hit the boat’s stern and roll off - the depth setting was deeper.  Boat rocked savagely by charge beneath us.  Crew thrown to the deck, gauges pop. 

1436: Hard DCs astern, probably 200m away. 

1445: Counted 4 escort destroyers all around us.  This looks bad.

1500: Ping triangulated.  DC hit! Lights flicker and a thin mist of high pressure water shoots into the command room from a valve popped loose.  XO shouts damage report: Port Electric engine, compressor, Port Diesel, Main Pump – all light damage.  Nothing deadly – I order to hold silent running – silence should protect us.

1502: Deploy decoys, run away at flank.

1524: Pinged more.  DCed more.  Decoys deployed again. 

1540: Hell being delivered behind us.  DCs, 20 at a time, saturation bombing.  Can hear one warship barely moving - probably listening.

1600: Warship screws fading at 180.  Seem to have given them the slip.  Will stay under until well after nightfall. 

1700: No sound contacts.  Moving up to 60m. 

1725: Secure from silent running. Begin repairs.  Compressor first, then electric engine, then port diesel.

1829: All repairs complete. 

2053: Back to PD.  Up periscope - dark, bright moon.  Will surface and run for the night. 

2055: Surface to find the flak guns lightly damaged.  Repaired quickly.  Radio BdU: torpedoes spent, light damaged repaired.  BdU: RTB.  Setting course for Spezia, ahead full - we've got fuel to spare.  Darkness is precious.

6 Aug 1942

0610: XO wakes me this morning.  My birthday, yesterday.  I forgot.  We all did.  What an ordeal we survived.  I keep to myself the dark knowledge that I hope is still a secret: during the attack yesterday I could not ensure our safety.  The luxury of control was taken from me when the DCs started rocking the boat.  I was running scared, and when we were hit, a cold, angry feeling washed over me.  It was the end.  But we are still here.  My crew had no birthday present for me; their bottle of Schnapps was broken in the attack.  But they express their thanks by a handshake, all of them, in line.  I’m glad to have this birthday.  Now we’re heading home. 

2255: Encounter small convoy, friendly - Soldati destroyer and tramp steamer.  We quietly pass.  

8 Aug 1942

0540: Return Spezia.  Our best patrol yet for tonnage, and yet our closest brush with death.  I hate to admit it but I’m really shaken.  I still feel like I lost her there, watching depth charges wail past in the observation scope.  I hate to say this, but I feel like we’ve had enough.  I’ve applied for our transfer back to France, but BdU requires of us one more patrol out here.  It’s survival now.  I don’t care anymore about glory.  I just need to get this crew home.  They have earned it over and again.  

Ships sunk: 7 (4 military)
Hull Integrity: 100%
Patrol tonnage: 59487 (37775 military shipping)
 

     Flensburg’s cool summer is now exhausted.  Though a couple of hot days stand out in memory, the last few months have been dampened by an overarching chill.  Hans mailed his reports to me faithfully, and they portrayed increasing terror and a looming, terminal danger.  When I met him in March he was no longer a clean young man with a wide smile and a desire to serve Germany.  His skin had grown pale and his eyes looked tired, and he spoke of the thrill of sinking of merchants and warships.  The war has become soulless, and our conscience has been corrupted in order to cope with the change.  Our limits of military conduct used to be a source of national pride, but they have rippled and washed aside in the wake of our warships.  We meet our end with blithe conviction.  And we barely acknowledge the death we inflict, unless to meet it with the lick of satisfaction and the vague feeling of revenge.  

     On the evening of Sunday Sep 17 1942, U-boats received an ominous radio message from high command: "All attempts at rescuing members of ships that have been sunk, including attempts to pick up persons swimming, or to place them in lifeboats, or attempts to upright capsized boats, or to supply provisions or water, are to cease.  The rescue of survivors contradicts the elementary necessity of war for the destruction of enemy ships and crews.  Survivors are only to be picked up in cases when their interrogations would be of value to the U-boat.  Be severe.  Remember that in his bombing attacks on German cities, the enemy has no regard for women and children.  BdU."

     Germany faces decisive battle on all sides.  The years to come will surely change the world…  But what will we become?

      I had a dream on Monday – well, I suppose it was a nightmare.  I was in a submarine, a Uboote.  Danger was dancing all around us.  Through my turns in the sheets we fled, and when I rolled to escape, our pursuers dropped depth-charges into the water above us.  Gripped by basic fear, I looked to the men around me who clung to the workings to steady themselves.  I recognized no one, but everyone was familiar to me.

     Though I knew I was dreaming, I could not wake myself.  A piercing, rhythmic series of sonar pings resound through the boat, faster and faster, like a clock that winds itself and sends time tumbling perilously ahead.  Roll again to escape.  Propellers overhead and men cower.  Splashes.  A muffled alarm from the cabin ahead.  As I open my mouth to speak I’m silenced by deafening explosions, all around, above us, beside us, below us.  My vision shakes into a blur.  Shattered on the deck, I regain my pose and look about.  No one speaks.  Men stare at me but I can say nothing – what have I done to deserve this?  With a shuffle the men clear, ahead and a foggy face declares that the enemy is attacking again.  I shake my head - what shall we do?  A long silence passes as I turn, and see darkness ahead of me.  Turning back, my men stand behind me, firm, silent.  I take a deep breath.  The lights shout out, the bulkhead in front of me bursts and the chaotic ocean explodes inward.  With the count of three, I wake. 

Fritz Kuhl

18 Sep 1942

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U-71 was last heard from on September 11 1942, Grid CJ88.  In the late evening Kaleun Jackel radioed BdU that he had sighted a British troop transport escorted by two frigates, and that he intended to attack. 

U-71: Missing and Presumed Lost with All Hands, Grid CJ88.
Career Tonnage: 318049 (69975 in military shipping). 

Carl Winters and his crew of 43 were salty sea-soned warriors. They completed 3 patrols in the North Sea, 15 patrols in the Atlantic. Their recent performance was exemplary - often patrols with 60, 70, or even 80 thousand tons sunk. And, in all that piracy, they never once had a ship drop a depth charge anywhere near them! To top it off, on patrol 16 (September 1941) in grid BE31, U-47 intercepted a military task force and sunk the carrier Illustrious with 3 torpedoes; a cataclysmic demise that put 23000 tons and the full crew on the bottom of the ocean.

So, with all that excitement and success, Carl and I decided that the crew needed a vacation. It was December 1941, and allied air was starting to become a bit of a problem at the Atlantic bases. So, U-47 transferred to La Spezia for a dose of mediterranean weather and some light, backcountry sailing.

And that's what we got. Our first patrol was dead. Despite being in a central patrol grid at the junction of the east and west arms of the Med, we found nothing. U-47 claimed a mere C2 and a small merchant in 3 weeks, for a total tonnage around 10 thousand. Which is exactly what we asked for – R & R. The second patrol was all rain - 2 weeks of it. We encountered a few small ships and sunk them. In fact, the boys became so anxious for some action and good weather that we made a mistake. It was finally a beautiful day and we had a coastal merchant encounter. We surfaced to engage it with the deck gun and discovered that it was armed with a light gun! However, its aim was terrible, firing shots everywhere but at us, and so we continued to pound its waterline with HE shells. Then, out of the blue, a shell came arcing straight at us. It hit the starboard side of the boat and damaged the bow compartment, command room, and the conning tower. Thank god no one was injured. It was a foreboding lesson.

Patrol 21 sent us to the eastern end of the mediterranean (CO69) near Alexandria. We ran into some ugly allied air cover on our way past Valetta. We had to spend the day underwater. The next day we surfaced and kept plodding East at 8 knots. In the middle of grid CN39 we got forced under by air attack. We got lucky: depth charge missed by about 50m. We continued under at 25m for a bit...then made a sound contact - warship, moving fast, closing. I suspected that a local patrol was moving in on the sighting made by the aircraft. But then, two more warships - moving fast. A task-force! I drew a hasty line of contact, and surfaced at flank speed. We ran at 20kts until we could see smokestacks approaching. We dove and continued at flank.

A visual check showed that there was only one target of interest - King George V !!!

The crew went crazy with excitement - we might get a shot at the beast. But we were still far away. It was a perfectly clear, still day, and hence we had submerged pretty close to our maximum visual range.

We had to close the remaining distance at 8 kts submerged, just burning battery, but it was worth it. At optimal firing angle, we were within 3km of the mighty ship. Perfect.

We fired two electric torpedoes, aimed about midship. We waited for about 5 seconds, and fired two steam torpedoes, aimed mid and bow. All torpedoes ran at shallow depth. It took several minutes for the torpedoes to get close.

By now I had begun to dive to maximum depth. All 4 torpedoes hit their target, with the 4rth one setting off a secondary explosion that doomed the ship.

King George exploded, lurched, and went under quickly.

By now U-47 was at 60m, and was turning away from the scene of the crime in silent run. The escorts were PISSED. They seemed to have a bead on us with sonar, but we gradually got deeper and further, and the sound of their sonar pings became more and more faint. Soon it could not be heard at all above the creaking of our hull under 169m of ocean. The remaining elements of the task force (5 small destroyers) eventually left without dropping a single depth charge. I can't imagine how angry they were. King George V was fatally sniped, and his killer skulked away undetected.

So, the mediterranean vacation is going well. The boys are HAPPY and confident. It's quiet out here, except for the odd battleship. With Illustrious and King George under our keel, U-47 has started to take on legendary status. One more patrol and we're back West.

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During the return trip, somewhere between Valletta and Bengasi, in a spot that was _supposed_ to be free of allied air patrols, U-47 was spotted by a Catalina patrol plane. Crash dive was ordered and U-47 went into a steep dive. Just as the stern was vanishing from view, the bomber dropped about six bombs right on top of the boat. Massive damage was inflicted - the first 4 compartment were flooding rapidly. Water was surging into the bow torpedo room. I assigned a damage team to each compartment and the situation looked salvageable. But we were still traveling at flank speed in a dive – now at 90m and going deeper FAST. We blew ballast 4 times, tried to surface, cut the engine, but the boat kept going down…120…160…220…

At 320m the boat groaned loudly – we were still going down and very fast. We had lost her. At 340m the bow torpedo room caved in and the rest of the boat quickly followed.

U-47: sunk by air attack, somewhere in the west end of Grid CO. All hands lost.

Carl and his crew will be missed terribly by those left high and dry. There's something karmic about Carl's demise, and the sinking of King George V. They happened nearby and about a week apart. Hate to speculate about these things, but it makes you wonder. Anyways, we won't recover easily from this. I have included some extra shots of some of the experiences of Carl and his crew that stand out during 3 years of fighting, for those that want to look back on the glory of U-47. Together over 21 patrols, Carl and his boys sunk an incredible total of 931,039 tons of allied shipping (108,090 in military shipping).

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On Patrol 16, _after_ sinking Illustrious, U-47 encountered an unescorted convoy at AM43 and managed to sink 2 tankers with the deck gun!

Ships scatter in panic as U-47 goes into a tanker-frenzy!

War materiel stored topside is burned up with the flak gun.

U-47, on a winning streak, somewhere in the atlantic.

U-47, on Patrol 1, encountered a task force in the English Channel and managed to sink a Fido and a Southampton cruiser. A watchman spots the smokestacks:

And after a successful strike:

During patrol 4, U-47 hit a mine off of Hull and was badly damaged, sustaining three dead and two wounded, but was able to return to port:

In all it's glory, U-47 is put to sea at Lorient:

It’s a trendy, popular place, and it's always teaming with regulars, friends of regulars, or victims of cheap hand-painted advertising. The falafel stand sits beside the Bakery - another famous haunt in the Annex. While they may have separate ownership, the Falafel joint owes much to the Future dynasty which holds sway over the entire corner of Brunswick and Bloor; it is a juggernaut that draws many primates from the surrounding trees. They come for the people, and they grow crazy with the smell of blazed fat and sweaty meat.

There’s a patio at the Bakery, and on any Monday night you can spot a pretty, prescribed portion of humanity lurking there. They’re young, trendy, and hot for sex in the most obvious way. There are rules that govern the wicked carnivory that takes place here. But given this wide and arbitrary boundary things are quite juicy and explicit. Dicks scream hard, bellies hang out, tits flop, lips sparkle with cheap liquid plastic, and every one is ready to fuck like the species is in danger. Without that singular motivation we never would have left the swamp, let alone climbed trees or discovered how to craft huge knives, bras, dildos. There are a lot of happy people here, each one just inches from the kill; throbbing, excited, and ready to salivate on anything close to what they expected. Buncha pigs, really. But loveable in that squeaky-pink, slippery & tight kinda way.

That reminds me of the way she sliced the meat. She’s ugly, and foreign, but man does she know how to put a knife to meat. I’ll ask for whatever hasn’t been cut recently, just so that I can watch her hesitate, calculate, and then grab that simple arm of metal and apply it to the fatty meat spit. Beef or chicken; both yield freely to her methodical cut. Moving that steel blade back and forth with direct intent, she sheers off shards of fat-soaked meat for me to eat. A bit of Arabian love, close to the heart, the thigh, and with so much tasty lipid. It’s hard to describe in appropriate detail. Of course I’ll have hot-sauce: anything to make the whole process take longer, to have her linger while the fat boils and runs down that goddamn spit.

Just under the flesh, lava runs hot and the ancients hunt each other and multiply. Teeth, saliva, and blood are almost always exposed here, and the limits of consumption are only occasionally shouted in panic between gulps.

There's not much to be proud of these days at the Federal level, or maybe at any level, for that matter. I've been keeping a low profile ever since the Reich got its second term. All orders have to be sent by runner, or pigeon, on self-destructing paper with a timed charge for insurance. The sudden death of a few hundred thousand people came just in time for Christmas. I had eaten myself asleep, and when I awoke that piece of news hit me like insulin shock. I still don't really understand the Tsunami - it's above the question "why?". These last weeks have been such a funk that I didn't even wince when the NHL players declared that they were a bunch of greedy pigs on skates. Bad news sweeps in like the next blizzard, and the whole place is so salty and dried out that there's no energy left to fight. It's hard to suppress apocalyptic thoughts when faced with these sorts of things. Match that with the human filth that surrounds us at all times - people that go to Starbucks and order a 'grande latte with a flavour shot', that arrogant shithead that was driving 110 kph in the fast lane today, the deranged architect who modeled the building I work in after the Death Star, and Ho Lee Chow for making food that instantly decomposes into putrid scum, and then including a fortune cookie that says 'you deserved it, you pathetic sack of broken, useless, unmotivated shit'. Man, these lousy bastards can get you down, even before you read about the next invasion or the secret incarceration of thousands.

So with the backdrop of excrement spiraling in a prison toilet bowl, it came as a bit of a boost to hear that Martin told the US to go fuck off. Swearing usually perks me up, but the idea was also invigorating. Do we want to help you build an international missile launching network? Not really. In fact, not AT ALL, YOU SWARM OF ANTS! Thinking back to our short, rural, immigrant history, I am reminded of another missile deal that went the other way. I think it was John 'The Chief' Diefenbaker, who followed the US order to scrap the highly advanced (for the late 1950s) Canadian jetfighter, the Avro Arrow and buy up a bunch of US BOMARC missiles. It was a controversial issue, and at the time, the Americans were not as blatantly militant; they had only dropped two nuclear bombs, burned most of Japan to the ground during WW2, and killed millions of Chinese and Koreans in a zero-sum war on the Korean peninsula, among many other lowlights. Prior to 1960 the US hadn't mustered the anger to napalm Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, Iraq, parts of Central America, Africa, Yugoslavia, and everywhere else I forget or don't know about. Clearly, since The Chief's time, the US has revealed the bloody fangs of a werewolf, except that it doesn't need consent from the moon (or anyone else) to napalm people. The US operates day and night killing, capturing, incarcerating, torturing, and expanding its power.

Well fuck that. We may not have to power to stop it, but we're sure as hell not going to be part of it. The Crutch managed to avoid being press-ganged into the latest invasion, and Martin followed suit. Not that we can stop them from firing nukes over our heads - we probably won't even be able to detect them until one misfires "accidentally" and melts Medicine Hat into a glassy plain. If only we had the Arrow.....we still wouldn't be able to do a damned thing about this.

But we CAN have attitude. So, to all the pompous warmongers down there, when a Canadian says "Excuse me, I'd rather you didn't do that - thanks", s/he means something along the lines of "Listen you aggressive prick, take me one step further and I'm going to sneak into your bedroom tonight, cut off that pathetic little organ, fry it up into a hotdog, load it with relish, and sell it to your sister at tomorrow's bake sale". To all of you who feel disheartened, broken, or, slated for imminent execution - keep fighting goddamnit. Leave a nostril open for thin farts of hope; ideological independence can be won.

Last night I encountered something profoundly ugly and infinitely obscene. At about 8:30pm I was in a fairly innocent mood - a little drunk, and on my way to a barbecue/steak-fest. I was comfortably strolling down Dundas. It was a warm night and people were about. My guard was definitely down. That was when I discovered that the meat-fest had already begun, and that someone was munching on a street-dog with relish.

To my immediate right, in a storefront doorway facing wide and busy Dundas, homeless fellatio appeared to be underway. Moaning and wearing rugged clothing and a toque, a woman (I think) was performing oral sex on a fully clothed and equally rugged man, who was leaning against the wall. Gender was only evident by the sounds being made - otherwise the only obvious aspect of the situation was the rate and quality of oral sex being delivered. Two or three frames of revolting experience are seared into my memory - a vagrant woman on her knees, with her head moving against the crotch of a man leaning against an inset-doorway on Dundas.

Oh, the horror, the animal urge to ejaculate everywhere, on everything. It is so goddamn ugly, so goddamn real, and so goddamn close to the surface.

On Wednesday morning it was apparent that a known international criminal and aggressor would remain in control of the most powerful country in the world. This knowledge violates me in some private, internal way. As I painfully recall the intrusion, scandal, terror, and reckless warmongering that has been perpetrated by the Double-U administration over the last 4 years, I am revolted even further by my inability to change the situation. An old saying mocks me: “Fuck me once, it’s your fault. Fuck me twice, it’s my fault”.

Now as a Canadian, I wasn’t violated directly – it was even more pathetic than that. To be slightly more realistic you can think of Marty reaming me out with Double-U pushing. But even Marty couldn’t stop this ugliness from happening. The last Northerner that I can remember standing up to Double-U ended up on Crutches. Yes, he was a thief and a Frenchman, but thank god he had a lower bound. Unprovoked invasion was just outside of his range.

It’s too late now. The next few weeks should be quiet – you might hear a wet slapping sound echoing over the American countryside as Double-U gets down to highly repetitive celebratory masturbation at his ranch. But when he finally gets tired or hurts himself, you can bet that he’ll be up for some serious warfare, stupidity and religious slogan. I am a crude and ignorant person, but it doesn’t take much to sustain incredible shock, disbelief and awe, horror, paranoia, and revulsion at what took place this week. Evil smiles in victory, and good is trapped, missing, and presumed dead.