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
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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?