To the Last Salute: Memories of an Austrian U-Boat Commander

Thirty-One. Entertainment on Board

Thirty-One.Entertainment on Board The last few days have been strenuous, with attacks day and night, and everyone is pleased that for one whole long, sunny afternoon, the enemy is nowhere to be seen. A day of rest is very welcome. Complete calm reigns and the sun shines on the iron deck so that the hot air climbs and shimmers over it. The boat lies stopped in the glassy sea, batteries and air bottles are charged and loaded, and the men seek refuge on deck because the heat in the boat is beyond endurance. Only the sick lie in their bunks. Dysentery has broken out on board and six men lie with high fevers and swallow burned bone powder. The cause, no doubt, is the secret lemonade cupboard that a clever man has installed. He lets compressed air pass through a condensing coil made of copper pipe; the expansion makes it colder. A large water bottle is stuck into this apparatus. The last cargo ship brought lemons. Men come and try to see whether or not they can draw off fresh, cold lemonade. But the consumption of fresh water increased and the lemonade sale was officially stopped. On deck we pitch makeshift tents and everyone sits around on blankets and folding chairs. The men are not wearing very much clothing and every now and then one of them jumps into the water. Now and then, for a moment, the engines are started up to give the boat a bit of speed, then the men lie on the halfawash outboard tank and let the water run over them. Later on they will do gymnastics. On the forward deck a group of men stand with an electrician in their midst. He is worried. He wants so badly to learn the backstroke, but he cannot coordinate it at all. “Go on, there’s nothing to it; just jump in!” one of his buddies encourages him. “Yes, but my feet always go under, as if they were made of lead!” ENTERTAINMENT ON BOARD 137 At that he gets an idea, and with a mysterious, impish face, he disappears into the boat, to reappear with two life jackets, which are new on board this trip. “Do you know what? When I tie one of these to each foot, then the feet must stay on top!” and with a clever expression he goes to it. His buddies are bewildered at this splendid idea. Some are suspicious, others grin apprehensively, but all of them are too curious about how it will turn out to try to dissuade him. Now the electrician is ready. As he sees only cheerful faces, he looks somewhat suspiciously at his binding. “Come on now—jump!” “Come on, get going!” the others urge, and he jumps in. And then he is gone. Only the pair of black, oily soles of his feet peer out of the water; these kick vigorously; close by, air bubbles come up. The arms are paddling underwater, but they can’t bring the head up for air. Those on deck can’t help but laugh. They hold their sides and double up with laughter. “Someone tickle him!” Finally it dawns on one of them that he could perhaps swallow too much water. The feet are caught with a boat hook and the back stroker is hauled up on deck. “Don’t you think you should take out a patent for that? It works fine!” “You rogues, scoundrels, jerks! Wait till I lay my hands on you,” he grumbles, still quite breathless. Then they sit together again. “What’s wrong with the new lieutenant? He’s sitting down below and calculating for the longest time,” says one man. “Yes, I gave him a punishment,” says Gumpoldsberger quite contentedly. “But why?” the others want to know. “Ah—yesterday I got so angry with him and today I counted for him when he shot the sun.1 So I added a few seconds. Now 138 ENTERTAINMENT ON BOARD he’s been calculating for two hours already and is making no headway. Let him sweat . . . !” The ship’s lieutenant is sitting below in complete despair. For the fifth time he has calculated the observations and every time the established point falls in the Sahara. I am already impatient and want to know where U-14 is situated now. How can he tell me, “in the Sahara!” Then, once again...