fashion 2017 diary

fashion 2017 diary

   18.11       Fashion 2017

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diary of a u-boat commander * * * * * introduction "i would ask you a favour," said the germancaptain, as we sat in the cabin of a u-boat which had just been addedto the long line of bedraggled captives which stretched themselvesfor a mile or more in harwich harbour, in november, 1918. i made no reply; i had just granted him afavour by allowing him to leave the upper deck of the submarine, inorder that he might await the

motor launch in some sort of privacy; whyshould he ask for more? undeterred by my silence, he continued: "ihave a great friend, lieutenant-zu-see von schenk, who broughtu.122 over last week; he has lost a diary, quite private, he left it inerror; can he have it?" i deliberated, felt a certain pity, then rememberedthe _belgian prince_ and other things, and so, lookingthe german in the face, i said: "i can do nothing." "please."

i shook my head, then, to my astonishment,the german placed his head in his hands and wept, his massive frame (forhe was a very big man) shook in irregular spasms; it was a most extraordinaryspectacle. it seemed to me absurd that a man who hadsuffered, without visible emotion, the monstrous humiliation of handingover his command intact, should break down over a trivial incidentconcerning a diary, and not even his own diary, and yet there was thisman crying openly before me. it rather impressed me, and i felt a curiousshyness at being present, as if i had stumbled accidentally into someprivate recess of his mind.

i closed the cabin door, for i heard the voicesof my crew approaching. he wept for some time, perhaps ten minutes,and i wished very much to know of what he was thinking, but i couldn'timagine how it would be possible to find out. i think that my behaviour in connection withhis friend's diary added the last necessary drop of water to the floodsof emotion which he had striven, and striven successfully, to holdin check during the agony of handing over the boat, and now the dam hadcrumbled and broken away. it struck me that, down in the brilliantly-lit,stuffy little cabin,

the result of the war was epitomized. on thetable were some instruments i had forbidden him to remove,but which my first lieutenant had discovered in the engineerofficer's bag. on the settee lay a cheap, imitation leathersuit-case, containing his spare clothes and a few books. at the tablesat germany in defeat, weeping, but not the tears of repentance,rather the tears of bitter regret for humiliations undergone and ambitionsunrealized. we did not speak again, for i heard the launchcome alongside, and, as she bumped against the u-boat, the noise echoedthrough the hull into

the cabin, and aroused him from his sorrows.he wiped his eyes, and, with an attempt at his former hardiness, hefollowed me on deck and boarded the motor launch. next day i visited u.122, and these papersare presented to the public, with such additional remarks as seemed desirable;for some curious reason the author seems to have omitted nearlyall dates. this may have been due to the fear that the book, if captured,would be of great value to the british intelligence departmentif the entries were dated. the papers are in the form of two volumesin black leather binding,

with a long letter inside the cover of thesecond volume. _internal evidence has permitted me to addthe dates as regards the years. my thanks are due to k. for assistancein translation_. etienne. the diary of a u-boat commander one volume of my war-journal completed, andi must confess it is dull reading. i could not help smiling as i read my enthusiasticremarks at the outbreak of war, when we visualized battlesby the week. what a

contrast between our expectations and theactual facts. months of monotony, and i haven't even seenan englishman yet. our battle cruisers have had a little amusementwith the coast raids at scarborough and elsewhere, but we battle-fleetfellows have seen nothing, and done nothing. so i have decided to volunteer for the u-boatservice, and my name went in last week, though i am told it may be monthsbefore i am taken, as there are about 250 lieutenants already onthe waiting list. but sooner or later i suppose something willcome of it.

i shall have no cause to complain of inactivityin that service, if i get there. i am off to-night for a six-days trip, twodays of which are to be spent in the train, to the verdun sector. it has been a great piece of luck. the triphad been arranged by the military and naval inter-communication department;and two officers from this squadron were to go. there were 130 candidates, so we drew lots;as usual i was lucky and drew one of the two chances.

it should be intensely interesting. _at_ ---- i arrived here last night after a slow andtiresome journey, which was somewhat alleviated by an excellent bottleof french wine which i purchased whilst in the champagne district. long before we reached the vicinity of verdunit was obvious to the most casual observer that we were headingfor a centre of unusual activity. hospital trains travelling north-east andeast were numerous, and twice

our train, which was one of the ordinary militarytrains, was shunted on to a siding to allow troop trains to rumblepast. as we approached verdun the noise of artillery,which i had heard distantly once or twice during the day, asthe casual railway train approached the front, became more intenseand grew from a low murmur into a steady noise of a kind of growlingdescription, punctuated at irregular intervals by very deep booms assome especially heavy piece was discharged, or an ammunition dump wentup. the country here is very different from themud flats of flanders, as

it is hilly and well wooded. the meuse, inthe course of centuries, has cut its way through the rampart of hills whichsurround verdun, and we are attacking the place from three directions.on the north we are slowly forcing the french back on either riverbank--a very costly proceeding, as each wing must advance an equalamount, or the one that advances is enfiladed from across the river. we are also slowly creeping forward from theeast and north-east in the direction of douaumont. i am attached to a 105-cm. battery, a youngmajor von markel in

command, a most charming fellow. i spent allto-day in the advanced observing position with a young subalterncalled grabel, also a nice young fellow. i was in position at 6 a.m.,and, as apparently is common here, mist hides everything from view untilthe sun attains a certain strength. our battery was supporting the attackon the north side of the river, though the battery itself was onthe south side, and firing over a hill called l'homme mort. von markel told me that the fighting herehas not been previously equalled in the war, such is the intensityof the combat and the price

each side is paying. i could see for myself that this was so, andthe whole atmosphere of the place is pregnant with the supreme importanceof this struggle, which may well be the dying convulsions ofdecadent france. his imperial majesty himself has arrived onthe scene to witness the final triumph of our arms, and all agree thatthe end is imminent. once we get verdun, it is the general opinionthat this portion of the french front will break completely, carryingwith it the adjacent sectors, and the french armies in the vosgesand argonne will be

committed to a general retreat on converginglines. but, favourable as this would be to us, itis generally considered here that the fall of verdun will break the moralresistance of the french nation. the feeling is, that infinitely more is involvedthan the capture of a french town, or even the destruction of afrench army; it is a question of stamina; it is the climax of the worldwar, the focal point of the colossal struggle between the latin and theteuton, and on the battlefields of verdun the gods will decidethe destinies of nations.

when i got to the forward observing position,which was situated among the ruins of a house, a most amazing noisemade conversation difficult. the orchestra was in full blast and somethingapproaching 12,000 pieces of all sizes were in action on our side alone,this being the greatest artillery concentration yet effected duringthe war. we were situated on one side of a valley whichran up at right angles to the river, whose actual course was hiddenby mist, which also obscured the bottom of our valley. the frontline was down in this little valley, and as i arrived we liftedour barrage on to the far

hill-side to cover an attack which we weredelivering at dawn. nothing could be seen of the conflict downbelow, but after half an hour we received orders to bring back ourbarrage again, and grabel informed me that the attack had evidentlyfailed. this afternoon i heard that it was indeed so, and that onedivision (the 58th), which had tried to work along the river bank andoutflank the hill, had been caught by a concentration of six batteriesof french 75's, which were situated across the river. the unfortunate58th, forced back from the river-side, had heroically fought their wayup the side of the hill,

only to encounter our barrage, which, owingto the mist, we thought was well above and ahead of where they would be. under this fresh blow the 58th had retiredto their trenches at the bottom of the small valley. as the day warmedup the mist disappeared, and, like a theatre curtain, the lifting ofthis veil revealed the whole scene in its terrible and yet mechanicalsplendour. i say mechanical, for it all seemed unrealto me. i knew i should not see cavalry charges, guns in the open, andall the old-world panoply of war, but i was not prepared for this barrenand shell-torn circle of

hills, continually being freshly, and, toan uninformed observer, aimlessly lashed by shell fire. not a man in sight, though below us the groundwas thickly strewn with corpses. overhead a few aeroplanes circledround amidst balls of white shell bursts. during the day the slow-circling aeroplanes(which were artillery observing machines) were galvanized into frightfulactivity by the sudden appearance of a fighting machine onone side or the other; this happened several times; it reminded me ofa pike amongst young trout.

after lunch i saw a spad shot down in flames,it was like lucifer falling down from high heavens. the wholescene was enframed by a sluggish line of observation balloons. sometimes groups of these would hastily sinkto earth, to rise again when the menace of the aeroplane had passed.these balloons seemed more like phlegmatic spectators at some athleticcontest than actual participants in the events. i wish my pen could convey to paper the variedimpressions created within my mind in the course of the past day;but it cannot. i have the

consolation that, though i think that i haveconsiderable ability as a writer, yet abler pens than mine have abandonedin despair the task of describing a modern battle. i can but reiterate that the dominant impressionthat remains is of the mechanical nature of this business of modernwar, and yet such an impression is a false one, for as in the pastso to-day, and so in the future, it is the human element which is,has been, and will be the foundation of all things. once only in the course of the day did i seemen in any numbers, and

that was when at 3 p.m. the french were detectedmassing for a counter-attack on the south side of the river.it was doomed to be still-born. as they left their trenches, distantpigmy figures in horizon blue, apparently plodding slowly acrossthe ground, they were lashed by an intensive barrage and the littlefigures were obliterated in a series of spouting shell bursts. five minutes later the barrage ceased, thesmoke drifted away and not a man was to be seen. grabel told me that ithad probably cost them 750 casualties. what an amazing and efficientdestruction of living

organism! another most interesting day, though of adifferent nature. to-day was spent witnessing the arrangementsfor dealing with the wounded. i spent the morning at an advanceddressing station on the south bank of the river. it was in a cellar,beneath the ruins of a house, about 400 yards from the front lineand under heavy shell-fire, as close at hand was the remains of what hadbeen a wood, which was being used as a concentration point for reserves. the cover afforded by this so-called woodwas extremely slight, and the

troops were concentrating for the innumerableattacks and counter-attacks which were taking place undershell fire. this caused the surgeon in charge of the cellar to describethe wood as our main supply station! i entered the cellar at 8 a.m., taking advantageof a partial lull in the shelling, but a machine-gun bullet viciouslyflipped into a wooden beam at the entrance as i ducked to go in.i was not sorry to get underground. a sloping path brought me intothe cellar, on one side of which sappers were digging away the earthto increase the

accommodation. the illumination consisted of candles setin bottles and some electric hand lamps. the centre of the cellar was occupiedby two portable operating tables, rarely untenanted duringthe three hours i spent in this hell. the atmosphere--for there was no ventilation--stankof sweat, blood, and chloroform. by a powerful effort i countered my naturaltendency to vomit, and looked around me. the sides of the cellarwere lined with figures on

stretchers. some lay still and silent, otherswrithed and groaned. at intervals, one of the attendants would callthe doctor's attention to one of the still forms. a hasty examinationensued, and the stretcher and its contents were removed. a few minuteslater the stretcher--empty--returned. the surgeon explainedto me that there was no room for corpses in the cellar; business,he genially remarked, was too brisk at the present crucial stage ofthe great battle. the first feelings of revulsion having beenmastered, i determined to make the most of my opportunities, as i havealways felt that the naval

officer is at a great disadvantage in waras compared with his military brother, in that he but rarely hasa chance of accustoming himself to the unpleasant spectacle of tornflesh and bones. this morning there was no lack of material,and many of the intestinal wounds were peculiarly revolting, so thatat lunch-time, when another convenient lull in the torrent of shell fireenabled me to leave the cellar, i felt thoroughly hardened; in facti had assisted in a humble degree at one or two operations. i had lunch at the 11th army medical headquartersmess, and it was a

sumptuous meal to which i did full justice. after lunch, whilst waiting to be motoredto a field hospital, i happened to see a battalion of silesian troopsabout to go up to the front line. it was rather curious feeling that one waslooking at men, each in himself a unit of civilization, and yet manyof whom were about to die in the interests thereof. their faces were an interesting study. some looked careless and debonair, and seemedto swing past with a

touch of recklessness in their stride, otherswere grave and serious, and seemed almost to plod forward to the dictatesof an inevitable fatalism. the field hospital, where we met some verycharming nurses, on one of whom i think i created a distinct impression,was not particularly interesting. it was clean, well-organizedand radiated the efficiency inseparable from the german army. back at wilhelmshaven--curse it! yesterday morning, when about to start ona tour of the ammunition

supply arrangements, i received an urgentwire recalling me at once! there was nothing for it but to obey. i was lucky enough to get a passage as faras mons in an albatross scout which was taking dispatches to thatplace. from there i managed to bluff a motor carout of the town commandant--a most obliging fellow. this took me to aachenwhere i got an express. the reason for my recall was that witneisserwent sick and arnheim being away, this has left only two in theoperations ciphering department.

my arrival has made us three. it is prettystrenuous work and, being of a clerical nature, suits me little. the onlyconsolation is that many of the messages are most interesting. i waslooking through the back files the other day and amongst other interestinginformation i came across the wireless report from the boat thathad sunk the _lusitania_. it has always been a mystery to me why wesank her, as i do not believe those things pay. arnheim has come back, so i have got out ofthe ciphering department, to my great delight.

i have received official information thatmy application for u-boats has been received. meanwhile all there isto do is to sit at this ---- hole and wait. _2nd june_, 1916. i have fought in the greatest sea battle ofthe ages; it has been a wonderful and terrible experience. all the details of the battle will be history,but i feel that i must place on record my personal experiences. we have not escaped without marks, and thegood old _kã¶nig_ brought 67

dead and 125 wounded into port as the priceof the victory off skajerack, but of the english there are thousandswho slept their last sleep in the wrecked hulls of the battle cruiserswhich will rust for eternal ages upon the jutland banks. sad as our losses are--and the gallant _lutzow_has sunk in sight of home--i am filled with pride. we have met that great armada the britishfleet, we have struck them with a hammer blow and we have returned. iwas asleep in my cabin when the news came that hipper was coming southwith the british battle

cruisers on his beam. in five minutes we wereat our action stations. we made contact with hipper at 5.30 p.m.,[1] and beatty turned north with his cruisers and fast battleships andwe pursued. [footnote 1: this is 4.30 g.m.t.--etienne] two of the great ships had been sunk by ourbattle cruisers, and we had hopes of destroying the remainder, when at6.55 the mist on the northern horizon was pierced by the formidableline of the british battle fleet. jellicoe had arrived!

three battle cruisers became involved betweenthe lines, and in an instant one was blown up, and another crawledwest in a sinking condition. sudden and terrible are eventsin a modern sea-battle. confronted with the concentrated force ofbritain's battle fleet we turned to east, and for twenty minutes ourhigh seas fleet sustained the unequal contest. it was during this period that we were hitseventeen times by heavy shell, though, in my position in the aftertorpedo control tower, i only realized one hit had taken place, whichwas when a shell plunged

into the after turret and, blowing the roofoff, killed every member of the turret's crew. from my position, when the smoke and dusthad blown away, i looked down into a mass of twisted machinery, amongstwhich i seemed to detect the charred remains of bodies. at about 7.40 we turned, under cover of oursmoke screen, and steered south-west. our position was not satisfactory, as thelast information of the enemy reported them as turning to the southward;consequently they were

between us and heligoland. at 11 p.m. we received a signal for divisionsof battle fleets to steer independently for the horn reef swept channel. ten minutes later we underwent the first offive destroyer attacks. the british destroyers, searching wide inthe night, had located us, and with desperate gallantry pressed homethe attack again and again. so close did they come that about 1.30 a.m.we rammed one, passing through her like a knife through a cheese. it was a wonderful spectacle to see thosesinister craft, rushing madly

to their destruction down the bright beamof our powerful searchlights. it was an avenue of death for them, but tothe credit of their service it must stand that throughout the long nightmarethey did not hesitate. the surrounding darkness seemed to vomit forthflotilla after flotilla of these cavalry of the sea. and they struck us once, a torpedo right forward,which will keep us in dock for a month, but did no vital injury. when morning dawned, misty and soft, as isits way in june in the bight, we were to the eastward of the british,and so we came

honourably home to wilhelmshaven, feelingthat the young navy had laid worthy foundations for its tradition to growupon. we are to report at kiel, and shall be sixweeks upon the job. _frankfurt_. back on seventeen days' leave, and everyonehere very anxious to hear details of the battle of skajerack. it is very pleasant to have something to talkto the women about. usually the gallant field greys hold the drawing-roomfloor, with their startling tales from the western front, ofhow they nearly took verdun,

and would have if the british hadn't insistedon being slaughtered on the somme. it is quite impossible in many ways to tellthat there is a war on as far as social life in this place is concerned. there is a shortage of good coffee and thatis about all. arrived back on board last night. they have made a fine job of us, and we gothrough the canal to the schillig roads early next week. we are to do three weeks' gunnery practicesfrom there, to train the

new drafts. 1916 (_about august_). at last! thank heavens, my application hasbeen granted. schmitt (the secretary) told me this morning that a letterhas come from the admiralty to say that i am to present myselffor medical examination at the board at wilhelmshaven to-morrow. what joy! to strike a blow at last, finishedfor ever the cursed monotony of inactivity of this high seas fleetlife. but the u-boat war! ah! that goes well. we shall bring thosestubborn, blood-sucking

islanders to their knees by striking at themthrough their bellies. when i think of london and no food, and glasgowand no food, then who can say what will happen? revolt! rebellionin england, and our brave field greys on the west will smash them toatoms in the spring of 1917, and i, karl schenk, will have helped directlyin this! great thought--but calm! i am not there yet, thereis still this confounded medical board. i almost wish i had not drunkso much last night, not that it makes any difference, but still onemust run no risks, for i hear that the medical is terribly strict forthe u-boat service. only

the cream is skimmed! well, to-morrow we shallsee. passed! and with flying colours; it seemedabsurdly easy and only took ten minutes, but then my physique is magnificent,thanks to the physical training i have always done. i amnow due to get three weeks' leave, and then to zeebrugge. i have wired to the little mother at frankfurt. _at zeebrugge, or rather bruges._ i spent three weeks at home, all the familyare pleased except mother; she has a woman's dread of danger; it is apleasing characteristic in

peace time, but a cloy on pleasure in daysof war. to her, with the narrowness of a female's intellect, i reallybelieve i am of more importance than the fatherland--how absurd.whilst at frankfurt i saw a good deal of rosa; she seems better lookingeach time i meet her; doubtless she is still developing to fullwomanhood. moritz was home from flanders. he had ten days' leave fromypres, and, though i have a dislike for him, he certainly was interesting,though why the english cling to those wretched ruins is more thani can understand. i felt instinctively that in a sense moritzand i were rivals where

rosa was concerned, though i have never consideredher in that light--as yet. one day, perhaps? these womenare much the same everywhere, and i could see that having enteredthe u-boat service made a difference with rosa, though her logic shouldhave told her that i was no different. but is that right? afterall, it is something to have joined this service; the guards themselveshave no better cachet, and it is certainly cheaper. here we live in billets and in a commandeeredhotel. the life ashore is pleasant enough; the damned belgians are sometimessulky, but they know

who is master. bissing (a splendid chap) seesto that. as a matter of fact we have benefited themby our occupation, the shops do a roaring trade at preposterous prices,and shamefully enough the german shopkeepers are most guilty. thesepot-bellied merchants don't seem to realize that they exist owing to ourexertions. i was much struck with the beautiful orderlinessof the small gardens which we have laid out since 1914, and, infact, wherever one looks there is evidence of the genius of the germanrace for thorough organization. yet these belgians don't seemto appreciate it. i can't

understand it. i find here that social life is very muchgayer than at that mad town of wilhelmshaven. at the high seas fleet basesthere was the strictness and austerity that some people seem to considernecessary to show that we are at war, though heaven knows there wasprecious little war in the high seas fleet; perhaps that was why the"blood and iron" rã©gime was in full order ashore. here, in bruges, atany rate as far as the submarine officers are concerned, the matteris far different. when the boats are in, one seems to do as one likes,with a perfunctory visit to

the ship in the course of the day. witnitz (the commodore) favours complete relaxationwhen in from a trip. in the evenings there are parties, forwhich there are always ladies, and i find it is necessary to havea "smoking."[1] i went to the best tailor to buy one, and found thati must have one made at the damnable price of 140 marks; the fitter, anoily jew, had the incredible impertinence to assure me it wouldbe cut on london lines! [footnote 1: a dinner jacket.] i nearly felled him to the ground; can onenever get away from england

and things english? i'll see his account waitsa bit before i settle it. there are several fellows i know here. karlmã¼ller, who was 3rd watchkeeper in the _yorck_, and adolf hilfsbaumer,who was captain of g.176, are the two i know best. they are bothdoing a few trips as second in commands of the later u.c. boats,which are mine-laying off the english coasts. this is a most dangerousoperation, and nearly all the u.c. boats are commanded by reserve officers,of whom there are a good many in the mess.

excellent fellows, no doubt, but somewhatuncouth and lacking the finer points of breeding; as far as i can see inthe short time i have been here they keep themselves to themselves agood deal. i certainly don't wish to mix with them. unfortunately, it appearsthat i am almost bound to be appointed as second in command of oneof the u.c. boats, for at least one trip before i go to the periscopeschool and train for a command of my own. the idea of being bottledup in an elongated cigar and under the command of one of those nauticalplough-boys is repellent. however, the von schenks have neverbeen too proud to obey

in order to learn how to command. i have been appointed second in command tou.c.47. her captain is one max alten by name. beyond the fact that isaw him drunk one night in the mess i know nothing of him. i reported to him and he seems rather in aweof me. his fears are groundless. i shall make it as easy as possible for him,for it must be as awkward for him as it is unpleasant for me. to celebrate my proper entry into the u-boatservice, i gave a dinner

party last night in a private room at "lecoq d'or." i asked karl and adolf, and told them to bring three girls.my opposite number was a lovely girl called zoe something or other.i wore my "smoking" for the first time; it is certainly a becoming costume. we drank a good deal of champagne and hada very pleasant little debauch; the girls got very merry, and i kissedzoe once. she was not very angry. i think she is thoroughly charming,and i have accepted an invitation to take tea at her flat. she iseither the wife or the chã¨re amie of a colonel in the brandenburgers, icould not make out which.

luckily the gallant "cockchafer" is at themoment on the la bassã©e sector, where i was interested to observethat heavy fighting has broken out to-day. i must console the fairzoe! both karl and adolf got rather drunk, adolfhopelessly so, but i, as usual, was hardly affected. i have a headof iron, provided the liquor is good, and _i_ saw to that point. we were sailing, or rather going down thecanal to zeebrugge on friday, but the starting resistance of the port mainmotor burnt out and we were delayed till sunday, as they will fita new one.

i must confess the organization for repairwork here is admirable, as very little is done by the crews in the u-boats,all work being carried out by the permanent staff, who are quarteredat bruges docks. taking advantage of the delay i called on zoe stein,as i find she is named. it appears she is _not_ married to colonelstein. she told me he was fat and ugly, and laughed a good deal abouthim. she showed me his photograph, and certainly he is no beauty.however, he must be a man of means, as he has given her a charming flat,beautifully decorated with water-colours which the colonel salved fromthe french chã¢teau in the

early days--these army fellows had all thechances. i bade an affectionate farewell to zoe, andi trust stein will be still busily engaged at la bassã©e when i returnin a fortnight's time! i am greatly obliged to karl for the introduction,and told him so; he himself is running after a little grass widowwhose husband has been missing for some months. i think karl findsit an expensive game; luckily zoe seems well supplied with money--theessential ingredient in a joyous life. on friday night we had an air-raid--a frequentevent here, but my first

experience in this line. unpleasant, but afine spectacle, considerable damage done near the docks and an unexplodedbomb fell in a street near our headquarters. two machines (british) brought down in flames.i saw the green balls [1] for the first time. a most fascinatingsight to see them floating up in waving chains into the vault of heaven;they reminded me of making daisy chains as a child. [footnote 1: known as "flying-onions."] _at zeebrugge_.

we are alongside the mole in one of the newsubmarine shelters that has been built. the boat is under a concrete roof over threefeet thick, which would defy the heaviest bomb. we have much improved the port since our arrival.the port, so-called, is purely artificial, and actually consistsof a long mole with a gentle curve in it, which reaches out to seawardand protects the mouth of the canal. the tides are very strong upand down the coast, and constant dredging is carried out to keep 20feet of water over the sill

at the lock gates. on arrival last night we went straight intono. 11 shelter, as an air-raid was expected, but nothing happened,so i went up to the "flandre," which seems to be the best hotelhere, full of submarine people, and i heard many interesting stories.there seems no doubt this u-boat war is dangerous work; i find the u.c.boats are beginning to be called the suicide club, after the famousenglish story of that name, which, curiously enough, i saw on the kinematographat frankfurt last leave. we germans are extraordinarily broad-minded;i doubt if the

works of german authors are seen on the screensin england or france. the news from the west is good, the englishare hurling themselves to destruction against our steel front. we arenow to load up with mines. i must stop writing to superintend this work. _at sea. near the south dogger light._ we loaded up the ten mines we carry in anhour and five minutes. they were lifted from a railway truck by a bigcrane and delicately lowered into the mine tubes, of which we have fivein the bows. the tubes extend from the upper deck of theship to her keel, and slope

aft to facilitate release. having completedwith fuel at bruges, we took in a store of provisions and alten wentup to the commodore's office to get our sailing orders. we sailed at 6 p.m. and at last i felt i wasoff. to-day, the 22nd, we are just north of the south dogger, steeringnorth-westerly at 9-1/2 knots. the sea is quite calm and everything is verypleasant. our mission is to lay a small minefield off newcastle inthe east coast war channel. i have, of course, never been to sea for anylength of time in a u-boat,

and it is all very novel. i find the roar of the diesel engine veryrelentless, and last night slept badly in a wretched bunk, which wasa poor substitute for my lovely quarters in the barracks at wilhelmshaven.one thing i appreciate, and that is the food; it is reallyexcellent: fresh milk, fresh butter, white bread and many other luxuries. i have spent most of the day picking up thingsabout the boat. her general arrangement is as follows: starting in the bows, mine tubes occupy thecentre of the boat, leaving

two narrow passages, one each side. in theport passage is the wireless cabinet and signal flag lockers, with storerooms underneath. in the starboard passage are one or two small pumpsand the kitchen. the next compartment contains four bunks,two each side, these are occupied by alten, myself, the engineer, andthe navigating warrant officer. proceeding further aft one entersthe control room, in which one periscope is situated, and the necessaryvalves and pumps for diving the boat. the next compartment is the crew space; tenof the company exist here.

overhead on each side is the gear for releasingthe torpedoes from the external torpedo tubes, of which we carryone each side. i think we borrowed this idea from the russians. then comes the engine-room, an inferno ofrattling noises, but excellent engines, i believe. at the afterend of the engine-room are the two main switchboards, of whose mannerof working i am at present in some ignorance. the two main sets of electric motors are underneaththe boards, in the stern, where we have a third torpedo tube.

i had hardly written the above words whena message came that the captain would like me to come to the bridge. i went up in a leisurely fashion, throughthe conning tower, which is over the control room, and reported myself.he indicated a low-lying patch of smoke on the horizon far away onthe starboard bow. i was obliged to confess that it conveyed nothingto me, when he aroused my intense interest by stating that it was, withoutdoubt, being emitted from a british submarine, who are known tofrequent these waters. he was proceeding away from us, and was, eventhen, six or seven miles

away, so an attack was out of the question.the engineer, who had joined us, drew my attention to the thin wispof almost invisible blue-grey smoke from our own stern. the contrastwas certainly striking! over dinner i gave it as my opinion that thebritish boats were pretty useless. alten would not agree, and statedthat, though in certain technical aspects they were in a positionof inferiority, yet in personnel and skill in attacking they werefully our equals. he seemed to hold them in considerable respect, andhe remarked that, when making

a passage, he was more anxious on their accountthan in any other way. he informed me that, on the last passage hemade, he was attacked by a british boat which he never saw, the onlyindication he received being a torpedo which jumped out of the water almostover his tail. luckily it was very rough at the time, which madethe torpedo run erratically, otherwise they would undoubtedly have beenhit. what appeared to astonish him was the factthat the british boat had been able to make an attack in such weather.we are now charging on one engine, 500 amperes on each half-battery.

we are due back at zeebrugge at 10 p.m. to-night.we should have been in at dawn to-day, but we received a wirelessfrom the senior officer, zeebrugge, to say that mine-laying was suspected,and we were to wait till the "q.r." channel, from the blankenbergbuoy, had been swept. we lay in the bottom for eight hours, a few milesfrom the western end of the channel. our trip was quite successful, but not withoutcertain excitements. on the night of the 23rd we passed fairlyclose to a fishing fleet on the dogger bank, and saw the lights of severalsteamers in the

distance. as our first business was to layour mines in the appointed place, we did not worry them. we burnt usual navigation lights, or ratherside lights which appear to be usual, except that, by a little fittingwhich alten has made himself, the arcs of bearing on which thelights show can be changed at will. his idea is that, should we appear tobe approaching a steamer which he wishes to avoid, in many cases, byshining a little more or less red and green light, we can make herthink that we are a steamer on such a course that it is her duty by therules of the road to keep

clear of us. he tells me it has worked on several occasions,and he has also found it useful to have two small auxiliary sidelights fitted which are the wrong colours for the sides they are on. itis, of course, only neutral shipping which carry lights nowadays, thoughalten says that many british ships are still incredibly carelessin the matter of lights. however, to resume my account of what happened.we reached our position at dawn or slightly after, the weather wasbeautifully calm and the sea like glass. as we were only three miles fromthe english coast, and

close to the mouth of the tyne, we were extraordinarilylucky to have nothing in sight, if one excepts a long smudgeof smoke which trailed across the horizon to the southward. the land itself was obscured by early morningbanks of mist, yet everything was so still that we actually faintlyheard the whistle of a train. i could hardly restrain from suggestingto alten that we should elevate the 10-cm. gun to fifteen degreesand fire a few rounds on to "proud albion's virgin shores," but i didnot do so as i felt fairly certain that he would not approve, and i donot wish to lay myself open

to rebuffs from him after his behaviour concerningthe smoking incident. i boil with rage at the thought,but again i digress. the fact that the land was obscured was favourablefrom the point of view that we were not worried by coast watchers,but unfavourable from the standpoint that we were unable to takebearings of anything and so ascertain our exact position. the importance of this point in submarinemine-laying is obvious, for, owing to our small cargo of eggs, it is quitepossible that we may be sent here again, to lay an adjacent field,in which case it is highly

desirable to know the exact position of one'sprevious effort. [illustration: "steering north-westerly...;to lay a small minefield off newcastle."] [illustration: "he had suddenly seen the bowwaves of a destroyer approaching at full speed to ram."] we were somewhat assisted in our efforts tolocate ourselves by the fact that a seven-fathom patch existed exactlywhere we had to lay. we picked up the edge of this bank with our soundingmachine, and steering north half a mile, laid our mines in latitude--no!on second thoughts i

will omit the precise position, for, thoughi shall take every precaution, there is no saying that throughsome misfortune this journal might not get into the wrong hands. i am very glad i decided to keep these notes,as i shall take much pleasure in reading them when victory crownsour efforts and the joys of a peaceful life return. i found it a delightful sensation being soclose to the enemy coast, in his territorial waters, in fact. for the firsttime since the skajerack battle i experienced the personal joys ofwar, the sensation of

intimate and successful contact with the enemy,and the most hated enemy at that. we had hardly finished laying our eggs whena droning noise was heard. with marvellous celerity we dived, that damnedfellow alten, who, under these circumstances leaves the bridge last,treading on my fingers as he followed me down the conning tower ladder. the engineer endeavoured to sympathize withme, and made some idiotic remark about my being quicker when i had hadmore practice. i bit his head off. i can't stand this hail-fellow-well-metattitude in these

u.c. boats, from any lout dressed in an officer'suniform. they wouldn't be holding commissions if it wasn'tfor the war, and they should remember that fact. i suppose theythink i'm stand-offish. well, if they had my family tree behind them theywould understand. we dived to sixty feet, and then came up totwenty. alten looked through the periscope, and then invited meto look. curiosity impelled me to accept this favour and, putting thefocussing lever to "skyscrape" i swept round the sky. at last i saw him; he was a small gas-bagof diminutive size, beneath

which was suspended a little car, the mostridiculous little travesty of an airship i have ever seen. he was nosingalong at about 800 feet and making about 40 knots. suddenly he must have seen the wake of ourperiscope, for he turned towards us. simultaneously alten, from theconning tower (i was using the other periscope in the control room),ordered the boat to sixty feet, and put the helm hard over. we had turned sixteen points, [1] and in abouttwo minutes heard a series of reports right astern of us. it wasevident that our ruse had

succeeded and that he had overshot the mark. [footnote 1: 180â°] inside the boat one felt a slight jar as eachbomb went off. we gradually came round to our proper course,and cruised all day submerged at dead slow speed. every time welifted our periscope he was still hanging about sufficiently close tomake it foolish for us to come to the surface. towards noon a group of trawlers, doubtlesssummoned by wireless, appeared, and proceeded to wander about. theseseemed to concern alten

far more than the airship, and he informedme that from their, to me, aimless movements he deduced they were huntingfor us by hydroplanes. occasionally we lay on the bottom in nineteenfathoms. by 4 p.m. the atmosphere was becoming ratherunpleasant and hot, and gradually we took off more clothes. curiouslyenough, i longed for a smoke, but wild horses would not have mademe ask alten for permission. at 8 p.m. it was sufficiently dark to enableus to rise, which gave me great pleasure, though the first rush of freshair down the hatch made me vomit after hours of breathing the vitiatedmuck. on coming to the

surface we saw nothing in sight, but a breezehad sprung up which caused spray to break over the bridge as wechugged along at 9 knots. everyone was in high spirits, as always onthe return journey, when the mind turns to the fatherland and all it holds. my mind turns to zoe. i confess it to myselffrankly. i hardly realized to what extent this woman had begun to influenceme until we received the wireless signal ordering us to delay enteringfor twelve hours. the receipt of this news, trivial though the delayhas been, threw a mantle of gloom over the crew. i participated inthe depression and, upon

thought, rather wondered that this shouldbe so. self-analysis on the lines laid down by schessmanweil [1] revealedto me that the basis of my annoyance is the fact that my next meetingwith zoe is deferred! i feel instinctively that i shall have troublehere, and that i had better haul off a lee shore whilst there ismanoeuvring room, and yet--and yet i secretly rejoice that everyrevolution of the propeller, every clank and rattle of the diesels bringsus closer together. [footnote 1: apparently some german author,of obscure origin, as i cannot find him in any book of reference.--etienne.]

alten has just come down from the bridge,and we chatted for some moments; it is evident that he wishes to apologizefor his rudeness over the smoking incident. i was in error, i admit it frankly; at thesame time i did not know that the battery was on charge, and to dasha match from my hand! i could have shot him where he stood. however,i am not vindictive, and as far as i am concerned the incident is ended. one thing i find trying in this small boat,and that is that i can find no space in which to do half my mã¼llerexercises, the

leg-and-arm-swinging ones. i must see whetheri can't invent a set of u-boat exercises! good! in two hours we reach the mole-end lightbuoy. _submarine mess, bruges._ it is midnight, and as i write in my roomat the top of the house the low rumble of the guns from the south-westvibrates faintly through the open window, for it is extraordinarily warmfor the time of year, and i have flung back the curtains and risked thelight shining. we spent the night at zeebrugge and came upto the docks here next day.

we shall probably be in for a week, and iam on four days' "extended absence from the boat," which practicallymeans that i can go where i like in the neighbourhood provided i am handyto a telephone. after a short inward struggle i rang zoe upon the telephone; fortunately i did not call first. a man's voice answered, and for a moment iwas dumbfounded. i guessed at once it was the colonel, and i had countedso confidently on his being still away at the front. for an instant i felt speechless, an impulsecame to me to ring off

without further ado, but i restrained myself,and then a fine idea came into my head. "who is that?" i said. "colonel stein!" replied the voice, and myfears were confirmed, but my plan of campaign held good. "i am speaking," i continued, "on behalf oflieutenant von schenk----" "ah, yes!" growled the voice, and for an instanta panic seized me, but i resumed:

"he met madame stein at dinner some days ago,and she kindly asked him to call; he has asked me to ring up and inquirewhen it would be convenient, as he would like to meet you,sir, as well. he has been unable to ring up himself, as he was sentaway from bruges on duty early this morning." i smiled to myself at this little lie andlistened. "your friend had better call to-morrow then,for i leave to-morrow evening for the somme front; will you tellhim?" i replied that i would, and left the telephonewell satisfied, but

cursing the fates that made it advisable tokeep clear of no. 10, kafelle strasse for thirty-six hours. needlessto say next day i rang up again in order to tell the colonel thatlieutenant schenk had apparently been detained, as he was not yetback in bruges, and how i felt sure that he would be sorry at missingthe colonel, etc., etc., but all this camouflage was unnecessary, asshe herself came to the 'phone. i could have kissed the instrumentwhen i told her of my stratagem and heard her silvery laughter inmy ear. "it is arranged that to-morrow, starting at10.30, we motor for the day

to the forest of meten, taking our lunch andtea with us--pray heaven the weather holds." to-night in the mess it is generally consideredthat u.b.40 has been lost; she is ten days overdue and was operatingoff havre, she has made no signal for a fortnight. such is the priceof victory and the cost of war--death, perhaps, in some terrible form,but bah! away with such thoughts, to-morrow there is love and lifeand zoe! once more it is night, still the guns rumbleon the same old dismal tones, and as it is raining now it must begetting bad up at the front.

except for the rain it might have been lastnight, but much has happened to me in the meanwhile. to-day in the forest by ruysslede i foundthat i loved zoe, loved her as i have never yet loved woman, loved herwith my soul and all that is me. the day was gloriously fine when we started,and an hour's run took us to the forest. we left the car at an inn andwandered down one of the glades. i carried the basket and we strolled on andon until we found a

suitable place deep in the heart of the forest. i have the sailor's love for woods, for theirdepths, their shadows, their mysteries, which are so vivid a contrastto the monotony of the sea, with the everlasting circle of the horizonand the half-bowl of the heavens above. in the forest to-day, though the leaves hadturned to gold and red and brown, the beeches were still well covered,and overhead we were tented with a russet canopy. i say, at last we found a spot, or ratherzoe, who, with girlish

pleasure in the adventure, had run ahead,called to me, and as i write i seem to hear the echoes of "karl! karl!"which rang through the wood. when i came up to her she proudly pointedto the place she had found. it was ideal. an outcrop of rock formed aminiature matterhorn in the forest, and beneath its shelter with the oldtrees as silent witnesses we sat and joked and laughed, and made twentyattempts to light a fire. after lunch, a little incident happened whichhad an enormous effect on me; zoe asked me whether i would mind if shesmoked. how many women in these days would think ofdoing that? and yet, had

she but known it, i am still sufficientlyold-fashioned to appreciate the implied respect for any possible prejudiceswhich was contained in her request. after lunch, i asked her a question to whichi dreaded the answer. i asked her whether, now that the old colonelhad gone to the somme, whether that meant that she would be leavingbruges. she laughed and teasingly said: "quien sabe,seã±or," but seeing my real anxiety on this point, she assured me thatshe was not leaving for the present. the colonel, she said, had a strangebelief that once a man

had served on the flanders front, and especiallyon the ypres salient, he always came back to die there. it appears that the colonel has done fourteenmonths' service on the salient alone, and is firmly convinced hewill end his career on that great burial ground. as we were talking aboutthe colonel i longed to ask her how she had met him, and perhaps findout why she lives with him, for i cannot believe she loves him, buti did not dare. strangely enough i found that a curious shynesshad taken hold of me with regard to zoe.

i said to myself, "fool! you are alone withher, you long to kiss her; you have kissed her, first at the dinner-party,secondly when you said good-bye at her flat," and yet to-day it wasdifferent. then i was kissing a pretty woman, i was onthe eve of a dangerous life, and i was simply extracting the animalpleasures whilst i lived. to-day it was a case of zoe, the personalityi loved; i still longed to kiss her, but i wanted to have the unquestionedright to kiss her, as much as i wanted the kisses. i wanted to have her for my own, away fromthe contaminating ownership

of the old colonel, and i determined to gether. i think she noticed the changed attitude onmy part, and perhaps she felt herself that a subtle change in our relationshiphad taken place, and whilst i meditated on these things shefell into a doze at my side. i was sitting slightly above her, smokingto keep the midges away, and as i looked down on her childish figure agreat tenderness for her filled my mind. she is very beautiful andto me desirable above all women; i can see her as she lay there trustfullyat my feet. i will describe her, and then, when i get her photograph,i will read this

when i am far away on a trip. she is of average height, for i am just oversix feet and she reaches to just above my shoulder. her hair is gloriouslythick and of a deep black colour, and lies low on her forehead.her complexion is of the purest whiteness beyond compare, which butaccentuates the red warmth of the lips which encircle her little mouth.her figure is slight and her ankles are my delight, but her crowningglories, which i have purposely left till last, are her eyes. i feel i could lose my soul; i have lost it,if i have one, in the

violet depths of those eyes, which were veiledas she slept by the long black eyelashes which curled up delicatelyas they rested on her cheeks. i have re-read this description, andit is oh, so unsatisfying; would i had the pen of a goethe or a shakespeare,yet for want of more skill the description shall stand. how i long for her to be mine, and yet, unfortunatethat i am, i cannot for certain declare that she loves me. a thousand doubts arise. i torment myselfwith recollections of her behaviour at the dinner-party, when withintwo hours of our first

meeting she gave me her lips. yet did i not first roughly kiss her as wedanced? i find consolation in the fact that, thoughshe has said nothing, yet her conduct to-day was different. she wasso quiet after tea as we wandered back through the forests with thesetting sun striking golden beams aslant the tree trunks. before we left i sang to her tchaikowsky'sbeautiful song, "to the forest," and i think she was pleased, fori may say with justice that my voice is of high quality for an amateur,and the song goes well

without an accompaniment, whilst the atmosphereand surroundings were ideal. there was only one jarring note in a perfectday; when we returned to the car the chauffeur permitted himself asardonic grin. zoe unfortunately saw it and blushed scarlet. i could have struck him on his impudent mouth,but for her sake i judged it advisable to notice nothing. i feel i could go on writing about her allnight, but it is nearly 2 a.m. i must get some sleep.

the guns rumble steadily in the south-west,and the sky is lit by their flashes; may the fighting on the somme bebloody these coming days. [_probably about ten days later.--etienne._] we leave to-night, having had a longer spellthan usual. i am in a distracted state of mind. since our gloriousday in the forest i have seen her nearly every afternoon, though twicethat swine alten has kept me in the boat in connection with some replacementsof the battery. i have found out that, like me, she is intenselymusical. she plays beautifully on the piano, and we had longhours together playing chopin

and beethoven; we also played some of moussorgsky'sduets, but i love her best when she plays chopin, the composerpre-eminent of love and passion. she has masses of music, as the colonel givesher what she likes. we also played a lot of debussy. at first i demurredat playing a living french composer's works, but she pouted andlooked so adorable that all my scruples vanished in an instant, so weclosed all the doors and she played it for hours very softly whilst i forgotthe war and all its horrors and remembered only that i was withthe well-beloved girl.

the colonel writes from thiepval, where thebritish are pouring out their blood like water. he writes very interestingletters, and has had many narrow escapes, but unfortunately heseems to bear a charmed life. his letters are full of details, and i wonderhe gets them past the field censorship, but i suppose he censorshis own. she laughs at them and calls them her colonel'sdispatches; she says he is so accustomed to writing official reportsthat the poor old man can't write an ordinary letter. i told her that i thought the way he mentionedregiments and

dispositions rather indiscreet, and she agrees,but she says he has asked her to keep them, with a view to forminga collection of letters written from the front whilst the incidentshe describes are vivid in his mind. i suppose the old ass knows hisown business, and one day the collection may be completed by a telegram"regretting to announce, etc. etc." the sooner the better. so the days passed pleasantly enough, andnever by a gesture or word of mouth did she show that i was more to herthan any other pleasant young man.

i kissed her when i arrived, i kissed herwhen i left, each day was the same. she would put her arms round my neckand look long and deeply into my eyes, then she would gently kiss mylips. not an atom of emotion! not a spark from the fires whichi feel must be raging beneath that diabolically [1] extraordinary [1] amazinglycalm exterior. [footnote 1: these words are crossed out.--etienne.] on ordinary subjects she would chatter vivaciouslyenough and she can talk in a fascinating manner on every subjecti care to bring up, but as soon as i drew the conversation round toa personal line she

gradually became more silent and a far-awayand distant look came into those wonderful eyes. i have found out nothing about her beyondthe fact that she has travelled all over europe. i don't even knowhow old she is, but i should guess twenty-six. i tried to find out a few details by meansof discreet remarks at the club and elsewhere. she simply arrived here about a year ago--asa singer, and met the colonel--beyond that, all is mystery. everythingabout her attracts me

powerfully, and this mystery adds subtletiesto her charms. this afternoon i went to say good-bye; i toldher we were leaving "shortly," and she gently reproved me fordisobeying the order which forbids discussion of movements, but i couldsee she was not greatly displeased. after tea she played to me, music of the modernrussian school--arensky, sibelius and pilsuki; a stormwas brewing and we both felt sad. she played for an hour or so, and then cameand sat by me on a low

divan by the fire. we were silent for a longwhile in the gathering gloom, whilst a thousand thoughts chased eachother swiftly through my brain, as i endeavoured to summon up courageto say what i had determined i must say before i left her, perhapsfor ever. at last, when only her profile was visibleagainst the glow of the logs, i spoke. i told her quietly, calmly and almost dispassionatelythat i had grown to love her and that to me she was life itself.i told her that i had tried not to speak until i could endure nolonger.

she sat very still as i spoke, and when ihad finished there was a long silence and i gently stretched out my handand stroked her lovely black hair. at last she rose and with averted facewalked across the room, and stood looking at the storm through thebig bow windows. i watched her, but did not dare follow. at length she returned to me, and i saw whati had instinctively known the whole time--that she had been crying.i could not think why. she put her arms round my neck, kissed meon the forehead and murmured, "poor karl."

i felt crushed; i dared not move for fearof breaking the magic of the moment, yet i longed to know more; i feltoverwhelmed by some colossal mystery that seemed to be enveloping me inits folds. why did she pity me? why did she weep? why didn't she answermy avowal? why didn't she tell me something? such were some of the problemsthat perplexed me. it was thus when the clock chimed seven. itold her that my leave was up at seven o'clock, and that at 7.15 i hadto be back on board the boat. she remembered this, and in an instantthe past quarter of an hour might never have existed. she was allagitation and nervousness

lest i should be late on board--though atthe moment i would have cheerfully missed the boat to hear her sayshe loved me. i tried to protest, but in vain. with femininequickness she utilized the incident to avoid a situation she evidentlyfound full of difficulty, and at 7.10, with the memory ofa light kiss on my lips and her god-speed in my ears i was in a taxi drivingto the docks in a blinding rain-storm--and we sail to-night. for five, six, seven, perhaps ten days atthe least, and at the most for ever, i am doomed to be away from herand without news of her. and

i don't even know whether she loves me! i think i can say she cares for me up to acertain point, but i want more. "oh zoe! of the violet eyes,and hair of blackest night thy lips are brightest crimson,thy skin is dazzling white. "oh! lay your head upon my breast,and lift your lips to mine; then murmur in soft breathings,drink deep from what is thine. "then let the war rage onward,let kingdoms rise and fall; to each shall be the other,their life, their hope, their all."

[footnote: i am indebted to commander c. c.for the above rough translation of karl's effusion.--etienne.] _at sea._ we are bound for the same old spot as lasttime. alten must have been drinking like a fishlately; his breath smells like a distillery; he is apparently partialto schnapps, which he gets easily in bruges. i can't help admiring the man, as he is arigid teetotaller at sea, though he must find the strain well nigh intolerable,judging from the

condition he was in when he came on boardlast night. he was really totally unfit to take charge of the boat,and i virtually took her down the canal, though with sottish obstinacy heinsisted on remaining on the bridge. this morning, though his complexion was ahideous yellow colour, he seems quite all right. i shall play a littletrick on him at dinner to-night. i have begun to get to know some of the crewby now; they are a fine lot of youngsters with a seasoning of halfa dozen older men. the

coxswain, schmitt by name, is a splendid oldpetty officer who has been in the u-boat service since 1911. his favourite enjoyment is to spin yarns tothe younger members of the crew, who know of his weakness and play upto it. he has a favourite expression which runs thus: "his majesty the kaiser said germany's futurelies on the sea; i say germany's future lies under the sea." he is inordinately fond of this statement,and the youngsters continually say: "what made you take to u-boatwork, schmitt?" and the

invariable reply is as above. when he hasbeen asked the question about half a dozen times in the course of a day,he is liable to become suspicious, and if his questioner is withinrange schmitt stares at him for a few seconds in an absent-minded way,then an arm like that of a gorilla shoots out, and the quizzer (_untersucher_)receives a resounding box on the ears to the huge delightof his companions. the old man then permits his iron-lipped mouthto relax into a caustic smile, after which he is left in peace forsome time. at the wheel he is an artist, for he seemsto divine what the next

order is going to be, or if he is steeringher on a course he predicts the direction of the next wave even as a skilfulchess player works out the moves ahead. i am rather weary and ought to go to bed,but before i lose the savour i must record the splendid fun i had withalten at dinner. we were dining alone, as the navigator wason the bridge, and the engineer was busy with a slight leak in thecooking water service. i have said that, though a heavy drinker bynature, alten is a strict abstainer at sea. accordingly i produced asmall flask of rum, half-way

through dinner, and helped myself to a liberaltot, placing the liquor between us on the table. as the sight methis eyes and the aroma greeted his nostrils, a gleam of joy flashedacross his face, to be succeeded by a frown. with an amiable smile i proffered the flaskto him, remarking at the same time: "you don't drink at sea, do you?" in a thick voice he muttered, "no! yes--no!thank you." with an air of having noticed nothing, i resumedmy meal, but out of the corner of my eye i watched his left handon the table near the

flask. it was most interesting, all the veinsstood out like ropes, and his knuckles almost burst through the skin. this went on for about thirty seconds, whenhe choked out something about needing a breath of fresh air. as hegot up his face was brick red, and i almost thought he'd have a fit. whether by accident or design he pulled thecloth as he got out from between the settee and the table and upsetthe flask. he was apparently incapable of apologizing,for he rushed up on deck. a few minutes later the navigating officercame down and asked what was

up? i said: "what do you mean?" he said: "well, the captain came up just now,swearing like a trooper, and told me to get to the devil out of it;it didn't seem advisable to question him, so i got out of it and camedown." i expressed my opinion that the captain mustbe feeling sea-sick and was ashamed to say so. i also suggested tothe navigator that he should take the captain a little brandy in case hewas not feeling well, but the navigator declared he was going to staydown in the warmth till he

was sent for. alten is a great coarse brute.fancy allowing a material substance such as alcohol to grip one's mentality. thank heaven i have nerves of iron; nothingwould affect me! and now to bed, though i must just read myaccount of our day in the forest. darling girl, may i dream of thee. we laid our mines without trouble at 5 a.m.this morning, though at midnight we had a most unpleasant experience. i was asleep, as it was my morning watch,when i was awakened by the

harsh rattle of the diving alarms. the diesel subsided with a few spasmodic coughsinto silence, and as i jumped out of my bunk and groped for my shortsea boots, the navigator and helmsman came tumbling down the conningtower, with the navigator shouting, "take her down," as hard as youlike. the men at the planes had them "hard-to-dive"in an instant. the vents had been opened as the hooters sounded,and alten, who had jumped into the control room, immediatelyrang down, "all out on the electric motors."

in thirty seconds from the original alarmwe were at an angle of twenty degrees down by the bow, and i had sat downheavily on the battery boards, completely surprised by the suddentilt of the deck. it occurred to me that the air was escapingthrough the vents with a strangely loud noise, but before i could considerthe matter further or even inquire the reason for this sudden dive,the noise increased to a terrifying extent, and whilst i prepared myselffor the worst it culminated into a roar as of fifty expresstrains going through a tunnel, mingled with the noise of a high-poweredaeroplane engine.

the roar drummed and beat and shook the boat,then died away as suddenly as it came; a moment later therewas a severe jar. we had struck the bottom, still maintaining our angle. i painfully got to my feet and then discoveredfrom the navigator that he had suddenly seen two white patches offoam 800 yards on the starboard bow, which resolved themselves intothe bow waves of a destroyer approaching at full speed to ram. we had dived just in time, and her knife-edgedbow, driven by 30,000 horse power, had slid through the water avery few feet above our

conning tower. luckily he had not dropped any depth charges.we were not, however, completely free of our troubles, though wehad cheated the destroyer. examination of the chart, showed the bottomto be mud, and on attempting to move the foremost hydroplanes,the plane motor fuses blew out. this showed that the boat was buriedin the mud right up to her foremost planes, which were immovable. the hydrophone watchkeeper reported that hecould still hear fast-running propellers, though probably somedistance away, and as

this showed that our old enemy was still nosingabout we were very anxious not to break surface. we just blew"a." [1] at least we started to blow "a," but alten wisely decided that,as it was a calm night with a half-moon, the bubbles on the surface mightbe rather conspicuous, so we stopped the blow and put the pump on. wealso flooded "w". [2] this had no effect on her at all. [footnote 1: probably their foremost internaltank.--etienne.] [footnote 2: presumably their after internaltank.--etienne.] we then pumped out "q" and "p," leaving "w"full, and adjusted our trim

to give her only three tons negative buoyancy,just enough to keep us on the bottom if she came out of the mud. in this position we went full speed asternon the motors, 1,500 amps on each, and all the crew in the after-compartment.no result. we then pumped the outer diving tanks on the portside to give her a list to starboard. still she remained fixed. so at 2 a.m. we decided to risk it and weput a slow blow on all tanks. when she had about fifty tons positive buoyancyshe suddenly bucketed up, and, as the motors were running full speedastern at the time, we

came up and broke surface stern first. ina few seconds we were trimmed down again, and as a precautionary measurewe proceeded for a couple of miles at twenty metres, when, coming up toperiscope depth, we surfaced, and finding all clear we proceeded.we were put down by a trawler at dawn, though she never saw us.after half an hour's hanging about she moved off, which was lucky, as shewas right on our billet. we are now proceeding to a spot somewhat tothe eastward of cape st. abbs, [3] as we have instructions to do atwo-days patrol here and sink shipping.

[footnote 3: st. abbs head.--etienne] we ought to start business to-morrow morning. we should be in to-night, then for my littlezoe! but i must record what we have done. alreadyi am getting much pleasure from reading my diary. strange how it amusesone to see little bits of oneself on paper, and the less garnished andfranker the truths the more entertaining it is. [illustration: "the torpedo had jumped cleanout of the water a hundred yards short of the steamer and had then divedunder her."]

[illustration: "we were put down by a trawlerat dawn."] [illustration: a moment later there was asevere jar; we had struck the bottom] the hours here are so long and boring at timesthat i feel i want to talk intimately with someone. failing zoei turn to my notebooks. the first steamer we sighted raised high hopes,at least her smoke did, for we saw enough smoke on the horizon tomake us think we were to see the grand fleet, and we promptly dived. wecruised towards her for about half an hour, and then hung about wherewe were, as we found that

her course would take the ship close to us. as the situation developed, alten, who wasup in the conning tower at the "a" periscope, gave us a certain amountof information, and we gathered that all this smoke was pouring outof the pipe-stem tunnel of a wretched little english tramp. i found it most irritating, standing in thecontrol room (my action station) and not knowing what was going on. there is only one good job in a submarineand that is the captain's. he knows and decides everything. the rest ofus are in his hands and take

things on trust. i object on principle tomy life being held in alten's hands. it is all very well for the crew, for,to start with, they have no imagination, and to most of them theirmental horizon stops at the walls of the boat. secondly, they have theconsolation of mechanical activities; they make and break switches andopen and close valves--they work with their hands. an officerhas imagination, and only works with his head. as we attacked the steamer, all one heardwas murmurs from alten, such as: "raise!" "lower!" "take her down to tenmetres!" "half speed!"

"slow!" "bring her up to five metres!" "raise!""lower!" i endeavoured to simulate an air of unconcernwhich i was far from feeling. not that i was a prey to physical fear; iflatter myself it is so far unknown to me, and there was no great danger,but simply that i longed to know what was happening. at length i heardthe welcome order: "starboard tube. stand by!" which was followed almost immediately by theorder: "fire!" there was a kind of coughing grunt, and thestarboard torpedo proceeded

on its errand of destruction. every ear was strained for the sound of theexplosion, but all we were vouchsafed was a torrent of blasphemy fromalten. the torpedo had jumped clean out of the watera hundred yards short of the steamer, and had then evidently divedunder the ship; so i gathered later when alten had calmed down somewhat.we were about to surface and give her the gun, when luckily alten tooka good sweep round with the skyscraper and discovered one of those wretchedlittle airships about a mile away, coming towards the steamer, whichwas wailing piteously, on

her syren. as the chart showed forty metres we decidedto bottom and have lunch. over lunch we discussed the misadventure.alten was loud in his curses of tanzerman (the torpedo lieutenant at bruges),from whom he had got the torpedo in guaranteed good condition onlyforty-eight hours before we sailed. he launched forth into a tiradeagainst the torpedo staff at bruges, and, warming to his subject, he roundlyabused the whole of the depot personnel, whom he stigmatized as aset of hard-drinking, shore-loafing ruffians, who were incapableof realizing that they

existed for the benefit of the boats' personneland "material." i naturally disagreed, and did so the morereadily that i conscientiously disagree with him. i findthat there is a tendency on the part of some of these submarine officers,who have been u-boating a long time, to get into narrow grooves. mostreserve officers are not like this, as they have only been in duringthe war. alten is an exception; he left the hamburg-amerika ontwo years' half pay in 1912, and was, of course, kept on in 1914. afterall, the depot staff are germans, and as such labour for the fatherland,and though their work

in office and workship is not so dangerousas ours, on the other hand they have not got the stimulation before theireyes, of glory to be gained. personally i am of the opinion thatthe torpedo broke surface because, being fired from the outside tubes,it probably started too shallow, dived deep, recovered shallow anddived deep, broke surface and dived very deep. a sticky motor or sluggishweight would give this effect. and are these external tubes water-tight?theoretically, yes, but what of practice? we have been down to forty metresseveral times during

this trip, and not once have we had a chanceon the surface of getting at the two external tubes; add to which ourdepth gear, with the pivots of the weight exposed to water if the tubedoes flood and then you have rust, corrosion and heaven knows what complications. i saw a british mark 11.50 torpedo at thetorpedo shop at bruges the other day, and i was much struck with theirdeep depth gear, which is of the unrestrained uhlan type, i.e., weightand valve interdependent. but then the main feature is that the wholegear is contained in a separate water-tight chamber.

our system is certainly a great saving inspace, and is much neater in design, whilst i prefer the uhlan principleof valve conjuncting with weight, but it would be interesting to knowwhether the british have much trouble with the depth-keeping of theirtorpedo. i have written quite a disquisition on depthgears; i must get on with my record of events. after lunch we had a good look round, butthe small airship was still hanging about, flying slowly in large circles. we were rather surprised to meet one of thesedespicable little

sausages or "zeppelin's spawn," as the navigatorcalls them, so far from land, and at dark we surfaced and proceededon one engine on an easterly course, charging the battery rightup with the other engine. dawn revealed a blank horizon, not a vestigeof mast, funnel or smoke in sight. we ambled along in fine though cold weather,and i took advantage of the peacefulness of everything to do a reallygood series of mã¼ller on the upper deck, stripped to the waist, andallowed the keen air to play its invigorating currents on my torso.

alten silently watched me from the conningtower, with a sneering expression on his face. the navigator, whois quite a decent youngster, though of no family, was, i could plainlysee, struck by my development, and asked to be initiated intothe series of exercises. i agreed willingly enough to show them to him.i will confess i wish zoe could have seen me as i perspired with healthyexercise. at about 11 a.m. a couple of masts, then twomore, then another, appeared above the horizon. the visibilitywas extreme, so we at once dived and proceeded at full speed, ten metres.

we had been going thus for perhaps half anhour when alten remarked that he would have another look at the convoy.we eased speed, came up to six metres, and alten proceeded up intothe conning tower to use "a" periscope. he had hardly applied his eye to the lenswhen he sharply ordered the boat to ten metres, accompanying this orderwith another to the motor room demanding utmost speed (_ausserste kraft_).i went up to the conning tower and found him white with excitement. "look!" he exclaimed, pointing to the periscope,entirely forgetful of

the fact that we were at ten metres. i looked,and of course saw nothing; furious at the trick i consideredhe had played on me i turned on him, to be disarmed by his apology. "sorry! i forgot! the whole british battlecruiser force is there." it was now my turn to be excited, and i rusheddown to the motor room determined to give her every amp she wouldtake. the port foremost motor was sparking like the devil, rings ofcursed sparks shooting round the commutator, but this was no timefor ceremony. i relentlessly ordered the field current to be still furtherreduced.

we were actually running with an f.c. of 3.75amps, [1] for a period, when the sparking assumed the appearance ofa ring of fire and, fearing a commutator strip would melt, i ordered anf.c. of five amps. [footnote 1: the lower the field current thefaster the motor goes. 3.75 is almost incredibly low for a motorof this type--at least according to british practice.--etienne.] we thus passed a quarter of an hour full of strain, the tensionof which was reflected in the attitude of allthe men. alten had announced his intention of using the stern torpedo tubeafter his failure in the

morning, and the crew of this tube were crouchedat their stations like a gun's crew in the last few seconds preparatoryto opening fire. the switchboard attendants gripped the regulatingrheostatts as if by their personal efforts they could urge the boaton faster. old schmitt, at the helm, never lifted his eyes from the compassrepeater. at length: "slow both!" "bring her to sixmetres!" came from the conning tower, to which place i proceededto hear the news. slowly the periscope was raised and i heldmy breath; a groan came from alten and he turned away. for a fraction ofa second i was almost

pleased at his obvious pain, then, sick withdisappointment, i took his place. yes! it was all over. there they were, andwith hungry eyes and depressed heart i saw five great battle cruisers,of which i recognized the _tiger_ with her three great funnels,the _princess royal_, _lion_ and two others, zigzagging along at 25 knots,at a distance of 12,000 metres, across our bow. they were surrounded by a numerous screenof destroyers and light cruisers, the former at that range throughthe periscope appearing as

black smudges. it is not often one is permitted such a spectaclein modern war, and i could not tear myself away from the sightof those great brutes, whom i had fought when in the _derflingger_ at doggerbank and again when in the _kã¶nig_ at jutland. so near and yet sofar, and as they rapidly drew away so did all the visions of an ironcross. as soon as they were out of sight, we surfaced in order to reportwhat we had seen to zeebrugge and heligoland. everything seemed against us. i had gone onthe bridge with the

navigator; alten, with a face as black ashell, had gone to the wardroom. about ten minutes elapsed when iheard a fearful altercation going on below. i stepped down to find theyoung wireless operator trembling in front of alten, who was overwhelminghim with a flood of abuse. as i reached the wardroom, alten shookhis fist in the man's face and bellowed: "make the d---- thing work, i tell you." "impossible, captain, the main condenser----"the man began. purple with rage, alten seized a heavy pairof parallel rulers, and

before i could check him hurled them fullin the operator's face. bleeding copiously, the youth fell to thedeck in a stunned condition. it was then, for the first time, that i noticeda half-empty bottle of spirits on the table, which colossal quantityhe must have consumed in about a quarter of an hour. turning to me, this semi-madman pointed tothe wireless operator with his foot and growled: "have him removed." this i did, and then, lowering the periscope,i ordered the boat to

fifteen metres. we proceeded at this depthuntil 8 p.m., when i was informed that the captain was in his bunkand wished to see me. i discovered him with his face to the ship'sside, and upon my reporting myself he ordered me, firstly tothrow that blasted bottle overboard (an unnecessary proceeding, as itwas empty), and secondly to surface and shape course for zeebrugge. at midnight he relieved me, apparently perfectlynormal. the wireless operator has been laid up allday and has a nasty cut on the head. the navigator, a great scandal-monger,has heard from the

engineer that alten was speaking to him alonethis morning, and the engineer believes that alten has given himfive hundred marks to say he fell down a hatch. hooray! blankenberg buoy has just been reportedin sight! soon i shall see my zoe! with what high hopes did i write the lastfew lines a few hours ago, and how they were dashed to the ground, foron going into the mess at bruges i found amongst my letters a note fromher, which was terrible in its brevity. she simply said:

"dear karl, "i am going away for some days, and as i shallbe travelling it is no good giving you an address. to our next meeting! "zoe." how horribly vague; not an indication of herdestination, her object, or the probable length of her absence. ofcourse i rushed round to the flat, but found the place shut up. the portertold me she had gone away with her maid. he couldn't say when she'dbe back--if at all! i gave him ten marks, and he said she might be awaya fortnight. if i'd given

him twenty he'd have said a week; he obviouslydidn't know. i feel i could do anything to-night; any mad,evil thing would appeal to me. there is a most fearful uproar coming fromthe guest-room, where a large and rowdy party are entertaining thechorus of a travelling _revue_ company. i saw them when they arrived,horribly common-looking women, with legs like mine tubes. another day and still no news; i don't knowhow i shall stick it. she might have had the softness of heart to writeto me. she knows my

address. this evening a letter from the little mother,who asks whether i can find time to go to frankfurt when i have leave;at the end of the letter she mentions that rosa has joined thewomen's voluntary auxiliary corps of army nurses. i supposeshe thought she'd like her photograph taken in some fancy uniform as"rosa freinland, one of our frankfurt beauties, now on war work!" holdingthe patient's hand is about the only work she intends doing. women as a class are the same the world over.we are well supplied with

english papers in the mess here; they comeregularly from amsterdam, and in their pages i see, just as in ours,pictures of the countess this and the lord that, photographed in becomingattitudes doing war work. it seems agricultural pursuits are thefashion in england at present--wait till our u-boat war gets itsknife well into their fat guts, it will be more than fashionable towork in the fields then. the british empire is undeniably a great creation,or rather not so much a creation as a thing arrived at accidentally,but it lacks solidarity. it sprawls, a confused mass ofraces and creeds, around the

world. its very immensity lays it open toattack, it has a dozen achilles heels from ireland to egypt and southafrica to india. i met a man only yesterday who was recentlyat the propaganda department of the foreign office, and withoutgoing into details he gave me a very good idea of the good workthat is going on in britain's canker spots. ireland is considered particularly promisingto those in the know. now for an agitated night! to think that agirl should disturb me so! two days have passed, or, rather, draggedtheir interminable lengths

away, for there is still not a vestige ofnews. i have been twice to the flat with no result, except to receivea piece of impertinence from the porter the last time i was there. no news. still no news, and we sail in forty-eighthours. _at sea, off the isle of wight_. it is some days since i turned for solaceand enjoyment, amidst the discomforts of this life, to my pen and notebook. what strange tricks fate plays with us, andhow lucky it is that one

cannot foresee the future. here i am in u.39--but i must start at thebeginning. my last entry was the depressing one of still no news. well,i have had news, but it was like a drop of water in the mouth of a parched-upman. another agonizing twenty-four hours passed, and iwas sitting in my room about ten o'clock, trying to resign myself to theidea that the next night i should be starting out for my third trip withoutnews of her, when the telephone bell rang. i lifted the receiverand to my amazed joy heard a voice that i could have recognized in a thousand.it was zoe!

i was quite incapable of any remark, and myconfusion was further increased when, after a few "hello's," whichi idiotically repeated, her clear, level tones said: "is that you,karl? how are you?" how was i? what a question to ask! i wanted to tellher that i was bubbling with joy, that a thousand-kilogramme loadhad been lifted from my chest, that my blood was coursing throughmy veins, that i, usually so cool, was trembling with excitement, thati could have kissed the mouthpiece of the humble instrument that linkedus together. yet i was quite incapable of answering her simple question!i can't imagine what

i expected her to say, for upon reflectionher remark was a very ordinary one, and indeed under the circumstancesquite natural, but, as i say, in actual fact i was tongue-tied. i suppose i must have said something, fori next remember her saying: "well, you might ask how i am;" and to myhorror i realized that she thought i was being rude! my abject apologies were cut short by hertantalizing laugh, and i understood that the adorable one was teasingme. when at length i made myself believe that i really was talking tothis most elusive and

delightful woman i wasted no time in suggestingthat, late though it was, i might be permitted to go round andsee her. she would not permit this, as she said it would create grave scandal,and the colonel might hear about it upon his return. i pleaded hardand urged my departure in twenty-four hours. she was firm and reproved me for discussingmovements over the telephone. she was right; i was a fool todo so; but zoe destroys all my caution. however, she said that i mightlunch with her next day, and that she had some new music to play to me.i ventured to ask where she

had been, but this question was plainly unpleasingto my lady, so i dropped the subject. i blew her a goodnightkiss over the telephone, to which i think i caught an answer, and thenshe rang off. ten minutes had not elapsed, when a messengerentered and informed me that i was wanted at the commodore's officeat once. a strange feeling of uneasiness and that ofimpending misfortune overcame me. i felt like a naughty school-boyabout to interview the headmaster. i followed the messenger into the commodore'soffice, and found myself

alone with the great man. he was seated ata huge roll-top desk, which was the only article of furniture in a roomwhich was to all intents and purposes papered with large scale chartsof the east and south coasts of england and of the channel and northsea. the commodore was sealing an envelope as icame in; he looked up and saw me, then, without taking any further noticeof me, he resumed his business with the envelope. i felt that iwas in the presence of a personality, and i was, for "old man max"is one of the ten men who count in the naval administration. he hada reading lamp on his desk,

and i remember noticing that the light shiningthrough its green shade imparted a yellow parchment-like effect tothe top of his old bald head. with dainty care he finished sealingthe envelope, then, picking up a telephone transmitter, he snapped "admiralty!"in about a minute he was connected, and to my astonishment irealized that he was talking to the duty captain of the operations departmentin berlin. his words chilled my heart, for he said: "commodorespeaking! u.39 sails at 2 a.m. for operation f.q.h.--repeat." his words were apparently repeated to hissatisfaction, for while i was

vainly endeavouring to convince myself thati was unconnected with the sailing of u.39, he banged the receiver intoplace (old man max does everything in bangs) and snapped at me. "you lieutenant von schenk?" i admitted i was, and then heard this disgustingnews. "kranz, 1st lieutenant u.39, reported suddenlyill, zeebrugge, poisoning--you relieve him. ship sails inone hour forty minutes from now--my car leaves here in forty minutes andtakes you to zeebrugge. here are operation orders--inform von weissmanhe acknowledges receipt

direct to me on 'phone. that's all." he handed me the envelope and i suppose iwalked outside--at least i found myself in the corridor turning the confoundedenvelope round and round. for one mad moment i felt like rushingin and saying: "but, sir, you don't understand i'm lunching with zoeto-morrow!" then the mental picture which this idea conjuredup made me shake with suppressed laughter and i remembered thatwar was war and that i had only thirty-five minutes in which to collectsuch gear as i had handy--most of my sea things being in u.c.47--andsay goodbye to zoe.

i ran to my room and made the corridors echowith shouts for my faithful adolf. the excellent man was soonon the scene, and whilst he stuffed underclothing, towels and other necessarygear into a bag he had purloined from someone's room, i rangup zoe. i wasted ten minutes getting through, but at last i heard a deliciouslysleepy voice murmur, "who's that?" i told her, and added that i was off; to mysecret joy, an intensely disappointed and long-drawn "oooh!" came overthe wire. so she does care a bit, i thought. mad ideas of pretendingto be suddenly ill

crossed my mind--anything to gain twenty-fourhours--but the fatherland is above all such considerations, and aftersome pleasant talk and many wishes of good luck from the darling girl,with a heavy heart i bade her good-night. the old man's car, which is a sixty horse-powerbenz, was waiting at the mess entrance, and once clear of the sentrieswe raced down the flat, well-metalled road to zeebrugge in avery short time. the guard at bruges barrier had 'phoned us through tothe zeebrugge fortified zone, and we were admitted without delay.in three-quarters of an hour

from my interview with old max i was scramblingacross a row of u-boats to reach my new ship, u.39. i went down the after hatch, reported myselfto von weissman and delivered his orders to him, of which he acknowledgedreceipt direct to the commodore according to instructions. vonweissman is a very different stamp of man to alten; of mediumheight, he has sandy-coloured hair, steel-grey eyes and aprotruding jaw. he is what he looks, a fine north prussian, and is, ofcourse, of excellent family, as the weissmans have been settledin grinetz for a long

period. he struck me as being about thirty years ofage, and on his heart he wore the cross of the second class. i haveheard of him before as being well in the running towards an _ordre pourle mã©rite_. an interesting chart is hanging in the wardroom,on which is marked the last resting-place of every ship he has sunk.he puts a coloured dot, the tint of which varies with the tonnage,black up to 2,000, blue from 2,000-5,000, brown 5,000-8,000, green 8,000-11,000,and a red spot with the ship's name for anything over 11,000.he has got about 120,000 tons

at present. he opposes the arnauld de la perriã¨reschool of thought, which pins faith on the gun, and weissmanhas done nearly all his work with the good old torpedo. altogether, undoubtedly a man to serve with. the u.39 was in that buzzing and semi-activecondition which to a trained eye is a sure indication that theship is about to sail. punctually at five minutes to 2 a.m. weissmanwent to the bridge, and at 2 a.m. the wires were slipped and we startedon a ten days' trip. as the dim lights on the mole disappeared andthe ceaseless fountain of

star-shells, mingling with the flashing ofguns, rose inland on our port beam my mind travelled overland to theflat at bruges, and i wondered whether zoe was lying awake listeningto the ceaseless rumble of the flanders cannon. we went on at fullspeed, as it was our intention to pass the dover straits beforedawn. though our intelligence bureau issues the most alarmingreports as to the frightfulness of the defences here i was agreeablysurprised at the ease with which we passed. von weissman, towhom i had hinted that we might find the passage tricky, rather laughedat my suggestion, and

described to me his method, which, at allevents, has the merit of simplicity. he always goes through with the tide, so asto take as short a time as possible, and he always decides on a courseand steers it as closely as possible, keeping to the surface unless hesights anything, and diving as soon as anything shows up. even if he diveshe goes on as fast as possible on his course, irrespective of whetherhe is being bombed or not. i must say it worked very well last night.we shaped a course to pass

five miles west of gris nez, and when thatlight, which for some reason the french had commodiously lit that night,was abeam, we sighted a black object, probably a trawler or destroyer,about half a dozen miles away right ahead. weissman immediately divedand, without deviating a degree from his course, held on at three-quartersspeed on the motors. some time later the hydrophone watchkeeperreported the sound of propellers in his listeners, and that he judgedthem to be close at hand, so i imagine we passed very nearly directlyunderneath whatever it was.

after an hour's submerging we rose, and founddawn breaking over a leaden and choppy sea. nothing being in sight,we continued on the surface for an hour, charging batteries withthe starboard engine (500 amps on each), but at 9 a.m., the clouds lyinglow and an aerial patrol being frequent hereabouts, we dived and cruisedsteadily down channel at slow speed, keeping periscope depth. several times in the course of the forenoonwe sighted small destroyers and convoy craft [1] in the distance, allsteering westerly. they were probably returning from escorting troopshipsover to france last night.

in every case we went to sixty feet long beforethey could have seen our "stick." [2] weissman is evidently ascautious in this matter as he is hardy in others; the more i see of himthe more i like him; he is a man of breeding, and it is of value to servein this boat. [footnote 1: probably "p" boats.--etienne.] [footnote 2: periscope.--etienne.] as i write we are on the surface about tenmiles east of the isle of wight, still steering down channel. to-nightat midnight we report our position to zeebrugge, up till now we havemaintained wireless silence

for fear of the british and french directionalstations picking up our signals and fixing our position. after supper this evening von weissman explainedto me the general plan of our operations for the next eight days.our cruising billet is about 150 miles south-west of the scillys, at thefocal point where trade for liverpool and bristol and the up-channel tradediverges. von weissman says that this is a plum billet and we shoulddo well. i feel this is going to be better than thosepiffling little mine-laying trips, and though we shall beaway ten days, it will

qualify me for four days' leave in belgium. there was nearly an awkward moment last night,or, rather, there was an awkward moment, and nearly an awkward accident.i relieved the navigator at midnight (the pilot is an unassumingindividual called siegel) and took on the middle watch. it wasblowing about force 4 from the south-west, and a nasty short, lumpy seawas running which caught us just on the port bow. about once everyten seconds she missed her step with the waves and, dipping her noseinto it, shovelled up tons of water, which, as the bow lifted, raced aftand, breaking against the

gun, flung itself in clouds of spray againstthe bridge. in a very few minutes every exposed portion of me was streamingwith water. at about 2 a.m. i had turned my back to thesea for a moment, and my thoughts were for an instant in bruges, when,on facing forward once again i saw a sight which effectually broughtme back to earth. this was the spectacle of two black shapes,evidently steamers, one on either bow, distant, i should estimate, 600or 700 metres. i had to make a quick decision, and i decided thatto fire a torpedo in that sea with any hope of a hit, especially with theboat on surface, was

useless; furthermore, that at any moment eitherof the steamers might sight us from their high bridge and turn andram. these thoughts were the work of an instant,and i at once rang the diving bell, and, pushing the look-out beforeme, in five seconds i was in the conning tower and had the hatch down.i at once proceeded down into the boat, and the first thing that struckmy eye was the diving gauge with the needle practically stationaryat two metres. the boat was not going down properly! andfor an instant i was rudely shaken, until a cool voice from the wardroomremarked, "helm hard

a-port," an order that was instantly obeyed,and as she began to turn the moving needle on the depth gauge beganits journey round the dial. it was the captain who had spoken. as soonas he heard the diving alarm he was out of his bunk, and a glance at thegauge he has fitted in the wardroom told him we were not sinking rapidly.in an instant he had put his finger on the trouble, which was thatwe were almost head on to the sea, with the result that he had given theorder as stated above, which, bringing us beam on to the sea, hadcaused her to dive with ease. he is efficiency itself!

as i explained to him what had happened, thenoise of propellers at varying distances from us overhead led himto state his belief that we had run into a convoy homeward bound to southamptonfrom the atlantic. he approved of my actions in every particular,save only in my omission to bring the boat away from the sea as i beganto dive. this morning we are beginning to get the fullforce of what is evidently going to be a south-westerly galeof some violence. the seas are getting larger as we debouch into theatlantic. this looks bad for business.

at the moment we are practically hove to onthe surface, with the port engine just jogging to keep her head on tosea and the starboard ticking round to give her a long, slow chargeof 200 amps. the wind is force 7-8 and a very big sea isrunning which makes it entirely impossible to open the conning towerhatch; the engine is getting its air through the special mushroomventilator, which is apparently not designed to supply both theboat's requirements and those of the engine; the whole ventilatorgets covered with sea every now and then, during which period until thebaffle drains get the water

away no air can get in, so the engine hasa good suck at the air in the boat, the result of all this being a slightvacuum in the boat. it is a very unpleasant sensation, and made me verysick. this is really a form of sickness due to the rarefied air. i had a great surprise when i looked at thebarograph this morning as the needle had gone right off the paper atthe bottom, and at first glance i thought we had struck a tropicaldepression of the first magnitude, which, flouting all the laws ofmeteorology, had somehow found its way to the english channel; butthe engineer explained to me

that, as i have already stated, the low atmosphericpressure in the boat was due to the conning-tower hatch beingshut down. [illustration: "as the dim lights on the moledisappeared, the ceaseless fountain of starshells minglingwith the flashing of guns, rose inland on our port beam."] [illustration: "we hit her aft for the secondtime."] i have discovered that von weissman is a martyrto sea-sickness--all day he has been lying down as white as a sheetand subsisting on milk tablets and sips of brandy; yet such is theman's inflexibility of will

that he forces himself to make a tour of inspectionright round the boat every six hours, night and day. it isthis will to conquer which has made germans unconquerable, though "comethe four corners of the world in arms" against us, as the great poetsays. we are, of course, keeping watch from insidethe conning tower; it is, at all events, dry, but as to seeing anythingone might as well be looking out through a small glass window frominside a breakwater! to bed till 4 a.m. a most unprofitable day. i grudge every dayaway from zoe on which we

do nothing. this morning about noon the galeblew itself out, but a heavy confused sea continued to run. at 2 p.m. we saw a most tantalizing spectacle.a big tank steamer, fully 600 feet long and of probably 17,000tons burthen hove in sight, escorted by two destroyers. to attack withthe gun was impossible, as we could only keep the conning tower openwhen stern to sea, and in any case the two destroyers prevented any surfacework. we tried to get in for an attack, but we had not seen her intime, and the best we could do was to get within 3,000 yards, at whichrange it would have been

absurd to have wasted a torpedo, the chancesof hitting being 100 to 1 against, even if the torpedo had run properlyin the sea that was on. i had a good look at her through the foremostperiscope in between the waves, and it maddened me to see all thatoil, doubtless from tampico for the grand fleet, going safely by. thedestroyers were having a bad time of it, crashing into the sea like porpoises,their funnels white with salt, and their bridges enveloped insheets of water and spray. they little thought that, barely a mile away,amidst the tumbling, crested waves a german eye was watching them!

there is no doubt these damned british havepluck, for it was the last sort of weather in which one would have expectedto find destroyers at sea, and yet i suppose they do this throughoutthe winter. after all, one would expect them to be toughfellows--they are of teutonic stock--though by their bearing onemight imagine that the creator made an englishman and then adam. let's hope we get some decent weather to-morrow.i have just been refreshing my memory by reading of what iwrote in the book, concerning the day in the forest with the adorable girl.there is an exquisite

pleasure in transporting the mind into suchmemories of the past when the body is in such surroundings as the present,if only i could will myself to dream of her! a fine day in every sense of the word. theweather has been and remains excellent, and i have been present at my firstsinking. it was absurdly commonplace. at 10 a.m. this morning a columnof smoke crept upwards from the southern horizon. von weissman steered towards it on the surfaceuntil two masts and the top of a funnel appeared. we dived and proceededslowly under water on

a southerly course. half an hour passed and von weissman broughtthe boat up to periscope depth and had a look. he called to me to comeand see, an invitation i accepted with alacrity. with natural excitement i looked through theperiscope and there she was, unconsciously ambling to her doom likea fat sheep. she was a steamer (british) of about 4,000tons, slugging home at a steady ten knots, but she was destined tocome to her last mooring place ahead of schedule time!

we dipped our periscope and i went forwardto the tubes. five minutes elapsed and the order instrument bell rang,the pointer flicking to "stand by." i personally removed the firinggear safety pin and put the repeat to "ready." a breathless pause, thena slight shake and destruction was on its way, whilst i realizedby the angle of the boat that weissman was taking us down a few metres. that shows his coolness, he didn't even troubleto watch his shot. anxiously i watch the second hand of my stopwatch. weissman had told me the range would be about 500 metres--30seconds--31--32--33--has he

missed?--34--35--3--a dull rumble comes throughthe water and the whole boat shakes. hurra! we have hit, andthe order "surface" comes along the voice pipe. the cheerful voice of the blower is heard,evacuating the tanks; i run to the conning tower and closely follow weissmanup the ladder. at last i am on the bridge. there she is! what a sight! i feel that i shall never forget what shelooked like, though, if all goes well, i shall see many another fine shipgo to her grave. but she was my first; i felt the same sensationwhen, as a boy, i shot

my first roe-deer in the black forest, oneinstant a living thing beautiful to perfection, the next my riflespoke and a bleeding carcase lay beneath the fine trees. so with this ship.i am a sailor, and to every sailor every ship that floats has, asit were, a soul, a personality, an entity; to carry the analogyfurther, a merchant craft is like some fat beast of utility, an ox,a cow, or a sheep, whilst a warship is a lion if she is a battleship,a leopard if she is a light cruiser, etc.; in all cases worthy game. but war has little use for sentimentality!and in my usual wandering

manner i see that i have meandered from thepoint and quite forgotten what she did look like. what i saw was this: i saw that the steamer had been hit forwardon the starboard side. the upper portion of the stem piece was almostdown to the water level, her foremost hold was obviously filling rapidly.her stern was high out of water, the red ensign of england flappingimpotently on the ensign staff. her propeller, which was still slowlyrevolving, thrashed the water, and this heightened the impressionthat i was watching the

struggles of a dying animal. the propellerwas revolving in spasmodic jerks, due, i imagine, to the fast failingsteam only forcing the cranks over their dead centres with an effort. a boat was being lowered with haste from thetwo davits abreast the funnel on one side, but when she was fullof men and, due to the angle of the ship, well down by the bow, someoneinboard let go the foremost fall or else it broke, for the bows of theboat fell downwards and half a dozen figures were projected in grotesqueattitudes into the sea. for a few seconds the boat swung backwards andforwards, like a pendulum.

when she came to rest, hanging verticallydownwards from the stern, i noticed that a few men were still clinginglike flies to her thwarts. truly, anything is better than the atlanticin winter. meanwhile the ship had ceased to sink as far as outwardsigns went. i mentioned this to von weissman, who wasat my side with a slight smile on his face, amused doubtless at theeagerness with which i watched every detail of this, to me, noveltragedy. he answered me that i need not worry, that she was being supportedby an air lock somewhere forward, that the water was slowly creepinginto her and her boilers

would probably soon go. this remarkable man was absolutely correct. there was an interval of about five minutes,during which another boat, evidently successfully lowered from the otherside, came round her stern, picked up one or two men from the waterand also collected the survivors in the hanging boat; then the steamersuddenly sank another two feet, there was a dull rumbling, as ofheavy machinery falling from a height, a muffled report, a cloud of steamand smoke, a sucking noise and then a pool in the water, in the middleof which odd bits of wood

and other buoyant debris kept on bobbing up.nothing else! no! i am wrong, there were two other things:a u-boat, representing the might of germany, and a whaler with perhapstwenty men in it, representing the plight of england! as she went i felt hushed and solemn, it wasan impressive moment; a slight chuckle came from imperturbable weissman;he had seen too many go to think much of it, and he gave an orderfor the helm to be put over, so that we might approach the whaler. they were horribly overcrowded, and were engagedin trying to sort

themselves into some sort of order. we passedby them at 50 yards and weissman, seizing his megaphone, shouted inenglish: "goodbye! steer west for america!" a cold horror gripped myheart. it was an awful moment. i dare not write the thoughts thatentered my head. i turned away my head and faced aft, thathe should not see my face; looking back i saw the whaler rocking dangerouslyin our wash, and then a commotion took place in her stern, fromwhich a huge bearded man arose and, shaking his fist in our direction,shouted something or other before his companions pulled him down.

von weissman heard and his lips narrowed in.i held my breath in suspense, but he evidently decided againstwhat he had been about to do, for with the order, "course north! tenknots," he went below. i remained on deck watching the rapidly recedingwhaler through my glasses until she was a mere speck--aloneon the ocean, 150 miles from land, then the navigator came up, and withstrangely mixed feelings of exultant joy and depressing sorrow i wentbelow. von weissman was in the wardroom. i watchedhim unobserved. he was humming a tune to himself and had just completedputting a green dot on

the chart. this done he lay back on the setteeand closed his eyes--strange, insoluble man! for long hours i could not forget that whaler;i see it now as i write. i suppose i shall get used to it all. whatwould zoe say? the most wonderful thing about man is thathe can stand the strain of his own invention of modern war! i am rather tired to-night, but must justjot down briefly what has taken place to-day, as there is never anytime in the daylight hours. soon after dawn, at about 8 a.m., we sighteda fair-sized steamer of

about 3,000 tons, which we sunk, but i cannotsay what she looked like, or whether anyone escaped, as we never cameto the surface at all, von weissman sighting smoke on the western horizonjust as he hit her. we accordingly steered in that direction. however,i think she went almost at once as von weissman put a dot (black)on the chart as we made towards number 3. i very much wanted to know whether there wereany survivors, but i did not like to ask him at the time and he hasbeen in such an infernal temper ever since that i haven't had a suitableopportunity.

the cause of his rage was as follows: steamer number 3 turned out to be a fine fatchap (of the clan line, von weissman said, when we first sighted her).we moved in to attack and fired our port bow tube. i waited in vainby the tubes for the expected explosion--nothing happened, butafter a couple of minutes a snarl came down the voice pipe: "surface,gun action stations!" i ran aft, and found the captain white withrage. "missed ahead!" he said, with intense feeling,"i'll have to use that confounded gun."

in about three minutes the captain and myselfwere on the bridge and the crew were at their stations round thegun. for the first time i saw the ship; she wasstern on and apparently painted with black and white stripes. as iexamined her through glasses--she was distant about 3,000 yards--isaw a flash aboard her and a few seconds later a projectile moanedoverhead and fell about 6,000 yards over. so she is armed, thoughti, and she has actually opened fire on us first. the effect of this unexpected retort on thepart of the englishman was

to throw weissman into a paroxysm of rage. "why don't you fire? what the devil are youwaiting for?" etc., etc., were some of the remarks he flung at the guncrew. i did not consider it advisable to mentionto him that they were probably waiting his order to fire, and alsohis orders for range and deflection, as i had imagined that, here aseverywhere else, an officer controls the gun-fire. apparently in thisboat it is not so, as weissman takes so little interest in his gunthat he affects to be, or else actually is, ignorant of the elementsof gun control.

at any rate, under the lash of his tongue,the gun's crew soon got into action, the gun-layer taking charge. our firstshot was short, very considerably so, as was also the second. meanwhilethe steamer had been keeping up a very creditably controlled rateof fire, straddling us twice, but missing for deflection, as wasnatural considering that we were bows on to her. i felt thoroughly in my element listeningto the significant wail of the enemy's shell, punctuated by the ear-splittingreport of our own gun. weissman, gripping the rail with bothhands, and to my surprise

ducking when one went overhead, watched thetarget with a fixed expression, but made no attempt to controlour gun-fire, which was far from creditable, as is inevitable when itis left to the mercy of the inferior intellect of a seaman. however, at the tenth or eleventh round wehit her in the upper works, as was shown by a bright red and yellow flashnear her funnel. this did not check her firing or speed in the least,in fact she seemed to be gaining on us. she also began to zigzag slightlyand throw smoke bombs overboard, which were not so effective fromher point of view as i had

thought they would be. matters were thus for some minutes. we hadjust hit her aft for the second time, though the shooting was so disgustinglybad that i was about to ask whether i might do the dutiesof control officer, when there was a blinding flash and the air seemedfilled with moaning fragments. when i had recovered from my relieffrom finding that i was personally uninjured, i observed that twoof the gun's crew were wounded and one was lying, either killed orseriously wounded, on the casing. we had been hit in the casing, wellforward, and, as was

subsequently proved when we dived, littlematerial damage was caused to the boat. this enemy success caused a temporary cessationof fire. the two wounded men were cautiously making their wayaft to the conning tower, and i called for a couple of stokers to comeup and carry away the third, when von weissman suddenly gave theorder to dive. the gun's crew at once made a rush for the conning tower,and were down the hatch in a trice, one of the wounded men faintingat the bottom. i was unaware as to the reason of this orderto dive, and thought that

perhaps the captain had sighted a periscope.as i was turning to precede him down the conning tower hatch idistinctly saw the man lying by the gun lift his hand. i felt i could notleave him there, and instinctively cried, "he is still alive!"but von weissman, who was urging the crew to hurry down the hatch, pressedthe diving alarm as soon as the last sailor was half in the hatch. i knew that this meant that the boat wouldbe under in 30 to 40 seconds, so i had no alternative but to getdown the hatch as quickly as possible.

i did so with reluctance, and i was followedby von weissman, who joined me in the upper conning tower. i forced myself not to look out of the conningtower scuttles during the few seconds that elapsed as the casingslowly went under, until at last nothing but waving green water showedat each little window. i feared that, if i had looked, i would haveseen a wounded man, stung into activity by the cold touch of the atlantic.perhaps von weissman read my thoughts, or else he remembered myremark concerning the man, for he turned to me and in level tones said:

"have you any doubt that he was dead?" i hesitated a moment, and he continued: "by my direction you have no doubt. he _was_!" how brutal war is, and what a perfect exponentof the art the captain proves himself to be! to me a life is a life,a particle of the thing divine; to him a life is a unit, and a half-maimedand probably dying seaman is as nothing in the scales when thesafety of a u-boat is at stake. the seamen are numbered in their tensof thousands, the u-boats in their tens. the steamer had hit us once,luckily only in the casing,

a second hit might well have punctured thepressure hull, and our fate in these waters would have been certain. therefore,having summed these things up and balanced them in his mind, hedived and the sailor died. once below water von weissman seemed morehis imperturbable self, and unless i am mistaken he is never really happyon the surface, at least when in action. he is a true water mole. a day full of interest, though once againi have had to force myself to absorb the horrors of war. i imagine thati am now going through the experiences of a new arrival on the westernfront, who feels a desire

to shudder at the sight of every corpse. at 10 a.m. this morning we sighted the topsailsof a sailing boat to the southwest. closing her on the surface,we approached to within about 6,000 metres, when suddenly von weissmanordered "gun action stations." the gun crew came tumbling up, but not quickenough to suit him, for as they were mustering at the gun he gave theorder to dive, only, however, taking her down to periscope depthbefore instantly ordering surface and then "gun action stations" again.this time we opened fire

on the ship, which was a norwegian barqueand, being in the barred zone, liable to destruction. von weissman had announced overnight thatat the first opportunity he would give "that ---- gun's crew a bellyfulof practice," and he certainly did. as soon as the first shot wasfired, she backed her topsails, and when our fourth shot struckher, somewhere near the foot of the foremast, her crew could be seen hastilyabandoning their ship. this action on their part had no influencewith von weissman, who had taken personal charge of the helm, and, withthe engines running at

three-quarter speed, he was zigzagging about,to make it harder for the gun's crew. every now and then he flung agibe at the crew, such as suggesting that they should go back to thehigh seas fleet and learn how to shoot. the sailing ship was soon on fire, for, consideringthe circumstances, the shooting was very fair, though had i beencontrolling it i could have confidently guaranteed better results.when she was blazing nicely fore and aft, von weissman ordered the practiceto cease, and sent the crew below. he then ordered course south,speed ten knots, and i took

over the watch. an hour and a half later, when the navigatorgave me a spell, a black cloud on the northern horizon marked the funeralpyre of another of our victims. when i went below, the captain hadjust finished playing with his precious old chart. we received a message at 2 a.m. last nightfrom heligoland to return forthwith; it is now 2 a.m. and we are approachingthe redoubtable dover barrage. we had no trouble coming upchannel to-day, which seems singularly empty, at any rate in mid-channel,where we were.

we got back about three hours ago, and asi was appointed temporary to the boat, von weissman kindly allowed me toleave her and come up to bruges as soon as we got into the sheltersat zeebrugge. i got up here just, in time for a late dinner.hunger satisfied, i retired to my room and, needless to say, atonce rang up my darling zoe. by the mercy of providence she was in, butimagine my sensations when i heard that that accursed swine of a colonelwas also back from the front, and expected in at the flat at anymoment, being then, she

thought, engaged in his after dinner drinkingbouts at the cavalry officers' club. i could only groan. a laugh at the other end stung me to furiousrage, appeased in an instant by her soothing tones as she toldme that i should be glad to hear that he was only up from the somme ona four-days leave, and was returning next morning by the 8 a.m. trooptrain. glad! i could have danced for joy. i breathed again. as the colonel was expected back at any momentshe thought it advisable to terminate the conversation, which was donewith obvious reluctance

on her part, or so i flatter myself. he goes to-morrow, so far so good, but whatof the intervening period? could any more refined torture be imaginedthan that i, who love her as i love my own soul, should have to sit here,whilst scarcely a mile away, probably at this very moment as i write,that gross brute is privileged to kiss her, to look at her, to--oh!it's unbearable. when i think of that hog, for though i've never seenhim, i've seen his photograph, and i know instinctively thathe _is_ gross, fresh, as she says, from a drinking bout, should at thismoment be permitted to raise

his pigs' eyes and look into those gloriouswells of violet light; when i think that his is the privilege to see thosemasses of black hair fall in uncontrolled splendour, then i understandto the full the deep pleasures of murder. i would give anything to destroy this man,and could shake the englishman by the hand who fires the deliveringbullet! steady! steady! what do i write? no! i meanit, every word of it. yet of all the mysteries, and to me zoe is a massof them, surely the strangest of all is contained in the question:why does she live with

him? she doesn't love him, she's practically toldme so. in fact, i know she doesn't. let me reason it out by logic. shelives with him, whether voluntarily or involuntarily. suppose it bevoluntarily, then her reasons must be (a) love; (b) fascination;(c) some secret reason. if she is living with him involuntarily it mustbe: (d) he has a hold on her; (e) for financial reasons. i strike out at once (a) and (e), for in thecase of (e) she knows well that i would provide for her, and (a) i refuseto admit, (b) is hardly

credible--i eliminate that. i am left with(c) and (d) which might be the same thing. but what hold can he haveon her; she can't have a past, she is too young and sweet for that. i must find out about this before i go tosea again. three days ago, i was racking my brains forthe solution of a problem, and, as i see from what i wrote, i was somewhatoutside myself. in the interval things have taken an amazing turn.i am still bewildered--but i must put it all down from the beginning. the colonel left as she said he would, andi went round to lunch with

her. we had a delightful _tãªte-ã -tãªte_, andafter lunch she played the piano. i was feeling in splendid voice andshe accompanied me to perfection in tchaikowsky's "to the forest,"always a favourite of mine. as the last chords died away, zoe jumpedup from the piano and, with eyes dancing with excitement, placedher hands on my shoulders and exclaimed: "karl! i have an idea! i shall make a prisonerof you for two or three days."

i laughed heartily and almost told her thatshe had already made me a prisoner for life, only i can never get thosesort of remarks out quick enough. but when she said, "no! i am not joking, imean it," i felt there was more meaning in her sentence than i had atfirst thought. i begged to be enlightened, and she then unfolded herscheme. she told me for the first time, that in aforest not far from bruges she had a little summer-house, to which sheused to retreat for week-ends in the hot weather when the colonelwas away. he knew nothing

of this country house (she was very insistenton that point), so i imagined she paid for it out of her dressallowance or in some other way. the idea that had just struck her wasthat she had a sudden fancy to go and spend two days there, and i wasto go with her. i was ready to go to africa with her if myleave permitted, and it so happened that i was due for four days' overseasleave (limited to belgian territory) so that this fitted invery well, and i told her so. she was delighted, then, with one of thosequick intuitions which women are so clever at, she read the half-formedthought in my mind, and

said: "you mustn't think it's not going tobe conventional; old babette will be with us to chaperon me." old babetteis an aged female whom she calls her maid. i think she is jealous ofme. i agreed at once that of course i quite understoodit was to be highly conventional, etc., though i smiled to myselfas i visualized my mother's shocked face and uplifted hands hadshe heard my zoe's ideas on the conventions. i was trying to fathom what was at the bottomof it all when she remarked: "of course, as my prisoner you willhave to obey all my

orders." i replied that this was certainly so. "and one of the first things," she continued,"that happens to a prisoner when he goes through the enemy linesis that he is blindfolded, and in the same way i shan'tlet you know where you are going." seeing a doubtful look in my eyes as i endeavouredto keep pace with the underlying idea, if any, of this trulyfeminine fancy, she suddenly came up to me and, lifting her eyes to mine,murmured: "don't you trust

me?" in a moment my passion flared up, and rainedhot kisses on her face as she struggled to release herself from my arms. when i left that night after dinner, and,walking on air, returned to the mess, it was arranged that i should beat her flat with my suit-case at 6 p.m. the next evening, prepared,to use her own words, "to disappear with me for 48 hours." she had told me of an address in bruges whichshe said would forward on any telegram if i was recalled, and i hadto be satisfied with that,

for i may as well say here that i never discoveredwhere i went to, and i don't know to this moment in what part ofbelgium i spent the last two nights. i tried to find out at first, but as she obviouslyattached some importance to keeping the locality of herwoodland retreat a secret, probably to circumvent the colonel, i soongave up trying to get the secret from her, and contented myself withtaking things as they came. to go on with my account of what happened--whichwas really so remarkable that i propose writing it out indetail to the best of my

memory--at 6 p.m. next day i was naturallyat her flat feeling very much as if i was on the threshold of an adventure. zoe was excited and the flat was in a turmoil,as apparently she had only just begun to pack her dressing-case. soon after six we went down and got into alarge mercã©dã¨s car which i had noticed standing outside when i arrived.we were soon on our way, and left bruges by the eastern barrier; weshowed our passes and proceeded into the darkened country-side.we had been running for about a mile when she remarked, "prisoners willnow be blindfolded!" and, to

my astonishment, slipped a little black silkbag over my head. i was so startled i didn't know whether tobe angry, or to laugh, or what to do. eventually i did nothing, and,entering into the spirit of the game, declared that even a wretched prisonerhad the right not to be stifled, whereupon she lifted the lowerportion of the bag and uncovered my mouth. shortly afterwards i waselectrified to feel a pair of soft lips meet mine, a sensation whichwas repeated at frequent intervals, and, as i whispered in her ear,under these conditions i was prepared to be taken prisoner into the jawsof hell.

this pleasant journey had lasted for aboutthree-quarters of an hour when my mask was removed and i was informedthat i was "inside the enemy lines!" through the windows of the cari could dimly see that an apparently endless mass of fir trees wererushing past on each side. this state of affairs continued for a kilometreor so, when we branched to the right and soon entered a large clearingin the forest, at one side of which stood the house. babette, zoeand myself entered the building, and the car disappeared, presumablyback to bruges. the house, built of logs, was of two stories;on the ground floor were

two living rooms, and the domains of babette,who amongst her other accomplishments turned out to be not onlya most capable valet, but a first-class cook. on the second story therewere two large rooms. the whole house was furnished after the mannerof a hunting lodge, with stags' heads on the walls, and skins on thefloors. in the drawing-room there was a piano and a few etchings of thewild boar by schaffein. i dressed for dinner in my "smoking," thoughunder ordinary circumstances i should have considered thisrather formal, but i was glad i did, for she appeared in full evening_tenue_. she wore a violet

gown, and across her forehead a black satinbandeau with a z in diamonds upon it. it must have cost two thousandmarks, and i wondered with a dull kind of jealousy whether the colonelhad given it to her. i cannot remember of what we talked duringdinner. we have a hundred subjects in common, and we look at so manyaspects of the world through the same pair of eyes; i only know that wheni have been talking to her for a period--there is no exact measurementof time for me when i am with her--i leave her presence feeling "completed."i feel that a sort of gap within my being has been filled, thata spiritual hunger has

been satisfied, that i have got somethingwhich i wanted, but for which i could not have formulated the desire inwords. i had resolved that on this first night i would bring matters betweenus to a head and end this delicious but intolerable uncertaintyas to how we stood; yet, when old babette had served us with coffeein the drawing-room, as i call the second living-room, and we were alonetogether, i could not bring up the subject. partly because i thinkshe prevented me so doing by that skilful shepherding of the conversationinto other paths with an artfulness with which god endows all women,and also partly because

i could not screw myself up to the pitch.i could not, or rather would not, put my fate to the touch. i had a presentimentthat in reaching for the summit i might fall from the slope.alas! how true was this foreboding in some senses--but i will keepall things in their right order. [illustration: "_the track met our ram_."] [illustration: in the flash i caught a glimpseof his conning tower] let it only be recorded that when she kissedme good-night (with the tenderness of a mother) and left me to smokea final cigar i had said

nothing, and i could only wonder at the strangefate that had placed me practically alone with a girl whom i had grownto love with a deep emotion, and who appeared to love me, yetoften behaved as if i was her brother. the next day we were like two children. thesnow was deep on the ground, and the fir trees stood like thousandsof sentinels in grey uniform round the clearing. once during theafternoon, as with zoe's assistance i was furiously chopping wood forthe fire, a droning noise made me look up, and thousands of metres overheada small squadron of

aeroplanes, evidently bound for the westernfront, sailed slowly across the sky. i thought how awkward it would befor them if they experienced an engine failure whilst over the forest,though they were up so high that i imagine they could have glided tenkilometres, and as i think (but i am not certain, and i have pledgedmyself not to try and find out) we were in the forest of montellan, whichis barely fifteen kilometres broad, i suppose they could havefallen clear of the trees. as a matter of fact i imagine they would haveused our clearing--i'm glad they didn't.

that night after dinner she played to me,first beethoven and then chopin. i can see her as i write; she hadjust finished the 14th prelude and, resting her chin on her hand,she smiled mysteriously at the hour had come, and, driven by strong impulses,i spoke. i told her that i loved her as i had never thought thata man could love a woman; i told her that i longed to shield her andprotect her, and above all things to remove her from the clutches ofthat bestial colonel, and as i bent over her and felt my senses swim inthe subtleties of her perfume, i begged her passionately to saythe word that would give me

the right to fight the world on her behalf. when i had finished she was silent for a longwhile, and i can remember distinctly that i wondered whether she couldhear the thump! thump! thump! of my heart, which to my agitated mindseemed to beat with the strength of a hammer. at length she spoke; two words came slowlyfrom her lips: "i cannot." i was not discouraged. i could see, i couldfeel, that a tremendous struggle was raging, the outward signs ofwhich were concealed by her

averted head. at length i asked her point-blank whethershe loved me. her silence gave me my answer, and i took her unresistingbody into my arms and kissed her to distraction. oh! these kisses,how bitter they seem to me now, and yet how i long to hold her once again.for, freeing herself from my embrace and speaking almost mechanically,she said: "karl! i must tell you. i cannot marry you." i pleaded, i prayed, i argued, i demanded.it was in vain; i always came up against the immovable "i cannot."

and then i crashed over the precipice towardswhose edge i had been blindly going. i had said for the hundredthtime, "but you know you love me," when with a sob she abandoned allreserve, and, flinging her arms round my neck, implored me to take her.then, as i caught my breath, she quickly said, as if frightenedthat she had gone too far, "but i cannot marry you." i looked down into those beautiful eyes, andfor the first time i understood. for perhaps ten seconds i battledfor my soul and the purity of our love; then, tearing my sightfrom those eyes which would

lure an archangel to destruction, i was oncemore master of my body. as my resolution grew, i hated her for doingthis thing that had wrecked in an instant the hopes of months, the idealson which i had begun to build afresh my life. she felt the change, and left me. as she went out by the door she gave me onelast look, a look in which love struggled with shame, a look which noman has ever earned the right to receive from any woman. but i was as a statue of marble, dazed bythis calamity.

as the door closed upon her, i started forward--itwas too late. had she waited another instant--but there,i write of what has happened and not what might have been. i did not sleep that night, until the dawnbegan to separate each fir tree from the black mass of the forest. twicein the night, with shame i confess it, i opened my door and lookeddown the little passage-way; and twice i closed the door and threw myselfupon my bed in an agony of torment. it was ten o'clock when a knock atthe door aroused me, and the sunlight through the window-pane was tracingpatterns on the floor.

there was a note on the breakfast table, butbefore i opened it i knew that, save for babette, i was alone in thehouse. the note was brief, unaddressed and unsigned.i have it here before me; i have meant to tear it up but i cannot. itis a weakness to keep it, but i have lost so much in the last few days,that i will not grudge myself some small relic of what has been.the note says: "i am leaving for bruges at half-past eight,when the car was ordered to fetch us back. i go alone. babette willgive you breakfast. the car will return for you at eleven o'clock. i relyon your honour in that

you will not observe where you have been.come to me when you want me--till then, farewell." it was as she said, and i honourably accededto her request. this afternoon just before lunch i arrived in bruges,and since tea-time i have tried to write down what has happenedsince i left the day before yesterday. oh! how could she do it, how canit be possible that she is a woman like that? i could have sworn thatshe was not like this--and yet how can i account for her life with thecolonel? there must be some reason, but in heaven's name, what?

meanwhile i am to go to her when i want her!and that will be when i can give her my name. but oh! zoe, i wantyou now, so badly, oh! so badly! i saw her once to-day in the gardens, walkingby herself. i have told max's secretary that i want toget to sea; to be here in bruges and not to see her is more than i canbear. i sail at dawn to-morrow. shall i see her?no, it is best not. a frightful noise over the new year celebrationsto-night. champagne flowing like water in the mess. i feel theyear 1917 opens badly for

weissman also went to sea again for a shorttrip in the channel, and has not reported for five days. perhaps hehas despised the dover barrage once too often. if this is so, itis a great loss to the service: he was a man of iron resolution inunderwater attack. i feel i ought to despise zoe, but i can't.i love her too much; after all, am i not perhaps encasing myself in therobe of a pharisee? she offered me all she had, save only theone thing i asked, without which i will take nothing. i cannot reconcileher behaviour with her character; why can't she trust me? why can'tshe be frank with me? i

will not believe she is that sort. i feel i cannot go out again without a _sign_--imay not return, and i will not leave her, perhaps for ever, withthis bitterness between us. at sea in u.c.47 again. alten as surly asever. i decided finally to write to zoe, but foundit difficult to know what to say. eventually i said more than i hadintended. i told her frankly that i experienced a shock, but that i hadnot meant to seem so cold, and that what i had done had been done forboth our sakes. i told her that i still loved her, and i implored heronce more to leave the

colonel and come to me as my wife. already i long to know what message awaitsme on my return. this will not be for three days. we left atdawn this morning to lay mines off the channel to harwich harbour;a nest from which submarines, cruisers and destroyers buzz in and out likewasps. it will be ticklish work. _on the bottom_. our mines are still with us, but so are ourlives, which is something. we were approaching the appointed spot at6 a.m. this morning, when

without the slightest warning the track ofa torpedo was seen streaking towards us about 50 yards on the starboardbow. before alten (who was on the bridge with me)could do more than press the diving alarm, the track met our ram. ibreathed again, and was then reminded by an oath from alten that the boatwas diving. it was evident that we had only been savedby the torpedo running deep under the cut-away part of our bow, otherwise!--well,the tangle of my affairs would have been easily straightened. further procedure on the surface was suicidal,and we kept hydrophone

patrol, twice hearing the motors of the enemysubmarine. at the moment we are on the bottom waiting to come up andcharge to-night, and lay our mines at dawn to-morrow. on the bottom in 28 metres and feeling nonetoo comfortable, as there would appear to be about a dozen destroyersoverhead. last night, or rather early this morning,i participated in one of the most extraordinary incidents that i have everheard of. it was pitch-black dark when i took over at4 a.m., and a fresh breeze had raised a lumpy sea, which covered thebridge with spray. we were

charging 400 amps on each, with the intentionof laying one mine directly there was sufficient light to geta fix from some of the buoys which the english stick down all over theplace here in the most convenient manner possible. if only one couldbelieve they never shifted them. alten says it never occurs toan englishman to do a thing like that, but i'm not so sure. however, wewere proceeding along at about five knots, crashing into the sea ratherbadly, when out of the black beastliness of the night i saw a shapeclose aboard on the port hand.

as i hesitated for a second as to my courseof action, i was astounded to see a large submarine which must have beenbritish, on an opposite course, not more than 25 metres away! this sounds absurd, but it really wasn't further.i'm not ashamed to confess that i was completely disorganized;it did not seem possible that the enemy was literally alongside me. i don't know how it struck the officer inthe british boat, but i must give him credit for doing something first,for he fired a very's white light straight at me as the two boats passed.it impinged on the hull,

and in the flash i caught a photographic glimpseof his conning tower, on which was painted the letter e, followedby two numbers, of which one was a two i think, and the other a nine. by this time he was on my port quarter andrapidly disappearing; in a frenzy of rage i managed to get my revolverout, and whilst with the left hand i pressed the diving alarm, withthe right hand i emptied the magazine in his direction. when we were down,alten practically refused to believe me, which made me verypleased that in descending i had trod on a pair of hands which turned outto be his, as he had

started up the ladder to the upper conningtower when he first heard the alarm. i presume our opponent dived as well, butevidently he had put two and two together and used his aerial at some period,for when at dawn we poked a periscope up, a flotilla of destroyersappeared to be looking for something, which "something" was us, unlessi am much mistaken; so we bottomed, where we have been ever since.the hydroplane operator keeps up a monotonous sing-song to the effectthat "fast running propellers are either receding or approaching."the crew are collected

round the mine-tubes as i write, and are singinga lugubrious song, the refrain of which runs: "death for the fatherland! glorious fate,this is the end that we gladly await." why will the seamen always become morbid whenpossible? and there is not a man amongst them who is not inwardlythinking of some beer-hall in bruges, though i suppose that like theirbetters they have their romances of a tenderer kind. the boat has been rolling about on the bottomin the most sickening manner the whole afternoon. we flooded p andq to capacity, which gave

her 50 tons negative, but it seems to havelittle effect in steadying her, and it is evident that a really heavygale is running on top. surfaced at 10 p.m.; a very heavy sea runningand impossible to do much more than heave to. this weather has one pointin its favour and that is that the destroyers are driven in. it got steadily worse all night, and at midnightwe lost our foremost wireless mast overboard; we have now (10 a.m.)been 48 hours without communication. at dawn we could see nothingto fix by; not a buoy in sight, nothing but an expanse of foam-toppedshort steep waves of dirty

neutral-tinted water; how different to thegreat green and white surges of the broad atlantic. under these circumstances alten decided torisk it and return without laying our mines; for once in a way i agreedwith him, as it is better not to lay a minefield at all than dump onedown in some unknown position which one may have to traverse oneselfin the course of a month or so. we are now slowly, very slowly,struggling back to zeebrugge. a green sea came down the conning tower to-day,and everything in the

boat is damp and smelly and beastly. the propellersrace at frequent intervals and the whole boat shudders--i feelmiserable. alten has started to drink spirits; he beganas soon as we decided to go back. he will be incapable by to-night,and it means that i shall have to take her in. what hell this is, sitting in sodden clothes,with the stench of four days' living assaulting the nostrils, anda motion of the devil; the glass is very low and is slowly rising, sothat i suppose it will blow harder soon, though it is about force eightat present.

i wonder what zoe will have written in replyto my note. when i think of what i rejected and compare it with mybeast-like existence here, i can hardly believe that i behaved as i did--whatwould i not give now to be transported back to the forest! at thisrate of progress we shall take another 24 hours. i wonder if i can knockanother half-knot out of her without smashing her up. the extraordinarily violent motion has upsetthe _anschutz_. [1] the bearing cone of the stabilizing gyro has cracked,and the master compass began to wander off in circles. iwas just resting for an hour

or two, wedged up on a wet settee with coatsequally wet, when her heavy pitching changed to a wallowing roll,and i heard the pilot, who was on watch, cursing down the voice-pipe,as we had sagged off our course. [footnote 1: gyroscopic compass.--etienne.] i heard the voice of the helmsman querulouslymaintain that he was steering his course by _anschutz_, so i gotup and gingerly clawed my way into the control room, where i found bycomparing _anschutz_ with magnetic that the former had gone to hell,the reason being obvious, as

the stabilizer was exerting a strongly biasedtorque. i stopped the _anschutz_ and asked the pilot to give thehelmsman a steady by magnetic. as we staggered back to our course i hearda thud in the wardroom, and on returning to my settee found that altenhad rolled out of his bunk, where he was lying in a drunken stupor, andthat he was face downwards, sprawling on the deck, half his face in thebroken half of a dirty dish which had fallen off the table whilst i washaving tea. as i couldn't let the crew see him like this, i was obligedto struggle and get him

back into his bunk. he was like a log andabsolutely incapable of rendering me any assistance, though he didopen his eyes and mutter once or twice as i lifted him up, trunk firstand then his legs. he stank of spirits and i hated touching him.lord! what a truly hoggish man he is; yet i cannot help envying him hisoblivion to these surroundings. arrived in, this afternoon. alten quite slept off his drink, and was offensivelysarcastic as i worked on the forepart with wires, gettingher into the shelters

alongside the mole. i hastened up to bruges, and in the mess heardseveral items of news and found two letters. the first, in a well-knownhandwriting, i opened eagerly, but received a chill of disappointmentwhen i read its single line. "i am here when you want me.--z." so she thinks to break my resolution! no! i am stronger than she, and, now thati know she loves me, i can and will bend her to my will. even now, atthis distance of time, i can

hardly understand my conduct the other day.i must have been given the strength of ten. i feel that i could not doit again; had she hesitated a second longer at the door--well, i can hardlysay what i would have done. it is my duty to do so, for her sake and myown. but i know my weakness, and in this fact lies my strength.cost what it may, i shall not permit myself to go near her until sheyields. the second letter gave me a great surprise.it was from rosa. she has passed some examination, and is coming _here_of all places as a red

cross nurse. she says she is looking forwardto going round a u-boat! she assumes a good deal, i must say, still,i suppose i must be polite to her; but why the deuce does she sign herself"yours, rosa?" she's not mine, and i don't want her; it seems funnyto me that i once thought of her vaguely in that sort of way.now, i feel rather disturbed that she is coming here, thoughi don't quite see why i should worry, and yet i wonder if it is acoincidence her coming to bruges? i'm almost inclined to think it isn't. afterall, every girl wants to

get married, and without conceit my family,circumstances and, in the privacy of the pages of this journal i mayadd, my personal appearances, are such as would appeal to mostgirls--except zoe, apparently! i'll have to be on my guard against miss rosa. i heard to-day that i am likely to be appointedto the periscope school in a few weeks' time, and meanwhile i am tobe attached as supernumerary to the operations division onold max's staff. the work here is most interesting. i feelglad that i am one of the

spiders weaving the web for britain's destruction. the impasse with zoe still continues, andmy peace of mind has been still further disturbed by the actual arrivalof rosa. she rang me up within twelve hours of her arrival, and, ofcourse, i was obliged to call. that was the day before yesterday. rosais at the no. 3 hospital here, and was horribly effusive. some peoplewould, i suppose, call her good-looking, but to me, with my mind's-eyein perpetual contemplation of my darling zoe, rosa looked like a turnip.her first movement after the preliminary greetings was to offer mea cigarette! i then noticed

that her fingers were stained with nicotine,unpleasant in a man, disgusting in a woman. her nose was shiny and greasy--horrible. aftera little talk she volunteered the statement that yesterday washer afternoon off, and she was simply longing to have tea in the gardens. i endeavoured to make some feeble excuse onthe grounds of the weather being unsuitable, but i am no good at thesesocial lies, and i was eventually obliged to promise to take herthere. i was the more annoyed in that her main object was obviously to beseen walking with a u-boat

officer. accordingly, yesterday, i found myself walkingabout with her at my side. my feelings can better be imagined thandescribed when i suddenly saw zoe, accompanied by babette, in the distance.i hastily altered course, and pray she didn't see me. in the course of the afternoon rosa had theimpertinence to say that at frankfurt they were saying that i was interestedin a beautiful widow at bruges, and could she (rosa) write andsay i was heart-whole, or else what the girl was like. i'm afraid thati lost my temper a little,

and i told rosa she could write to all thebusybodies at home and tell them from me to go to the devil. these women in the home circle, and especiallyaunts, are always the same; firstly, they badger one to get married,and then if they think one is contemplating such a step they areall agog to find out whether she is suitable! three more boats, two of which are u.c.'s,are overdue. it is distinctly unpleasant not knowing how or wherethey go, though the u.b. boat (friederich althofen) made her incomingposition the day before

yesterday as off dungeness, so it looks asif the barrage at dover which got weissman has got althofen as well.i wonder what new devilry they have put down there. how one wishes that in 1914, instead of seekingthe capture of paris, we had realized the importance of the channelports to england, and struck for them! it would not have been necessary to strikeeven in september, 1914. we could have walked into them. dunkirk, at allevents, should have been ours; however, we must do the best with thingsas they are, not that i

would consider it too late even now to makea big push for the french coast. it would seem, as a matter of fact, that allthe pushing is to be at the other end of the line, in the verdun sector,from the rumours i hear, though i should have thought once bittentwice shy in that quarter. saw zoe again in the distance, and i thinkshe saw me; at all events she turned round and walked away. this girl whom i cannot, and would not ifi could, obliterate from my

thoughts, is causing me much worry. she shows no sign of giving in, and i forone intend to be adamant. i shall defeat her in time. the male intellectis always ultimately victorious, other things being equal. i wasreading schopenhauer on the subject last night. what a brain that manhad, though i confess his analysis of the female mentality is so terriblyand truthfully cruel that it jars on certain of my feelings. zoe's resolution in this conflict, this sexwar one might call it, only adds to her charm in my eyes; she is, i feel,a worthy mate for me,

both intellectually and physically, and sheshall be mine--i have decided it. met rosa to-day at old max's house, wherei went to pay a duty call. her excellency is as forbidding a specimenof her sex as any i have ever met. she quite frightened me, and inthe home circle the old man seemed quite subdued. i escorted rosa home, and on the way to herhospital she gave me a great surprise, as after much evasive talkshe suddenly came out with the news that she was engaged to heinrichbaumer, of u.c.23. i was

quite taken aback, and will frankly confessthat not so very long ago i imagined, evidently erroneously, that shewas disposed to let her affections become engaged in another quarter.however, i was really very glad to hear this news, and congratulatedher with genuine the knowledge that she was a promised womanquite altered my feelings towards her, and before i quite meant to,i had told her a considerable amount about zoe. it gave me much relief tobe able to unburden myself, and confide my difficulties elsewhere thanin the pages of this journal.

i have asked the girl to tea to-morrow. a vile air raid last night. british machines,of course. they seemed determined to get over the town, and from1 a.m. to 3 a.m. relays of machines (of which not _one_ was shot down)attacked us. the din was tremendous, and all sleep was out of the question. morning revealed surprisingly little damage,as is often the case in these big raids, whereas a few bombs froma chance machine often work havoc. i was down at 50 b.c. aerodrome thismorning, and heard that as soon as the moon suits we are going to makedunkirk sit up as

retaliation for last night's efforts. therewere also rumours of big attacks impending on london as soon as thenew type of gothas are delivered. that will shake the smug securityof those cursed islanders. rosa came to tea, and afterwards i told hermore about zoe, and as i expect any day to be appointed to the periscopeschool at kiel, i asked rosa to try and effect an introduction tozoe, and do what she could for me. rosa gave me the impression that shewas somewhat surprised that i should have had any difficulty withzoe (of course i had not told her of the shooting-box scene). rosaevidently thinks any woman

ought to be honoured.... perhaps i was not so far wrong in my surmisesas to rosa's previous inclinations--i wonder; at any rate she willundoubtedly make baumer a good wife, and she will probably be very fruitfuland grow still fatter and housewifely. she is of a type of womanappointed by god in his foresight as breeders. zoe, my adorable one,will probably not take kindly to babies. i

am ordered to report myself at kiel by nextmonday. i am terribly tempted to ring up zoe on thetelephone before i leave: it seems dreadful to leave her without a word;but at the same time i feel that she would interpret this as a signof weakness on my part--as indeed it would be. i must be firm, for strengthof mind pays with women, even more than with men. _at kiel_. i left bruges without a word either to orfrom my obstinate darling. it is torture being away from her. i had thoughtthat when i was here

and not exposed to the temptation of goinground and seeing her, that it would be easier; it is not. i long to write,and how i wonder whether she is feeling it as i do. i have read somewhere that a woman's passiononce aroused is more ungovernable than a man's. that her wholebeing cries aloud for me cannot be doubted, and if the above statementis true what inflexibility of will she must be showing--italmost makes me fear--but no, i will defeat her in this strange contest,and she shall be my wife.

the work here is strenuous, and the grassdoes not grow under one's feet. the course for commanding officers lastsfour weeks, and terminates in an exceedingly practical butrather fearsome test--i.e., they have six steamers here camouflaged afterthe english fashion with dazzle painting, and these six steamers, protectedby launches and harbour defence craft, steam across kiel bayin the manner of a convoy. the officer being examined has to attack thisgroup of ships in one of the instructional submarines, and in threeattacks he must score at least two hits, or else, in theory, he isreturned to general service

in the fleet. fortunately at the moment i hear that owingto recent losses they are distinctly on the short side where submarineofficers are concerned, so they'll probably make it easy when i do mytest. i see i have written nothing here for a fortnight;this is due to two causes: firstly, i have been so extraordinarilybusy, and, secondly, i have been most depressed through a letteri received from fritz. it contained two items of bad news. in the first place, i heard for the firsttime of the tragedy of

heinrich baumer's boat, and to my astonishmentfritz tells me that rosa and another girl were in her when she waslost! it appears that she was to go out for a coupleof hours' diving off the port as a matter of routine after her twomonths' overhaul. she went out at 10 a.m., and was sighted from the signalstation at the end of the mole at 11.30, when almost immediatelyafterwards there was an explosion and she disappeared. motor-boatswere quickly on the scene, but only debris came to the surface. diverswere sent down, and reported that she was in ten metres of watercompletely shattered. it

is assumed, for lack of other explanation,that she struck a chance drifting mine which was moving down the coaston the tide. meanwhile rosa and another sister were missingfrom the hospital, and after forty-eight hours someone put two andtwo together and started investigations. it has been ascertained thatbaumer motored down from bruges after breakfast, and that in the carwere two figures taken to be sailors, as they were muffled up in oilskins.this fact was noted by the control sentries, as, though the day wasshowery, it was not raining hard. other scraps of evidence unitein showing that these were

the two girls who had apparently induced baumerto take them out for a dive as a treat. what a tragedy! however, it must have beenquite instantaneous. poor rosa, with all her vanities about war work,to think that the war would claim her like that! [1] [footnote 1: it is known that a boat withwomen on board was lost whilst exercising off zeebrugge in the springof 1917. this would appear to be the boat in question.--etienne.] fritz added that old max is almost off hishead with rage over the

whole business, and it is difficult to saywhether he is more angry over baumer and the boat being lost, or overthe fact that baumer being dead he is unable to administer those "disciplinaryactions" in which he delights. great excitement here, as the day after to-morrowhis imperial majesty the kaiser and hindenburg are due to pay kiela surprise visit. we are to be inspected and addressed. tremendouspreparations are going on. his majesty, accompanied by the great field-marshal,inspected us this morning, and made a fine speech, of whichwe have been given printed

copies. i shall frame mine and hang it inmy boat, if i get a command. i transcribe it: "officers and men of the u-boat service: "in the midst of the anxious moments in whichwe live i have determined to make time to come and witness in my ownperson the labours of those on whom i and the fatherland rely. fresh fromthe great battles on the west which are gnawing at the vitals of ourhereditary enemies, i come to those whose glorious mission it will beto strike relentlessly at our most deadly and cunning enemy--cursedbritain. god is on our side

and will protect you at sea for, in the strikingat the nation which openly boasts that it aims at starving ourwomen and children, you are engaged on a mission of undoubted holiness. "you must sink and destroy even as of oldthe israelites smote and destroyed the alien races. "to the officers i would particularly say,my person is your honour, and i am your supreme chief. from my handsyou will receive honour, and from my hands will proceed just punishmentfor the unhappy ones who fail in their duty.

"to the men i would say, trust and obey yourofficers as you would your god. officers and men! in you, your kaiserand fatherland place their trust--let neither be disappointed!" after his address, his majesty graciouslyspoke a few words to individuals, of whom i had the signal honourof being one. i felt that i was in the presence of an emperor. his gestures,his eyes, his voice, impressed me as belonging to a man born tocommand and to fill high places. the field-marshal never opened hismouth. i understand from his a.d.c. that he rarely speaks in public.

the colonel is killed! when i think aboutit, i am so excited i can hardly write! i heard the great news last night, quite byaccident. i was sitting in the mess after dinner, and picked up _diewoche_, and glancing at the pictures, i suddenly saw the portrait of colonelstein, of the brandenburgers, killed on the 7th instantnear ypres. i recognized the ugly and bloated face immediately from thephotograph of him which she had once shown me. my first impulse was to send her a wire, but,on thinking matters over,

i decided that it would be difficult to putall my thoughts into the curt sentences of a telegram, and, further,that as all wires are doubtless examined at the main post officeat bruges, it might lead to trouble, so i wrote her a letter. this, in a way, has been an exhibition ofweakness on my part, as i had promised myself that i would not take thefirst step in reopening communication; but i feel that the fortunatedeath of stein has completely altered the case. i told her inthe letter that i realized that i had made mistakes, but that if shestill loved me with half the

strength that i loved her, then a telegramto me would make me the happiest of men. i wrote that yesterday, but have had no wire.perhaps, like me, she distrusts telegrams and prefers letters. a long letter from zoe: an accursed fetter--anabominable letter--a damnable letter; she still refuses to marryme. i leave for bruges to-night on forty-eight hours' special leave. _kiel, 17th._ i hate zoe, she has broken my heart.

after her preposterous letter of the 14th,i decided that in a matter which so closely affected my happiness nostone ought to remain unturned to ensure a satisfactory solutionof the problem, so i determined to have a personal interview. iarrived at bruges after tea and went at once to the flat. i tackled her immediately on the subject ofher letter, and told her that naturally i understood that a decentinterval must elapse before we married; but, granted this fact, i toldher that i failed to see what prevented our marriage.

a most unpleasant and harrowing scene ensued,the details of which form such painful recollections that i really cannotwrite them down here, though in the passage of months i have acquiredthe habit of writing in the pages of this journal with the same freedomas i would talk to that wife whom i had hoped to possess. she maintainedan obstinate silence when i urged her to give me at least sometangible reason as to why she would not marry me. she contented herselfand maddened me by reflecting in a kind of monotone: "i love you, karl!and am yours, but i cannot marry you."

i could have beaten her till she was senseless,but i had enough sense to realize that with zoe, whose resolution,considering she is a woman, amazes me, force is not the best method. asi continued to press her (time was important: had i not journeyed farto see her?), those glorious eyes of hers, which i love and whosepower i dread, filled with tears. i was a brute! i was heartless!i was inconsiderate! i could not love her! i was cruel! and i knownot what other accusation crushed me down. broken-hearted and dispirited, i told herto choose there and then.

she collapsed on to a sofa in a storm of tears,and after a severe mental struggle i took the only possible course,and leaving the room--left her for ever. i have resumed myservice life determined to cast her out from my mind. i will not deceive myself: it will be hard.love and logic are deadly enemies, but logic must and shall prevail.though i have seen her for the last time, i cannot escape the net offascination which the girl has thrown over me. perhaps in the courseof time i shall slowly emerge and free myself from its entanglements. atpresent i hate her for this

blow she has dealt me, and yet, o zoe! mydarling, how i long to be with you! to-day i went through my final test for qualificationas u-boat commander. at 9 a.m. i proceeded to sea in command ofthe u.11, one of the instructional boats here. we proceeded outinto kiel bay. on board and watching my every movement was a committeeconsisting of a commander and two lieutenant-commanders. on arrival at the entrance lightship, i wasordered to attack a convoy

of camouflaged ships which were just visibleabout fifteen kilometres away off the spit bank. i had a very shrewdidea as to the course they would steer, and on coming up for my finalobservation i found myself in an excellent position, 1,000 metres onthe bow of the leading ship. the rest was easy. i gave the leader the twobow torpedoes, and, turning sixteen points, fired my stern tubeat the third ship of the line. two hits were obtained, and i returnedto harbour well pleased with myself. there is not the slightest chanceof having failed to qualify.

my confidence in myself was not misplaced;i heard to-day that i am on the command list, and anticipate in a fewdays being appointed to a boat. i wonder which craft i shall get? i met the a.d.c. to the chief of the staffat the school, at the gardens, and in conversation with him discoveredthat he had heard that three boats were being detached from the flandersflotilla for an unknown destination. this has given me anidea, for i feel that i can never return to bruges, and i was rather dreadingbeing appointed to one of the boats there. i have dropped a lineto fritz regels, who is

on old max's staff, and told him that i donot wish to return to bruges, and i further hinted that i understooda detached squadron was proceeding somewhere, and, as far as i wasconcerned, the further the better, if i could get into it. i have tried the night life at this placeat the mascotte and trocadero, [1] in order to forget, but itis a poor consolation. [footnote 1: two well-known cabarets at kiel.--etienne.] a letter from fritz, saying that he has anidea that korting's boat would suit me, though he could not of coursegive me further details in

a letter; however, he informs me positivelythat i shall not be at bruges. on the strength of this i have wired to fritz,and asked him to try and fix up an exchange between me and korting,provided the latter is agreeable and the people in max's office haveno objection. i have a recollection that korting's boat is one ofthe u.40--u.60 class, which would suit me admirably, and, as for destination,i care not where it is, provided only that it be far from bruges. _at sea_.

i have quite neglected my poor old journalfor several weeks. but i have passed through an extraordinarily busyperiod. it was approved that i should relieve korting,whose boat, the u.59, i discovered to be refitting at wilhelmshaven.i was very pleased not to go back to bruges, though as we steam steadilynorth at this moment i cannot escape a sense of deep disappointmentthat upon my return from this trip i shall not enjoy as of old thefascination of zoe. but i shall have plenty of time to get accustomedto this idea, for this is no ordinary trip.

we are bound for the north cape and murmancoast, where we remain until well into the cold weather--at any rate, forthree months. our mission is to work off that fogbound anddesolate coast, and attack the constant stream of traffic between englandand archangel. there are two other boats besides ourselves on the job,but we shall all be working far apart. our first billet is off the north cape. inorder to save time, we are to be provisioned once a month in one of thefjords. i don't imagine the admiralty will have any difficulty ingetting supplies up to us, as

at the moment we are off the lofotens, andwe actually have not had to dive since we left the bight! there seems to be nothing on the sea exceptourselves. where is the much vaunted and impenetrable web of blockadewhich the english are supposed to have spread around us? and yetmany raw materials are getting very short with us. i see that inthis boat they have replaced several copper pipes with steel ones duringher refit, and this will lead to trouble unless we are careful--steelpipes corrode so badly that i never feel ready to trust them forpressure work.

the truth about the blockade is that it islargely a paper blockade, yet not ineffective for all that. unfortunatelyfor us, the damned english and their hangers-on control the cablesof the world, and hence all the markets, and i don't suppose, to takethe case of copper, that a single pound of it is mined from the riotinto without the british board of trade knowing all about it. the neutralfirms simply dare not risk getting put on to the british black list;it means ruination for them. and then all these dollar-grabbing yankees,enjoying all the advantages of war without any of its dangers--theymake me sick.

this seems a most profitable job. i have onlybeen up seven days, but i've bagged four steamers, all by gun-fire,and all fat ships, brimful of stuff for the russians. my practice hasbeen to make the north cape every day or two to fix position, as the currentsare the most abnormal in these parts, and i should say that the"sailing directions pilotage handbook" and "tidal charts" were compiledby a gentleman at a desk who had never visited these latitudes. at the moment i am standing well out to sea,as the immediate vicinity of the north cape has become rather unhealthy.

yesterday afternoon (i had sunk number fourin the morning, and the crew were still pulling for the coast) fourbritish trawlers turned up. these damned little craft seem to turn upwherever one goes. i longed to have a bang at them with my gun, but, apartfrom the uncertainty as to what they carried in the way of armament,i have strict orders to avoid all that sort of thing, so i dived andsteamed slowly west, came up at dusk and proceeded to charge up my batteries. these u.60's are excellent boats, and i amvery lucky to get one so soon. i suppose korting, being a married man,wants to stay near his

wife. i cannot write that word without painfulmemories of zoe and idle thoughts of what might have been. well, perhapsit is for the best. i am not sure that a member of the u-boat servicehas the right to get married in war-time, for unless he is of exceptionalmentality it must affect his outlook under certain circumstances,though i think i should have been an exception here. then the anxietyto the woman must be enormous; as every trip comes round a voicemust cry within her, this may be the last. the contrast between thetimes in harbour and the trips is so violent, so shattering and clearcut.

with a soldier's wife, she merely knows thathe is at the front; with us, at 8 p.m. one may be kissing one's wifein bruges, and at 6 a.m. creeping with nerves on edge through the unknowndangers of the dover barrage--but i have strayed from what i meantto write about--my first command and her crew. the quarters in this class are immensely superiorto the u.c.-boats. here i have a little cabin to myself, witha knee-hole table in it. my first lieutenant, the navigator and the engineerhave bunks in a room together, and then we have a small officers'mess.

on this job up here, as we are not to returnto germany for supplies, and, consequently, i should say we may haveto live on what we can get out of steamers, i don't propose to use mytorpedoes unless i meet a warship or an exceptionally large steamer. the gun's the thing, as arnauld de la perriã¨rehas proved in the mediterranean; but half the fellows won'tfollow his example, simply because they don't realize that it's no useemploying the gun unless it is used accurately, and good shooting onlycomes after long drill. i have impressed this fact on my gun crew,and particularly the two

gun-layers, and i make voigtman (my youngfirst lieutenant) take the crew through their loading drill twice a day,together with practice of rapid manning of the gun after a "surface"or rapid abandonment of the gun should the diving alarms sound in themiddle of practice. i have also impressed on voigtman that i considerthat he is the gun control officer, and that i expect him to make theefficient working of the gun his main consideration. as regards the crew, they are the usual mixedcrowd that one gets nowadays: half of them are old sailors, theothers recruits and new

arrivals from the fleet. my main businessat the moment is to get the youngsters into shape, and for this purposei have been doing a number of crash dives. it also gives me an opportunityof getting used to the boat's peculiarities under water. she seemsto have a tendency to become tail-heavy, but this may be due tobad trimming. voigtman has been in u.b.43 for nine months,and seems a capable officer. socially, i don't think he can boastof much descent, but he has no airs, and treats me with pleasing respect,apart from service considerations.

a very awkward accident took place this morning,which resulted in severe injury to johann wiener, my secondcoxswain. a party of men under his direction were engagedin shifting the stern torpedo from its tube, in order to replaceit with a spare torpedo, as i never allow any of my torpedoes to stayin the tube for more than a week at a time owing to corrosion. the torpedowhich had been in the tube had been launched back and was on thefloor plates. the spare torpedo, destined for the vacanttube, was hanging overhead, when without any warning the hook on the liftingband fractured, and

the 1,000 kilogrammes' mass of metal crasheddown. wonderful to relate, no one was killed, buttwo men were badly bruised, and wiener has been very seriously injured.he was standing astride the spare torpedo, and his right leg was extremelybadly crushed, mostly below the knee. unfortunately it took about ten minutes torelease him from his position of terrible agony. i should haveexpected him to faint, but he did not. his face went dead white, and hebegan to sweat freely, but otherwise endured his ordeal with praiseworthyfortitude.

[illustration: "the 1,000 kilogrammes of metalcrashed down."] [illustration: "good-bye! steer west for america!"] [illustration: "it is a snug anchorage andhere i intend to remain."] i am now confronted with a perplexing situation.i cannot take him back to germany; i cannot even leave my stationand proceed south to any of the norwegian ports. if i could find a neutralsteamer with a doctor on board, i would tranship him to her; but thechances of this god-send materializing are a thousand to one in theselatitudes. if i sighted a hospital ship i would close her, but as faras i know at present there

are no hospital ships running up here. thechances of outside assistance may therefore be reckoned as nil.wiener's hope of life depends on me, and i cannot make up my mindto take the step which sooner or later must be taken--that is tosay, amputation. it is a curious fact, but true, nevertheless,that although, as a result of the war, men's lives, consideredin quantity, seem of little importance, when it comes to the individualcase, a personal contact, a man's life assumes all its pre-war importance. i feel acutely my responsibility in this matter.i see from his papers

that he is a married man with a family; thisseems to make it worse. i feel that a whole chain of people depend onme. since i wrote the above words this morning,wiener has taken a decided turn for the worse. i have been reading the "medical handbook,"with reference to the remarks on amputation, gangrene, etc., andi have also been examining his leg. the poor devil is in great pain,and there is no doubt that mortification has set in, as was indeed inevitable.i have decided that he must have his last chance, and that at8 p.m. to-night i will

endeavour to amputate. _midnight_. i have done it--only partially successful. last night, in accordance with my decision,i operated on wiener. voigtman assisted me. it was a terrible business,but i think it desirable to record the details whilst theyare fresh in my memory, as a court of inquiry may be held later on. voigtmanand i spent the whole afternoon in the study of such meagre detailson the subject as are available in the "medical handbook." we selectedour knives and a saw

and sterilized them; we also disinfected ourhands. at 7.45 i dived the boat to sixty metres,at which depth the boat was steady. we had done our best with the wardroom-table,and upon this the patient was placed. i decided to amputateabout four inches above the knee, where the flesh still seemed sound.i considered it impracticable to administer an anaesthetic, owing to myabsolute inexperience in this matter. three men held the patient down, as with afirm incision i began the work. the sawing through the bone was an agonizingprocedure, and i

needed all my resolution to complete the task.up to this stage all had gone as well as could be expected, when isuddenly went through the last piece of bone and cut deep into the fleshon the other side. an instantaneous gush of blood took place, andi realized that i had unexpectedly severed the popliteal artery,before voigtman, who was tying the veins, was ready to deal with it. i endeavoured to staunch the deadly flow bynipping the vein between my thumb and forefinger, whilst voigtman hastilytried to tie it. thinking it was tied, i released it, and alas! theflow at once started again;

once more i seized the vein, and once againvoigtman tried to tie it. useless--we could not stop the blood. he wouldundoubtedly have bled to death before our eyes, had not voigtman cauterizedthe place with an electric soldering-iron which was handy. much shaken, i completed the amputation, andwe dressed the stump as well as we could. at the moment of writing he is still alive,but as white as snow; he must have lost litres of blood through thatartery. 9 _p.m._

wiener died two hours ago. i should say theimmediate cause of death was shock and loss of blood. i did my best. we have been out on this extended patrol areaseven days, but not a wisp of smoke greets our eyes. nothing but sea, sea, sea. oh, how monotonousit is! i cannot make out where the shipping has got to. tomorrow iam going to close the north cape again. i think everything must be goinginside me. i am too far out here. the north cape bears due east. nothing afloatin sight. where the devil

can all the shipping be? in ten days' timei am due to meet my supply ship; meanwhile i think i'll have to takeanother cast out, of three hundred miles or so. nothing in sight, nothing, nothing. the barometer falling fast and we are in fora gale. i have decided to make the coast again, as i don't want to failto turn up punctually at the rendezvous. in the standarak-landholm fjord--thank heavens. heavens! we have had a time. we were stilltwo hundred and fifty miles

from the coast when we were caught by thegale. and a gale up here is a gale, and no second thoughts about it. tosay it blew with the force of ten thousand devils is to understate the case.the sea came on to us in huge foaming rollers like waves of attackinginfantry intent on overwhelming us. we struggled east at about three knots. butshe stuck it magnificently. low scudding clouds obscured the sky and camelike a procession of ghosts from the north-east. sun observationswere impossible for two reasons. firstly, no one could get on deck;secondly, there was no

visible sun. this lasted for three days, atthe end of which time we had only the vaguest idea as to where we were. the gale then blew out, but, contrary to allexpectations, was succeeded by a most abominable fog, thickand white like cotton-wool. these were hardly ideal conditions under whichto close a rocky and unknown coast, but it had to be done. thetrouble was that it was entirely useless taking soundings, as thetwenty-metre depth-line on the chart went right up to the land. we creptslowly eastwards, till, when by dead reckoning we were ten miles insidethe coast, the

navigator accidentally leant on the whistlelever; this action on his part probably saved the ship, as an immediateecho answered the blast. in an instant we were going full-speed astern.we altered course sixteen points and proceeded ten miles westerly,where we lay on and off the coast all night, cursing the fog. next day it lifted, and we spent the wholetime trying to find the entrance to the s. landholm fjord. the coastappeared to bear no resemblance to the chart whatsoever. the cliffs stand up to a height of severalhundred metres, with

occasional clefts where a stream runs down.there are no trees, houses, animals, or any signs of life, except seabirds, of which there are myriads. the engineer declares he saw a reindeer,but five other people on deck failed to see any signs of the beast. after hours of nosing about, during whichmy heart was in my mouth, as i quite expected to fetch up on a pinnaclerock, items which are officially described in the handbook as being"very numerous," we rounded a bluff and got into a place whichseems to answer the description of s. landholm. at any rate, itis a snug anchorage, and

here i intend to remain for a few days, andhope for my store-ship to turn up. i've posted a daylight look-out on top ofthe bluff; it would be very awkward to be caught unawares in this place,which is only about 150 metres wide in places. i'm taking advantage of the rest to give thecrew some exercises and execute various minor repairs to the diesels. yesterday we fought what must be one of themost remarkable single-ship actions of the war.

at 9 a.m. the look-out on the cliffs reportedsmoke to the northward. i got the anchor up and made ready to pushoff, but still kept the look-out ashore. at 9.30 he reported a destroyerin sight, which seemed serious if she chose to look into my particularnook. at any rate, i thought, i wouldn't be caughtlike a rat, so i got my look-out on board--a matter of ten minutes--andthen proceeded out, trimmed down and ready for diving. when i drew clear of the entrance i saw theenemy distant about a thousand metres. i at once recognized heras being one of the oldest

type of russian torpedo boats afloat. wheni established this fact, a devil entered into my mind, and did a mostfoolhardy act. i decided that i would not retreat beneaththe sea, but that i would fight her as one service ship to another. when i make up my mind, i do so in no uncertainmanner--indecision is abhorrent to me--and i sharply ordered, "gun'screw--action." i can still see the comical look of wondermentwhich passed over my first lieutenant's face, but he knows me,and did not hesitate an instant. we drilled like a battleship, andin sixty-five seconds--i

timed it as a matter of interest--from myorder we fired the first shot. it fell short. extraordinary to relate, the torpedo boat,without firing a gun, put her helm hard over, and started to steam awayat her full speed, which i suppose was about seventeen knots. i actually began to chase her--a submarinechasing a torpedo boat! it was ludicrous. with broad smiles on their faces, my goodgun's crew rapidly fired the gun, and we had the satisfaction of strikingher once, near her after

funnel, but it did no vital damage, as a fewminutes afterwards she drew out of range! what a pack of incompetentcowards! they never fired a shot at us. i suppose halfof them were drunk or else in a state of semi-mutiny, for one hearsstrange tales of affairs in russia these days. the whole incident was quite humorous, buti realized that i had hardly been wise, as without doubt the english willhear of this, and these trawlers of theirs will turn up, and i'm certainlynot going to try any heroics with john bull, who is as tough afighter as we are.

meanwhile, what of the supply ship, for i'msupposed to meet her here, and it's already twenty-four hours since yesterday'sepoch-making battle and i expect the english any moment. my doubts were removed for me since i receivedspecial orders at noon by high-power wireless from nordreich, andon decoding them found that, for some reason or other, we are ordered toproceed to muckle flugga cape, and thence down the coast of shetlandsto the fair island channel, where we are directed to cruise tillfurther orders. special warning is included as to encountering friendlysubmarines.

it appears to me that a special concentrationof u-boats is being ordered round about the orkneys, and thatsome big scheme is on hand. we are now steering south-westerly to makemuckle flugga, which i hope to do in four days' time if the weather holds. these northern waters have proved very barrenof shipping in the last few weeks, and this fact, coupled with theapproaching winter weather, which must be fiendish in these latitudes,makes me quite ready to exchange the archangel billet for the workround the orkneys and shetlands, though this is damnable enoughin the winter, in all

conscience. there is only one fly in the ointment, andthat is that this premature return to north sea waters might conceivablymean a visit to zeebrugge, though this class are not likely to be sentthere. though it is many weeks since i left zoe,i have not been able to forget her. i continually wonder what sheis doing, and often when i am not on my guard she wanders into my thoughts. whilst i am up here, it does not matter much,except that it causes me unhappiness, but if i found myself at brugesit would be very hard.

however, i don't suppose i shall ever seeher again. sighted muckle flugga this morning, and shapedcourse for fair island. oh! what a hell i have passed through. i canhardly realize that i am alive, but i am, though whether i shall beto-morrow morning is doubtful--it all depends on the weather, andwho would willingly stake their life on north sea weather at this timeof the year? curses on the man who sent us to the fairisland channel. where the devil is our intelligence service? if we makeflanders i have a story to tell that will open their eyes, blind batsthat they are,

luxuriating in the comfort of their fat staffjobs ashore. the fair island channel is an english death-trap;it stinks with death. by cursed luck we arrived there just as theenglish were trying one of their new devices, and it is the devil. exactlywhat the system is, i don't quite know, and i hope never again tohave to investigate it. for forty-seven, hours we have been huntedlike a rat, and now, with the pressure hull leaking in three places,and the boat half full of chlorine, we are struggling back on the surface,practically incapable of diving at least for more than ten minutesat a time. even on the

surface, with all the fans working, one mustwear a gas mask to penetrate the fore compartment. oh! theseenglish, what devils they are! here is what happened: fair island was away on our port beam whenwe sighted a large english trawler, which i suspected of being a patrol.to be on the safe side, i dived and proceeded at twenty metres for aboutan hour. at 5 p.m. (approximately) i came up to periscopedepth to have a look round, but quickly dived again as i discovereda trawler, steering on

the same course as myself, about a thousandmetres astern of me. this was the more disconcerting, as in the shorttime at my disposal it seemed to me that she was remarkably similarto the craft i had seen in the afternoon, and yet this hardly seemedlikely, as i did not think she could have sighted me then. on diving, i altered course ninety degrees,and proceeded for half an hour at full speed, then altered another ninetydegrees, in the same direction as the previous alteration, anddiving to thirty metres i proceeded at dead slow. by midnight i hadbeen diving so much that i

decided to get a charge on the batteries beforedawn; i also wanted to be up at 1 a.m. to make my position report. i surfaced after a good look round throughthe right periscope, which, as usual, revealed nothing. i had hardly goton the bridge, when a flash of flame stabbed the night on the starboardbeam and a shell moaned just overhead. i crash-dived at once, but could not get underbefore the enemy fired a second shot at us, which fortunately missedus. as we dived i ordered the helm hard a starboard, to counteract theexpected depth-charge

attack. we must have been a hundred and fiftymetres from the first charge and a little below it, five othersfollowed in rapid succession, but were further away, and we suffered nodamage beyond a couple of broken lights. the situation was now extremelyunpleasant. i did not dare venture to the surface, and thus missedmy 1 a.m. signal from headquarters. i wanted a charge badly, andso proceeded at the lowest possible speed. at regular intervals our enemydropped one depth-charge somewhere astern of us, but these reportsalways seemed the same distance away.

at dawn i very cautiously came up to periscopedepth, and had a look. to my consternation i discovered our relentlesspursuer about 1,500 metres away on the port quarter. in some extraordinarymanner he had tracked us during the night. i dived and altered course through ninetydegrees to south. at 9 a.m. a tremendous explosion shook theboat from stem to stern, smashing several lights, and giving her abig inclination up by the bow. as i was only at twenty metres i feared theboat would break surface,

and our enemy was evidently very nearly rightover us. i at once ordered hard to dive, and went down to thegreat depth of ninety-five metres. a series of shattering explosions somewhereabove us showed that we were marked down, and we were only saved fromdestruction by our great depth, the english charges being set apparentlyto about thirty metres. at noon the situation was critical in theextreme. my battery density was down to 1,150, the few lamps that i hadburning were glowing with a faint, dull red appearance, which eloquentlytold of the falling

voltage and the dying struggles of the battery. the motors with all fields out were just goinground. the faces of the crew, pallid with exhaustion, seemed of anivory whiteness in the dusky gloom of the boat, which never resembled agigantic and fantastically ornamental coffin so closely as she did atthat time. the air was fetid. i struck a match; it wentout in my fingers. the slightest effort was an agony. i bent downto take off my sea-boots, and cold sweat dropped off my forehead, andmy pulse rose with a kind of jerk to a rapid beating, like a hammer.

i left one sea-boot on. at 1 p.m. a deputation of the crew came aft,and in whispered voices implored me to surface the boat and make alast effort on the surface. a muffled report, as our implacable enemydropped a depth-charge somewhere astern of us, added point to theconversation, and showed me that our appearance on the surface could havebut one end. at 3 p.m. the second coxswain, who was workingthe hydroplanes, fell off his stool in a dead faint. at 3.30 p.m. the supreme crisis was reached:two more men fainted, and

i realized that if i did not surface at oncei might find the crew incapable of starting the diesels. at the order "surface," a feeble cheer camefrom the men. we surfaced, and i dragged myself-up to theconning tower. luckily we started the diesels with ease, and in a fewminutes gusts of beautiful air were circulating through the boat. meanwhile, what of the enemy? i had half expecteda shell as soon as we came up, and it was with great anxiety thati looked round. we had been slightly favoured by fortune in that the onlything in sight was a

trawler away on the port beam. it was ourhunter. i trimmed right down, hoping to avoid beingseen, as it was essential to stay on the surface and get some amperesinto the battery. i also altered course away from him. it was about 5 p.m. that i saw two trawlersahead, one on each bow. by this time the boat's crew had quite recovered,but i did not wish to dive, as the battery was still pitiably low.i gradually altered course to north-east, but after half an hour's runi almost ran on top of a group of patrols in the dusk.

i crash-dived, and they must have seen mego down, as a few minutes later the boat was violently shaken by a depth-charge. we were at twenty metres, still diving atthe time. i consulted the chart, but could find no bottoming groundwithin fifty miles, a distance which was quite beyond my powers. at 11 p.m. i simply had to come up again andget a charge on the batteries. from 7 p.m. to 10 p.m., at regular half-hourlyintervals, a depth-charge had gone off somewhere withina radius of two miles of me.

needless to say, i was only crawling alongat about one knot and altering course frequently. what was so terriblewas the patent fact that the patrols in this area had evidentlygot some device which enabled them to keep in continual touch withme to a certain extent. these monotonous and regular depth-chargesseemed to say: "we know, oh! u-boat, that we are somewhere near you, andhere is a depth-charge just to tell you that we haven't lost you yet."[1] [footnote 1: karl was quite right; it is evidentthat he had the misfortune to encounter one of our new hydrophone-huntinggroups, just

started in the fair island channel. the incidentof the depth-charges every half-hour was known as "tickling up."probably the patrol only heard faint noises from him.--etienne.] as an hour had elapsed since the last depth-charge,i felt fairly happy at coming up, and on making the surface iwas delighted to find a pitch-black night and a considerable sea.from 10 p.m. to 1 a.m. i actually had three hours of peace, and inthis period i managed to cram a considerable amount of stuff into the batteries.the densities were rising nicely and all seemed well, when idid what i now see was a very

foolish thing. i made my 1 a.m. wireless report to nordreich,in which i requested orders at 3 a.m. and reported my position,together with the fact that i had been badly hunted. in twenty-five minutes they were on me again!i had most idiotically assumed that the english had no directionalwireless in these parts. they have. they've got everything that theyhave ever tried up there; it was concentrated in that infernal fairisland channel. i was only saved by seeing a destroyer comingstraight at me,

silhouetted against, the low-lying crescentof a new moon. when i dived she was about six hundred metres away. asi have confessed to doing a foolish thing, i give myself the pleasureof recording a cleverer move on my part. i anticipated depth-charge attackas a matter of course, but instead of going down to twenty-five metres,i kept her at twelve. the depth-charges came all right, seven smashingexplosions, but, as i had calculated, they were set to go off atabout thirty metres, and so were well below me. the boat was thrown bodily up by one, andi think the top of the

conning tower must have broken surface, butthere was little danger of this being seen in the prevailing water conditions. i have just had to stop recording my experiencesof the past forty-eight hours, as the navigator, who ison watch, sent down a message to say that smoke was in sight. the next hour was full of anxiety, but byhauling off to port we managed to lose it. i then had a little food,and i will now conclude my account before trying again to get somesleep. _the account continued._

all my hopes of getting up again that night,both for the purpose of charging and of getting the 3 a.m. signal,were doomed to be disappointed, as the hydrophone operator kepton reporting the noise of destroyers overhead. occasional distant thudsseemed to indicate a never-ending supply of depth-charges, butthey were about four or five miles from me. perhaps some other unfortunatedevil was going through the fires of hell. at daylight on the second day my positionwas still miserable. the battery was getting low again, the sea hadgone down, and when i put my

periscope up at 9 a.m. the horizon seemedto be ringed with patrols. i felt as if i was in an invisible net, andthough i endeavoured to conceal my apprehension from the crew, i couldsee from the listless way they went about their duties that theyrealized that once again we were near the end of our resources. all the forenoon we crept along at thirtymetres, until the tension was broken at 1 p.m. by a furious depth-chargeattack. in some extraordinary way they had located me againand closed in upon me. the first charges were some little distance off,and as they got closer a

feeling of desperation overcame me, and iseriously contemplated ending the agony by surfacing and fighting to thelast with my gun. curiously enough, the procedure that i adoptedwas the exact opposite. i decided to dive deep. i went down to 114metres. at this exceptional depth, three rivets in the pressure hull beganto leak, and jets of water with the rigidity of bars of iron shotinto the boat. i held on for five minutes, which was sufficient tosave me from the depth-charge attack, though two which went off almost aboveme broke some lamps. i then came up to twenty metres and slowly crawledon. throughout the

long afternoon, though we were not directlyattacked again, i heard depth-charges on several occasions sufficientlyclose to me to demonstrate that these implacable and tirelessdevils had an idea of the area i was in. by a supreme effort, working one motor atthe only speed it would go, viz., "dead slow," i managed to squeeze outthe battery until i estimated it must be dusk. there was only one thing to do--i surfaced.it was not as dark as i had hoped, and i saw a fairly large sloop-likevessel, about eight thousand

metres away, on the port beam. she must haveseen me simultaneously, as the flash of a gun darted from her, the shellfalling short. i couldn't dive; there seemed only one thingto do: fight and then die. i ordered the gun's crew up, and the unequalduel began. we were going full speed on the diesels, and my course waseast by north. a good deal of water and spray was flying over the gun,and my crew had little hope of doing much accurate shooting, but i haveoften found that when one is being fired at there is nothing so comfortingas the sound of one's own gun.

our enemy was armed with two large guns, fifteencentimetres or over, but had no speed, a discovery which raisedmy hopes again. it was soon evident that, provided we were not headingfor another patrol, if we could survive ten minutes' shelling, we shouldbe saved for the time being by the fading light, which was evidentlycausing our enemy increasing difficulties, as his shots alternatedbetween very short and very much over. i was actually congratulating the navigatoron our escape, and i had just told the gun's crew to cease firing atthe blurred outlines on the

port quarter from which the random shellsstill came, when there was a sheet of yellow flame and a jar which threwme against the signalman. the latter had been standing near the conning-towerhatch, and unfortunately i knocked him off his balance,and he fell with a thud into the upper conning tower. he had the goodfortune to escape with a couple of ribs broken, but when i recoveredmyself and got to my feet, far worse consequences met my eyes. by the worst of ill-luck, a shell which musthave been fired practically at random had hit the gun justbelow the port trunnion.

the result of the explosion was very severe.four of the seven men at the gun had been blown overboard, the breechworker was uninjured, though from the way he swayed about it wasevident that he was dazed, and i expected to see him fall over the sideat any moment. the remaining two men were as dead as horse-flesh. the material damage was even more serious.the gun had been practically thrown out of its cradle, but in the mainthe trunnion blocks had held firm, and the whole pedestal had been carriedover to starboard. the really terrible effects of this injurywere not apparent at first

sight, but i soon realized them, for an hourlater (we had shaken off the sloop) i saw red flame on the horizon,which plainly indicated flaming at the funnel from some destroyerdoubtless looking for us at high speed. i dived, intending to surface again as soonas possible. with this intention in my head, i did not go below theupper conning tower. we had barely got to ten metres, when loud criesfrom below and the disquieting noise of rushing water told methat something was wrong. i blew all tanks, surfaced, left the first lieutenanton watch and went

below. there were five centimetres of water on thebattery boards, and i understood at once that we could never diveagain. for the pedestal of the gun, in being forcedover, had strained the longitudinal seam of the pressure hull, towhich it is bolted, and a shower of water had come through as soon aswe got under. it might have been hoped that this was enough,but no! our cup was not yet full. chlorine gas suddenly began to fillthe fore-end. the salt water running down into the battery tankshad found acid, and though i

ordered quantities of soda to be put downinto the tank, it became, and still is at the moment of writing, impossibleto move forward of the conning tower without putting on a gas maskand oxygen helmet. so we are helpless, and at the mercy of any littletrawler, or even the weather. we have no gun; we cannot dive. the englishmust know that they have hit us, and every hour i expect to see thehull of a destroyer climb over the horizon astern. we are fortunate in two respects: in thatfor the time being the

weather seems to promise well, and our dieselsare thoroughly sound. we are ordered to zeebrugge--i could havewished elsewhere for many reasons, but it does not matter, as i cannotbelieve we are intended to escape. i feel i would almost welcome an enemy ship,it would soon be over; but this uncertainty and anxiety drags on forhour after hour--and now i cannot sleep, though i haven't slept properlyfor over seventy hours. i am so worn out that my body screams for sleep,but it is denied to me, and so, lest i go mad, i write; it is betterto do this, though my eyes

ache and the letters seem to wriggle, thanto stand up on the bridge looking for the smoke of our enemies, or tolie in my bunk and count the revolutions of the diesels; thousandsof thousands of thudding beats, one after the other, relentless hammerstrokes. i have endured much. _note by etienne_ _a break occurs in karl von schenk's diaryat this juncture. fortunately the main outlines of the story are preservedowing to zoe's long letter, which was in a small packet insidethe cover of the second

notebook. zoe's letter will be reproducedin this book in its proper chronological position, but in order to savethe reader the trouble of reading the book from the letter back to thispoint, a brief summary of what took place is given here. the entriesin his diary which follow the words "i have endured much," are verymeagre for a period which seems to have been about a month in length.there is no further mention of the latter stages of karl's passage inthe wrecked boat to zeebrugge, so it is presumed that he madethat port without further adventure. he was evidently on the verge ofa nervous breakdown, and

appears to have been suffering from very severeinsomnia. he had been hunted for two days, during which he was perpetuallyon the verge of destruction, and the cumulative effect ofsuch an experience is bound to leave its mark on the strongest man. whenhe got back to zeebrugge he must have been at the end of his tether,and whether by chance or design it was when karl was, as he would havesaid, "at a low mental ebb" that zoe made her last and successfulattack upon his resolution not to see her again unless she consentedto marry him. it is plain from her letter that when he left her afterthe stormy interview in

which he vowed never to see her again, zoedid not lose hope. she seems to have kept herself _au courant _with hismovements, and actually to have known when he was expected in._ _we know that she had many friends amongstthe officers, and it is probable that from one of these she was ableto get information about karl's movements._ _bruges was probably a hot-bed of u-boat gossip,and, not unlike the conditions at certain other naval ports duringthe war, the ladies were often too well informed. at any rate it appearsthat zoe rushed to see

karl directly he arrived at bruges, and foundhim a mental and physical wreck, suffering from acute insomnia._ _with the impetuous vigour which evidentlyguided most of her actions, she took complete charge of karl, and, ashe was due for four days' leave, she whisked him off to the forest._ _karl may have protested, but was probablyin no state to wish to do so. at her shooting-box in the forest zoe achievedher desire, and the stubborn struggle between the lovers endedin victory for the woman. there is an entry in karl's diary which mayrefer to this period; he

simply says, "slept at last! oh, what a joy!"_ _if this entry was written in the forest,it seemed as if karl had been unable to sleep until zoe carried him offto the forest peace of her shooting-box and surrounded him with the atmosphereof her tender sympathy._ _there is no evidence of the light in whichkarl viewed his defeat, when, having regained his strength, he wasable to take stock of the changed situation. it is reasonable to supposethat his silence upon this matter in the pages of his diary is evidencethat he was ashamed

of what he must have considered a great actof weakness on his part._ _at all events he realized that he had crossedthe rubicon and that he had better acquiesce in the_ fait accompli. _he seems to have been in harbour for aboutsix weeks, during which he lived with zoe, and the lovers enjoyed a briefspell of happiness before karl set out on his next trip._ _karl seems to have found those six weeksvery pleasant ones, though his diary merely contains brief references, suchas: "a. day in the country with z."; "z. and i went to the cavalry dance,"and other trivial

entries--of his thoughts there is not a word._ _about the end of 1917 karl's boat was repaired,and he left for the atlantic; and once more resumed full entriesin his diary._ _karl's diary resumed_. sailed at 9 p.m. last night, and we are nowseventeen miles off beachy head. the straits of dover were frightful;the glare of the acetylene flares on the barrage showed for miles. seenfrom a distance it gave me the impression of the gates of hell, throughwhich we had to pass. i dived, ten miles away, and went throughwith the tide at a depth of

forty metres. two hours and three quarters of suspense,and at dawn we came up, having passed safely through the great deathtrap.at the moment there is nothing in sight, except a little smokeon the horizon. i am going to dive again till dusk. 2 _a.m._ we are thrashing down the channel with a south-westerlywind right ahead. my instructions are to work for twodays between the lizard and kinsale head, and then proceed far out inthe atlantic, where the

convoys are supposed to meet the destroyers. that fair island channel experience was enoughfor a lifetime. death, quick, short and sudden, this i am ready for.but torture, slow, long and drawn-out, is not in the bargain whichin this year of grace every civilized man and half the savages of theworld seem to have had to make with the god mars. as i sit in this steel, cigar-shaped massof machinery, the question rings incessantly in my ears: "to what objectis all this war directed, when analysed from the point of view of theindividual?"

it does not satisfy any longing of mine. ihave not got a lust for battle: no one who fights has a lust for battle.editors of newspapers and people on general staffs, possibly alsocabinet ministers, have lusts for battles, as long as they arrangethe battle and talk about it afterwards--curse them! the only thing i want is to be with zoe. iwant to live and spend long years with her, enjoying life--this life ofwhich i have spent half already, and now perhaps it will be takenfrom me by some other man: some englishman who doesn't really want totake my life, reckoned as an

individual. around me in the darkness are the patrol boats,manned by the englishmen who are seeking my life. seekingit, not to gratify their private emotions, but because we are all inthe whirlpool of war and cannot escape. like an avalanche, it seems to gather strengthand speed as it rolls on, this war of nations. the world must bemad! i cannot see how it can ever stop. england will never be defeatedat sea. we shall conquer on land--then what?

an inconclusive peace. even if we smash this island empire and gainthe dominion of the world, how will it advantage me? i can see no wayin which i can gain. it would be said, if any one should read this:_gott_! what a selfish point of view--he thinks only of his personalgain, not of his country. but, confound it all, i reply, answer me this: do i exist for my country, or does my countryexist for me? for example, does man live for the sake ofthe church, or was the church created for man?

does not my country exist for my benefit? surely it is so. then again, i am risking my all, my life;i live in danger, apprehension and great discomfort; i do allthese things, and yet if as a reasonable man i ponder what advantage iam to gain from all these sacrifices i am adjudged selfish. it is all madness; i cannot fathom the meaningof these things. in position on the bristol line of approach,the weather is bad. _at twenty metres._

once again death has stretched forth his bonyfingers to catch me by the throat, and only by a chance have i wriggledfree. yesterday afternoon at 5 p.m. we sighted asmall steamer flying spanish colours and steering for cardiff. the weatherwas choppy, but not too bad, and i decided to exercise the gun's crew,though i did not think there would be much doing, as the spaniardssoon give in. i opened fire at six thousand metres, andpitched a shell ahead of her and ran up the signal to heave-to. the wretchedlittle craft paid no attention, and continued on her lumberingcourse. i suspected the

presence of an englishman on her bridge, anddetermined to hit. this we did with our sixth shot, and she stoppeddead and wallowed in the trough, with clouds of steam pouring outof her engine-room; we had evidently got the engine-room. as we closed her, it was evident that a tremendouspanic was taking place on board. the port sea boat was beinglaunched, but one fall broke and the occupants fell into the water.my navigator begged me to give her another, which i did, and hit herright aft. two boatloads of gesticulating individuals now appeared fromthe shelter of her lee side

and began pulling wildly away from the ship. the navigator, whose eyes were dancing withexcitement, was very keen to play with them by spraying the water withmachine-gun bullets; but it seemed to me to be waste of ammunition,and i would not permit it. meanwhile we had approached to within aboutfour hundred metres of her port bow. i was debating whether to accelerateher sinking, when i noticed that a fire had broken out aft, andi became possessed with a childish curiosity to see the fire being putout as she sank. it was a kind of contest between the elements.

as i watched her, i was startled to hear threeor four reports from the region of the fire. "ammunition!" shouted the pilot, with wide-openedeyes. in an instant i pressed the diving alarm asi realized our deadly peril. fool that i had been, she was a decoy-ship.they must have realized on board that i had seen throughtheir disguise, for as we began to move forward, under the motors, atrap-door near her bows fell down, the white ensign was broken at the fore,and a 4-inch gun opened fire from the embrasure that was revealedon her side.

we were fortunate in that our conning towerwas already right ahead of the enemy, and as i dropped down into theconning tower, i saw that as she could not turn we were safe. a few shells plunged harmlessly into the waternear our stern, and then we were under. we came up to a periscope depth, and i surveyedher from a position off her stern. she was sinking fast, but i feltso furious at being nearly trapped that i could not resist giving hera torpedo; detonation was complete, and a mass of wreckage shot intothe air as the hull of the

ship disappeared. as to the two boats, i leftthem to make the best course to land that they could. as they were fifty miles off the shore wheni left them and it blew force six a few hours afterwards, i ratherthink they have joined the list of "missing." we are now steering duewest to our second position. received orders last night to return to baseforthwith on the north about route. [1] [footnote 1: this means into the north searound scotland.--] i have shaped course to pass fifty miles northof muckle flugga; no

more fair island channel for me. statlandlet in sight, with the norwegian coastlooking very lovely under the snow--we never saw a ship from northof the shetlands to this place, when we saw a light cruiser of thetown class steaming south-west at high speed. she had probably been on patrol off this place,where the inner and outer leads join up and ships have to leavethe three-mile limit. she was well away from me, and an attack wouldhave been useless. i did not shed any tears; i have lost much of thefire-eating ideas which

filled my mind when i first joined this service. we are due off the mole at 8 p.m. tonight,and my heart leaps with joy at the thought of seeing my zoe; already ican almost imagine her lovely arms round my neck, her face raisedto mine, and all the other wonderful things that make her so gloriousin my eyes. before quoting the next entry in karl's journalit is necessary to explain the situation which confronted himwhen he arrived in zeebrugge. in his absence, his beloved zoehad been arrested as an

allied agent, and she was tried for espionagewithin a day or two of his arrival. there is no record of how heheard the news, and the blow he sustained was probably so terrible thatwhilst there was yet hope he felt no desire to write; but, as will be seen,there came a time when he turned to his journal as the last friendthat remained to him. it is a curious fact that, with the exception ofan entry at the beginning of this journal, karl makes little mention ofhis mother and home at frankfurt. though he does not say so, it seemspossible that his mother had heard of his entanglement with zoe, anda barrier had risen between

them; this suggestion gains strength fromthe fact that in his blackest moments of despair he never seems to considerthe question of turning to frankfurt for sympathy. interest is naturallyaroused as to the details of zoe's trial. the available materialconsists solely of the long letter she wrote to him from bruges jail.it may be that one day the german archives of the period of occupationwill reveal further details. information on the subject is possiblyat the disposal of the british intelligence service, but this wouldbe kept secret. all we know on the matter is derived from the letter,which has been preserved

inside the second volume of karl's diary. there seems no doubt that she was caught red-handed,but to say more would be to anticipate her own words. it was a matter of some difficulty to knowwhere best to introduce zoe's letter, but with a view to securingas much continuity of thought in the story as possible it has been decidedto quote it at this juncture, although he did not receive it untilafter he had made the entry in the journal which will be quoteddirectly after the letter. i would like to appeal to any reader who mayhappen to be engaged in

administrative or reconstructive work in belgium,to communicate with me, care of messrs. hutchinson, should hehandle any papers dealing with zoe's trial. _etienne_. zoe's letter my best beloved, when you get this letter cease to sorrow forwhat will have happened, for i shall be at rest, and in peace at last,freed from a world in which i have known bitter sorrow and, untilyou came into my life, but

little joy. for these past months i am grateful to god,if such a being exists and regulates the conduct of a world gone mad. for in a few hours i am to die. it is harder for you than for me; one momentof agony i suffered, a moment that seemed to last a century, when,amidst the sea of faces that swam in a confused mass before me atthe trial, i saw your eyes and the torture that you were suffering. wheni saw your eyes i knew that the president had said i must die. iam glad that i was told this

by you, the only one amongst all these menwho loved me. i suppose the president spoke; i never heard him, but isaw your eyes and i knew. my darling, it was cruel of you to come, cruelto me and cruel to yourself, but i loved you for being there;it showed me that up till the last you would stand by me, and untilyou read this you cannot know all the facts. that to you, as to the others,i must have seemed a woman spy and that nevertheless you stoodby me, is to me a recollection of unsurpassable sweetness, comparedwith which all other thoughts of you fade into insignificance.

know now, oh, well beloved, that i was notunworthy of your love. i have a story to tell you, and i have sucha little time left that i must write quickly. the priest who has beenwith me comes again an hour before the dawn, and he has promised to deliverthese my last words of love into your hands. my real name is zoe xenia olga sbeiliez, andi was born twenty-nine years ago at my father's country house atinkovano, near koniesfol. i am polish; at least, my father was, and mymother comes from the don country. there was a day when my father'sancestors were princes in

poland. poor poland was torn by the vulturesof europe, just as your countrymen, my karl, are tearing poor belgiumand france, and so my family lost estates year by year, and my grandfatheris buried somewhere in the dreary steppes of siberiabecause he dared to be a polish patriot. my father bowed before the storm, and undermy mother's influence he never became mixed up with politics. thushe lived on his estates at inkovano, and nursed them for my younger brother,alexandrovitch, the child of his old age. alex would be nineteennow, had he lived. the

estates were large as these things go in westerneurope, but they were but a garden as compared with the lands heldby my great-grandfather, boris sbeiliez. my father had a dream, and he dreamed thisdream from the day alex was born to the day they both died in each other'sarms. my father dreamt that one day the tsars wouldsoften their heart to poland, and raise her up from the dust toa place amongst the nations, and my father dreamt that alexandrovitch sbeiliezwould become a leader of poland, as his ancestors had been beforehim. and so my father

nursed his estates and pinched and saved,in preparation for the day when his beautiful dream should come true. [illustration: "a trapdoor near her bows felldown, the white ensign was broken at the fore, and a 4-inch gun openedfire from the embrasure that was revealed on her side."] [illustration: "i sighted two convoys, butthere were destroyers there...."] my poor idealistic father never realized,oh, my karl, that when one wants a thing one must fight--to the death.alex was the apple of his

eye, but i was much loved by my mother; perhapsshe dreamed a dream about me--i know not, but she determined thati should have all that was necessary. paris, berlin, munich, dresden,and a season in london, then i came home at twenty-one, perfectlyeducated according to the world, beautiful according to men, and dressedaccording to paris. but i was only to find out how little i knew.my mother and i used to take a house in warsaw for the season, and i metmany notable men and women. in these days i, also, thought i could dosomething for poland, but after two or three seasons i found that i,too, was only dreaming idle

dreams. oh! my beloved, beware of dreamingidle dreams. listen! i once met the prime minister of allrussia at a reception. i captivated him, and thought, now! now! i shalldo something. i sat next to him at dinner; i talked of poland--andi knew my subject--i talked brilliantly; he listened,he hung on my words, and he, the prime minister of all russia, thetsar's right-hand man, asked me to drive with him next day in his sledge.i, an almost unknown polish girl! when i accepted, i was in the seventh heavenof delight.

next day he called and we set forth; at adeserted spot in the woods near warsaw he tried to kiss me--i struckhim in the face with the butt of his own whip. that was why he had hung on my words, thatwas why he had taken me for my drive; it was my polish body that interested_him_--not poland. the prime minister of russia was confinedto his room for two days, "owing to an indisposition." how i laughedwhen i saw the bulletin in the paper, signed by two doctors, but it taughtme a lesson; i never dreamt idle dreams again.

no, i am wrong, my beloved. i dreamt an idledream, a lovely dream about you and i. an after-the-war dream, ifthis war should ever end, but like other dreams it has ended--in dreams. but i must hurry, for my little watch tellsme that one hour of my five has gone, and i have much to say. i could have married, and married brilliantly,but poland held me back. i did not know what i could do for my country,it all seemed so hopeless, and yet i felt that perhaps oneday ... and i felt i ought to be single when that day came.

it was not easy, my karl, sometimes it washard; one man there was, sergius was his christian name; he loved memadly, and sometimes i thought--but no matter, he is dead now, killedat tannenberg, and i--well, i will tell you more of my story. when the war broke out and clouded over thatlast beautiful summer in 1914 (i wonder will there ever be anotherlike it in your lifetime, my karl? no, i don't think it can ever be quitethe same after all this!), we were all in the country. alex was backfrom his school in petrograd, and my father kept him at home for the autumnterm.

how well i remember the excitement, the mobilization,the blessing of the colours, the wave of patriotism whichswept over the country; even i, under the influence of the specious proclamationsthat were issued broadcast by the government, with their promisesof reform, and redress for poland after the war was over, felt morerussian than polish. lies! lies! lies! that was what the government promiseswere, my karl. under the stress of war the rottenness ofthat great whited sepulchre, russia, feared the revival of the polish spirit;it might have been awkward, and so they lied with their tonguesin their cheeks, and we

simple poles believed them; the peasantryflocked to their depots, little knowing whom they fought, but the proclamationswhich were read to them told them they fought for poland,and we women worked and prayed for the success of russian arms. then the tide of war swept westward, and allday long and every day the troops, and the guns and the motor-cars andthe wagons rolled through the village to the west. guarded hints in the papers seemed to saythat all was not well in france, but france was so far away, and allthe time the russians were

going west through our village. mighty russiawas putting forth her strength, and the austrian debacle was infull swing; these were great days, my karl, for a russian! then one day the long columns of men and allthe traffic seemed to hesitate in the sluggish westward flow, andthen it stopped, and then it began to go east. the weeks went on, andone day, very, very faintly, there was a rumbling like a distantthunderstorm. it was the guns! the front was coming back. have you ever seen forest fires, my karl?we had them every autumn in

our woods. if you have, then you know howall the small animals and the birds, the rabbits and the foxes, and perhapsa wolf or two, and the deer, and the thrushes and the linnets comeout from the shelter of the trees, fleeing blindly from the great peril,anxious only to save their lives. so it was when the front came back.herds of moujiks, the old men, the women, the children, the poor littlebabies, struggled blindly eastwards through the village. pushing their miserable household gods onhandcarts, or staggering along with loads on their backs, and wearychildren dragging at their

arms, the human tide flowed eastwards, roundour house, begged perhaps a drink of water, and then wandered feverishlyonwards. they knew not in ninety-nine cases out ofa hundred where they were going; their only destination was summed upin the words, "away from the front"--away from the ominous rumblingwhich began to get louder, away from that western horizon which was beginningto have a lurid glow at nights, like a sunset prolonged to dawn. then, as the germans advanced more and more,the character of the tide changed, the civilian element was outnumberedby the military.

companies, battalions, brigades, sometimesin good order, sometimes in no order, marched through the village. theywould often halt for a short time, and the officers would come upto the house, where my mother and i gave them what we could. my fatherlived amongst his books and accounts, and bemoaned the extravaganceof the war. then there were the deserters, the stragglers, the walkingwounded, the--but you know, my karl, what an army in retreat means. i must proceed with my story, for time movesrelentlessly on. one day a desperately wounded officer, a younglieutenant of the guard,

a boy of twenty-five, was taken out of a motorambulance to die. the ambulance had stopped opposite our gates,and lying on his stretcher he had seen our garden, my garden.he knew he was to die, and he had begged with tears in his eyes to thedoctor that he might be left in the garden. who could refuse him? he died within two hours, amongst our flowers,with alex and i at his side. before he died, he begged us, implored us,almost ordered us, to move

east before it was too late. we repeated his arguments to my father, butthe latter was obdurate, and he swore that a regiment of angels wouldnot move him from his ancestral home. so we made up our minds tostay. things got worse and worse, and one day shellsfell in the grounds and we hid in the cellars. that night all ourservants ran away, and my father cursed them for cowards. next day inthe early morning we heard machine guns fire outside the village, andthen all was still. at six o'clock alex, white-faced, came runninginto the house. he had

been down to the gates and he had seen theenemy. they were drunk, he said, and going down the street firing thehouses and shooting the people as they came out. it seemed impossible and yet it was true.it was growing dark, when we heard shouts and saw lights, and from thetop of the house i saw a crowd of singing and shouting soldiers, withpine torches, half running, half walking up the drive. they massed in a body opposite the house.paralysed with terror, i looked down on the scene, and shuddered tosee that every second man

seemed to have a bottle. one of them fireda shot at the house, and next i remember a flood of light on the drive,and, in the circle of light, my father standing with hand raised.what my father intended can never be known, for, as he paused and facedthe mob, a solitary shot rang out, and he fell in a huddled heap. as he fell, a boyish voice from the door shouted"murderers!" it was alex. with his little pistol i had given himfor a birthday present in his hand, he ran forward and, standing overmy father's body, head thrown back, he pointed his pistol at themob and fired twice. a man

dropped, there was a flash of steel, the crowdsurged forward, and--and, oh! my karl, they had murdered mybeloved brother, my darling alex. the next moment they were in the house. iescaped from my window on to the roof of the dairy, and from there downa water-pipe, across the yard to an old hay-loft. for a long time theyran in and out of the house, like ants, looting and pillaging; thenthere was a great shout, and for some time not a soul came out of thehouse. i guessed they had got into the cellars. at about midnight isaw that the house was on

fire. in a few minutes it was an inferno andthe drunken soldiers came pouring out, firing their rifles in all directions. i had found a piece of rope in the loft. oneend i placed on a hook and the other round my neck. i was close to theupper doors of the loft, with a drop to the courtyard, and thus i stayed,for i feared that some soldier, more sober than the rest, might explorethe outhouses and find me. i was watching this unearthly spectacle,and never, my best beloved, did i conceive that man could becomelower than the beasts, but before my eyes it was so, when i noticedthat the great gates at

the southern end of the courtyard were opening.as they opened i saw that beyond them were drawn up a line of men.an officer gave an order, and two machine guns were placed in positionin the gate entrance; round the guns lay their crews, and the seethingmass of revellers saw nothing. i felt that a fearful tragedy wasimpending, and as i held my breath with anxiety the officer gave a short,sharp movement with his hand and a hideous rattle rose above all noises.the pandemonium that ensued was indescribable. some ran helplesslyinto the burning house, others ran round and round in circles, otherstried to get into the

dairy; one man got upon its roof and fellback dead as soon as his head appeared above the outer wall. the place wassurrounded. it was horrible. a few tried to rush for the gate,they melted away like snow before the sun, as their bodies met the pitilessstream of bullets. i suppose two hundred men were killed in asmany seconds. the machine guns ceased fire. ambulance parties came intothe yard, collected the dead and living, and within half an hour therewas not a soul save myself in the place. discipline had receivedits oblation of men's lives.

as an example, it was one of the most wonderfulthings i have ever known in your wonderful army, my karl, butit was terrible--terribly cruel. i never knew what became of my mother, thoughi feel she is dead--murdered, perhaps, like my father andmy darling alex, or perhaps she hid somewhere in the house and remainedpetrified with terror till the flames came. next morning i left my hiding-placeand walked about. not a german was to be seen, but in the woodwas a huge newly-made grave. it was all open warfare then, and thisflying column, which was

miles in advance of the main body, had movedon. the house was a smoking mass of ruins, but the farm buildingshad been spared, and i let out all the poor animals and turned theminto the woods, so that they might have their chance. all day i searched for my father and brother,but not a sign was to be seen, and at dusk i stood alone, faint andbroken, amongst the ruins of my ancestors' home. as i looked at this sceneof desolation and i contrasted what had been my life twenty-fourhours before and what it was then, something seemed to snap in my brain,and for the first time

i cried. oh! the blessed relief of those tears,my karl, for i was a poor weak, helpless girl, and alone with deathand bitterness all round me. late that night i hid once more in myhay-loft and next morning i left inkovano for ever. before i left, i madea vow. it is because of this vow, my beloved, that i am to die. fori vowed by the body of our saviour and the murdered bodies of my familythat, whilst life was in me and the war was maintained, for so longwould i work unceasingly for the allies against germany. as the war ranits fiery course, i have seen more and more that the allies are theonly ones who will do

anything for poland, my beloved country, sohave i been strengthened in my vow. i struck south on my feet, as a poor girl--i,the daughter of a princely family of poland! no hardships weretoo great for me, provided i could reach allied territory. i travelledfrom village to village as a singing girl, and once i was driven awaywith stones by villagers set upon me by a fanatical priest. i came by cracow,and across the carpathians, helped to pass the lines by ahungarian lieutenant--but i tricked him of his reward; i was not readyfor that sacrifice. then

across the hungarian plains to buda-pesth,where i remained three weeks, singing in a third-rate cafã©, to make somemoney for my next stage. but i had to leave too soon--the old story!--thistime it was the proprietor's son. what beasts men are, mykarl! and yet to me you are above all other men, a prince amongst yourfellows, and never did i love you so distractedly as that first nightat the shooting-box, when i read the scorn in your eyes as you rejectedme. i have no shame in telling you this. am i not already in thegrave? and then i must be silent and can only await your coming. aftermany struggles, wearisome

to relate, i came to hermanstadt, and there,whilst pushing my trade as a dancer, came into touch with a hungarianband of smugglers, working across the mountain passes between easternhungary and roumania. i did certain work for these men, and in returncrossed with them one bitter night in a thunderstorm into roumania. atbukharest i got a good engagement, and when i had saved a thousandmarks, i bought a passport for five hundred, and came to serbia, thenstaggering beneath the great austrian offensive. once again i was in the horrors of a retreat,but i escaped, reaching

valona, and crossed to brindisi, by the aidof a french officer to whom i told my story and who believed me. his nameis pierre lemansour, and he lives at bordeaux. if fortune places him in your power, be kindto him, my karl, for your zoe's sake. i came to rome; and thence to paris. i stayedhere three weeks, singing in a cabaret. whilst here i tried to advancemy plans in vain! what could i, a poor girl, do for the allies? theembassy laughed at me, all except one young attachã© who tried to makelove to me.

then i thought of england--england, and hercold, hard islanders, phlegmatic in movements, slow to hate, slowto move, but once roused--ah! they never let go, these islanders! one of their poets has said: "the mills ofgod grind slowly, but they grind exceeding small." that, my karl, is like england. they are your most terrible enemies, and youknow it. do not be angry with me when you read this. for me it is poland, for you germany.

where i am going in a few hours there is nopoland, no germany, no england, no war. and perhaps, perhaps, nolove. you and i, karl, have loved, too well, perchance,but our love was above even the love of countries. god made the love of men and women, then menand women created their countries. i see the future before me, karl, and i foreseethat the struggle will be at the end of all things, between englandand germany. one will be in the dust.

thus, i crossed to england and was swallowedup in the great city of london. england has always had a corner ofher calculating heart for the small nations, and in london there isa polish organization. i applied there, and one day i was taken tothe foreign office, and found myself alone with a great englishman. hisname was--no, i promised, and it will not matter to you, for though he gaveme my chance, i have no love for him, and he will never be in yourpower. even as i write these words, he has probably taken a list from alocked safe and neatly ruled a red line through the name zoe sbeiliez.i tell you they know

everything, these englishmen. i told him mystory, and then he asked me whether i was prepared to do all things forthe allies. i told him i was. he then said that i could go as agentfor a back area in belgium, and my centre would be bruges. i agreed, andasked him innocently enough how i was to live in bruges. he lookedup from his desk and "you will be given facilities to cross thebelgium-holland frontier, as a german singer." "and then?" i asked. "you will go to bruges and make friends withan army officer; he must

be high up on the staff." i guessed what he meant, but hoped againsthope, and i said: "how?" i can still see his fish-like face, hair brushedback with scrupulous care, as without a shadow of emotion he lookedup, puffed his pipe, and said in matter-of-fact tones: "you have a pretty face and an excellent figure.need i say more?" i could have struck him in the face. i wasspeechless, my mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. i was roused by thelevel tones again. "is it too much--for poland?"

oh! the cunning of the man; he knew my weakness.mechanically, i agreed. certain details were settled, andhe pressed a bell. within five minutes i was walking back to my lodgings. thanks to a marvellous organization, whichyour police will never discover, my karl, within _three weeks_ iwas singing on the bruges music-hall stage, and accepted without questionas being what i was not, a german artist from dantzig. the menwere soon round me, but i had no use for youngsters with money. i wanteda man with information. at last i found my man--the colonel. he wason the headquarters staff

of the xith army, the army of occupation inbelgium, when i first met him. subsequently he went back to regimentalwork; but by the time he was killed (and to realize what a releasethat meant for me, you would have had to have lived with him) i had establishedregular sources of information concerning which i will say nomore. let your country's agents find them if they can. this must isay for the colonel: he was a brute and a drunkard, but in his own grossway he loved me, and he licked my boots at my desire, but i had topay the price. you are a man, and with all your loving sympathy youcan but dimly realize what

this costs a woman. to me it was a dual sacrificeof honour and life, but it was for poland, and the memories ofmy parents and alex steeled me and strengthened my resolution, and so,and so, my karl, i paid the price. my special work was on the military side,and consisted in making quarterly reports on the general dispositionsof large bodies of troops, the massing of corps for spring offensives,and big pushes and hammer blows. then you came into my life! when the colonelused to go away it was my

habit to mix in the demi-mondaine societyof bruges, to try and live a few hours in which i could forget--oh! don'tthink the worst! _that_ sort of thing had no attraction for me. ididn't seek oblivion in that direction! i had never even kissed anyonein bruges until i kissed you that first night we met at dinner--i was attractedto you from the very first; the colonel was due back in a few days,and i suddenly felt mad, and kissed you. i suppose you put me downas one of the usual kind, out to sell myself at a price varying betweena good dinner and the rent of a flat! you will now know that i had alreadymortgaged my body to

poland. then a few days later you will remember wewent down for that wonderful day in the forest, and for the first time,karl, i began to see that i was really caring for you, and a faint realizationof the dangers and impossibilities towards which we were driftingcrossed my mind. do you remember how silent i was on the driveback? in a fashion, my karl, i could foresee dimly a little of whatwas going to happen. i had a presentiment that the end would be disaster,but i thrust the idea away from me. then came the day, just beforeone of your trips--oh! the

agony, my darling, of those days, each anage in length, when you were at sea--when you told me at the flat thatyou loved me. how i longed to throw my arms round your neckand abandon myself to your embraces, but i was still strong enoughin those days to hold back for both our sakes. each time we were together i loved you moreand more, and each time when you had gone i seemed to see with clearervision the fatal and inevitable ending. but i refused to give up the first real happinessthat had been mine in

my short and stormy life, and so i clung desperatelyto my idle dream. i prayed, i prayed for hours, karl, that thewar might end, for i felt that in this lay our only hope--but what areone woman's prayers, a sinful woman's prayers, to the creator ofall things, and the war ground on in its endless agony just as itdoes to-night--karl! karl! will this torture ever end? but i must hurry, there is still much to tellyou, and time goes on relentlessly just like the war; it is onlylife that ends. then came the days i took you to the shooting-box forthe first time, and that

night i broke down and, unashamed, offeredyou myself. think not too badly of your zoe, my karl; when a woman lovesas i do, what is convention? a nothing, a straw on the watersof life. i wanted you for my own, passionately and desperately, fori feared that any moment the end might come, and to die without havingfelt your arms around me would have added a thousand tortures to death.though i could have welcomed death with joy when i saw the lookof sorrowful contempt which you cast upon me that night. heavens above!but you were strong, my karl. i am not ugly, and yet you resisted,and i hated and loved you at

the same time--oh! i know that sounds impossible,but it isn't for a woman. i slept little that night and, feelingthat i could not look you in the face in the morning, i left for brugesbefore you got up. i felt that i could trust you not to try andfind out the secret of the shooting-box. what a relief it is to be able to tell youeverything frankly, and how i hated the perpetual game of deception whichi had to play. i used to rack my brains for answers to yourperpetual question, "why won't you marry me?" it was a desperate risktaking you down to the

forest, but you loved me so much that younever questioned the reasons i gave you for my secrecy. i can tell younow, karl, that in the early days when i used to disappear from bruges,it was to the shooting-box that i went. but i will write more of that later. did you suffer the same agony as i did beforeyou left for kiel, and your pride would not allow you to come tome? you understand now, my darling, why i could never marry you, andwhen the colonel was killed it became harder than ever. once during thatterrible interview before

you went up the russian coast, i nearly gaveway and promised to marry you. but how could i? i had sworn my vow,and even to-night, though i stand in the shadow of death, i do not regretmy vow. it is inconceivable that i could have marriedyou and carried on my work--a spy on my husband's country--and ifi ever thought of trying to do this impossible thing, a vision which haspartially come true always restrained me. i saw a submarine officer disgraced and perhapssentenced to death, because his wife had been convicted as a spy!

no! it was impossible. but if i could not marry you, i still wantedyour love. then you went up the russian coast, and iheard of your return in a submarine terribly wrecked. i guessed whatyou must have gone through, and determined to see you, but when i enteredyour room and saw you lying open-eyed on your bed, with no one buta clumsy soldier to nurse you, i could have wept. you know the rest;you can perhaps hardly remember how i led you to my car and tookyou down to the forest. oh, karl, are you angry with me for what happened?do you sometimes think

that i took an unfair advantage of your weakness?please! please forgive me, you were so helpless, and i lovedyou so. then came those unforgettable weeks whilstyour boat was being repaired, weeks which opened to me the doorof the paradise i was never to enter. oh! karl, i pray that all thosememories may remain sweet and unclouded all your life. think of those dayswhen you think of your zoe. alas! they came to an end too soon, andyou left for the atlantic. when you came back all was over; i had beencaught at last. the evidence at the trial was clear enough.i have no complaints. i was

fairly caught. you remember the big open spacein front of the shooting-box? i do not mind saying now thatfive times have i been taken up from there in an english aeroplane,and landed there again after two days. each time i took over a fullreport on military affairs. not a word of naval news, my karl;you will remember i never tried to find out u-boat information. i evenwarned you to be cautious. well, they caught me as i landed; the englishboy who had flown me back tried hard to save me, but it only cost himhis own life. my first thought was of you, and there isnot a jot of evidence against

you, save only your friendship for me. rememberthis fact, if they persecute you. admit nothing, believe nothingthey tell you, deny everything; they have no evidence; but theyare certain to try and trap you. it was noble of you, karl, to engage monsieurlabordin in my defence, but it was useless and may do you harm. i also know of your efforts with the governor.i hoped nothing from him, but what you did has made me ready todie; i tremble lest you are compromised.

if only i could feel absolutely certain thati have not dragged you down in my ruin i should face the rifles witha smile. for my sake be careful, karl. when it is all over, cause a few little flowersto cover my resting-place, if this is permitted for aspy. order them, do not place them yourself; you _must not_ be compromised. i have told my story, and the end is verynear. what else is there to say? mere words are empty husks when i try to expressmy thoughts of you.

do not sorrow for your zoe, to whom you havegiven such happiness. i am not afraid to die and cross into theunknown, which, however terrible it is, cannot be much worse thanthis awful war. karl! karl! how i long to kiss you and feelyour strong arms crushing the breath from this body of mine which hascaused so much sorrow. oh, mother mary, support me in this hour oftrial. i cannot leave you! may the saints guard you and keep you throughall the perils of war, and grant that we meet again in the perfectpeace of eternity.

for ever, your devoted and adoring zoe. _karl's diary resumed._ she is dead! they have killed her, my zoe, my adorabledarling, and i am still alive--under close arrest. perhaps they willshoot me too, in their insatiable thirst for blood. oh! if they would!perhaps, my zoe, if i could only die and leave this useless worldbehind, i might find you in the mysterious regions where your spirit nowdwells. oh! is it well with you, zoe? give me a sign--alittle sign--that all

is well. i have knelt in prayer and askedfor a sign, but nothing comes--all is a blank, forbidding and mysterious.is god angry with us, my zoe, that we sinned before him? surely,surely he understands. he must have mercy on me if he is going to makeme go on living. if this is my punishment, i can bear it; i will livewithout you happily if only i may know that all is well with you. your letter, zoe! can you read these wordsas i write; can you sense my thoughts? speak! ah! i thought i heard yourvoice, and it was only the laughter of a woman in the street. your letterhas filled me with joy

and sorrow. i read and re-read the wonderfulwords in which you say you loved me from the beginning, but when youplead that i shall not turn in loathing from your memory--with these wordsyou smash me to the ground. most glorious woman, i never loved you sowell and so passionately as the day you stood at the trial, ringed roundwith the wolves, the clever lawyers, the stolid witnesses, theponderous books, the cynical air of religious solemnity with which themachinery of the law thinly cloaks its lust for blood--for a life.

even when my ears heard the sentence, i couldnot believe it would be carried out. the firing party, the chair,the bandage. oh, god! spare me these awful thoughts. to think of yourbreasts lacerated by the----oh! this is unendurable! stop, madmanthat i am! i am calmer now; i have read your letter againand rescued the journal from the grate into which i flung it. the fire was out; i am not sorry; my journalis all i have left, and in its pages are enshrined small, feeble word-picturesof paradise on earth. to read them is to catch an echo ofthe music we both loved so

well. music! you were all music to me, myzoe. your voice, your movements, your caresses all seemed to meto speak of music. i ask myself, i shall always ask myself untilthe last hour, whether all that could be done to save you was done.i tried to telegraph to the kaiser for you, zoe, but the wire nevergot further than bruges post office; they stopped it, and put me underarrest. it was only open arrest, my darling, and on that last awfulnight i forced them to let me see the governor. i, karl von schenk, kneltat his feet and begged for your life. he simply said, "you are mad."i left the palace under

close arrest. was ever woman's nobleness of character soexemplified as in your life? be comforted, zoe, that in all my black sorrowi cling desperately to my pride in your strength. i long to shoutabroad what you did and why you would never marry me, to tell all thegaping world that when you died a martyr to duty was killed. i am sounworthy of what you did for me, my darling, and it tortures me with mentalrendings to think that whilst i prided myself in my strength of mind,i was dragging you through the fires of hell. when i think ofthose six weeks we had

together, my brain says, "and they might havebeen months had you not spurned her in the forest." oh, zoe! if the priests say truth and allthings are now revealed to you, forgive me for this act of mine. cometo me in spirit and give me mental peace. [illustration: "...when there was a blindingflash and the air seemed filled with moaning fragments."] [illustration: "when i put up my periscopeat 9 a.m. the horizon seemed to be ringed with patrols."]

as i write like this, as if it was a letterthat you might read, i am comforted a little; i rely utterly on thehope, which i struggle to change into belief, that you can read thisand know my thoughts. for when i think that had things been otherwiseyou might have been leaning over my chair at this moment, andrunning your cool fingers through my stiff hair; when i think of this,my darling, the full realization comes to me of the gulf whichmust divide us for some uncertain period, and the lines of this pagerun mistily before my eyes.

zoe, my zoe, strange things have happenedin this war; wives declare they have seen their husbands, mothers havefelt the presence of their sons; if the powers permit, come to me onceagain, i implore you, and give me strength to live my life alone. examined before the court of inquiry to-day.fools! can't they realize that i don't care if they do shoot me? in the mess, people avoid me. what do i care?not one of them is worthy to stand on the same soil that holds her belovedbody. they have buried her in the castle grounds. in accordance withher wishes, i have

arranged for flowers. perhaps one day whenall this is over i may be able to live here and tend the place whereshe sleeps, free at last from all her cares. at the court of inquiry they tried to cross-examineme on our life together. dolts! what do they aim at proving?that i loved you? i hardly listened. when they finished the evidence,the president asked me if i had anything to say! anything to say!i felt like telling them they were cogs in the most monstrous machinefor manufacturing sorrow and destruction that mankind had ever devised.i could have shaken my

fist in their solemn faces and shouted "beasts!you murdered her! you destroyed that most wonderful woman who loweredherself to love me." actually there was a long silence, and thenthe vice-president, captain fruhlingsohn, said, "speak; we wish you well." it was the first touch of sympathy, the onlysign of humanity i had received in all these awful days, and it touchedmy stubborn heart and the longed-for tears flowed at last. i murmured: "gentlemen, i am no traitor; buti loved her as my own soul."

"dissolve the court. remove the prisoner."like the clash of iron gates, officialdom came into its own again. so i am not to be shot! not even imprisoned!"don't fall in love with enemy agents again!"--that summarized theirverdict. ha! ha! ha! it is all horribly funny. thereal reason is that they need me. i am a trained and skilful slaughtereron the seas; i am an essential part of the great machine. and theyhaven't got any spares! i was in the mess yesterday when the englishpapers we get from amsterdam arrived. oh! a pretty surprise awaited thefirst man who opened _the

times_. these english had published the namesof 150 u-boat commanders they had caught. there they all were. christiannames and all complete. the only thing missing was a blank space inwhich to fill in our names when the time comes. dinner was a silent meal last night, and nextmorning some rat of a belgian had posted the list on the gatepostof the mess. the machine has offered five hundred marks for his apprehension--howfoolish; as if by shooting him they would take any namesoff the long list. i am to sail at dawn tomorrow. i shall notbe sorry to get away for a

space from this place with its mingled memoriesof delight and death. back again, and i haven't written a word forthree weeks. my billet last trip was off finisterre. isighted two convoys, but there were destroyers there; they are so blackand swift i don't go near them. i don't want to die in a u-boat. it's notworth while. it is easy to avoid these convoys. i dive and make a greatfuss of attacking, then i steer divergently. nobody knows where theenemy is except me; i am the only one who looks through the periscope--itake good care of that. and

then how i curse and swear when i announcethat the convoy has altered course, and there is no chance of gettingin to attack. none of them are so disappointed as i am! the mines get on my nerves, there is no wayof dodging them, and lord! how they sprout on the flanders coast. i am to go out in six days. it is very littlerest. i believe they want to kill me. but i won't die! not i. i went to her grave yesterday for the firsttime. i had thought i should weep, but i did not; in fact it leftme quite unmoved. i feel

she's not really dead; she comes to me sometimes,always at night when i am alone and when we are at sea. there'snothing very tangible, but i catch an echo of her voice in the surge ofthe sea along the casing, or the sound of the breeze as it plays alongthe aerial. and so i will not die until she calls me, for up to the presenther messages have told me to live and endure. a very awkward incident took place last night.we were off the naze and saw a steamer some distance away. we dived to attack. when we were about a mileaway i had a look at her,

and something about her put me off. i halfthought she was a decoy ship, and i privately determined i would notattack. i steered a course which brought me well on her quarter, andas soon as i saw that it was impossible to get into position to fire iincreased speed on the engines and shook the whole boat in effortswhich were ostensibly directed to getting her into position. atlength i eased speed and bitterly exclaimed that my luck was out. the first lieutenant suggested that we shouldgive her gunfire, but i pointed out that i had good reason to suspecther of being a wolf in

sheep's clothing, and as he had not seen herhe could hardly question my judgment. i was going forward, when i accidentallyoverheard the navigator and the engineer talking in thewardroom. i listened. the engineer said: "the captain doesn't seemto have the luck he used to command." "or else he has lost skill!" replied ebert."we never fired a torpedo at all last trip, and it looks as if we arefollowing that precedent this time." i had heard enough, and, without their realizingmy presence, i

returned to the control room. i consideredthe situation, and came to the conclusion that they suspected nothing,but it was evident that their minds were running on lines of thoughtwhich might be dangerous. i looked at my watch and saw that there wasstill two hours of daylight left, and then decided to play a trick onthem all. i relieved the first lieutenant at the periscope, and whena decent interval of about half an hour had elapsed i saw a ship. thisvessel of my imagination, a veritable flying dutchman in fact, i proceededto attack, and, after about twenty minutes of frequent alterationsof speed and course, i

electrified the boat by bringing the bow tubesto the ready. the usual delay was most artistically arranged,and then i fired. with secret amusement i watched the two expensiveweapons of war rushing along, but destined to sink ingloriously inthe ocean, instead of burying themselves in the vitals of a ship.an oath from myself and an order to take the boat to twenty metres. with gloomy countenance i curtly remarked:"the port torpedo broke surface and then dived underneath her, thestarboard one missed astern."

so far all had gone well, but ten minuteslater i nearly made a fatal error. we had been diving for several hours,the atmosphere was bad, and as it was dusk i decided to come up, ventilate,and put a charge on the batteries. i gave the necessary orders,and was on my way up the conning tower to open the outer hatch. thecoxswain had just announced that the boat was on the surface, when a terriblethought paralysed me, and i clung helplessly to the ladder tryingto think out the situation. it had just occurred to me that as soon asthe officers and crew came on deck they would naturally look for thesteamer we had recently fired

at; this ship in the time interval which hadelapsed would still be in sight. as i came down, the first lieutenant was atthe periscope, looking round the horizon. quickly i thrust the youthfrom the eyepiece, and, as calmly as i could, said: "i thought i heardpropellers." half an hour later we surfaced for the night.i have been wondering ever since whether they suspect, for the threeof them were talking in the wardroom after dinner and stopped suddenlywhen i came in. i must be careful in future.

i was sent for this morning by the commodore'soffice, and handed my appointment as senior lieutenant at the barrackswilhelmshafen. no explanation, though i suspected somethingof the sort was coming, as three days after we got in from my last tripi was examined by the medical board attached to the flotilla. so i am to leave the u-boat service, and leaveit under a cloud! it is a sad come-down from captain of a u-boat tolieutenant in barracks, a job reserved for the medically unfit for seaservice. am i sorry? no, i think i am glad. life hereat bruges is one long

painful episode. no one speaks to me in themess. i am left severely alone with my memories. the night before lasti found a revolver in my room, and attached to it was a piece of paperbearing the words: "from a friend." perhaps at wilhelmshafen it will be different,and yet, when i went down to the boat at noon and collected mypersonal affairs and stepped over her side for the last time, i could notcheck a feeling of great sadness. we had endured much together, myboat and i, and the parting was hard.

_at barracks_. as i suspected when i was appointed here,my job is deadly to a degree, and my main duty is to sign leave passes. our great effort in france has failed, andnow the allies react furiously. the great war machine is strainedto its utmost capacity; can it endure the load? our proper move is to paralyse the alliedoffensive by striking with all our naval weight at his cross-channelcommunications. the u-boat war is too slow, and time is not on our side,whilst a hammer blow down

the channel might do great things. but wehave no naval imagination, and who am i, that i should advance an opinion? a discredited lieutenant in barracks--that'sall. worse and worse--there are rumours of troublesin the fleet taking place under certain conditions. it is the beginning of the end! last night the high seas fleet were orderedto weigh at 8 a.m. this morning. a mutiny broke out in the _kã¶nig_ and quicklyspread.

by 9 a.m. half a dozen ships were flying thered flag, and to-day wilhelmshafen is being administered by thecouncil of soldiers and sailors. there has been little disorder; the men havebeen unanimous in declaring that they would not go to sea fora last useless massacre, a last oblation on the bloodstained altars ofwar. can they be blamed? of what use would suchsacrifice be? yet to an officer it is all very sad and disheartening. i have seen enough to sicken me of the wholegerman system of making

war, and yet if the call came i know i wouldgladly go forth and die when _tout est perdu fors l'honneur_. such instincts are bred deep into the menof families such as mine. we approach the culmination of events. to-daygermany has called for an armistice. it has been inevitable since ourallies began falling away from us like rotten print. the terms will doubtless be hard. heavens above! but the terms are crushing! all the u-boats to be surrendered, the highseas fleet interned; why

not say "surrendered" straight out, it willcome to that, unless we blow them up in german ports. the end of kaiserdom has come; we are virtuallya republic; it is all like a dream. we have signed, and the last shot of the world-warhas been fired. here everything is confusion; the saner elementsare trying to keep order, the roughs are going round the dockyardand ships, looting freely. "better we should steal them than the english,"and "there is no

government, so all is free," are two of theircries. there has been a little shooting in the streets,and it is not safe for officers to move about in uniform, though,on the whole, i have experienced little difficulty. i was summoned to-day before the local council,which is run by a man who was a petty officer of signals in the_kã¶nig_. he recognized me and looked away. i was instructed to take u.122 over to harwichfor surrender to the english.

i made no difficulty; some one has got todo it, and i verily believe i am indifferent to all emotions. we sail in convoy on the day after tomorrow;that is to say, if the crew condescend to fuel the boat in time.three looters were executed to-day in the dockyard and this has had asteadying effect on the worst elements. i went on board 122 to-day, and on showingmy authority which was signed by the council (which has now becomethe council of soldiers, sailors and workmen), the crew of the boatheld a meeting at which i

was not invited to be present. at its conclusion the coxswain came up tome and informed me that a resolution had been carried by seventeen votesto ten, to the effect that i was to be obeyed as captain of theboat. i begged him to convey to the crew my gratification,and expressed the hope that i should give satisfaction. i am afraid the sarcasm was quite lost onthem. we are within sixty miles of harwich and iexpect to sight the english cruisers any moment.

i wrote some days ago that i was incapableof any emotion. i was wrong, as i have been so often duringthe last two years. in fact, i have come to the conclusion thati am no psychologist--i don't believe we germans are any good at psychology,and that's the root reason why we've failed. i do feel emotion--it's terrible; the shame--thehumiliation is unbearable. i wonder how the english will behave? whata day of triumph for them. the signalman has just come down and reportedbritish cruisers right

ahead; it will soon be over. i must go upon deck and exercise my functions as elected captain of u.122, andrepresentative of germany in defeat. one last effort is demanded, and then---- _note_ _this is the last sentence in the diary. itis probable that he suddenly had to hurry on deck and in the subsequentconfusion forgot to rescue his diary from the locker in which he hadthrust it_.