Return from Cattaro

Thinking back about the time I was on board the Budapest...

I got very acquainted with the "dark arrest'" on many occasions because of several military wrongdoings as it happens so easily with young people. Things like undisciplined behavior, overtime transgressions or not saluting a senior officer. Dark arrest usually included fasting. Then there was also "bar arrest" where iron shackles would be put around your legs above the ankles and secured with locks. These were fastened to a continuous bar and could be screwed tight. You would lay there on your back on the newly oiled iron floor of the middle deck which, naturally, was a very tough situation.

With Dark arrest you usually received up to two months "board arrest" as a bonus (like barracks arrest). As an example: Two days dark arrest and fasting, two months board arrest followed by two more days of dark arrest. When we cruised by the Budapest, I hummed the old reserve song but thinking of a different text:

And when the service time is done,
you old dark arrest begone.
Sitting in you so often was a bother,
with stale old bread only, and water.

Just then I hear the signal, "All hands get busy!" and the KP is running around with their tin buckets and pitchers to bring the food. Although the food onboard those ships was quite acceptable, according to regulations, it had to be tasted by an officer before distribution. It was not comparable to the food at the submarine station. There it was much better.

All kinds of thoughts went through my head. Onboard the Budapest, unending service duties and exercises together with all kinds of trickery and torments from the officers while always standing with one foot in confinement. And the inferior food. But here at the submarine station, adventure, action and good fellowship, even with the officers. No unneeded exercises, and the best chow imaginable. Of course, the danger of drowning has come closer and closer. Is not life suspended by a thread that can be broken so easily by the various circumstances? But what does it matter? Every minute, thousands die for their homeland and nobody has the privilege to live longer than others. It is still better to go to a watery grave with this coffin of iron and steel than possibly waste away as a cripple on this crooked world for who knows how long. Maybe even as a burden to other people who will in time probably forget that this cripple sacrificed himself for their country too.

Even as schoolchildren, we saw plenty of old war veterans standing around the town squares with their barrel organs and music boxes. They were mocked by the children without their parents reprimanding them. Jawohl! Better an eternal peace on the bottom of the ocean than such a life! No matter if it occurs in a less than gentle way, the end result is in all cases death. And if one gets away you can say you have accomplished a little more for your homeland than just exercising.

Stefan woke up just before Ponto Rosa. He still looked a little stupid but he felt much better. As we arrived in the Villa Stein, the result of our physical examination was reported and the Torpedo Master received us by saying, " So, you better get a good night's sleep tonight. Tomorrow starts with a different note." And so it was.