My Grandfather's Blog

This is my grandfather's blog. Franz Strobl was nineteen years old when he wrote these words as he served in the Austro-Hungarian Kriegsmarine during WWI. Franz was of the rare breed known as Submariners, and of the still rarer breed of those who survived their service in that branch of the military which claimed the highest casualty rate.

His memoirs were written on scraps of paper at night in the barracks, on the train to and from leave, and in his bunk below decks of his U-Boat as it cruised the Adriatic along the Dalmatian coast.

The pile of tattered papers made their way into the hands of my uncle, Joschi Lampert, who translated Franz's words from German to English...the sort of English that retains much of the word order of the original German. This was a daunting task as much of the original handwritten pages were torn or damaged in some way and my grandfather wrote in a Gothic hand that would have been nearly impossible for me to decipher. I have transcribed my uncle's translation as closely as possible, making changes only in the interests of clarity. The form and substance of the translation have a charm and innocence with which editorial correction would tamper to no benificial result.

You will read the words of a young Austrian made old by the "War to end all Wars." You will read as he became a decorated hero for a cause he did not understand nor endorse. And you will read how he was ultimately the only survivor of his ill-fated boat. The first installment will follow. Enjoy, in his own words, the story of Franz Strobl, Submariner of the Imperial Kriegsmarine who, if he were writing this today, would wish you peace.

Part 1. Late 1915 to Early Spring 1916

"Hallo! Franz come up. We are going aboard the U.B. XV." So calls Torpedo-Foreman Stieber, A Polish student as civilian, but a good soul and a good comrade who was gladly ready to do a favor anytime.

"What are you saying Stefan?" I ask after I jumped with two leaps up the stairway and onto the deck. Stefan repeats his news and here comes Weapon-Mate Jakl, a slightly irritated Czech reservist.

"Nah, Sacrament" he starts a little strong, "Don't stand around but pack your bag and come to the provision office. Be happy to finally leave this crate. Otherwise you will be locked up a few more times. You know that the boatsman doesn't like you."

I and Stefan laugh in his face and then disappear to the stockroom to pack our duffelbags. Nice and square, according to regulations to make sure we don't have any problems and are able to get away from the Budapest as fast as possible. I spent two years on this old Coast Defender and I really did not have any luck here.

At first it was somehow tolerable. But then, when the boatsman who is like a little god on this ship, began to beset me because I did not wash his laundry any more, it started. For every minor infraction I had to report. I was punished so that I became his favorite whipping boy. I was, after all, no angel, and took revenge in my own way by hiding his things, filling his boots with water and such dumb jokes every chance I got. Which for some reason always resulted in another arrest.

That's why I was so happy that I could get away from here at last. There was nothing happening here anyway.Since Lovcen was captured all we ever did was maneuver and exercise. We watched in envy, the crews of the torpedo boats and destroyers and especially the submarines. Yes, there was some action. There you could say that they accomplished something. Now it was going to change for us too. We went proudly to the commissioner for our wages and to the office for our service books. We also had to stop to see the Captain who gave us instructions and wished us good luck. Then we said goodbye to all our comrades, threw our bags over our shoulders and off we went.

We took a steam launch to land and waited for the passenger ship that took care of the traffic in the "Bocce di Cattaro."We rode to "Porto Rosa" where the submarine station was located. Since we had some time, we stopped at a bar and bought ourselves a glass of wine. "You know" said Stefan,"I am really glad that we are together and we are getting away from the Budapest. Hopefully we will find some friends there."

"Yes" I replied, "I'm extremely anxious to see what it looks like in such a submarine. We will have to study hard at first in order to be worthy. Otherwise we will have to go back to the Budapest."

Then each of us followed his own thoughts.

The Villa Stein

After a while, the steamer arrived and took us to Ponto Rosa. There we went to the submarine station to inquire about the location of the barracks where the crew of the "Fifteener" was housed. We met an old buddy who also used to be in the machine room of the Budapest. His name was Fugita. We had a few things to talk about and to see. He showed us the U.XV and led us to the Villa Stein. That was the name of the building where the men of the XV were quartered. It was a house that was not yet completed when the war broke out, standing there in the rough with a temporary roof. It was a little away from the other barracks and looked somewhat like a ruin.

If the appearance of the exterior was not very impressive, inside was even less to cheer about. All one big room with shelving covering one whole wall and to the ceiling. The lumber was rough and the boards un-planed. The bed boxes had been attached into those units next to and on top of each other.

The Torpedo Master soon showed up and we told him about our transfer. "Where are you coming from?" he asked. When we told him that we came from the Budapest and that we were Torpedo Specialists, he replied, " Well, in that case, you have to learn fast. In a few days we are going out on action and one of you will have to join us since we are short." That did not bother us and it was for that reason we stepped forward and we will try hard to make it work.

" Are you hungry and thirsty?" asked the Telegraph Master. Sure we were and they gave us canned food and wine. Our eyes grew big because we never had anything that good in the Navy. The result was that we liked this place so much already.

The next day we reported our orders for embarkation and on the following day we were scheduled to go to Cattaro for medical examinations to find out if we were fit for Submarine service.

We Never Want to Go Back Again

When our steamer passed by the Budapest, I confided to Stefan, " Listen, if it turns out that I'm unable to stay, I will never go back onto that box and come what may. If there is no other way out, then I will shoot myself. I sure suffered enough up there. And all because of that boatsman. Just imagine if I was to return there I would be the perfect prey for him. I could not endure it."

"I'm not going back either!" Stefan replied. After a two hour trip, we arrived at Cattaro. Now it will be decided.

Everything turned out well. We both passed. Like chains dropping from every part of my body, that's how I felt, definitively redeemed. While we were both small-minded and depressed just a short time ago, our hearts now beat with pure joy. It was cause for celebration.

"What do we do now?" I ask Stefan, " we have four hours before our return trip."

"Dumb question!" he says, "We'll go to a place where we can drink a toast to this special day."

"Alright, let's find the first best 'spelunke' and also get something to eat, for I feel terribly hungry." I answered, " And then we will see what else we can do. Maybe there will even be a pretty little doll. I have not been on land for a long time anyway and who knows if we won't drown on the first operation. It will be a shame if we don't jump at this opportunity."

Stefan agreed and it didn't take long for us to find what we were looking for.

The wine was good and the fish, fried in oil, wasn't bad either. Even a beautiful, subservient spirit was at our disposal. What more could we want? Unfortunately, the time elapsed much too quickly and we had to go back to our steamer. On our return trip, Stefan, who had a little too much wine, got to feel quite miserable. He moaned while I laughed at him which made him very angry. But that did not help him and he had to 'pay his tribute'.

"You know Stefan," I said to him, "if you cannot tolerate wine, you will have to drink goat's milk. That is better for sucklings."

For that he wanted to attach a nice name to me but 'Ulrich' wouldn't allow it. Then he got very quiet. Later, I looked after him and he was leaning over the side railing...asleep.

I now had time to devote myself to my own thoughts until we got to Ponto Rosa.

Note: The reference to 'Ulrich' Is probably my grandfathers version of the heaving noises associated with drinking too much wine. Something akin to our phrase, "selling Buicks."

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.

Coming Onboard the S.M.S.U.B.XV

Certain clothes always remained on the boat and were, in a way, just lent to the crew for service onboard. It was the official outfit and designation of fitness for duty.

Each of us grabbed a pair of boots, not new, but in good shape and even if they were a little too big, it did not make a difference. There was not much choice. A wool sweater including a hood, a raincoat and storm hat, and two blankets that were quite thin. It wasn't cold inside the boat and anyway, we never got out of our clothes while we were at sea. In any case, they did not make a good mattress but when we had the proper measure of exhaustion, we could sleep fairly well. The cap ribbon, "S.M.S.U.B.XV" marked the new man as a full worthy member. And only after an apparent showing of service ambition and with the approval of the Torpedo Master could a man be designated either "First Class" or to the reserve crew.

For the two of us, only the first class came into consideration. We wanted to see and experience something. Another reason was that the reserve crew had to stay in port during an operation and did not receive the extra measure of food. That alone was reason enough to be part of the regular crew. Imagine! Besides the regular rations, we got condensed milk and butter, shellfish, tuna, all kinds of stewed fruit and canned spreads, real Hungarian Salami and more stuff. So many things we did not even know by name, let alone to have ever eaten such delicacies.

The other point was that we noticed when a regular boatman was telling a story, the people gathered around the storyteller. Those from the reserve crew stood absent-mindedly around and once in a while made untimely remarks which resulted in either pitiful glances from the regulars or even admonishment or laughter. In no way did we want this. We wanted to be full-fledged boatmen.

Up at five o'clock for reveille and a half hour later we were already onboard the "U.B.XV" and started with a thorough cleanup "Because that's the best way to get to know the boat." said the Torpedo Master.

"Ouch! Damned!" I jerked back after I hit my head.

"Na, Na, not so hot-headed. You can see for yourself that it is a bit tighter here that on the Budapest." said the Torpedo Master. "This is after all a submarine and not a dance hall." And later he told us, "Look at these levers and wheels very closely. You will get more familiar with them in a few days. and this gyroscope...did you ever see one like this?"

"No." I said, and was a little ashamed.

"Well" he said, "It is going to dance around for you plenty. That means keeping a cool head and eyes open. No getting nervous when the seas get rough, otherwise you will always be off course and the Commander won't like that. He is otherwise a good man, but is very particular about the steering which is understandable."

"Jawohl!" I say, and rub my head as I look at the ventilation lever that juts down from the ceiling and on which I banged my precious head so hard that it was not only blue but also swollen.

Stefan passes by and takes revenge for the remarks I made when we returned from Cattaro. Mockingly, he said, "Franz, I keep telling you, what's big is also clumsy!"

To which I reply, " Not everyone can be a midget."

Onboard the S.M.S.U.B.XV Part 2

Yes, to be sure, the XV was small. It was one of the boats that Austria took over from Germany for coastal defense. 128 metric tons above water and 156 below. 28 meters long and 5 meters wide inside, in places only 1 1/2 meters. Two torpedo tubes that were already armed. The top speed was 5 miles on the surface and 4 miles under water. On deck, a 37 mm rapid-fire cannon and machine gun. Even though the crew was usually 20 men and 3 officers at the station, at sea there were only 3 officers with 13 men. That was all there was room for. Only 600 liters of water was taken along. That was for drinking and cooking. With the exception of the Commander, there was no washing, and even that you could not call washing. The bulk was tested for pressure up to 50 meters depth. A holding tank of 5000 lkg assisted surfacing if the boat should leak in the diving tanks. Besides that, there was a rescue bouy with telephone and light with 100 meters of cable attached to the boat which could be unbolted. If the boat could not surface despite the release of the holding tank, it could at least communicate with the upper world.

Every man had a life jacket that could be inflated and also served well as a pillow. The boat only had minimal speed but that disadvantage was partially balanced out by its ability to dive fast. The relatively limited range of operation could be somewhat increased by filling the trim tanks with fuel for the diesel engine. But that, in turn, decreased the diving capacity by making the boat lighter. Much to the detriment of the boat is the process of charging the batteries for the underwater running. There was only one motor available so the boat had to sit on the surface without any power for movement was at the mercy of the current. This is why the charging was done at night whenever possible.

For the improvement of the air, there was a ventilation system built in that included filter cartridges and oxygen supplement tanks that we carried with us. The inside of the boat was very cramped and the many wheels and levers made a confusing impression. It also meant that you had to be damned careful not to make the wrong move lest you could send the boat, with man and mouse, to the depths. That was enough reason to command a great respect for all the gadgets and we gladly submitted to the training with great pride.

During the following days we had torpedo maneuvers. This was for us quite an experience. How could we possibly move around in this 5 meter long and 45 centimeter thick heavy steel cigar? In this tight space where you could hardly turn around? But everything worked somehow since it was all measured out to the millimeter. The fact that we ended up with a few bumps did not matter and was taken as inevitable.

"What do you say? This is different than on the Budapest. There you could move around as you pleased but here you have to creep around like in a chimney." says Torpedo Instructor Lehar to us.

"Yeah, that's nice," we answer, " But in spite of that, it is here much more interesting for us. And here we know what we are doing it for. There it was only to keep busy smearing grease and polishing the aiming apparatus for nothing."

"Aye," he says, " We no not do nothing unnecessary here. But everything has to work efficiently, otherwise we might be out for some action and instead of accomplishing something, we have to be lucky that they do not rip off our behind!"

The First Dive

The tenth day of February, 1916. Today, we had our first dive within the harbor. Right after breakfast the Torpedo Master took us aside and began in a solemn tone, "So that you know it, today we start with the diving practice. Be very careful that you don't do any foolish things. The Commanding Officer is going to run you through properly on the steering and on the valve stations. Show him that you learned and know something. Don't put me to shame."

"Torpedo Master, Sir!" I replied, "We are going to pull ourselves together."

At eight o'clock came the order. "All men on deck!" The Commander, Line ship Lieutenant Fandrich, Second Officer, Frigate Lieutenant Thot, Third Officer, Frigate Lieutenant Pospischil and Torpedo master Scholer. Then the torpedo instructors, Dzcmicek, Lehar, Ksoblar and Putigna. Also Machine Master Egger and Machine Mate Perno, Electro Master Brodinger, Electrician Gruner, Torpedo Foreman Stieber and...my humble self.

The Commander asked us a few questions first. Then the order sounded, "To the anchor station!" A couple of short commands, a few swiftly executed actions and the boat slid silently out of the cove. We headed first toward Castel Nuovo. You could hardly hear the exhaust of the diesel motor. A red signal flag was fastened to the periscope so the other ships could recognize that we are not an enemy ship when only the periscope shows. Then came the command, "Ready to dive!" All men had to go inside the boat and to their diving stations. Only the Commander remained yet on the tower. Not long before he too came down. Then it started. I was assigned to the valve station for venting operations. Then, "Dive tanks open!" it came down from the tower. The man at the dive tank valves turned the spindles around and I tore the vents open. The air hissed as it escaped out the vent pipes and the sea water gushed into the dive tanks.

The hands on the big depth manometer swung around and showed how rapidly the boat dived: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 meters. "Dive tanks closed!" followed by, "Periscope up!" sounded from the tower. The dive tanks were closed and I closed the vent valves. The periscope whirred as it rose up. Now the boat was in a position where it could be kept constant only with the help of the regulator tanks. If it was too heavy, some water was pumped out. If it was too light, then some more water was allowed to flow in. The trim tanks and the depth-steering took care of balance. One of each was located fore and aft. The amount of water in them remained the same. They did not add more weight to the boat. The water was merely pumped from one to the other to lower the front or rear of the boat to facilitate the depth-steering.

For the two of us, one more thing to consider was the direction-steering. But that was no mystery since both of us did that on the torpedo boats. The reading of the gyroscope compass, with its division into degrees, was easier than the magnetic compass during calm seas. But in rough seas it could mean hell for the helmsman. This beast showed the tiniest deviation of the boat from course. When the boat was rolling and thumping, the needle danced around like crazy. If you got nervous, it would cause you a lot of pain and you wished this sensitive apparatus would go to the devil. There was also the magnetic compass onboard, but it never worked properly and no adjusting helped.

Stefan and I took all the instructions to heart and even studied in our free hours the duties we had to learn. Soon we could firmly master the procedures. We were ready to go into action with tense anticipation. We did not have to wait long to satisfy our wishes and it would require of us all possible efforts.

The "U.XVI" Is Loose!

There was suddenly great excitement this night. We were tired and fast asleep after all the diving exercises and other preparations for action. Not even the roaring and raging of the sea could bother us. For several days now, a horrible "Sirokko" (storm) was blowing, but still, we slept the sleep of the righteous.

Suddenly, the Torpedo Master stormed in with the words, "Get up and out right away! The Sixteener( U.XVI) broke loose!" No time for rubbing our eyes. We hurried to our boat which was docked next to the loose one, so we had the best chance to help. But the Sixteener was drifting away. During the heavy storm, the rigging broke loose and since there was only one man on duty during the night, he was very much helpless and it took a while until the guard at the station could hear him.

The boat already drifted 40-50 meters toward the entrance to the station. They launched some rowboats but all for nothing. The first crashed on the sea wall and the second capsized before it was manned. Fast action was needed in order to prevent the boat from hitting the barricades.

"Someone will have to swim and take out the castline." called the Commander, "Who wants to volunteer?"

I was the closest. To tie the line around me and jump into the water was one thing, but fighting against the waves was quite another. At one time it seemed like I could not get back to the surface. The line was heavy and kept pulling me back. There were three lengths tied together because one was not long enough. My eyes burned indescribably because of the salt water and I had to swallow quite a few mouthfuls. The Sixteener appeared to drift further away. Suddenly I was startled by a strike to my head. The man on the drifting boat had thrown me a line which I hastily grabbed. Now I made progress. I was soon onboard and together we tied the line.

Within a half hour the U.XVI was back were it belonged, securely tied down. For me, this incident was a fitness test whereby I proved that I was able to do the job. From now on, I was looked upon as an equal. I was told to report and as a reward, all my previous penalties were erased.

Note: Franz was being modest. For saving the U.XVI and the life of the stranded crewman, he was awarded the Bronze "Tapferkeit" medal for bravery at the risk of his own life.

Heavy Seas

We waited a few days already for the storm to settle down, but unabated it kept raging. It caused extensive damage mainly to the barricades. The crew of the Kronprinz Rudolf, which was assigned to guard the barricades, was busy day and night with repairs, as much as that was possible. Torpedo boats and destroyers had also returned to the station because they could not operate in this fierce storm. The light cruisers had to take over their duties. The surf thundered so loudly that you had to shout or make hand signals to make yourself understood. Even mines broke away and exploded. It seemed as if all the elements had been unchained and would destroy everything that might oppose them.

On the following day, the Commander came to the Villa Stein and asked the Torpedo Master if our boat was ready for action. Upon the assurance of the Torpedo Master, the order was given. After the Commander was gone he said, " What a deal! To go out on action in this weather , that could get interesting."

"Maybe better weather was forecast." guessed Dzscmicek.

To that Lehar turned up his nose and rebuked him saying, "You're talking like you joined the service yesterday! Don't you know that the waves remain high for 24 hours after the storm stops? And it does not look like the storm would soon fade away."

Telegraph Master Simon adds, " Alright already! It is the same to me if we drown this way or by a torpedo or mine or whatever." After a short pause, he concludes, "One of these days it will cost us our necks. As long as it goes fast."

"Yes," comments Quartermaster Pernauer, "So many had to perish before us, why not we? Are we anything better? It would be best if this stupid war would end. First everybody prospers, then builds up defenses while fostering friendship with all nations. Then suddenly a few of the upper ten thousand start to argue. Then they claim the fatherland has been attacked and had to be defended. In reality, the whole thing is business. Everything needs to be smashed so that a couple of big-shots can make a lot of money."

"Shut your mouth, you fool! You don't understand it anyway." the Electro-Master advises him. "Or have you forgotten that the Serbs assassinated the successor to the throne in Sarajevo? It seems to me you want to go to jail. If the wrong person heard that, we could all be listening to the second chapter of the service regulations for a month instead of going out. Just request a transfer out of the submarines if you are afraid!"

"Hold on! I didn't mean it that way.," Pernauer replied. Faintheartedness has nothing to do with it. It just bothered me a little. I'll keep quiet already."

"Pernauer was just on furlough," said Machinist Stadler, "and he is still homesick for his Julka."

"Hush recruit." laughs Pernauer. And with that this divergence of opinion came to an end.

The Torpedo Master came back in. He had assured himself in the meantime if the boat was ready for action or if there was anything more to prepare. Then he ordered the disbursement of the provisions. Stefan and I were advised what we could receive that would be useful. Salami, canned butter and milk, sugar, a variety of canned meats and fruits. And the most important part, 20 to 30 lemons to help conserve the drinking water.

The cruisers had come back in. The mine danger was too great and they too could not maneuver in the storm. Friend and enemy were both glad not to go out in this weather.

Our First Action

The 16th of February, 1916. The UBXV left the Bocce (cove) at 5:00 pm and the storm rages on undiminished. At 6:00 in the evening we have yet to get past the mine field. The Commander anxiously searches over the mine field with his binoculars while it is getting dark and not much can be seen. The white wave caps are rolling ghostlike against the 15er. Threateningly he is raised high only to be dropped to the depths in the next moment. It looks as if the sea would easily swallow him but he keeps coming back up and so it goes on and on.

The waves wash over the boat with a powerful spray. Even though the tower cover is almost closed, a hefty amount of water gushes in from the tower into the boat every time. The Commander and the second lookout are having a hard time holding on when the boat crashes into the depth. There is great danger to be thrown overboard and in that case not even the devil could help them. But defiantly, they face the storm with the help of the boat.

Inside the boat it is not much better. The helmsmen are sliding around in their chairs as if they were in some contest. One hand on the wheel, the other holding something solid and still very little control. Every man is at alarm stations and a few are sea-sick already. Stieber is among them, rolling back and forth on the floor and moaning dreadfully. One stream after another escapes his face. He tries to gasp for air with a curse but it does not work for his mouth is full again. He wants to look brave and tries for a smile but his face is such a funny grimace that all who saw him burst into loud laughter. Besides, who ever felt sorry for the sea-sick? Probably nobody except maybe the sick one himself. This is just how it is and it will most likely never change.

Yes, if we could finally get out of this mine field so we could dive. I think everybody has that wish. But unfortunately these small boats don't have powerful engines and it looks like the 15er has to muster everything it has just to move forward. But the boat is holding its own and making progress, if ever so slowly. At last, about half past 7, the order from the tower..."Ready to dive!"

A breath of relief comes over the crew and it seems that the sick now have suddenly recovered. "Dive! 10 meters." The vents are activated, the dive tanks opened and already we are sinking. It feels as if we are falling. The pointer on the depth-manometer swings back and forth indicating that the sea is rough even down here."20 meters!" it sounds from the tower and down we go deeper. Here too, the sea is not calm yet. The boat wants to rise and the depth-steering mate has his hands full trying to force it down.

The Commander comes down from the tower and observes the depth-manometer. "Flood regulators!" he orders and down we go to 30 meters. "Regulators open...close..." a few more times and the orders are calmly and repeatedly executed. 35 meters, 40 meters, down here it is calm. We feel a little jerk now and then but that doesn't mean a thing. Staying at this depth is good.

While the crew cleans away all traces left by the sea-sick the Commander goes forward to the officer's room. Now it becomes peaceful around here. We turn off half the light bulbs and all we can hear are the muted sounds of the officers talking and the monotonous humming of the electric motors.

The course is due south. Soon the free crew sleeps and only the Second talks quietly with the Commander about the operation. Then they too lay down to sleep. Only the Third, the two helmsmen and the Electro-master are on duty. The boat rests and saves its power for the action. At one half mile per hour and 40 meters down the boats screws it way through the restless Adriatic. She is normally not nasty but occasionally she can have a temper too.

On the next morning at 6:00 we had breakfast first. Then we surfaced. The storm had calmed down some but the boat was still rolling considerably. We had passed Antivari, heading towards San Giovanni di Madur. Stieber is sea-sick again and already gave up his breakfast.

Now it was time for charging. Two men up in the tower searched the arched wave-mountains with utmost attention and help of their strong binoculars. "Halt engine! Charge battery!" goes the command down into the boat. The diesel engine stopped for a short time and starts again in a few seconds but the propeller had uncoupled and the boat lost speed until it drifted with the current. The boat, at the mercy of the sea now, rocked like a nut shell. The rudder did not have much effect and the helmsman had a terrible time keeping the boat on course. All lights that we could possibly do without were turned off but the ventilator had to keep on operating.

We are now quite far out to sea. Behind us to the left we can see the Montenegro mountains with Lovcen. Antivari is hard to make out by an unaided eye. A little to the left of us, the bay of the Bojana river estuary with Dulcigno and to the south a dark strip of land, the coast of Albania.

The sea looks deserted far and wide. After two hours, the boat was well aired out and the ventilator was turned off. The air feels fresh below but it won't be long before it gets warm again. After four hours the battery is all charged up and now we go into "war mode." The boat dives to only leave the tower exposed and we start to move again.

The First Sailing Vessel

Now we are heading towards the Bojana River estuary. Slowly we are approaching the Albanian coast. There, to the south, we make out a sailboat. "Surface! He probably wants to sail into San Giovanni. We'll try to cut him off." says the Commander to the Second who replies, "If he does have a motor." We try to get ahead of the sailboat with full power. Now it is time to dive if we don't want to be seen. That does not seem to be the case as we are catching up more and more. He is completely unaware of us. Now we dive to 8 meters and everybody in the boat is tense. Are we going to catch him? We are getting closer...now is the time.

"Surface! Start diesel engine! Man the cannon!" the voice of the Commander shouts. The air compressor is turned on and the diving tank valves are opened. "Ready to surface!" cries the Torpedo Master. "Blow dive tanks!" The compressed air hisses loudly and purges the water from the tanks. We are up in a few seconds. When the tower is barely above the surface the Commander opens the hatch cover and climbs out with the gun crew following him. The cannon is quickly readied and ammunition is handed up.

Aha! Now he noticed us and wants to make himself scarce. "Give him a shot in front of the bow!" orders the Commander. A short upheaval and then a high spray in front of the bow of the sailboat. Now he seems to come around. The sails flutter in the wind and he looses momentum. But look! Suddenly he is showing wake again. "Three shots into the rigging!" screams the Commander. "Now it will be right." he says as the sails are lowered. It tosses in the waves as we approach.

The Second and three crewmen get ready to grapple aboard. "One kilo-gram of Ekrasit (explosive) should be enough for this tub." he laughs. Over on the boat all are on deck with their hands up awaiting their fate. There were six men and two women. Promptly we put against larboard. The boarding crew clambers hastily unto the sailboat while the rest of us are standing ready with weapons drawn. The people from across shake their hands above their heads as they are lamenting. One makes a suspicious move and is instantly shot down by the Second.

Now the people get their lifeboat ready and climb down over the rope ladder. The women are very frantic but it was explained to them that this is war. After their boat was pushed off we inspected the cargo and found rifles, ammunition and a few other fine things onboard which they probably tried to bring up from Durazzo. The work progressed fast. The Ekrasit cartridge was adjusted and placed into the bottom. A few bottles of wine were found and brought back to our boat when the four returned. While the fuse was hissing we tried to get away as far as we could. After a few minutes a dull noise and the boat disappeared in the waves.

It was high time to get out of there. From the west, a cruiser was fast approaching. We could not make out their war colors yet so we dived and steered towards him. It turned out to be the Italian cruiser Guarto. When we got close to him he suddenly turned off and vanished in the direction of Durazzo so we surfaced again and set our course to the South.

We arrived near Durazzo in the early evening without spotting any other object. Here we charged the battery again. We criss-crossed in the vicinity the rest of the night but could not see anything. The sea had calmed down completely in the meantime and it was a great delight to be allowed in the tower to smoke a cigarette in total tranquility.

The next morning we did see some smoke in the distance but it was apparent that we were the only ones in the area. We took course towards North again where the weather was beautiful and we enjoyed it. Later in the afternoon we turned once more to the south. We just could not believe that there was nothing stirring around Durazzo.

Around midnight the alarm sounded. A destroyer was sighted, probably Italian, and it came fairly close. But that was not the right target for a submarine. They are going too fast and do not have enough draught. It was better that they don't see us. When we came up again he was out of sight.

In the morning we turned back North. Our time was up and we were homeward bound. We made it back without any further incidents. Stefan and I, who awaited our first action with such suspense and which had such a stormy beginning, had it now behind us. After we arrived in port we gathered our things and transfered back to the Villa Stein.

Now we got completely cleaned up, checked the mail and went to sleep. Never mind that the beds were not too nice or comfortable. After four days on the hard floor with only a thin blanket it felt good to stretch out with some straw underneath. Drsmicek and Stadler went on furlough and it would be time for us too for some recuperation. But three days later the XVII returned already, their periscope was leaking and he was blind. Since the XVI was also under repair we had to standby and take over the readiness for now. We got our things together again for when the V comes in. Then it will be our turn again. The talk about moving the station to Durazzo goes around.

Misfortune, and Still In Luck

On the 26th of February, 1916 Durazzo was occupied by our troops and the same evening we had to put to sea. This may turn out to be something big. With a little luck we may be able to send something bigger to the bottom of the ocean. We started out at 5:00 PM and at 7:00 we were past the minefield already.

The sea was very calm. Now and then we saw dolphins playing their games, diving and disappearing again. We had a nice voyage and for our concept, rather speedy. Of course, for the larger boats like the Ver or VIer and the German boats even more so, our "speedy" run would be a miserable crawl. They make 10-16 miles compared to our 5.

That was the main reason our Commander sometimes got so irritated and at this very moment is discussing that subject with the Second up in the tower. "By the time we get to Durazzo they have passed through the Strait of Otranto and will be cruising the coast of Greece," says the Commander. "Hopefully we will be stationed in Durazzo soon." muses the Second. " I don't make too much of it," replies the Commander, "The harbor is much too shallow and too open. I would not recommend it for a permanent station. For an intermediate one, for the supply of water and fuel it might work. But for good? No! Imagine when the opponents would find out...and it would not take them long. We would be easy prey for them. They would be dumb if they just let us get away with it. I don't believe anything will come of it." But the Second did not want to give it up. "Ja, Ja. You have a point, but then we could sometimes go farther down." he countered.

The same question was talked about inside the boat also. And here too we had pros and cons. But everybody, from the Commander to the last man was burning for more action. At least through the Otranto Strait nothing was going on in here anymore.

We arrived near Durazzo before dawn and went to battle mode. Now that the sea was completely calm and only the tower was out of the water it almost seemed like we were sitting in a small rowboat, only we didn't have to row. When it was broad daylight and nothing visible far and wide, we came to the surface. At 9:00 we started the process of charging the battery.

Cruising here before Durazzo as if there was peace all around us, the sun in the sky promised a beautiful day for all of us. Suddenly, "Alarm! Torpedo to port!" The four men jump down from the tower above through the hatchway and the Commander closed the cover as fast as possible. A splash of water doused them nevertheless. It took us only about 20 seconds from the time of the warning to dive down to 20 meters but it would not have been fast enough had the enemy torpedo exploded. We could all feel the bump clearly. Our faces turned white like corpses.

After a time, while we were steering towards the open sea, the Commander said, "Well, that went quickly, I doubt it that any boat ever dived this fast." And, after a breather, "Their ammunition must be very bad or the brave gentleman aimed the torpedo from so far that it did not have much momentum left. So the impact was not strong enough to detonate the torpedo. Let us be thankful. Otherwise we would by now have given up our spirits already. That guy probably assumes we are goners.

"Who saw the torpedo?" inquires the Second. "I did," announces Lehar. "I only by chance looked over the water when I suddenly saw the trail and sounded the alarm." " Well done!" praised the Commander. "For that you may go on furlough when we return." "It is my turn anyway." answers Lehar. "Well, then you can just stay home a week longer." the Commander laughs back. "Thank you very kindly Commander, Sir!" says Lehar and smiles, rubbing his hands. "You sure are a sneaky one." teases the Second Torpedo-Master. "You're just envious." answers Lehar. "Do you think I'm stupid and not say that I'm up for furlough already?"

Each one of us had a huge thirst for vengeance. If we could just see him we would have loved to take him out. With the periscope the Commander danced around the tower and you could plainly see that he too wanted to return the favor. It was useless, he was long gone. For sure he believed we were done for.

On the distant horizon we could already make out the island of Sazano. We should be there before evening. Behind it lies the Bay of Valona. "There must be something to be found." says the captain. We take a course a little towards the open sea in order to have sufficient space to maneuver if we should run into something. The battery has to be charged up again too. It is always better to be farther out because we don't get surprised as easily close to the shore.

Dusk falls around us and the view of the Albanian mountains fades. More and more stars sparkle in the sky. The sea is lightly ruffled and the sound of the wake mixed with the rhythmic, subdued thumping of the muffler creates a tranquilizing melody.

We search the area around us carefully with binoculars but nothing suspicious is visible. "Stop engine. Charge battery!" the Commander calls down to us. "Be careful, the next time it may not turn out so lucky." After two hours the Engine Master reports that the battery is fully loaded and we set course toward Valona. We strain to hear every unusual sound.

"There! What is that?" The dark silhouette looks like a cruiser. I report it to the Commander. He takes a look and we dive. An iron-clad cruiser, probably the San Giorgio. We aim for him. "Larboard torpedo ready!" comes down from the tower. Now...what is wrong with the compass? The beast turns like crazy to the left and right. I tell the Second who comes over. "Was ist los? What is up now?" he asks. I repeat my report. "Commander sir, the compass does not work anymore." he calls up to the tower. The Commander was all eyes in the periscope and did not react. Once more the message was repeated, "The compass was not functioning anymore."

"To the devil! Why just now!" And then, "Down to 30 meters!" It was high time to dive if we don't want to be rammed, and soon we hear him rushing over us. "If he had suspected we were under him he would have sent his dubious greetings." noticed the Second annoyingly, adding, "Now we have to leave empty handed." But we don't let them discourage us that easily. We go to the bottom which is only 43 meters in this area.

The compass is quickly disassembled and we look for the problem, but it takes too much time. After a couple of hours had passed without finding the problem the Commander decides to return.

After we come up cautiously and find that all is clear around us we head to the north. Of course it means that we have to run on the surface and steer by the stars. Where is Polaris? There is the Big Dipper and there is the North Star. A straight line points to the north. We are making about 9 MPH now because we are running on combination power.

On the next morning we have to dive twice. "It looks like the devil is sending them to us now that we can't do anything." Thunders the Second. Like always, the Commander is wearing his impenetrable face but we know that he is boiling with rage. Three opportunities to shoot and we couldn't. Only Lehar is in a good mood because he is going on furlough. We arrive in the Bocce at 6:00 in the evening and no matter how much misfortune we had, we were still very lucky. Yes, these boats can dive fast, but for that, run slower.

The UBXV Has Gone Blind

For two days now the XVer has been cruising and watching along the Italian coast from Barletta to Brindisi. We have wonderful March weather. The sun is already much warmer here and when the Bora does not blow it is quite comfortable. In the morning we dive and go 5-6 miles closer to the coast and then it goes either north or southwards, usually in battle mode. We do not want to be seen by the Italians.

Our most difficult task is "looking out' and constantly observing the coast. The sea-side is watched by another man. Every movement has to be reported but we can leisurely smoke a cigarette while doing it. Once in a while a plane comes around so we quickly disappear under the water. There is little danger that he will see our wake even with the sea being this calm. Sometimes a motorboat darts out, makes a few rounds and vanishes again.

No torpedo boats, no cruisers, South of Monopoli it gets somewhat livelier and near Brindisi we have to run a little further out to sea. In the evening when it gets dark we come up and distance ourselves a bit more from the coast. First we charge the battery and then go back to searching along the coast, cruising above water. It is somewhat busy around Monopoli but only small stuff is running around.

We can see their oil storage tanks clearly through the binoculars and the Second says to the Commander, "If we had a more decent cannon we could help them with the tapping of the oil," and after a pause, "but with this tiny spitter they will only laugh at us." The Commander to that in reply, "This is not our duty. We have been chosen for a higher task." As the Torpedo Master descends he mumbles to himself, "Oh Yea, the old man has been smoking a bad one."

When we get up to Bari we see smoke and soon after two planes, so we dive. The face of the Commander brightens up. Looks like it will be a while before we are ready to attack, something seems to be wrong up there. The Commander is getting more and more restless at the periscope and mentions to the Second, "The devil! I think they noticed us. Two torpedo boats are veering around up there in close proximity...or is it something else? Someone forgot his cap up there and now they fished it out!" A nice mess. The Commander calls down, "Whoever is missing his cap, report it now." Finally Lehar comes around. He puts on his most innocent face and reports, "Commander, Sir! I humbly report that I ...I threw it away before noon because it was too ruined anyway and I did not believe it would float this long." To that suggests the Commander, "Here, look through!" Lehar looks through the periscope but right away jumps aside with the words, "Ich Magaraz!" - "I'm a dumb-ass!" He is all red in the face. The Commander scorns him, "Weren't you just on furlough?" "Yes Sir!" replied Lehar. "Just go back down" advises the annoyed Commander.

Lehar comes down and hits his head hard on the iron ladder that goes up to the tower. It was a hard bump. "Stupid guy" the Torpedo Master chides him. " Do you feel better now with a bump on your head?"

The planes had probably seen the cap and warned the torpedo boats. They fished it out and one of them informed the steamer which promptly turned around and disappeared into Monopoli. "Was there a ribbon (ID) on your cap?" asks the Commander from the tower. "I most obediently report, No!" replies Lehar. With the torpedo boats still searching we turn around and set course for Monopoli.

Now it looks like hell is breaking loose. Planes and motorboats are darting about. The torpedo boats are approaching too. "Because of one Austrian crew cap they don't need to make such a fuss." says the Second after looking through the periscope. "That steamer has been lost for us." the Commander answers.

Now we change course and aim for Brindisi. We surface as the sky had clouded over and it started to rain. Stronger and stronger it pours while a cold North-westerly wind blows in. The next morning we arrived near Brindisi with the rain still coming down in sheets. We catch sight of smoke to the Southeast and because of the poor visibility the smoke suddenly turns out to be a French destroyer. He is coming in our direction and is fast approaching so we dive. The Commander runs the periscope up and down a few times and suddenly cries out, "What is this? I cannot see a thing anymore!" He cleans the lens a few times but it does not help. Through the large panorama lens you could not see anything either. It was all evenly gray.

"Down to 30 meters." the Commander orders. He was beside himself with rage and frustration. He doesn't say anything but we know him too well. When he shoves his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other then we know he is boiling inside. No matter how good a superior he is, when he gets angry, he can be awful.

We steer out to sea. The destroyer had long since passed over us. We surfaced carefully but only high enough to open the hatch and unscrew the outer lens of the periscope. It was a troublesoe task to unscrew the capsule with the fine thread. After we cleaned the lens, we installed a new gasket in the capsule and screwed it back on. We let it dry out and it seemed like the problem had been fixed. But after a half-hour diving it was the same thing again. We had no choice but to head for home to our station.

Suspicion!

The UBXV lay under board of the "Gua." It was in the Bocce our mother-ship. We had received a new periscope. That is, it was not new but the periscope of the XVII that had been repaired. Actually, they received the new one. Two "specialists" came along to install the periscope. They said they were both from Vienna but we looked at them from a funny angle because they spoke with a suspicious Viennese dialect.

One of them would have very much liked to get inside the boat but that was strictly forbidden. When it did not work simply, he tried it with the pretense that he had to check something. While still talking he jumped down the tower hatch, but oh woe! The Torpedo Master was on the spot and snarls to him with the words, "What do you think you are doing down here?" But that one did not get scared that easily and said calmly, "Just looking a little. I have never seen such a submarine from the inside." "And it isn't necessary either!" roars the Torpedo Master, enraged over the persistence of the intruder. "Get yourself up there and fast, otherwise you will be missing a leg, Understood?" Grumblingly the "specialist" climbed back unto the mother-ship.

Since the XVII, with the new periscope, became blind again and had to return the second day, we did not trust the specialists from Vienna anymore. Particularly the one who was so inquisitive. He tried the same scheme to board the XVII. He absolutely wanted to see the inside of the boat but they too showed him the way out.

We were supposed to go out on action again but the Commander did first want to make a few dives in port. Lo and behold we went blind again. Immediately we went in tow again at the Gua. We were so angry that if we had seen one of the specialists he would have flown overboard without a second thought. Lehar happened to catch one of them and it was the persistent one as we called him. Lehar smacked him loudly on his face and hark! He could speak Czech. And how he cursed. He thought that nobody would understand him but too bad. Lehar himself came from the Czech-Bohemian border and understood everything. To make things worse, Drzmicek, who was a Czech, came by but that did not hold him back. The next day the persistent one was gone.

Our periscope was taken out once more and then we really did receive a new one. Now we did not leak and go blind anymore.

Everybody Sea-sick

We have terrible weather for the last few days cruising the Albanian coast South towards Valona. It seems winter wants to dominate once more and the Adriatic is showing her bad side again. We are running on the surface and nothing can be seen, neither friend nor enemy. The air in the boat is so thick you could cut it with a knife. The boat's exhaust is constantly being washed over and the stench and smoke pollutes the inside of the boat every time. To make things worse, the hatch cover has to be closed otherwise we get splash after splash down into the boat.

More than half the crew is already seasick. Even the Second got it really bad.He is affected front and back. Otherwise he is usually sea worthy.When he is up in the tower he has to pull down his pants again and again. When he is below he continually visits the "quiet place" behind the engine. The Commander was inclined to return to the station but the Frigate-Lieutenant resisted as much as he could. He said, "It is going to work out. So what if the pants get messed up sometimes." We did not care either because the air was anyhow no air anymore. Besides, we wanted to see an officer with full pants for once...funny!

All of a sudden, a loud laughter from the engine room. The Frigate-Lieutenant stood at the afore-mentioned place pulling up his pants. Behind him, an instructor on his knees and wiping his face with his sleeve. The Engine Master stood on the other side of the diesel and was bent out of shape laughing. What had happened? The Second was on the throne when the instructor came with utmost urgency. The Second flushed the bowl in a hurry but did not get to blow it with compressed air while the other came running with his pants down. At that moment a heavy roll of the boat and the guy slipped and landed next to the bowl on his knees. The poor fellow was just in the right spot at the right time when the contents of the bowl was also agitated by the roll and he received the whole mess on his face. He was given two liters of fresh water to wash.

I too was sea-sick at first but that was caused by excess wine consumption on the day before departure. We had a birthday celebration. After my stomach was emptied I laid in a new base with canned smoked meat and it held. I was always hungry. For the thirst I sucked on lemons.

In the meantime the boat made its way through the stirred up sea and more and more people got sick. Finally, only the Commander, the engine Master and I remained. The cook brought us our chow and then he too disappeared. We had "milk rice." First the Commander spooned it up in the tower. Then the Engine Master, who sat on the commode while he ate. Finally I got the pot in my hands. I clamped the pot between my knees and shoveled as hard as I could until it was empty.

We were continually on duty for thirty-six hours. No relief was available because everyone was lying around sick. They just couldn't get up. Despite that the Commander decided to dive. The crewmen gathered what little strength they had left and manned their diving stations. It did not take long to get to thirty meters. Now it got a little more lively below. I slid off the chair as Stieber came to relieve me only to hear the words from Novotny, "Na, Servus! Those three have devoured that whole pot of milk rice. It was meant for sixteen men!" Then I was gone.

When I was shaken awake the boat was surfacing. The air was very bad inside and everyone was gasping like fish. Later the sea calmed down a little bit and we could leave the hatch cover open. Things improved rapidly. We were heading North again. At Durazzo we developed engine damage...a cracked cylinder. Now we had to return. Even though we ran on electricity at half power we made good speed with the current.

The First Steamer

Our Commander went on furlough. In his place came another "Line-ship-Lieutenant" then we went into action. A "Pretty boy" as Pernauer, who had once before served with him, called him. We had most beautiful spring weather. This time we cruise again along the Italian coast from Bari to Brindisi and back again. We work with the same maneuvers. In the morning we approach the coast in battle mode and in the evening, out to sea to charge the battery. Then we resume the cruising.

It was not so quiet this time. Planes and motorboats developed a lively activity. We had to dive completely and more frequently. We did not mind because it gave us hope that something will come up and we were all anxious for a chance to send something bigger to the bottom of the ocean. We searched around for two days already. We could not surface anymore except far out to sea in total darkness for ventilation and charging the battery. Smoking was allowed only in the tower and there only in your hollow hand.

"Well, something should appear today." said the Commander to the Second, who replied, "I hope so too. And something big since they are trying so hard to protect themselves."

On the next morning we saw smoke coming from Monopoli. "Now it is coming...so, towards us...but what is that? It is a hospital ship!" The Commander mumbles around at the periscope. "Look here Toth!" he calls to the Second, "A hospital ship, two torpedo boats and another steamer. If we shoot this fellow down they will cry that we shot down a support ship. But they won't say that it was accompanied by two torpedo boats."

"They think they are so smart, but it won't help them." replied the Second as he stepped back. One after the other we were now allowed to look through the periscope. It was beautiful the way they were approaching.

At the head, the white hospital ship. Then came the two torpedo boats one behind the other towards the sea and protecting the other steamer which was in the middle. The torpedo boats would move alternately more out to sea and back again. "Both torpedos ready!" orders the Commander as calmly as if this were just an exercise. "Larboard 5...oppose, right away." "Larboard torpedo ready!" it came back from the apparatus. "Torpedo los!" Then, "Go to 20 meters." The Torpedo Master pushes on the release lever as if he wanted to push the torpedo out himself. It leaves the tube with a loud gargle and we count 1,2,3 to 24...a muffled explosion and we all jubilated. Three times Hurrah! Even if they could have heard us we could not have helped ourselves.

Now we rose up again to 10 meters. Then the periscope was run up. "Well, what is that?" the Commander quipped. "The hospital ship running away without caring about the ship-wrecked sailors." The torpedo boats had also disappeared. Only a single rowboat was still there. A couple of men helped the others into the boat and the steamer was gone.

The gramophone had to come out now. First a few marches and the the "Wacht Am Rhein." We played until we got back to our mine field. The Telegraph Master sent a message to Klinci about our return and our accomplishment. He was upset that we disturbed him with out concert.

In Rosa we were received with hurrahs by "Rudolph" and the station. Our former friend and ally from vis-a-vis has been relieved of 3600 tons by our UBXV. That this success, which for many of us was the first substantial one, had to be celebrated with some drinks, I just want to mention in passing.

Decoration By The Birdcage

Until now, we never had more time than a week for cleaning up and repairs on the boat. Every time we thought we can completely relax something else happened. Either a boat came back damaged by the sea, or something else went wrong that we had to go out again as soon as our boat was in shape to some extent. The crew was very busy. We had to do all the minor repairs ourselves. There was no repair shop and only the major repairs were done by the mothership.And if they could not take care of it then the boat had to go to the arsenal in Pola.

But this time all four boats were action ready. That means one was always out on action and three on standby in port. We were the last in line.The boat was cleaned and everything else was in order. Now we were our own bosses. First we went through our duffle bags and did our laundry. When that was all finished we were free.

We took walks around the vicinity and even up to Klinci. But our biggest amusement was with the young vulture. Somebody had brought him around and a cage was made from a large wooden box. It was set up close by the Villa Stein. We could spend hours by that bird but did not understand why he would not eat. We saved some meat from our chow and put it in the cage. We stole some raw meat from the kitchen but he would not touch that either. We even went as far as stealing a dog and killing it and threw the fresh bloody meat into the cage. All our efforts were in vain. He just sat on his perch and stared at us. Eating was not on his program. He did not even touch young live mice.

Sometimes a pair of large older vultures circled above us. When he heard them cry he got restless and kept jumping from one perch to the other. Maybe they were his parents. On one occasion Stefan and I stood by the cage again and tried to figure out how we could free the bird without being found out. He was in poor shape already and we felt sorry for him. Just then somebody called out, "Hello, the two of you! come on over, I have something for you." It was our Commander. "Hold up your hands." he said and gave each of us something in our hand. At first we didn't know what it was but it turned out to be the Bronze Medal. Because of our puzzled faces he added, "This is for the 3600 tons from the last action. It did not turn out any better because it was a freighter and not a warship." We thanked him kindly and wanted to leave when he noted that the ones who already had decorations did not get anything.

Three of us received the Bronze Medal for bravery. We had somehow pictured a decoration ceremony differently but the important thing was that we received something, even if it was by the vulture cage. Now we got our best uniform out and sewed it on. "Some more will have to join this one." I told Stefan. In the afternoon we went over to Castel Nuovo to show off.

The Helmsman Was Not Watching

The Commander had come back from furlough and we went out again on the next day. This time, our task was to search the Strait of Otranto and around Brindisi.

We cruised up and down for five days already and it was frustrating. The Italian armored cruiser San Giorgio has appeared out of Valona a couple of times but every time we were too far away to be able to reach him. One time he came south from the island Saseno. The other time he came out from the north. This is when we realized again how inadequate we were with our low rate of speed. They actually toyed with us and we thought we could hear them laughing at us. The Commander was spitting mad. Even if he didn't let loose at us we could see it in his face. The whole time the toothpick in his mouth told the story. We looked at each other sort of cross-eyed as if we could somehow do something about it, that the Germans sent us these slow submarines.

And then we met one of those German Uboats. It came by very close and they called to us that they had sunk 120,000 tons. Our Commander replied with congratulations, then turned to the Second with "And we can cruise around with your yawl-boats." "There is a bigger difference between us then between a freight train and an express." answered the Second. After that both of them spat overboard and blew their anger into the air with the smoke of a cigarette.

At night, we charged the battery again while floating along with the current. We were in the middle of the Otranto Strait and had to be cautious. Sometimes we saw the fishing boats send signals to each other. They were short messages. Yes, these fishing boats tried to make trouble for the submarines too, but we were always able to break through. If they don't get any worse then it won't hinder us much.

"There! What kind of noise is that?" Asks the Second at the muffled sound of an engine. "That must be a large submarine. Wake the Commander in a hurry!" He jumps up fast and is in the tower in a flash. "Down to 8 meters! Dive fast or it will be too late." he called from the tower. "Starboard torpedo ready! Five points to larboard!" "Course is five points larboard." repeats the helmsman. Everyone is tense. Why does it take so long? "Course?" it comes from above. The helmsman repeats the course again. "Gone! Too late!" says the Commander. "For God's sake, what did you do?" he asks the helmsman. "You are a jackass! Instead of going five points more to larboard, you left it at five points larboard and kept on going. Now he is gone." And then, turning to us, "You can thank this one here." Then he goes forward to the officer's quarter and hits the couch. The Torpedo-master is very pale. His eyes are sparkling like those of a wild animal that is ready to pounce. The helmsman is fully confused and still tries to defend himself by saying, "I did report that the course was five points to larboard." "It's alright already," the Commander calls to him, "We were both at fault."

We turned northward and went back to our station. We were already out an extra day anyway. When the Commander returned from reporting to the Flotilla Commander he showed a gloomy face.

Our Excellent Cannon

We were out for action again. But what we experienced this time was really comical. We made a round trip down along the Albanian coast. Then, from Valona, we crossed over the Otranto Strait. We cruised for two days before Brindisi and then turned north up the Italian coastline. It was mostly overcast and the visibility was bad. We had to keep an extra sharp lookout in order not to be surprised. There were torpedo-boats and destroyers in the area constantly. Italian, French and even some English were among them. A few times we prepared for attack but did not get to fire. They were too fast and we were too slow.

It got calmer toward Bari and we were astonished when suddenly, without any protection, a steamer came along as if there was no war in progress. The Commander was suspicious and gave the order to dive. We watched through the periscope as he slowly approached us. 2000 tons thought the Torpedo-Master. But it was strange that he hardly made a wake while still making good headway.

We made the attack...but neither torpedo hit. They both passed through and underneath him. He was a flat-keeler or at least he does not have 4 meters of draught. But he should not get away with so little fight. We surfaced. "Man the cannon!" ordered the Commander. And now it began. We had 75 rounds of ammunition on board. We delivered a rapid fire that nobody could easily measure up to us. Hit after hit landed midship, at the waterline and on the command bridge. But besides a few holes on the latter and on the smoke stack there was no apparent effect. We used up all 75 rounds and that steamer cruises on as if nothing happened.

This time not even the Torpedo-Master got angry. Everybody just laughed. What else could we do? It was a shame to waste those torpedoes but nobody was sorry about the fire fight with the cannon. No! At least we knew that we only carried that 37 mm gun along for show. "Someone just try to depend on this excellent cannon." said the Commander to the other two officers. "On the surface the cannon is always recommended with referral made to the German boats. But they have real 8 cm cannons and not 37 mm spitters."

And now it was time for us to disappear. Our fire fight had an effect like a stick in a wasp's nest. They came at us from all sides. Planes were among them too. We went to 30 meters and screwed ourselves away on a north-easterly course. We had to purge the dive tanks very much since we had lost about 700 kg.

When we returned and told of our experience there was merely some relieving laughter. The Commanders finally had a more urgent cause to point out, in higher places, the need for a more substantial cannon. It was evident that we could not accomplish anything with such a tiny gun. Two weeks later, Novotny, who was our cook and the mouthpiece of the officers, came with the news that we should be getting a new and better cannon with which we could even shoot at destroyers and torpedo-boats. But we did not believe it...just a rumor.

A Support Cruiser and a Destroyer

Stefan went on furlough. It was my turn but Stefan begged me if I would not let him go. He was from Galicia and his mother had to go through the whole Russian invasion. It was understandable that he could not wait to get home and see his mother again. I was not at all in too much of a hurry. I did not have parents anymore and actually had to go to acquaintances of my family. Consequently I let him go first.

In the meantime, on the 20th of June we went out on action again down into the Strait of Otranto. During the night we passed by Valona. The sea was smooth like a mirror and very bright. Now and then some planes flew over us and during the day we had to dive a few times so they would not notice us.

Smoke appeared on the southern horizon, a nice support steamer similar to our Gua and two French destroyers. We could look at them again through the periscope. A magnificent sight. Then we got ready for the attack. "Both torpedoes ready!" and "Ready!" came back the reply from the torpedo room. The two Torpedo-Masters were busy at the torpedo tubes. "Larboard five...against...at once!" "Larboard torpedo ready." and "Larboard torpedo los!" The first torpedo gurgled out and we were counting again. "Full larboard, dive to 20 meters!" At the count of 22 we heard the loud explosion, a hit! Three times hurrah and the gramophone played our song.

We rose up to 10 meters and there stood a destroyer only 200 meters ahead of us. So, let's go after him. "Starboard torpedo ready!" The same routine again. A minute later the second torpedo whooshed out and found it's mark too. Once more three hurrahs and we turned to congratulate the Commander but with his face to the periscope he did not have the time. The Second destroyer wound up in front of us too but unfortunately we were out of torpedoes and had no choice but to go home.

Only now the Commander thanked and congratulated us too. He did not need a toothpick in his mouth now. Instead he went straight to the medicine cabinet and with his own hands took out the bottle of cognac. With the toast, "Long live the XVer and his crew!" he drank to us and we answered with "Long live the XVer and his Commander!" When we were out of sight we surfaced and headed home with combination power.

The Telegraph-Master wired ahead to Klinci, "UXV has sunk 50 miles off Cape de Otranto the Italian support cruiser Citta di Messina and French destroyer Faurch." On the 24th of June at 18:00 hours we made port at Ponta Rosa with all our flags hoisted. The coastal guns, the Rudolf and the whole station received us with hurrahs. In the evening, a big victory celebration. Unbelievable. Just a four day joyride in the Otranto Strait and such success.

Round Trip In The Bocce

Now we were suddenly the talk of the day in the Bocce. On the next morning we had to make a trip around the Bocce. On all the ships that we passed the crews were standing in parade formation. They greeted us with hurrahs and we responded in the same manner. We cruised around for four hours like that. I did not have time to even roll myself a cigarette. We were hoarse by now and our shouts of "Hurrah" sounded more like crowing. No wonder. After the victory celebration of the day before our voices sounded suspicious anyway. On top of that we had to wear our tight parade uniforms and we could hardly move. But the white linen clothes would have gotten heavy too fast.

We were glad when we tied down under the Budapest. "Na, don't you want to come back and stay here again?" the Helmsman asked me as we took a walk on deck of the ship. "My most obedient thanks, but no." I answered him. In the two hours we spent on the ship we enjoyed ourselves quite well talking to our former comrades. We were happy nevertheless when we left again. This constant showing off was not for us.

Stefan had returned from furlough and was very mad at the misfortune that he missed the grand action that we saw while he was gone. Was it not almost certain that the small "Silver' (medal) was due if not the big one? When we returned to Porto Rosa the whole crew received three days recuperation in Castel Nuovo. We were ready to take full advantage of that but it turned out we had bad luck with those days.

We preferred to take the passenger steamer to Melinje and to walk from there to Castel Nuovo instead of taking the motorboat of the U station which bore the grand name "Cannon Boat" and which would have taken us directly to Castel Nuovo. Nevermind that it had no cannon on board, but it was such an antiquated great flood vehicle that with it, you always ran the risk of having to row for at least half the trip. More shot out of the tailpipe than powered the boat.

So we marched nine and nine men in a row arm-in-arm the wide road to Castel Nuovo and sang marching songs. The world was beautiful and belonged to us. We never paid attention to the car that was following us and did not move to the side when it sounded the horn. We thought it was still far behind us and if it moved closer we would have certainly made way.

We were thirsty and entered at the Schneider which was the first tavern on the street to empty a pitcher of cold beer. But the Torpedo-Master, inquisitive as he always is, stopped to look at who was in that automobile. What do you know? It was a General and now he sees the cap ribbon with the S.M.S. UBXV on it. He calls the Torpedo-Master over and asks, "Are you from the UBXV?" The Torpedo-Master acknowledges dutifully while completely forgetting to address the General as "Your Excellency." "Are the other men also from the XV?" asked the General. "Jawohl!" said the Torpedo-Master and then he was dismissed. he came into the tavern saying "I almost thought he would treat us to a keg of beer." But oh dear, that was a big mistake.

When we arrived back in Rosa they asked us right away what we did wrong. On the next day we had to report. "Do you know why you have to report?" asked the Commander. When we denied it he explained it to us. "So that you remember it for the next time, When a superior wants to pass with his car you instantly have to jump aside and salute him very strictly. And you address a General with 'Excellency.' So remember that, all of you are going into the lock-up for twenty-four hours. Dismissed!"

All Eighteen Men In One Arrest

We believed to notice when we left the Commander that only with difficulty he kept from laughing. "You Torpedo-Master, is this the keg of beer the General was going to buy for us?" asked the Telegraph-Master. We all looked at each other and then burst into laughter. "We should hire the Torpedo-Master as our fortune teller and clairvoyant." Machine-Man Strasser joked. "You may all #*&#* me!' answered the Torpedo-Master as he left. "He is quite upset over it." noticed the Machine-Man.

Now they built a temporary jail on board the Panonia. A boardwall was set up in a square down in the cargo hold large enough for all eighteen men. No bench or cot for laying down. "It's dark, but for that every comfort is lacking." said Pernauer when we moved in. One man from the reserve crew was on day-charge on deck. Besides his ammunition pockets he carried a throw-line in his hand. Another man took care of inspection. He was down in the cargo hold and also served as our guard. When he locked us up he suggested that we should take it to heart before he went away.

But we would rather take it to the belly. He was scarcely out of sight when we started. "Hello, Guard! We are thirsty!" The sentry took the wine pitcher and brought water. "The water is not drinkable." we complained. So he brought us wine. That was much better. "You see, this one knows his way around." said one. "Hey guard, bring the mandolin." called another again. He brought the mandolin and because he did not want to keep running back and forth he also brought the zither and my mouth organ.

Our thirst grew bigger and we kept him going anyway. Actually, it was the day-charge that did the going so the guard did not have to climb up on deck every time. He used his throw line to lower all the things he had to bring us.

At nine o'clock in the evening when the Commander came to see us and to see if we were repentant, all he could see was a jumble of legs and instruments. The wine had done its job. Then he chased us out. For that we had the next three days trial runs.

Time For My Furlough

Ah yes! It was still nice to be on furlough even though I have no parents anymore and all my siblings are in service with other people. I really wanted to see my brother but he could not get off. With the ambulance they had no time to go on furlough now. He wrote that he wanted to come but it would have been too late. I had already left because I wanted to spend a few days in Vienna too.

Well, now I am back again. It is peculiar, I never believed before what strange thoughts one gets during furlough about the war. One looks at things with totally different eyes. Of course, the real misery one sees only in the hinterland. There the heroism looks completely different. And without wanting to, one comes to the conclusion that the war is nothing else but a business in which the poor people have to pay the bill. The same here as on the other side. And now I understand the words that Pernauer once said. It really seems to be that way.

In the hinterland all kinds of hardships and annoyances and almost nothing to chew. How they treat the war refugees...as if they had not already lost everything, their homeland, belongings and property. Our Salzbugians are not aware of these things and can not even appreciate the full meaning of Homeland. All the things you find out here in the hinterland, you feel like vomiting. Why don't they just realize it is all for nothing and just make peace?

With such thoughts I returned to service and a few hours later had to go out on action. Nothing helped. The twenty kronen that I gave to the medic were just wasted. I wanted to shirk going out on action and just could not think of anything better than to stick my thumb between the yawl and the stabilizing float when I brought the officers on board. It pinched my thumb really bad. Now I cried out and lamented something awful and ran to the medic in a hurry. I showed him my injury and induced him with ten kronen to paint my whole hand with iodine and in order to have him wrap the bandage up to my elbow I turned over ten kronen more.

With my arm in a sling I marched over to report that I could not go out with them. But oh, how I miscalculated. The Second unwrapped my bandage, took out his pocket-knife and scratched the iodine off my thumbnail. He laughed and said, "Well, if everyone would be as healthy as you...you just better come along."

Confounded and abandoned! Now I have one bad thumb which really hurts very much, twenty kronen gone to the dogs and the ridicule that the whole crew has bestowed on me. "You having lots of pain?" one after the other asked. Pfui Teufel!

The Commander Hung Up On The Periscope

We have been cruising around the Strait of Otranto for four days already. It is a real game of hide-and-seek. During the night we charge the battery and ventilate, during the day we are in battle mode or stay completely submerged. A few times we prepared for attack but never got to fire. We were too slow. Not much showed up but fishing boats, torpedo boats and sometimes a destroyer but they were too fast for us.

What a heat inside the boat. Even though we sit in our bathing suits we are all dripping with sweat. When the boat is ventilated at night then it is comfortable but after we dive for a few hours it is the same again. We suffer dreadfully from thirst. Everyone has the feeling that he can't open his mouth anymore from all the eating of lemons. When the cook comes around with the water supply everyone tries to obtain a little extra swallow. As a result of the heat even the air is hard to breathe and we all gasp.

The other day a thunder storm comes up. Thank God for some cool relief! When it was still raining at night we all went up on deck. How we enjoyed that shower bath. The air inside the boat improved quickly as well. The next day the weather is nice again but the sea is a little agitated. Suddenly some smoke comes into view.

We run in battle mode. It is still to early to dive. Anyway comes the order "Ready to dive!" We all go to our dive stations and wait for what will come next. There, what's going on? The boat suddenly sinks. The Commander has just enough time to slam the hatch cover closed and the Torpedo-Master, who is the command relay in the tower, quickly bolts it tight. We instantly blow the dive tanks and come up again fast.

But during this unexpected maneuver the Commander, observing the smoke, was not aware of the boat sinking until the water ran into his shoes. After he had nudged the hatch shut he held tightly onto the periscope while the Second, not watching too closely, quickly raised up the periscope. Now the Commander was hanging onto the periscope five meters up in the air!

After we had surfaced again we eagerly searched for the cause of the unwanted dive. It took a while until Drmicek discovered that one of the regulator valves was slightly open. Apparently, when the crewmen jumped to man their dive stations, one of them bumped into the valve and nudged it open a quarter turn without noticing. That was enough to make us sink so unexpectedly.

The New Station At Gjenovic

We headed back to our station. Outside the barricades a torpedo boat flashed to us the signal that we should enter at the new station at Gjenovic. We were anxious to see what it was going to look like. The talk about it went on for a long time. It was said that brick barracks were built and we were supposed to get beds over there. Of course all was only hear-say. Those shelf units we used as beds at the Villa Stein were anything else but real beds and the rest of the furnishings had the same style. Everything was genuine war-like or maybe what we thought of as "wild west."

When we entered at Gjenoviv we first had to find our dock but it was not difficult. The Fiver was first and then our Fifteener. Then came the Sixteener and finally the Seventeener. There was one more place for the Sixer but he won't be coming anymore. He has been overdue for quite some time and must have been caught.

After we stepped on land we looked at the nice barracks the have built here. The interior was one large room with four rows of beds similar to the rooms in a big hospital. How times have changed. Now the crews from all four boats were together. Tables and benches were set up for the men between the rows of beds. Our personal things had been brought here already and each of us had our places assigned.

"Everything is just fine and dandy." noticed the Second Torpedo-Master, "But I would still rather stay at the Villa Stein." We were far less disturbed but here it smelled too much like barracks and they would soon start with their military discipline. "That will all be up to us," said the Torpedo-Master from the Sixteener, "If we keep order ourselves there shouldn't be any problems because nobody who is not from a boat will be snooping around here. The station crew lives on the Panonia anyway and is none of our business."

We really missed Ponte Rosa. Even though it was nicer here it hurt us to be together with so many. In Rosa the rooms for the different boats were divided and we were completely separated from the others. Here we could not do fencing or wrestling or entertainment like dancing anymore. But there was also one at Rosa who missed us very much. It was the owner of the wine tavern there. He could close up shop now. And then there was another one who was surely glad we were gone. He was the so-called Mayor. We had always harvested his lemon trees before he had the chance. Nevertheless, we soon got used to the new place and it felt a little more like home.

Decoration

Like a storm the Torpedo-Master rushed into our barracks. " The crewmen of the Fifteener, Fall in and hurry!." he called. Na, what's going on now, I thought. We were still rather suspicious and believed that we were going to get some kind of instructions about barracks regulations, day orderly or some kind of duty. But none of the above was true. While in formation in front of the barracks we waited in anticipation of things to come.

Then came the officers. But look there! The Second and Third Commanders also took their places at the right end of the formation. First the Commander gave a speech in which he expressed his praise for our conduct at sea and also at the station. Then he read a letter from the Fleet Command praising us for our successes and congratulating us for our decorations. And then the Second stepped forward.

The Commander started awarding the medals. The first and second Torpedo-Masters received the Gold as did the Engine-Master and an instructor. All together four Gold, seven large and one small Silver. The UBXV was the most decorated boat. So far now we had four Gold, eleven large and four small Silver and seven Bronze for a crew of eighteen men besides officers. Something like this could not pass without celebrating.

"Drink children! Who knows how long we are going to live. One of these days it is going to cost us our necks." said the Torpedo-Master who always got sad when he had a little too much. In very high spirits and even heavier stomachs we turned in very late that night. Even the officers looked somewhat shaken on the following day.

Monopoli

We are out at sea again. Every time we cruise before Monopoli the Commander looks with interest and yearning over to the fuel storage tanks. During the night after we had charged the battery, we try to get very close. Slowly and quietly we approach to within a hundred meters. No guard is visible or maybe he is asleep. The tanks are within grasp and nothing moves. "They must feel pretty secure out there." whispers the Commander to the Second. Then we slowly move away again.

That was the second time we tried this maneuver now and nothing suspicious showed. We did figure for sometime that the Commander is working out some kind of plan, but what could it be? We change course to Southeast and then come back again. While I was sitting at the steering wheel I overheard the two talking about an explosion.

When it got dark we moved out to sea to charge the battery again. Around 2:00 hours we see land and go into battle mode. We come very close to shore. "Aha," says the Commander, "Now they are changing the sentry near the oil tanks." We sit and wait quietly. There is no sound except that of the waves softly splashing against the sea wall. No ship or torpedo boat and no motorboats are visible far and wide. Neither is the sentry. He must have a large area to walk that we could not see him. Either that or he was asleep somewhere.

In the meantime, The Torpedo-Master had received the order and was preparing an Ekrasit cartridge. Now we knew where we stood. The tanks are to be blown up. Soon everything was ready and three men climb up the sea wall and disappear toward the tanks. A short time later we see the flash of the safety fuse and the men are rushing back. We were approximately twenty meters from the wall and waited for them. Then three splashes as they jumped into the water. Short signals from a flashlight gave them direction and they were here in an instant. As soon as they are safely inside, the boat dives.

Suddenly, a loud detonation and a huge fireball rises toward the sky from the tanks. The fuel storage was burning. As we kept going we all looked through the periscope one after the other to enjoy the view of the gruesome-pretty show. Now things started to get busy out there from all directions. We went down to thirty meters and headed Northeast. When we arrived at the station they told us that the storage tanks at Monopoli had been blown up…apparently by "saboteurs."

Submarine Traps And Bombs

The situation is getting more and more uncomfortable. All possible wily and clumsy inventions are being used to disrupt the actions of the submarines and to destroy them. Especially targeted by the opponents was the Otranto Strait. Because our Austrian and the German submarines kept breaking through making the southern seas unsafe, they put lots of effort into locking us in and paralyzing us. But we always found a way through desppite all opposing efforts.

We are out on action again cruising from Valona to Santa Guaranta, the most northern Greek island. "Hand me my pistol up here!" calls the Commander down into the tower. After he receives it he shoots into the water at something that looks like the kind of wine container being used in these southern parts instead of the kegs we use. "I sure would like to know what the devil it is." he said. We got closer. I went down to the deck and hit it a few times with the boat hook. It turned a little but otherwise remained afloat. Then he said, "Come up again, we will render it harmless." He shot at it and hit it a few more times and then it sank.

A few days later we saw a pontoon like the floats they attach to the wings of our seaplanes.As we got closer the matter looked more suspicious to us. One man took the boathook and felt around underneath the pontoon and there it it was. A thin wire was tied to it that ran down to something that was not hard to guess. Woe to who would not be careful and just tried to tow the pontoon away. He would certainly be blown away. We took a long throw line, made a loop and threw it over the pontoon. The other end was tied to the stern of the boat. Then we started at full power in order to cause a jolt when the line tightens. The line was hardly taut and the float moved a short distance when the mechanism was activated and the water swelled up half a meter from the explosion. We took the pontoon and the left over wire back to the station for inspection and warning to the other boats.

A few days later, we found a whole nest of glass balls floating that were connected together. They too had the same purpose. If you try to snag them you find they are tied to something. The situation became more dangerous by the day. A boat could even hit such explosive charges underwater and then remain below forever.

The most dangerous though, were the water bombs or depth charges. Motorboats, torpedo boats and destroyers had them hanging around their boat walls and aft. When they sighted a submarine they criss-crossed at maximum speed over the apparent location and dropped the bombs which exploded at different depths. In the beginning these were fairly harmless and the danger of causing a boat to leak was not great. But things have changed. One bomb exploding at the same depth as the boat up to twenty meters away could easily destroy the boat.

In an effort to render the submarine war ineffective, they got the idea to let fishing steamers work together with fast-boats and planes. With this system they promised themselves the best success in that kind of battle. If a Submarine was spied, the planes came and searched the area. When the sea was rough the observer could not see very deep. But when it was calm, as the sea mostly was in the Adria in the summertime, the observer could see deep down.

Actually, he could only see the track of the boat as it moved under the water but that was enough. The plane then dropped signal bombs that developed a lot of smoke on contact with the water. That way, he marked the direction of the boat quite well which enabled the fast-boats to come around and drop dozens of water bombs into the depth. A boat trapped in this way could almost certainly count on being destroyed.

There was yet another way they had devised to catch submarines. Fishing steamers would drop strong steel wire nets up to sixty meters deep to try to encircle the submarine. When the boat would touch the net at some point the nearest fishing boat would get the signal and the fate of the boat was sealed since they now knew where to drop their bombs. Who knows how many boats have already gone to the bottom in this manner?