Position BE63
Smell level: moderate
Sept 13, 1943
14:34 local time
Funkenschuster was yelling and cursing, directing his men in a desperate attempt to save the boot, "You! Get yourself some pipe and pry this Scheiss off the batteries before they run dry!"
"You!" he hissed at somebody who just finished clamping a broken pipe - "Get to the kitchen and bring me every wooden plate you can get, and every spoon, knife, and ladle you can find - we need to isolate and bridge the remaining batteries!"
Leutnant Zwingen soon arrived to help, leading a small party to aid in the damage control efforts. They all knew, they could feel the crushing depth of the ocean around them, forcing its way into the pressure hull. The Koch didn't seem to mind, though - he happily worked inside the galley, despite being submarged to his waist in filthy, diesel-stained water.
"How are the batteries, Funkenschuster?!", the leutnant yelled, over the water spray and desperate shouts of sailors. The hull groaned under the strain.
"Secure, for now!"
"Good! Get the emaschinen restarted, or we're toast! I'll get on the ballast pumps!"
"Jawohl, herr leutnant!"
Zwingen turned towards one of the sailors and pointed to the forward hatch into the Zentrale, "Lock that hatch. We live or we die in here!"
Paralyzed with fear, Skywalker oculd only watch as bootsman Huber turned his valves.
"What are you doing?!", he asked, terrified of the answer. The bootsman did not say anything, calmly venting the forward ballast tanks before the Kommandant even gave the order. The boot's bow rose, slowing down the sinking. The tiefenmesser's gauge slowed down, although it still hung around the end of the scale.
"Uh...okay, good. Erm. Planesmen, get the boot up!"
He glanced at Der Kommandant, wondering if the terrifying Thanasian man would chastise him for his ineptitude. Fortunately, the Kommandant had other worries, "Where are mein emaschinen, Chief?!", he yelled into the voice tube. Sounds of a terrifying fight against the leaks were coming through.
"In a minute, herr Kommandant! We have to plug the leaks first!"
"Nein! Give me power, then handle the leaks!"
As if on cue, and accompanied by a terrifying jolt that shocked everyone inside the rear compartments, the screws began to turn. For half a minute the boot hung there, its groaning hull slightly and subtly bending to the inside thanks to the immense, terrifying water pressure. Depth charges exploded - close, but not quite close ENOUGH, fortunately. A single bolt shot out from an internal support and smashed the battery charge meter, almost killing Huber. And then the bilge pumps restarted.
The Messer shook and began showing 267, then 266 and 265 metres.
But that was hardly the end.
B for Bastard
Smell level: very low
Sept 13, 1943
14:50 local time
"Oy, lieutenant, is that a diesel stain right there?", McScot's copilot pointed to somewherebelow.
"Damn straight it is, McClintcock! Good find!", McScot got on the radio that annoying Anglian pansy of a destroyer, "Oy! We're dry now, but left yer a nice present! The damn Boot's leakin', aye!"
"We acknowledge, B for Bastard, and will attack."
"Yer welcome! Let's take 'er home, boys!"
Below, the Peacekeeper accelerated and dropped another set of charges, right into the oil stain. Their hydrophone operator was reporting banging noises from below. Well above, B for Bastard passed a second bomber headed to their station.
They pretty much had them now!
Position BE63
Smell level: deadly poison
Sept 13, 1943
16:34 local time
"Masks! Get everyone in masks!", leutnant Zwingen yelled to a sailor, who quickly began distributing emergency breathing equipment, "Lock all hatches! This cannot get into the other compartments!"
"Chief, I need die Zentrale clear.", der Kommandant stated matter of factly. His voice, muffled as it was by the breathing mask, sounded gravely serious, "Get someone below."
"Jawohl", the chief engineer answered without any hesistation whatsoever, and pointed to the unlucky fellow, "Huber, we need you to cover up the leaking battery. Get into the bilges."
Another series of depth charges exploded, but the sound seemed deceptively far away. Could it be...?
"Alle maschinen stop", der Kommandant ordered.
"Ze destroyer is slowing down, herr Kommandant. Eet eez pinging."
"They're looking for us"
HMS Peacekeeper
Smell level: neglible
Sept 13, 1943
17:26 local time
Foolinson put down his teacup with a very fierce rattle. He was annoyed - annoyed at the fact he has apparently lost contact with the dastardly Thanasians, annoyed that he needed help from a Haggistani air squadron in his hunt, and annoyed because apparently he was running out of depth charges.
"How is that oil stain?"
"Dispersing slowly, sir. We might've sunk them."
"No...We have no confirmation yet. Continue the search pattern."
"Sir, if I may, commander Achabowski from the HMS Pekan is asking if the U-Boot we're hunting is great and white."
Foolinson glared at his subordinate, "What?"
"Uh, that's what they said over the wireless, sir. Commander Achabowski has expressed his intention to, uh, 'pursue the wile beast, and exact revengeance for it stealing his leg', I believe"
"Tell him no. The last thing we need is some insane Pollackistani to get in the way."
"Aye, sir."
Position BE63. Possibly.
Smell level: moderate, traces of deadly poison
Sept 13, 1943
20:02 local time
Water was still sloshing around inside, since the bilge pumps were shut down so as not to generat enoise. Everyone was wet and miserable. However, the destroyer seems to have let go. Slowly, carefully, under absolute silence, U-1313 raised to periscope depth and sat there, observing the horizon for signs of airplanes or warships, any sound contact with the merchant convoys long gone - possibly due to von Dokken being barely conscious.
The crew could barely breathe, after ten hours underwater. They were laid up on their bunks, trying not to move, to conserve oxygen. Seawater distributed filth everywhere. Humidity was extreme, making clothes sticky and uncomfortable. Only matrosengefreiter von Evilstein seemed unaffected, contently gnawing on a partially clothed human femur which he found during a dive in the bilges.
Finally, Der Kommandant ordered the boot to poke the control tower above the waves. The radar receiver issued no warning once it cleared the waves. Well after sundown, U-1313 surfaced - scarred, beat up, but alive.
