The Diary of a U-boat Commander: With an Introduction and Explanatory Notes by EtienneKing-Hall, Stephen, Sir
History
The Diary of a U-boat Commander: With an Introduction and Explanatory Notes by Etienne
King-Hall, Stephen, Sir
Sea stories; Submarines (Ships) -- Fiction; War stories; World War, 1914-1918 -- Germany -- Fiction
I had found a piece of rope in the loft. One end I placed on a hook and
the other round my neck. I was close to the upper doors of the loft,
with a drop to the courtyard, and thus I stayed, for I feared that some
soldier, more sober than the rest, might explore the outhouses and find
me. I was watching this unearthly spectacle, and never, my best
beloved, did I conceive that man could become lower than the beasts,
but before my eyes it was so, when I noticed that the great gates at
the southern end of the courtyard were opening. As they opened I saw
that beyond them were drawn up a line of men. An officer gave an order,
and two machine guns were placed in position in the gate entrance;
round the guns lay their crews, and the seething mass of revellers saw
nothing. I felt that a fearful tragedy was impending, and as I held my
breath with anxiety the officer gave a short, sharp movement with his
hand and a hideous rattle rose above all noises. The pandemonium that
ensued was indescribable. Some ran helplessly into the burning house,
others ran round and round in circles, others tried to get into the
dairy; one man got upon its roof and fell back dead as soon as his head
appeared above the outer wall. The place was surrounded. It was
horrible. A few tried to rush for the gate, they melted away like snow
before the sun, as their bodies met the pitiless stream of bullets. I
suppose two hundred men were killed in as many seconds. The machine
guns ceased fire. Ambulance parties came into the yard, collected the
dead and living, and within half an hour there was not a soul save
myself in the place. Discipline had received its oblation of men's
lives.
As an example, it was one of the most wonderful things I have ever
known in your wonderful army, my Karl, but it was terrible--terribly
cruel.
I never knew what became of my mother, though I feel she is
dead--murdered, perhaps, like my father and my darling Alex, or perhaps
she hid somewhere in the house and remained petrified with terror till
the flames came. Next morning I left my hiding-place and walked about.
Not a German was to be seen, but in the wood was a huge newly-made
grave. It was all open warfare then, and this flying column, which was
miles in advance of the main body, had moved on. The house was a
smoking mass of ruins, but the farm buildings had been spared, and I
let out all the poor animals and turned them into the woods, so that
they might have their chance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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