second bunk, albeit the shortest one they could possibly find. When Bohemia was still a free and happy country, you could go to a guesthouse on a Sunday and order schnitzel. For the customer to be satisfied the meat had to spill over the edge of three sides of the plate. In a similar fashion my unbidden guest was sprawled out in his bed, his face covered by a blanket, his bare legs akimbo. On this day my powers of intellect and deduction had been used so often and intensely that I was slacking and therefore could muster only the simplest of observations. From his sailor top I could make out his rank. He had one stripe less than me and was, therefore, Maschinengefreiter. From the calm and deep frequency of his snore, I deduced that he was young, strong and healthy. I estimated his shoes to be size 44 (UK 9), and judging by the photograph of his parents in the tasteful metal frame by his bed he was unmarried and came from a well-to-do and pious family. I suppose the company could have been worse.
I had to pass over his bed to get to mine. It seemed easiest to step over his face as this was where the obstacle was flattest. After a few attempts I managed to synchronise my breathing with his snoring. I briefly wondered whether I should open the window but before the thought could manifest itself I fell asleep to the sound of the snores. When I woke up and opened my eyes it was late and there were more and more noises to be heard in the corridor. A pair of eyes was staring at me. The intruder, now only 1.5m away from my head, went from lying down to sitting up, only half standing to attention, and spluttered: ‘Maschinengefreiter Dr Raimund Pachthofer reporting for duty.’
The first official encounter between a subordinate and their superior can determine the level of respect for the remainder of the relationship. I decided to be strict and admonished myself to show no weakness. My mouth was dry from having just woken up, adding to the sarcastic tone I was adopting: ‘The next time I expect you to report for duty from the chamber pot, cigarette in mouth!’
This resulted in deep embarrassment. Turning puce, he leapt out of bed, looked for and finally found the only spot where his large feet could find a place, then repeated the action. I wasn't satisfied and made him strap on his bayonet over his pyjamas and put on his cap. I made him repeat it a fourth time because he had forgotten the Hitler salute.
I stretched to full height, savouring the moment and explained: ‘The only times you are exempt from executing the Nazi salute is where the dimensions of the room forbid it or if you are in danger of knocking over delicate nautical instruments.’ I then finally added ‘at ease’, and allowed him to remove his cap and bayonet and get back into bed.
I instinctively understood that the more forceful and bullying one appeared, the more likely you were to achieve submission. He thanked me profusely for the instruction and beamed with a sense of duty and subordination. Now I could afford to be more affable and I enquired after his personal details. He had a PhD and was a meteorologist. His most recent station had been a remote mountain outpost. When the war broke out he volunteered and was placed in the U-Boat Waffe, as he was used to the following: going up and down ladders; reading instruments; being constantly on the lookout; shaving infrequently; and surviving on tins for weeks on end.
‘Herr Obermaschinenmaat,’ he exclaimed, as his nostrils flared with excitement, ‘you are the most experienced and respected petty officer of the German U-boat fleet. You cannot imagine what an honour it is for me to be trained by you.’
This was too much. I could hardly distinguish a torpedo tube from a cinema projector and I was meant to instruct someone? I was incensed but there was no need to fuel my anger with pretence. Sadly, I had not picked up the full range of navy swear words in my twenty-four hours of duty. But what of it? I
I had to pass over his bed to get to mine. It seemed easiest to step over his face as this was where the obstacle was flattest. After a few attempts I managed to synchronise my breathing with his snoring. I briefly wondered whether I should open the window but before the thought could manifest itself I fell asleep to the sound of the snores. When I woke up and opened my eyes it was late and there were more and more noises to be heard in the corridor. A pair of eyes was staring at me. The intruder, now only 1.5m away from my head, went from lying down to sitting up, only half standing to attention, and spluttered: ‘Maschinengefreiter Dr Raimund Pachthofer reporting for duty.’
The first official encounter between a subordinate and their superior can determine the level of respect for the remainder of the relationship. I decided to be strict and admonished myself to show no weakness. My mouth was dry from having just woken up, adding to the sarcastic tone I was adopting: ‘The next time I expect you to report for duty from the chamber pot, cigarette in mouth!’
This resulted in deep embarrassment. Turning puce, he leapt out of bed, looked for and finally found the only spot where his large feet could find a place, then repeated the action. I wasn't satisfied and made him strap on his bayonet over his pyjamas and put on his cap. I made him repeat it a fourth time because he had forgotten the Hitler salute.
I stretched to full height, savouring the moment and explained: ‘The only times you are exempt from executing the Nazi salute is where the dimensions of the room forbid it or if you are in danger of knocking over delicate nautical instruments.’ I then finally added ‘at ease’, and allowed him to remove his cap and bayonet and get back into bed.
I instinctively understood that the more forceful and bullying one appeared, the more likely you were to achieve submission. He thanked me profusely for the instruction and beamed with a sense of duty and subordination. Now I could afford to be more affable and I enquired after his personal details. He had a PhD and was a meteorologist. His most recent station had been a remote mountain outpost. When the war broke out he volunteered and was placed in the U-Boat Waffe, as he was used to the following: going up and down ladders; reading instruments; being constantly on the lookout; shaving infrequently; and surviving on tins for weeks on end.
‘Herr Obermaschinenmaat,’ he exclaimed, as his nostrils flared with excitement, ‘you are the most experienced and respected petty officer of the German U-boat fleet. You cannot imagine what an honour it is for me to be trained by you.’
This was too much. I could hardly distinguish a torpedo tube from a cinema projector and I was meant to instruct someone? I was incensed but there was no need to fuel my anger with pretence. Sadly, I had not picked up the full range of navy swear words in my twenty-four hours of duty. But what of it? I
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