Interesting and unusual sex toys for men and women
by Jeremy J. Watson
by Jeremy J. Watson
A very old great uncle passed, and it fell on me to clean out his apartment. He was a diarist all his life. I threw the twenty-some hardcover diaries in the trash. As I did so, one flipped open, and I just caught, out of the corner of my eye, the word “nackt,” which means “naked” in English.
Being a typical, red-blooded American male, my curiousity got the best of me, and so I started reading that diary. What I found was so fascinating that I took all the other books out of the trash and browsed through them.
I turns out my great uncle Will had quite a sex life. You don’t think of an old coot as having had a past, but he certainly did. No wonder he married three times.
One book, in particular, caught my attention so completely that I sat and read for an hour before continuing to clear out the apartment. Then, I took all the diaries home. I read the interesting one all the way through. I’m so glad I studied German, because that diary is about the time my uncle, Wilhelm Albrecht, spent on a submarine in World War II. It was no ordinary submarine, and his experiences were anything but ordinary. You’d think a submariner would not have much opportunity for sex, but just wait until you find out!
I have translated the whole diary into English, and added just a little editing to explain things that weren’t clear or to fix some badly constructed paragraphs. Uncle Will was a great uncle, but not the greatest writer.
It starts here:
February 2: My birthday was yesterday. I’m eighteen, and I should be happy about that. In other circumstances, I would be, but we’re at war, and it looks like I have no choice but to join the military. The draft letter will arrive any day. I’m thinking if I volunteer before the letter arrives, I may have advantages, like I’ll have some choice as to my career in the military.
Being a farm boy, I’d really like to go to sea. All I’ve ever seen besides acres and acres of crops, is Berlin, which is an amazingly huge city.
I might meet girls too. Oh, there’s Bethilda, and some other nice girls around here, but the thought of an exotic French, or Polynesian, or even a Japanese girl. Well, that would be something.
I can say this, no one’s going to read it anyway: I jerk off most nights thinking of foreign girls.
February 3: I signed up, I’m in the Navy. I suppose if it were up to me, I’d just go on fixing my father’s combines, conveyors, bailers, tractors, and so on. But this way, I’ll get to see the world. I’m rather excited about that.
February 13: I met a nice fellow on the train named Oskar. He is going to the same navy academy I’m going to. We played several hands of poker, and talked about, well, everything.
February 14: This was a ridiculously long ride but I enjoyed every minute of it. So many trains. So many stations. So much to see. The German Navy is really well organized. We had good meals the whole way. How they managed that for 1,000 men on the train, I’ll never know. Already, I’ve seen more of Germany than I’ve seen in the rest of my life combined. What a great land!
February 15: Finally, I’m at the naval academy. I’ve never seen so many men in my life. We’re to undergo basic training of four weeks. I’m told it used to be longer, but der Fuhrer wants things speeded up. I was given all my clothes, in a navy-issued duffel bag, so I sent my own duffel bag back home. The boots are particularly nice. It’s kind of strange being dressed exactly like everyone else.
February 20: The navy is very particular about our clothing. Every little detail has to be just right. I’ve never been yelled at like the captain yelled at me for having my hat at the wrong angle. At first, it really hurt. But then I realized I wasn’t the only one that gets yelled at in the military. It makes me understand that my parents, who I miss already, are good, gentle people.
February 27: I’m not really enjoying this basic training. There’s lots of book work. I thought I’d be on a ship by now. Instead, we’re in a classroom for hours a day being drilled on ship navigation, ship engines, propellers, hull design, safety procedures, all sorts of useless stuff.
February 28: Just got back from a fifteen kilometer march. It wouldn’t be so bad, but it’s minus ten degrees (14 degrees Fahrenheit) outside. Really fucking cold. It was alright when we were actually marching, but standing around at lunch time, we all got frozen to the bone. I don’t understand how marching could help people who are going to man ships.
March 2: Perhaps I shouldn’t write this, but the fact is, I’d really like a few minutes of privacy to masturbate. I haven’t had an opportunity to do it since I got here, and it’s driving me crazy. I can tell some of the guys are doing it under their blankets at night, but I just can’t get comfortable with that. Perhaps, I’ll become so desperate that I’ll wank under the covers as well.
March 4: I was called into the captain’s office. Figuring I had done something wrong, and just didn’t know what, I was prepared for the worst. After the formalities, and then some unexpected familiarities, in which the guy called me “Will,” and asked about my brothers and sisters, he told me I was doing well academically. He also asked about my mechanical experience. He had heard that I fixed all the equipment on the family farm. He asked whwether I knew about welding, which I did. He asked if I could fix engines. I told him that I was able to fix just about anything. He seemed impressed.
Then, he offered me a transfer to the submarine division. I was very excited. I don’t know much about it, but I’m told that the people on the U-boats eat better, and are paid more. More money’s always nice. But the main thing about submarines is that they are the most sophisticated piece of machinery in the world, and from what this guy was telling me, I’d be taught to maintain that machinery.
I proudly accepted!
March 10: Officially, I’m to attend the U-boat training school at the Keroman Submarine Base in Lorient, France. How amazing is that? I’ll be going to France! I’m very excited. I’m also frustrated, because no one has told me when I’m to ship out. As far as I know, it could be this afternoon, next month, or never.
March 20: I’m still in Germany. And, I still don’t know when or if I’ll actually go to the submarine school. Can you believe it? The guys around me are behaving badly. They think I’m elite or something, and are not wanting to talk with me. Except, my friend who I met on the train, Oskar. It seems he qualified for U-boat service also. He and I are becoming closer. He’s a very likable chap. Not tall, but not short, he has blond hair, and a sophisticated city accent. He came from Berlin.
“March 27: Ah, ha! I got my traveling papers. I’ll be on the train for France tomorrow. I’ll have to find Oskar and see if he’s going to be on the same train.
“March 28: Oskar and I are on our way to France. The train is taking us through some wonderful terrain. I see the occasional horse and sleigh in the snow covered fields. It’s a beautiful sight. Every now and then we see a motorcar. Sometimes I think the reason our Fuhrer rose to power is his promise that we’ll all have our own automobiles someday, like in America. I hear every family has at least one car over there. He has unveiled a prototyp called Volkswagen. It has a four-cylinder, rear-mounted, air-cooled engine. It seems like a good design.
I suppose I’m lucky my family has been so successful in farming. Many of our neighbors still use horses for almost everything. The extended family that makes up our farm have three tractors, and a number of machines, so while we still work long hours during planting and harvesting seasons, the work is a lot easier. It doesn’t hurt that I have two sisters, two brothers, and fifteen cousins on the farm. I’m going to try to write to every one, plus my parents, aunts and uncles at least once a month. I enjoy writing, but still, wish me luck!
April 2: Submarine school! This is really interesting stuff. We’re still doing a lot of classroom work, but it is fascinating. We’re learning about boyancy, torpedoes, radio triangulation, all sorts of great things.
On a submarine, every sailor has to be at least slightly familiar with every other man’s job. We have to know how to work the radio equipment, run the engines, steer the boat, fire the deck guns, even cook the meals. That way, if someone is lost, someone else can fill the role.
We’re learning that we need to be a team. That if even one man makes what might seem a little mistake, the whole boat’s crew can perish. That perked me up. I’ll pay even more attention in class.
April 27: I’ve been too busy to write. We’ve started training in actual submarines. I also got swimming lessons. It was kind of embarrassing, because most of the men can swim, but being from a farm, I never learned how. It was a bit scary, but I survived, and now I can swim. I can even escape from an underwater hatch, an exercise we all had to practice.
May 2: At first, I was going to be a torpedo man. That was alright, although I was thinking that my skill in repairing things would be wasted. Then, someone found out the paperwork had been switched. Now, I’ll be a mechanic. They assigned me some extra metalworking classes. I’m learning to operate a lathe and mill, which I’m really enjoying.
May 3: Just like the other guys, while it was somehow scary at first, I learned to masturbate under the covers. The bed creaks a bit, and no doubt everyone around me knows exactly what I’m doing, but then, most of the other beds creak at one point or another, too. I didn’t know what to do with the cum at first. I figured out to simply wipe it on my underwear and let it dry overnight.
May 21: I’ve been assigned to the U-130. We sail tomorrow morning. I spent the afternoon with the rest of the crew, loading supplies through the hatch and the torpedo loading tube. Every little box, every salami, every crate of apples, has to be carried to the hatch, handed down through a line of men, and stored in its proper place. So many supplies! I don’t know where the men will fit on our loaded boat. I’m tired!
May 22: We didn’t go anywhere. I have no idea why. Maybe it’s some sort of a paperwork problem. 48 of the men, including my friend Oskar, were given shore leave. Four men were told to stay on the ship, for security, and to keep checking all the systems to make sure everything is working right. Unfortunately, I’m one of the four men, and I’m jealous of all the other guys. Some of them say they’re going to whore houses. I’ve never done anything with a woman, and would have enjoyed that. They’re also going drinking. I know I’m kind of strange, but I wouldn’t be so interested in that. I’ve never been drunk in my life, so far.
May 23: One great thing about having only four men on the boat is that we can each sleep in a different part of the ship. That means, I can masturbate easily and freely. What a relief compared to the way it has been.
The only thing is at one point, I sat down in the radio office, figuring no one would go in there. I had pulled down my pants, and started rubbing there, enjoying the opportinity to do it sitting in a chair for once. As I was going to town, Heinz walked by. There’s no doubt he saw what I was doing. I was totally embarrassed and wanted to make an excuse or something. He just said, “Oh, don’t let me disturb you,” and kept on walking.
May 24: I have a lot of time to write in this diary, but there’s nothing going on. Nothing to write. I’ve written to every one of my relatives and friends. I have to be careful to reveal nothing of a military nature. That’s easy enough, but it does limit the things I’d like to tell them. Especially some of the men, who would think of the mechanical engineering on this boat as amazing.
May 25: Still, there’s just the four of us on the boat. We don’t have much to do, so we’ve worn out a deck of cards and swapped all our tall stories.
By now, I had expected Heinz to do something about having seen me jerking off. I didn’t know whether he would tell the other two guys, or make fun of me, or maybe even lecture me. But none of that. He has acted as if it never happened. He’s an elegant fellow.
May 26: We heard a man walking on deck. Finally, something was happening. He yelled down the hatch that he had four visitors for us. We were wondering who these visitors might be.
A half-hour later, we heard weird, light, halting footsteps on the deck. What we were hearing exactly, we couldn’t tell. It was curious. Then, someone came slowly down through the hatch. The first thing I saw were high heels and stockings. A woman! What was she doing here?
She was followed by three others. They were fairly nice-looking women and seemed remarkably friendly. I didn’t understand at first. They explained that the German military takes good care of their men, and that’s why they were provided. Oh, they were prostitutes!
Almost immediately, the three other guys select three of the women, leaving me with Helga. I fumbled through introductions with her as my heart raced. Here was my first-ever chance to fuck a woman. It hit me like a brick shithouse. I mean, I didn’t see it coming, and I was totally unprepared.
Helga was way older than me. Maybe thirty-something. She was nicely rounded, and shorter than me by a good five centemeters. She had frizzy, dark hair. Could she be Jewish?
I knew our country has issues with the Jewish people, but don’t pay much attention to the news. I didn’t really know anything about what was going on politically. The little bit I have heard, doesn’t seem right at all. If Helga is any example, why on earth would anyone want to bother her?
Fortunately for me, Helga was a good conversationist, and brought me out of my stupor. She asked about the farm, my parents, my siblings. She acted as if she was just a kindly aunt, not someone provided for my sexual pleasure.
She then said that I didn’t have to ‘do’ anything if I didn’t want to. Then she added that she’d tell the other guys that we ‘did it’, if that was important to me. She was giving me an out, and part of me felt like taking it. But there were other parts of me.
One part wanted to get this virgin business over with, so I wouldn’t have to feel like I was the only one who wasn’t invited to a worldwide party. Another part was my anatomy. Just the thought of getting naked with this woman, even though she wasn’t really that attractive to me, was causing some discomfort in my pants.
Not very elegantly, I said, “Let’s do it.”
She kissed me on the cheek, then asked where we could find some space. The captain’s bed is the biggest on the boat, so I led her there, but as we approached his cabin, I heard noises. One of the other guys had already taken his lady there. So then I led her to the aft births, where the beds were narrow, but functional.
I was surprised to discover that my knees were weak and shaky.
She and I sat down on a lower bunk, and she kissed me on the cheek again. As I turned to look at her, she kissed me on the lips. I figured she wanted me to kiss her back, so I did. She said I should soften my lips a bit. I complied, and it started to feel kind of nice.
We kept at it for a minute or so, and then I felt something I couldn’t at first explain. Did she have a third lip or something? No, she was imposing her tongue between my lips. I opened my mouth a bit, and she slipped her tongue in. It was very strange to me, but not enetirely unlikeable.
I was concerned about time, wanting to get to the main attraction quickly. Helga assured me that she had been told that no one would disturb the boat until morning. We had at least ten hours.
It gave me some relief that I could take my time with this. My heart was still beating fast.
As we were kissing, she started unbuttoning my shirt. Taking from her lead, I started unbuttoning her blouse. It was awkward, but in time, we were both totally naked.
There was some light in the room, so it was easy to see her body clearly. Some might tell you that she could lose a few pounds, but to me, she was perfection. Scary perfection, for sure, however.
I probably stared too long at her remarkable breasts. They hung down, and were topped by large diameter, dark nipples. Then there were her hips, and her butt. I had never seen a naked woman in person, and hadn’t realized they looked quite like that! Finally, my eyes came to the patch of hair between her legs, and while I didn’t see any details, I was delighted. I had seen the occasional picture of a naked women when younger. My friends and I found some old magazines, but Helga was the real thing, right here in front of me. She smelled nice, too, like flowers or something.
Even though it was warm in the aft births, I was a bit cold, not used to being shirtless, and pantsless, in the boat.
My penis, which had been hard a little earlier, was soft as a noodle now.
Wordlessly, she pushed with one hand on my chest, indicating I should lay on the bunk. She knelt on the floor, and placed a hand on my penis. It was cold, and I backed away.
Helga apologized, and then warmed her hands by rubbing them together. She then squeezed both still cold hands under my butt, which felt surprisingly comfortable. Evidently, one’s butt isn’t as sensitive to coldness as other parts. She was slightly kneading my butt cheeks, which had a surprising effect on me. My penis started to rise.
I found that embarrassing. Should she see me with an erection? It took me a moment to calm down about that, remembering that she’s a professional. No doubt, she’d seen many erect penises! Soon, it came to full attention.
She reached out, and grabbed it in her hand, which was now warm. It was the first time in my life anyone had touched me there, and it was remarkable. I didn’t realize the simple holding of a penis in someone’s hand other than your own could feel so nice.
Within seconds she let go again, saying, “We don’t want any accidents too soon.”
I think she was thinking I might ejaculate. which was probably exactly what would happen if she had continued. I was already feeling that special feeling building up.
We talked a bit, and my penis stayed hard at first, but after a few minutes, it started to soften. That was evidently her cue, because she then leaned way over the edge of the bunk, putting her mouth around my penis. It hardened immediately. She backed off, again, probably to protect me from cumming too soon.
Next, she pulled a foil packet from her purse. You may not believe this, but I didn’t have a clue as to what it was.
She handed it to me, and so I tore it open, discovering a rubber disk or doughnut-shaped thing inside. I figured that out pretty quickly, but wasn’t very good at putting it on. She took it from my hands, flipped it over, and started unrolling it over my dick. I almost ejaculated as she did so.
She climbed on the bed, and instructed me to climb over her. At that point, we let nature take over. I naturally wanted to press the head of my penis against her hairy spot, but nothing was happening. I assumed there was a slot, or a hole it would fit in, but that wasn’t happening.
“We need some lubrication,” she said. She then had me climb back off, and she wanted me to lick her vagina. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to do that, but when in Rome…
I arranged myself at the foot of the birth, and she scrunched up so I could put my head between her legs. That area smelled musty but nice. With her hands, she smoothed out the curly hair down there, and gave me a little lesson, showing me her inner labia, her clit, and even her asshole. I found it all very attractive, and really wanted to touch it.
She told me to go ahead and touch her vagina, especially her clit. As I was doing so, she told me it felt very nice, and encouraged me to continue. I started working my fingers into the slot below her clit a bit, and found it was getting wet. Pretty soon, it was very wet, and she had us get back into the fucking position.
I pressed my penis against the area again, and it slipped right in. Perhaps I went in a little faster than I should have, because her eyes got wide for a second, and she said something like, “Wuump.”
I apologized, but she said, “No, that’s great.” As she had been doing all evening, she complimented me. “Will, you’re an expert already. That large cock of yours feels absolutely wonderful.”
I didn’t believe her, but enjoyed hearing the nice words.
Unfortunately, I came right away, collapsing on top of her, with my head turned sideways between her delicious, big breasts. She seemed to be happy just staying together like that. After a minute, I felt my penis shrinking, and despite my wishes, it popped out of her.
I continued to lay on her, then after awhile, she pushed me sideways. She also turned sideways, and we fell asleep hugging like that.
In the morning, we dressed, and she thanked me, as if I had done the important thing. I tried to thank her profusely, but she just kept complimenting me.
We went to the galley, where we were joined by the other three sailors and their women, made some coffee and breakfast, then Helga and the other three left, never to be seen again.
I don’t know much about sex. Hell, I don’t know anything about sex, but I know that wasn’t typical of a guy’s first time, but thanks to Helga’s understanding, knowledge and wonderful personality, I think it went quite well. Not only did I have no regrets, I was delighted at how things turned out.
The guys and I tried to talk about what had happened, but it was mostly just smiles and ambiguous comments, like “Isn’t navy life great?”
June 1: We’re shipping out! We are to join a wolfpack to hunt enemy convoys in the North Atlantic. We had to go through that procedure of loading food and boxes again, but thankfully, most of the supplies were still intact, and so not much loading was needed.
June 2: It’s good to have Oskar back. I told him about Helga’s visit, and he said he was glad I had company. He had felt just a little guilty because they had visited bordellos twice while on shore and he worried that I might have had no fun at all. He told me about his time on shore, leaving out most of the details of his time with the prostitutes. I did the same, telling him the generalities of my time with Helga. I wanted to share every detail, as I’m sure he did also, but both of us felt it was probably too vulgar to get into the details.
I did, however, accidentally let slip that I had been a virgin up until then. I was pleasantly surprised, somehow, when he admitted he had been a virgin until now also.
June 3: The captain ordered another drill. This was the first dive of the voyage, and we were all excited, but also concerned. It is in the first dive that you find out where the leaks are, and hope none of them are severe.
We took our time with the dive, shutting down the four engines, and making sure every valve and hatch was closed properly.
It was oddly quiet in the engine room, after two days of constantly running engines.
Finally, the captain yelled “Dive, Dive,” and down we went. But, we went down at a crazy angle. The nose of the boat dipped down, way down, Severel man lost their footing, and fell against walls, equipment, pipes, or valves.
I, fortunately, had my hand on the starter manifold, and that kept me from falling against the front engine room hatch. My heart lept to my throat, as I’m sure it did to all 51 other men on the boat. The radioman, just on the other side of the engine room hatch, started whimpering. I also heard some prayers from somewhere up ahead.
The captain yelled, “Forward diving planes up! Full speed ahead!”
That’s what saved us. His quick thinking righted the boat, and let us get back to the surface. In a moment, someone had the presence of mind to change some valves, so we could stay on the surface.
Once topside, we restarted the engines, and the old man had all the ballast tanks blown.
Heinrich needed stitches in his shoulder. No one else was seriously hurt. Heinz is trained as a druggist and medic. He took care of Heinrich in the tiny medical office near the forward birth.
It took a half-hour to figure out that the problem had been a stuck valve. There’s been talk of the French manufacturers of our U-boats sabotaging them. Perhaps this was what happened.
It fell to me to overhaul the valve. Fortunately, it was inside plumbing, or we would have had to return to base. Upon taking it apart, I showed an eight millimeter drill bit to the captain that I found inside. No wonder it couldn’t close! Was it sabotage, or just sloppy workmanship? We’ll never know.
June 4: The captain ordered another dive. We were all so scared you could smell it in the air. With dead silence throughout the boat, he said “Dive, Dive,” and down we went. This time, at a proper angle.
We continued down all the way to 100 meters (300 feet), our boat’s design limit. The first time is always scary. You think of the tremendous water pressure around us, and know that if a weld fails or the hull should be breached, we’d implode immediately. We heard creaks and moans as metal shifted. We heard air bubbles rushing up the sides of the boat. We heard, and saw, water pouring through various seals, like around the periscope. All was normal, according to our captain, who then ordered the boat to the surface. We collectively breathed a sigh of relief.
June 5: Nothing much going on today, so I’ll tell you about Joseph Steigman, our captain. On the one hand, he seems old to me. Funny thing is, he’s only 28 years old. He’s the oldest man on the ship, so of course we call him ‘old man.’ He seems to like that.
He’s the only one who has shaved since we set out. I believe it makes him look older. He is tall, for a submariner. These boats are designed for someone who is under 1.8 meters (around six feet), and Captain Steigman is almost two meters (6’5″). He has to duck all the time. You’d think it would get tiring.
Perhaps his height has helped bring him to command status. It is easier to respect a tall man, in my opinion. However, Captain Steigman is a stern and resolute, yet friendly man. He has been on three previous tours. This is his first as captain. He seems solid, and assured, which I’m sure is important for boat morale.
June 27: One of the other subs in the wolfpack spotted a convoy, but they were headed at the wrong angle – generally away from us. We couldn’t catch up.
July 13: We spotted another convoy, and this time they were British for sure, and headed almost directly toward us. We waited until dark, surfaced, and the lead U-boat sent a signal to headquarters. We received permission to take them out!
July 14: Still maneuvering with the convoy. All the subs are getting aligned, while also making sure we won’t send torpedos at each other. We are the closest, and will most likely fire first. This is terribly exciting, but at the same time, scary. I know that with convoys, we stand a chance of being damaged with depth charges, deck guns, or torpedos.
It is frustrating in the engine room. There’s nothing to see, nothing to hear. I depend on people telling us what’s going on in the control room, and there isn’t much news forthcoming.
July 15: Still following the convoy. Darkness has fallen, and I think the captain is very close to letting loose some fire.
Suddenly, a loud whish! And another and another! You’d think I would have been prepared, but it scared the life out of me. Three torpedos had been fired.
Then nothing. Dead silence. The crew had been instructed to be very quiet. Evidently, the British could hear underwater noises as slight as human voices. If anyone were to drop a clipboard or a wrench, it could be the end of us.
About 45 seconds later, we heard a boom, and felt a slight percussion in the ship. Did that mean one of our torpedoes hit? There was brief cheering in the engine room before returning to silence, so I guess so!
The captain ordered us down, and once under, we made a hard turn to port. Now, the waiting. We waited an hour, then two. The expectation was depth charges, but nothing happened.
July 16: Word came down that we had taken out a liberty ship, one of the large American-built supply ships. I’ve been trying to understand what it must have been like for the sailors who lost their lives on that ship. I’m trying to feel some remorse, but I feel nothing but a sense of accomplishment. Am I a bad person?
Other U-boats in our pack had taken out another supply ship and a fuel tanker. The scouts said the fireball was amazing, but of course I saw nothing.
There was quite a bit of celebration on board. The captain had revealed some hidden American whiskey, and each of us got a thimble full. Even I tasted it. I can’t say that I like it.
We were ordered back to France.
July 20: Suddenly, our orders changed. We don’t know why. We are ordered to sit here in the ocean and wait for a milch cow. These are large submarines carrying a supply of fuel, food and the other necessities, such as toilet paper.
We’re running low on toilet paper, and the captain has ordered us to use it sparingly. That’s not much of a problem compared to the fact that for all 52 of us, there are only two toilets on the whole boat. When you have to pee, no problem, just find a tin or bottle. But when you need to poop, it can be very uncomfortable waiting until the head (bathroom) is available.
When I first came on board, I figured I could jerk off in there. But no way, there’s always someone waiting to use it next.
July 22: We’re all trying to figure out why we were told to wait here. We still have twenty-one torpedoes, a full stock of deck gun ammunition, and a fair supply of everything except toilet paper.
July 24: The milch cow came and went. That’s a huge U-boat! We are now fully stocked with everything. Our mail came today too, and I have fourteen letters from my relatives! I’m going to savor reading them.
July 27: We’re still sitting out here with no new orders. We’re pretty far south. The water is calm and warm, there are no aircraft, and the air is sweltering. The captain ordered us to swim. I think he believes the exercise will be good for us. Or maybe it’s the change of pace. Either way, swimming around the boat seems like a good idea.
July 28: I didn’t get into the water until today. Yesterday, there were a number of naked sailors returning to the boat, and they were all happy and kidding around, even slapping each other with towels. I’m not so much into guys, but I did enjoy seeing so many fit, young men in their entirety. Today, like all the others, I stripped down to nothing, enjoyed sunning on the deck, and then dipping into the ocean. I’m glad the navy taught me to swim, because I had fun. Oskar and I were kidding around, splashing each other, and generally having a good time.
At one point, I looked up on deck and saw Heinz, our tall, blond, Nordic-looking medic, just standing in the sun. To my shock, he was sporting a full erection, in plain sight of everyone, and didn’t seem to care. Me, I would have been embarrassed to death.
A couple minutes later, still in the water with Oskar, I happened to see the portion of him that was below the surface, and to my astonishment, he, too, was erect.
I shouldn’t have felt this way, but it somehow excited me, and I started to grow wood also. Go figure!
August 2: We’re starting to get frustrated. Still, no orders. However, we’ve continued to swim every day, and now men are returning to the boat, but not putting their clothes back on. Until now, being shirtless was common, but you never saw a guy without at least underpants unless he was on his way to a rare shower under the single showerhead in the boat. Now, everyone is going around naked. The captain says nothing about it. In fact I think Captain Steigman seems to encourage it. I think he feels it is good for the men’s morale, which would otherwise have started to come unraveled by now.
August 3: OK, now I’ve seen everything! I passed Heinz on the way to the engine room. He was sitting on a top bunk jerking off a very erect penis in plain sight of everyone. No one said anything. But, what, exactly, do you say when you see that?
August 5: “Dive, Dive.” We had been spotted by an airplane and so we dove as quickly as we could. How could a plane come way out here? But still, it had. Nothing much else happened today.
August 6: Finally, orders! I don’t know whether it was because an airplane had discovered us, or because there was now a real purpose for our boat, but we were on our way, to somewhere. No one but the captain and the navigator knew where we were going, or why. Oddly, we were not going with the wolfpack. Very mysterious!
August 7: I thought maybe with new orders, and a purposeful routine, we’d set aside the nudity for a while, but no, its continuing. We’re heading farther south. That’s all I know.
August 9: Heinz has been a quiet leader. More and more guys are showing up with erections. It’s become the new normal. Three times, now, I have spotted guys openly jerking off. Yesterday, Ralph and Heinz were seen sitting side by side on a lower bunk, jerking each other off. People passing through had to step over their legs, and while nothing was said, there were even more erections on the boat.
August 10: We spotted a convoy. We’re all alone out here. No wolfpack. Orders are to attack if we can.
August 11: Still following the convoy. Something happened yesterday, which I don’t want to talk about. So here goes: I had an erection during the course of my duty. I had been thinking of that time with Helga, and lo and behold, it just popped up. In the past, I would have been horrified, and tried to hide it at all costs. But with all these naked men running around, and having seen so many erections now, I felt it was time I join the party. I was actually proud to be seen with the erection. Then Oskar came by on his way to the aft birthing area, and he reached out, and grabbed my hard dick for a moment. I turned to him, and we kissed. It just came instinctually. He continued to fondle my dick for a minute. My balls too. He cupped them gently in his hand. To my utter shock, with the engines running on either side of us, I squirted cum on the floor right then and there. He smiled, then silently went on his way. As he went through the aft hatch, he turned toward me for a moment, pointing with one finger to his penis, which was sticking straight up.
A few minutes later, Whish, Whish Whish! Torpedos were launched, the engines were shut off, and the boat quickly dove.
“Boom!” One of our torpedos hit something. Then, we could hear the sounds of small, fast propellers heading right toward us. This was very scary, because we knew exactly what was happening. An escort ship figured out our position, and was after us.
After a moment, we heard a second set of propellers. Oh, oh, this smelled like real trouble.
We were dead silent on the boat.
“Bang!” and the lights went out momentarily until someone reset a circuit breaker. A depth charge went off so close that the boat rocked significantly to one side. The captain ordered full speed and full rudder. We started in a big, lazy circle. Under the water, our top speed was only around 13 kilometers per hour (8 mph).
“Boom.” A distant depth charge. Maybe we were escaping them.
“Bang!” and another rock to the side. A pipe had burst. Crew rushed to seal the leak. “Boom, boom, BANG!”
There was suddenly a bunch of yelling in the control room. The captain ordered us to surface. That seemed like a very bad idea to me. What I didn’t know at the time was there was a major crack in the battery room, and if we didn’t get up to the surface right away, it would flood causing all sorts of problems. Flooded batteries can release a taxic gas throughout the ship.
There were other problems. The periscope wouldn’t rise. The captain ordered me to the control room. Like everyone, my heart was in my throat.
“Will, I want you to volunteer for something. As soon as we break the surface, I want you to go out, and see what’s wrong with the periscope. You might not make it, but without your help, none of us will make it. If you can fix it, we can submerge enough to stay hidden, watch what’s going on, and hopefully evade until we get the leak patched.
I lurched through the boat, grabbing my toolbelt, and my diary in its waterproof pocket, sticking it under my rain jacket. I know it’s crazy, but I felt if I didn’t survive, maybe at least the diary would. I may not have been entirely proud of everything I had done, but I still wanted the world to know who I had been, about my friend Oskar, and my experience on U-130.
The ship came up, I opened the hatch, getting hit on the head with a hundred pounds of warm seawater. Now on the pitching deck, holding on to the guide wire for dear life, I worked my way to the periscope.
Suddenly, the whole ship lurched hard to port so fast I could do nothing but inflate my lifejacket. Men started pouring out of the hatch.
The boat continued to roll and now the hatch was underwater. I saw two more men swim out and make it to the surface. No more.
In the moonlight, it was hard to see exactly what was happening. I had let go of the guide wire, and was just floating in the ocean. My beloved U-130 was rolled almost entirely upside down and was sinking. The conning tower must have flooded.
I heard voices yelling. “Help,” and “Fuck!” and other, unintelligible things. There was nothing to hang on to, and I was starting to get very worried for my life.
Within a half hour, eight of us had clumped together, hanging onto each other, and offering words of encouragement. None of the men were Oskar. The convoy had passed on, so we were all alone in the southern Atlantic ocean without a hope in the world. And yet, hope, we did.
I was really starting to dispair about Oskar. Surely he got out, right? Maybe he was floating elsewhere in the ocean.
We saw something that we couldn’t make out in the moonlight. It seemed to be an escort ship. In a moment it became clear they were headed right for us. They were going to run us over or shoot us. Or both. That was clear. They slowed and stopped their engines.
The men were shouting stuff in American that we didn’t understand. Then they threw life preservers.