we are at war, though Heaven knows there was precious little war in the
High Seas Fleet; perhaps that was why the "blood and iron" regime was
in full order ashore. Here, in Bruges, at any rate as far as the
submarine officers are concerned, the matter is far different. When the
boats are in, one seems to do as one likes, with a perfunctory visit to
the ship in the course of the day.

Witnitz (the Commodore) favours complete relaxation when in from a
trip. In the evenings there are parties, for which there are always
ladies, and I find it is necessary to have a "smoking."[1] I went to
the best tailor to buy one, and found that I must have one made at the
damnable price of 140 marks; the fitter, an oily Jew, had the
incredible impertinence to assure me it would be cut on London lines!

[Footnote 1: A dinner jacket.]

I nearly felled him to the ground; can one never get away from England
and things English? I'll see his account waits a bit before I settle
it.

There are several fellows I know here. Karl Mueller, who was 3rd
watchkeeper in the _Yorck_, and Adolf Hilfsbaumer, who was captain of
G.176, are the two I know best. They are both doing a few trips as
second in commands of the later U.C. boats, which are mine-laying off
the English coasts. This is a most dangerous operation, and nearly all
the U.C. boats are commanded by reserve officers, of whom there are a
good many in the Mess.

Excellent fellows, no doubt, but somewhat uncouth and lacking the finer
points of breeding; as far as I can see in the short time I have been