"Who's that?"

I told her, and added that I was off; to my secret joy, an intensely
disappointed and long-drawn "Oooh!" came over the wire. So she does
care a bit, I thought. Mad ideas of pretending to be suddenly ill
crossed my mind--anything to gain twenty-four hours--but the Fatherland
is above all such considerations, and after some pleasant talk and many
wishes of good luck from the darling girl, with a heavy heart I bade
her good-night.

The Old Man's car, which is a sixty horse-power Benz, was waiting at
the Mess entrance, and once clear of the sentries we raced down the
flat, well-metalled road to Zeebrugge in a very short time. The guard
at Bruges barrier had 'phoned us through to the Zeebrugge fortified
zone, and we were admitted without delay. In three-quarters of an hour
from my interview with old Max I was scrambling across a row of U-boats
to reach my new ship, U.39.

I went down the after hatch, reported myself to Von Weissman and
delivered his orders to him, of which he acknowledged receipt direct to
the Commodore according to instructions. Von Weissman is a very
different stamp of man to Alten; of medium height, he has
sandy-coloured hair, steel-grey eyes and a protruding jaw. He is what
he looks, a fine North Prussian, and is, of course, of excellent
family, as the Weissmans have been settled in Grinetz for a long
period.

He struck me as being about thirty years of age, and on his heart he
wore the Cross of the second class. I have heard of him before as being
well in the running towards an _ordre pour le merite_.