The sharp scent of salt fills your lungs as your breaths increase. One of the most dreaded words to say in the Black Pit was shouted. Periscope spotted
Eyes strained, scanning the violent sea, ears open, listening to the sonar's fast-paced report.
Your heart races, acutely aware of the immense danger that could be near.
Death is stood on the threshold to your soul, you wonder if he will snatch it in meer seconds or if you will live a few more.
Panic rises as sonar hurriedly reports a U-boat position. Your brain registers the information meer seconds before you shout out orders. Mines tumbles over into the depths where the enemy lurks.
A tense few seconds pass, wondering if the thing you'll see is the musty, fridged bridge.
A shout echos. Oil. Oil has been spotted beside the ship.
You race out onto the deck, spotting the slick, black patch.
A bitter sweet victory, knowing you'll live a few more minutes, but sadness at the lost souls sinking in the watery grave.