Submarines during the war are like sailing in outer space, depressing and lonely, cramped and dark cabins, only lice and mildew grow happily, leaders give empty speeches, endless battles, so-called heroes are only temporary under the claws of death. Escape, they are drunk and uninhibited, otherwise they can only collapse step by step. Attacking transport ships, such a victory does not make people feel happy at all, the sound of sonar is the sword of Damocles, and an ominous shadow hangs over everyone. The rock-solid captain was not keen on fighting, like the Roman emperor Aurelius, who had to be silent on his horse. Photos that are repeatedly rubbed, letters that I don’t know if I can send them, cruel and hopeless romance. The banquet on the Spanish supply ship was a farce, the unkempt sailors, and the bureaucrats far from the line, all the dialogue seemed ridiculous, to his wars, to his heroes. The command from the headquarters is almost a voyage to death, an attack, a shipwreck, an exhausting repair, and the submarine is like a stranded whale, desperately breathing. No branch of the military is as oppressive and lonely as submarine soldiers. Even experienced veterans are already overwhelmed. The scarred ship finally sailed back to the port, and only had a moment to rest. Allied warplanes began to bombard each other, the young sailor never saw his fiancé again, the desperate submarine sank to the bottom of the sea, and the captain like a lighthouse crashed. fall down. It's over, everything.
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