Loch

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“Officer on deck!” The men inside the control room of the UB-85 came to attention and snapped precise salutes at the sublieutenant’s sharp command.

“Carry on.” Captain Günther Krech moved a few paces into the room and halted, looking around at the cramped space.

With quick replies of, “Aye, Sir,” the men returned to work.

Inside the periscope well, Sublieutanant Lars Westmann turned back to the periscope and peered into it. He scanned back and forth, and then again, and again, until Krech suspected the man was stalling.

“Do you see any targets out there, Oberleutnant?” Krech asked.

Now, Westmann turned to face him.

“Nothing yet, Kapitänleutnant. We just surfaced.”

Krech nodded, unable to hide his grimace. They needed prizes, and needed them soon.

The North Channel of the Irish Sea, less than twenty kilometers wide, had long been a favorite site for buccaneers seeking to prey on shipping between Ireland and the main British isle. Now, in the midst of the Great War, a new threat patrolled these waters.

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