He told of cruising in the North Sea, watching for German torpedo boats, of weeks on guard duty in the Channel, assuring the service between France and England, and of other weeks submerged in the Adriatic, blockading the Austrian ports.
"We had to pick our way through the mine fields submerged," he said, "and then lie forty hours submerged on blockade duty. When our turn ended, we would pick our way back through the mines for a rest."
"But surely that was trying on the nerves," I said.
"Oh, no," he declared. "Not at all. We had a good rest there. There was nothing to do but sleep and watch."
"What was the worst part of that service?" I asked.
"The hydroplanes," he answered readily. "They were always flying over the harbor looking for us, and there was always the possibility that one of them would discover us and drop a bomb."
"In that event what would happen to you?" I asked.
"No one would ever know," he replied, "unless we sank in shallow enough water to be raised."
He said it in the most casual manner.
"Has there ever been a fight between two submarines?" was my next question.