Original subtitles

La Rochelle, autumn 1941.

The "Battle of the Atlantic" grows stronger.

Germany's U-Boats fleet, with which Hitler...

...hoped to starve Britain, is beginning to suffer major setbacks.

The British escort freighters with destroyers, with increasing success.

Nevertheless, more U-boats are ordered...

...into battle from their French Atlantic ports.

Of the 40,000 German U-boat sailors serving in World War II...

...30,000 never returned.

The final night onshore.

We sail at 7 tomorrow morning.

My first assignment on a U- boat...

... with no idea where they are sending us.

The central Atlantic, probably.

Only a few boats out there.

They reinforced their protection, it's a bad month.

The tommies learned their lesson.

The aces, there are not many left.

Prien, Schepke, Kretschmer, all lost during attacks.

Kelsch sank off of Gibraltar.

Endrass, with a nervous breakdown.

Our boatswain's mate.

He's on quite a bender.

The street is closed.

Who are those pigs?

Water on!

They call that "fireboat drill." They're all guys from our boat.

Captain.

Merkel's crew. They ship out tomorrow as well.

Come on, comrades, let's explode the whorehouse.

Just don't miss!

Stick some greetings in with it!

They're chickenshit.

They need that like the grave warriors the schnapps.

What's going on here? Okay, ready, fire!

Captain!

My second officer.

This is Lieutenant Werner, navy war correspondent.

He'll ship out with us.

He'll report on everything that catches his eye.

Welcome aboard, lieutenant.

Good evening.

Lieutenant, come along and have a drink with us.

- Good evening. - Good evening. Two beers, please.

Of course, captain. Right away.

Those are some meatballs.

It's nice here, isn't it? Come with me.

Where's Thomsen?

I thought he wanted to celebrate his Knight's Cross.

Any news from your wife?

They only connect private calls after 10:00.

Two beers.

It can't get worse than this.

Captain.

I'm reporting back from U-96.

Oil provisions onboard and fully armed. The boat is clear for sea.

- Thank you, lieutenant. - One more thing, captain.

On the drive here, I had a very embarrassing experience.

I was molested by some of the crew.

They...

An outrageous event.

They...

Say it already, they peed on you.

- Exactly, captain. - Me too.

Come, sweetheart. Let the boy live, the F�hrer still needs him.

Prosit, lieutenant. To the Freichor T�nitz.

- First time on a U-boat? - Yeah.

First time. It's gonna be exciting.

Do you have a will?

Excuse me?

Thirteen boats down last month. Sank with men and mice.

Exciting, huh?

One moment, please.

I'm asking for your attention.

To the newly appointed Knight's Cross carrier...

...Captain Lieutenant Thomsen! Three big cheers!

There is Thomsen from the old gang.

Always drunk now.

Quiet in this whorehouse! Quiet!

To our wonderful...

...abstaining...

...and womanless F�hrer...

...whose career rose gloriously...

...from apprentice painter...

...to the greatest battle strategist of all times.

- He better watch his mouth. - Why? Isn't it true?

He's a great naval expert...

...who took it upon himself...

...in his immeasurable wisdom...

How do I go on?

Who showed that English bed wetter...

...that cigar-chomping asshole of Churchill...

...where exactly to go and stick his stinking cigars!

Don't cry, Fran�oise, don't cry.

I want to have it.

You know the Resistance.

- They make short work of collaborators. - I want to have it.

If you should not come back...

I'll come back.

I promise.

Oh, excuse me.

I'll see you tomorrow. I have to make a call.

Phillip, this isn't the old gang.

Now it's their turn.

All wet guys.

Bigmouths.

Ass cheeks together, squeeze the balls...

...and the belief in the F�hrer in their eyes.

They, too, will quiet down.

Alarm!

Hello?

Shit.

Lousy torpedoes.

Lousy eels.

Torpedo failures?

Many.

Sabotage, you can count on that.

Did you hear about Kelsch?

Went down off of Gibraltar. It was reported.

Not a good year for the old gang.

The tide is turning.

When are you going out?

Tomorrow morning.

Come on, boy.

Show the tommies.

I'll go pee and leave, then.

I still have plans.

Hey! You old pig, you!

Combat! Conquer or die!

Come on. Come on, Phillip, get up!

Come, give me a hand!

I wanted to really...

...screw my brains out...

...but I am not in the condition to fuck.

- That'll do. - Sieg Heil!

The Thomsen boat.

Is there a special report while still in dock?

- Starboard propeller blade was bent. - I see.

That explains that whining noise at low rpm.

New propeller. We've got a brand-new propeller, captain.

Chief engineer to the optical workshop.

Call from Germany.

Our boat.

Crew, stand by for inspection!

Attention!

Eyes, left.

Crew is present and accounted for, captain.

Lower and upper decks clear for sea.

Thank you, Number One.

At ease.

Well, men...

- All set? - All set, captain!

We have a guest onboard.

Lieutenant Werner.

Navy war correspondent.

He's going to have a look around.

He wants to see good German heroes.

- So act appropriately. - Yes, captain!

To maneuver stations.

Bockstiegel, pull in the rope.

Don't let them overpower you!

All the best! Good luck!

- Do you have a sense for romance? - Excuse me?

There, the empty house next to the warehouse.

Is that for you?

Not that I would know.

Isn't that area out of bounds?

Oh, yes.

Fran�oise.

Victory! And good hunting!

The escorts left us at noon.

The dark plume of smoke from the pathmaker disappeared.

The patrol boat is gone as well.

The quartermaster's taken his final land measurement.

The lookouts feel the salty tang of the Atlantic on their lips.

The boat is alone now, on course.

Move those crates of lettuce back there!

This isn't a vegetable garden!

Battle station, where we maintain and stow the torpedoes.

Heads up, boys! You're gonna be in the paper!

- Thank you, men. - Come along, follow me.

Here we have the can. One toilet for 50 men.

The other's full of provisions.

More space for eating, less to shit. That's some kind of logic, huh?

The chief petty officer's quarters. My home, if you will.

Here's the war room.

When I see you store your stuff, I could puke. That's way too much!

It's nice here, very cozy.

- Where are you, lieutenant? - Coming. Excuse me, please.

- Careful! - This radio shack here.

- Here's the control room. - Could've lived without him.

So this is the control room.

- The boat's command post. - Thanks.

So this goes on to the U Room.

Let's move this out of the way.

- Morning, lieutenant. - Morning, lieutenant.

This is where the petty officers bunk. Sleeps 12 men.

Most bunks are shared by two guys. One sleeps while the other's on duty.

That means when one man comes off watch...

...he climbs into the other man's stink. Right?

This bunk's for you.

Got one to yourself since you're a guest onboard.

Here, lieutenant, that's for you too.

And here's your escape gear. Very important.

It's only for show. More for use in the Baltic Sea.

But it's useful when the diesel stinks.

Or when Frenssen farts.

Come with me.

Let us pass.

- This is our galley. - Ah.

- And here's Johann, the ghost. - Who?

Well, Johann, everything lubed?

Take pictures of returning crews, not of departing crews.

Why is that?

Because they mean something then.

The tommies should feel ashamed...

...if they see in the paper who gives them hell.

Baby-faced kids.

Babies that belong on the mother's breast.

To be among them makes you feel ancient.

It's like a children's crusade.

- Permission to pass? - Yeah.

- Bon app�tit. - Thank you.

Thank you.

- From Mexico, aren't you? - Yes, south of Mexico City.

- Nice there? - Yes, captain.

Good climate because of the high altitude.

Quite a way.

It was my duty as a German to come.

What did you do there?

I worked on a plantation. It belongs to my stepparents.

- So you are the boss' son? - You could say so.

Stand by, first watch and starboard watch.

Excuse me.

Can I get by?

Permission to go on watch, captain?

A new breed, our Mexican recruit.

Young marcher.

Worldly, evolved.

He's so uptight, he could crack nuts with his butt cheeks.

Captain, wind northwest, circling right. Good visibility.

Barometer, 1003 millibar. No special incidents.

Thanks, navigator.

After all the problems and worries onshore...

... our first day at sea seems like a pleasure cruise in the middle of war.

Our general course is 317 degrees.

Only the captain knows our final destination.

It was about time to ship out.

Attention!

Zero!

- Thirty-six degrees, 20.5 minutes. - Good.

Stay alert.

This area isn't safe.

The tommies know exactly when we ship out.

There are enough informers.

Dock workers, cleaning ladies, prostitutes.

Damn beasts.

Excuse me, captain.

If you can't handle it, don't do it.

Were you part of it?

Fireboat drill?

Yes, captain.

At least you can aim.

Twenty minutes...

Screws, eggs.

- Permission to come up? - Yes.

Alarm!

- Stand by, main vents! - Stand by, main vents.

Starboard exhaust valve!

All men forward!

Come on! Come on!

Come on, come on, move it! Come on, move it! Up! Up! Up!

Come on, move!

Faster, faster! Keep going! Keep going!

I wanna see steam coming out of your ass!

In case you didn't know, it's an alarm! You're not on a pleasure cruise!

Get into diving positions!

Lower negative tank.

Attention. Stern up 10.

April fools. Practice makes perfect.

Don't get rusty.

A practice drill.

Level off, chief.

Bow up 15. Stern up 10.

Planes at zero.

- Leveled off, sir. - Shut all main vents.

All main vents shut.

Take her down. Let's see how the valves and seals hold up.

Bow planes down 15, stern up 10.

The shipyard warranty extends to 90 meters.

But of course, we could go deeper.

There's a limit somewhere.

We can only take so much pressure before the boat...

...will be...

...crushed.

Check hull valves.

Check hull valves.

- The water pressure. - Yeah, sure.

Deeper.

140 meters.

- She must take this depth. - 150.

160 meters.

That'll do for now. Surface.

- Surface. - Bow up 10. Stern up 5.

Well?

Thank you.

We're not an ordinary ship.

Very interesting.

Incoming, bearing 3-2-0 and closing.

Get on.

Both planes down, full.

Wait, my friends. You only get one more chance.

- That was it. - Shut all main vents.

Check hull valves.

The show is over.

Once a whore pissed on my back.

That felt so good.

You're a pervert.

I can tell you some really sexy tricks.

For an example, you take a cork...

...with a nail stuck in it and a violin string attached on the side of it...

...stick it in the asshole...

...and then sideways jack off.

Could it be any more complicated?

Listen, it's supposed to buzz real good in there.

Our first night onboard.

It's hard to switch off and relax.

The heat of the compartment...

... the stench of oil...

... the engine- room watchers coming and going.

There is so much to get used to.

As for the officers I bunk with...

... they don't let my presence cramp their style.

The way they keep harping on subject number one...

... I'll be lucky to get any sleep.

Is that her?

The girl from the window of the ruin?

From the empty warehouse?

French girl?

You know the shop that sells flowers beside Caf? A L'ami Pierrot?

- Beside where? - A L'ami Pierrot.

Sure, I know it.

The two pretty salesgirls, Jeannette and the other one's called...

Fran�oise.

We're engaged.

Secretly, of course.

Can I see?

Very pretty. Really.

What's wrong?

She's pregnant.

But, Ullmann...

...don't you know what that means?

If the Resistance ever finds out that she...

...has a German baby...

What can I do?

She wants to have it.

You've got problems, Ullmann.

Fifth day at sea.

No convoy.

No ship.

Nothing.

What's today's calendar quotation?

"One can only be one's best when it seems unnaturally hard."

Cicero.

Excuse me?

"One can only be one's best when it seems unnaturally hard."

Give it to me.

It's always best when it's hard.

Special announcement from F�hrer's headquarters...

... October 23, 1941.

The Armed Forces High Command has issued the following announcement:

Last night, the Navy and the Luftwaffe...

... tightened their stranglehold on the British Isles.

Our U- boats in the Atlantic sank 11 merchant ships and one destroyer.

Wiping out 53,000 gross registered tons of enemy shipping in one blow.

Waste of shipping space.

Three ships and one tanker were severely damaged.

All they talk is tonnage, these morons.

All good, seaworthy ships.

We've become nothing but agents now for their vicious propaganda.

Just scrap merchants.

Butchers of the sea.

Our masters in Berlin spend all their time...

...finding Churchill clever new nicknames.

What's their latest creation?

Drunken pig.

Fat bore.

Paralytic.

I must say, for a drunken paralytic, he's putting up a damn good fight.

You'll see. We'll force him to his knees.

That is my firm belief.

Listen to me, smart guy.

He is a long way from being down on his knees.

I'd like to know how many of his ships are getting through us right now...

...while we sit on our behinds waiting for orders.

Where are our planes and ships, Herr Goering?

The British have plenty of them.

Talking big is all he's good for, that fat slob.

Big heroes. Nothing but hot air.

All of them.

Go on...

...put that one down.

It'll make exciting reading in your epic.

The Propaganda Ministry will love it.

I didn't know you were interested, sir.

You were mistaken, then.

Music, we need.

Think our Hitler youth leader might put a record on for us?

The "Tipperary" song if you have no objections!

Hey, now we're in the Royal Navy.

A simple record won't make you into the King of England, Number One.

Shut the door, you lazy pig!

Stupid jerk.

They should use him as a doorstop.

His rear end's big enough.

One of these days, he'll stick it in the can...

...and he won't be able to pull it out again.

- Morning. - Lieutenant.

- Morning. - Morning, lieutenant.

- It stinks in here. - Sweaty feet and hair grease.

Pilgrim's specialty.

Tastes just like old shit...

...these rotten eggs.

Like baby poop.

Maybe he wants to hatch chickens in the control room.

That's right, ducks in a bilge. Why not? Sweet little ducklings.

We could feed them green snot.

- You dirty pig. - Why? What's wrong?

That would make them happy.

Every morning...

...they'd feed on those delicious things.

- Permission to come up. - Yes.

Morning.

Aircraft closing, 1-7-0.

Alarm!

Move it, gangway.

Stay down. Move it.

Out of the way. Slow down.

Watch out.

Watch it.

- Upper deck secured. - Flood buoyancy tanks.

- Flooded. - Take her down, 60 meters.

I'm sure it came from the port side, out of the sun. Not identified.

These fliers they send out sure take some chances, you must admit.

Up there alone in their ancient machines...

...waiting to swoop down on their prey.

Bombs could be dumped anywhere. Who would see it?

Our loving Lord?

Our loving Lord sees everything.

Sheer luck he didn't see us.

Or was it a sea gull, huh?

Difficult to see when they fly at you out of the sun.

Well, Dufte, well.

We'll surface in five minutes.

It can happen to anyone.

Stand by to surface.

The days tracked by in endless succession. On watch or off.

Nothing ever happens.

There's only one sound that fascinates us more and more.

The chirping of Morse code from the hydrophone.

Very laboriously, the decoding machine converts...

... a meaningless jumble of letters into a message.

But is it for us?

Well?

Nope.

Nothing for us.

The line that records our course zigzags...

... like a frightened hare across the chart.

The routine never changes.

Day in, day out, always the same.

Everywhere you smell the acrid stench of oil...

... sweat, bilge and damp clothing.

Morning, sir.

Morning's great.

Twenty minutes to go, lieutenant.

It's just before midnight.

First watch is standing by to go on top.

To get their eyes used to the darkness...

... the control room has switched to red lights.

- Watch out. - Goddamn!

- I have coffee all over me. - Uneasy times, huh?

Pass the towel.

The captain, funny guy, isn't he?

He's reading his letters again.

What kind of letters?

Love letters.

He's got himself engaged to this Nazi chick.

Flier's widow.

Nazi chick?

They say they're great fucks.

What do you mean?

They teach the girls at the Reich school special techniques.

Such as?

They stick chalk in their asses and write on the chalkboard, "Otto, Otto."

It's true. That's why they're so flexible.

- Morning, men. - Morning, lieutenant.

Ocean, nothing but the ocean.

Not a sign of the enemy.

Just grubby necks, torn shirts, sweaty blankets...

... and worst of all, our own miserable faces.

Lousy fog.

Lousy weather.

Lousy damn patrol.

None of our folks back home know where we are.

No mail, contact forbidden, nothing.

I guess when we're sunk, we're reported missing, some month later.

Married yet, Kriechbaum?

I didn't waste any time, eh?

We're working on the fifth one.

Johann, it's good for you, fresh air.

No.

They're strange, these machine-room people.

"Aid to cleanliness," four letters.

Bath.

Thank you.

"Deep affection," four letters.

Love.

Perfect.

Intellectual starvation, I would say.

Signal decoder.

One moment.

Five, six, seven, eight.

New course, sir?

One minute.

Can I see the radiogram?

Convoy Square at AK 2246. Mean course, 60 degrees.

Speed, 8 knots. U-boat 37.

U-boat 37, that's Martin's boat moving in to attack.

Too far away. We'll never make it.

Damned!

When do we get some orders?

Well, Johann?

Captain.

What's up with the diesels?

The diesels seem satisfied, sir.

Satisfied and all full.

The chief is worried about our fuel consumption.

The chief is a careful man.

What's your opinion?

The chief knows what's best.

Funny times, Johann.

To be careful means very little.

They need heroes...

...and they are not too particular.

They make use of a broken hero.

Like Thomsen.

Or a dead hero.

Like Kelsch.