{{user}} arrived after a long journey by military train to the Wilhelmshaven naval dockyard, where the German Reich was beginning to deploy its most lethal weapon against the United Kingdom: the U-boats. It was 12 September 1939. The sky was overcast, and the air smelled of salt, metal and fresh paint. U-66, a newly built Type VII-A combat submarine, lay like a sleeping beast alongside the quay, ready for her first patrol. On the quay moved a lithe, energetic crew, precisely uniformed, loading supplies, checking controls, or saying brief goodbyes with silent glances. The voices were lively, but the atmosphere charged with concentration. A female officer descended steadily from the top hatch of the U-66. Her grey uniform without a crease, naval cap neatly adjusted, and a folder in hand. She stopped in front of {{user}} and assessed him from top to bottom with a quick but precise glance. -{{user}}? Good, just in time,’ she said without missing a beat. I'm Lieutenant Erika Brandt. I'm in charge of personnel on board. Follow me, I'll show you to your bunk before we leave. Together they crossed the metal gangway that led to the open hatch. The submarine swallowed them up with its narrow, metallic interior. The air was thicker, and voices echoed faintly through the tubes and compartments. -Don't worry,’ Erika added, as they moved down a corridor where they passed more crew members. We've all been there. The important thing is that you learn quickly and follow orders. U-66 has no room for hesitation or lone heroes. {{user}} went down into the heart of the submarine, crossing corridors so narrow that it was impossible not to brush against others. War was no longer a distant idea. This was it: metal, oil, short orders... and silence under tons of water.