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Updated: May 1, 2025
Whilst I am up here, it does not matter much, except that it causes me unhappiness, but if I found myself at Bruges it would be very hard. However, I don't suppose I shall ever see her again. Sighted Muckle Flugga this morning, and shaped course for Fair Island. Oh! what a hell I have passed through.
My doubts were removed for me since I received special orders at noon by high-power wireless from Nordreich, and on decoding them found that, for some reason or other, we are ordered to proceed to Muckle Flugga Cape, and thence down the coast of Shetlands to the Fair Island Channel, where we are directed to cruise till further orders.
Muckle Flugga, I believe, is a remote headland in the Shetlands, and she, a member of the corps called after it, flew the White Ensign of the British Navy and was an armed merchant cruiser. Before the war she was a crack passenger liner. On her upper deck, and expressly designed for the use of potentates and plutocrats, she had regular suites of apartments.
As they were fifty miles off the shore when I left them and it blew force six a few hours afterwards, I rather think they have joined the list of "Missing." We are now steering due west to our second position. Received orders last night to return to base forthwith on the north about route. I have shaped course to pass fifty miles north of Muckle Flugga; no more Fair Island Channel for me.
Special warning is included as to encountering friendly submarines. It appears to me that a special concentration of U-boats is being ordered round about the Orkneys, and that some big scheme is on hand. We are now steering south-westerly to make Muckle Flugga, which I hope to do in four days' time if the weather holds.
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