One is an antioxidant called taurine, found in greatest quantity in dark meats of chicken and turkey, but in sufficient amounts in the lighter sections of these animals as well. “The male reproduction system has no other natu­rally occurring antioxidant,” says Mallek.”[Taurine] may prevent testosterone decline.” One chicken leg contains almost the entire Recommended Daily Allowance (150 to 185 grams) of taurine.

One chicken breast contains about 21 milligrams of the nutrient.

Meats such as pork, beef and chicken also provide carnitine, which helps transport fats to the mitochondria of the cells themselves, where they can be burned for energy. Mallek says this function declines as we age, possibly contributing to our midriff bulge. Three ounces of tenderloin delivers about 4o to 80mg of carnitine, a whole day’s worth.

But before you run off to Sainsbury’s meat counter, remember that moderation is in order. Most of these meats also contain saturated fat, which can contribute to the onset of certain cancers and clog your arterial system. Roizen recommends keeping saturated-fat levels low, between 7 and 10 per cent of total daily calories.

A good example is a plate with 150 grams of beef (about the size of a deck of cards), brown rice, cooked vegetables and half an avocado. The fat breakdown is ideal: you’ll get a little bit of saturated from the beef and the rest as monounsaturated from the avocado.

“Whoever said cheats never,   prosper was lying to get ahead. I secretly did everything short of surgery to turn my beer barrel into a six-pack. But, like an STD-free porn star, I can now come clean.

I used to be fairly sporty. Then I joined Men’s Health and quickly published a second edition of my chin. Whoever said there’s no such thing as a free lunch had never seen my social calendar. Or my rapidly expanding gut. Although no gymslip of a lad, I’d sucked myself into believing I was quite trim until I saw the ‘before’ pics. I was even more shocked to see my ridiculous training schedule. I got a good ab workout just laughing at it.

“But I dug deep into my commitment reserves. It was out with lavish lunches and in with the painful crunches. It was a hard, constant battle, but vanity won out over temptation. I had no bad carbs after breakfast, just protein, and fresh fruit and veg. Crucially, I also gave up alcohol almost completely.

“And yes, I had help: six sessions with a brilliant personal trainer called Dave Green (www.aipt.co.uk), a course of 12 very effective `vacunauf sessions (www.hypoxitraining.com), which involved wearing a suit of bubblewrap under vacuum suction while walking on a treadmill and health tips from Nutria.co. The combination saw me lose three inches off my waist. So, if ‘whoever’ says you can’t get a six-pack in six weeks, they’re wrong.”

THE BEGINNER

“Edging towards a mid-thirties paunch and blessed (thanks, Dad) with a face prone to ‘jowling’, recent pictures hadn’t been pleasant viewing. I also had a general feeling of ‘heaviness’… that sensation when your gut spills out over the top of your trousers as you sit down. The time had come to stop putting it off and start sweating it off.

“Buoyed by the challenge, the first week went well. I’d been warned to go easy as I hadn’t been a regular gym-goers for some time… having what my fellow six-packers termed ‘motivation issues’.

“My focus was getting my overall weight and body-fat down, then building abdominal definition through sit-ups, crunches and hyper extensions. And that meant CV work: lots of it. I spent most lunchtimes on the treadmill, using interval training to get my heart rate into the fat-burning zone.

“I cut out most booze, cheese, paid attention to what I ate after exercising and discovered the energy-boosting benefits of breakfast.

“After three weeks I started to see a difference. Clothes got looser; the CV work got a little easier. There were setbacks: vodka, lime and sodas are the new slimming drink, and I couldn’t resist a curry. I skipped the gym more than once because I was too knackered, but I made sure I was back the next day.

“Six weeks on, I feel so much better. Okay, my abs need more work- I have more of a two-pack than a six-pack. But I have tons more energy, I’ve kicked most of the junk food, and I no longer shudder when I see my mug in photographs.”

You might think that once you’ve had your feet analysed at a specialist running shop, you’re set up for life, but you’d be wrong. Your body goes through stresses, strains and changes over time, and the way your foot hits the floor when you first start running doesn’t remain constant. These are some of the most common reasons for gait changes:

YOU BECOME EFFICIENT

“With any task that you repeat, you become more efficient as your brain learns the action; so if you run repeatedly you should become more efficient in the muscles you use,” says Sam Wilde, physiotherapist at Pure Sports Medicine (www. puresportsmed.com). For example, the first time you run after a layoff, you’ll find it tough. You’ll find it less so the second time, and even less still the third time. This doesn’t mean that you’ve become fitter in that short time frame, but that your brain has recruited the correct muscles more efficiently. You may need to switch to a running shoe that has fewer support features.

YOU’RE PREGNANT

During pregnancy your ligaments are softened through the production of a hormone called relaxin, so that the pelvis can let the baby through. Those ligaments won’t stiffen up while the mother is still breast feeding, so if you run during this time, the pelvis will not be as sturdy, changing the way you run, and could potentially cause injury. See a personal trainer who specialises in post-natal exercise to help you return to running safely, and get your gait checked again (your shoe size may have changed, too).

YOU GET INJURED

If you become injured, you may develop a different way of running in order to adapt to it. For example, some runners start off with a neutral gait but then develop a weakness in the arch through under-use, an issue with the back or any one of a number or reasons, and end up overpronating (where the ankle bends inwards), says Wilde. The arch may be strengthened back up over time, but it’s just as important to provide the correct support to counteract the changed movement of the foot.

YOU GET OLDER

There’s no getting away from it. As you get older your body changes and your joints stiffen up, which will have a bearing on the way you run, says Wilde. To have more energy, you can check for testosterone supplements. Learn more about testosterone injections. “As people get to the age of so and beyond, although it is difficult to pinpoint exactly where the changes may take place, it’s likely that there will be changes in the movement of one or more of the hips, the back, the ankles and the knees – any of which will then have an influence on what your foot does when it hits the floor.”

Give your IT band a gentle awakening with this glute-strengthening move. While standing, slowly straighten your leg straight out in front of you, reaching out towards your toes with the opposite arm. Repeat seven times on each leg. These stretches can also help cleanse the colon. For more information visit gnet.org/colon-cleansing-a-fast-fix-for-clogged-bowels/

RW ONLINE POLL HOW DO YOU WARM UP?

Big PB always just out of reach? Your warm up might be to blame.

The running community has had its doubts about common warm-up stretches for years. When the Clinical Journal of Sports Medicine reviewed 23 studies in 2oo4, not one supported the idea that static stretching – pushing muscles beyond their normal range of motion without significantly increasing blood flow to the area – helped performance.

In fact, a 2008 study at the University of Nevada found that static stretching actually reduced the force that could later be generated by an athlete’s legs, impeding performance and making injury more likely.

Yet static stretching was favoured by almost a quarter of runners in a recent RW online poll, and they’re in illustrious company. Chartered physiotherapist Will Amor

Lengthen quads by jogging forwards at a very slow pace. On each foot strike, bend the opposite leg further back than usual, bringing your heel up towards your glutes. says, “I have noticed that very few runners warm up appropriately prior to racing ­even at very high levels.”

“A well-planned warm-up should raise your core temperature, and also increase elasticity in muscles, tendons and ligaments,” explains performance analyst Mitchell Phillips, (strideuk.com).

More than half of RW poll respondents kicked off their session with easy runs, a tactic that raises body temperature but doesn’t quite fulfill the second requirement. Your body has dual needs, and requires a dual-tactic approach. As Phillips says, “Always loosen the body up first, with dynamic stretches for mobility. Then go into easy running.”

Use these dynamic stretches; after stretching, run at a pace slow enough to hold a conversation and end your warm-up with 10 minutes of gradually intensified running.

To loosen up hip flexors and extensors, hold on to a wall and swing your leg both in front and behind you seven times. Don’t go too fast, or you risk overextension. Repeat with the opposite limb, before doing six reps on each leg extending your leg straight out to the side.

The only time I was able to leave the house was when needed to run, as I knew that I wouldn’t need to interact with anyone. I can honestly say my recovery was all down to running and 5-htp supplement – it made me feel like a human being again. Sam Hastings

LOOKING BACK

The memory-jogging picture of the New Forest 10 in the 195os. Cross-country running was a great feature in the sporting calendar. The photograph ‘Cloud nine’ captured exactly what I carry in my mind’s eye of those days. I am now 71 and still run several times a week. I’m sure there are countless runners for whom it all began with school cross countries. Thanks for the memory! Michael Whawell, Peterborough

HOT THREAD FROM GLASS

I am running my first half-marathon soon. I can run ‘without glasses, but I can’t see much of what s going on! Would you recommend getting disposable contact lenses only for the races? You can probably get a free trial – try them the week before the race.

I switched to contact lenses from glasses for running – it definitely makes a difference in the rain. Go for it, they’re relatively cheap these days. Old specs, elastic round the back and a cap if it rains.

I’ve tried contacts and never got on with them, just make sure your glasses have silicone nose pads and they won’t move much. If you’re worried about steaming up, try washing-up liquid to coat the lenses.

I couldn’t imagine wearing glasses when exercising. Maybe try out some disposables and if you get on with them use them for training as well.

By this time a lot of men had gathered on the quarter-deck, 200 or Soo. They were all horrified by what they saw : the tangled wreck­age, smoke and flames, the piles of dead and mutilated, the moans of the wounded. Some helped to ad­just the lifebelts of the less badly wounded, put them over the sides.

Before the British ships had ceas­ed firing, many men had gone over the side of their own accord to es­cape the merciless shelling; they could be seen strung out in a long line astern, for the ship was still moving. Now the others followed.

The Dorsetshire came round from the port side where she had fired her last torpedo, lay stopped in the sea a little way off. Survivors struck out as well as they could to­wards her, although with the high seas and the oil from the Bismarck’s tanks and the wounds of many, it wasn’t easy. After more than an hour’s swimming the first of them reached the Dorsetshire’s side, where rafts, ropes, nets and lifelines of all kinds had been let down.

The Dorsetshire picked up some 85 men, the destroyer Maori some 25. Many more were in the process of being hauled up and hundreds were waiting in the water when the Dorsetshire’s navigating officer sighted a smoky discharge in the water two miles away. The most likely explanation was a U-boat. The Dorsetshire, laying stopped in the water, was a sitting target. In the circumstances, the captain had no choice but to ring down for full speed, and the Maori did the same.

The Bismarck crewmen who were almost on board were bundled over the rails to the deck; those half­way up the ropes found themselves trailing astern, hung on as long as they could, then dropped off; others in the water clawed frantically at the paintwork as the side slipped by.

In Dorsetshire they heard the thin cries of hundreds who had come within a hair’s breadth of rescue, cries that the British sailors, no less than the Germans already on board, would always remember. Later, another five men would be picked up, but of the Bismarck’s company of more than 2,000, only 110 survived.

In Germany, people were as de­pressed by the news of the Bis­marck’s death as the British had been by the death of the Hood; more so perhaps, for unlike the British they had no hopes of a com­pensating victory. Yet in Britain, the general reaction to the news of the sinking was one of relief rather than exhilaration.

On the afternoon of the battle, in the House of Commons, Winston Churchill, not yet knowing the final outcome, told an enthralled House of the events up to the beginning of the final action, then went on to other business. In the middle of this, he was handed a note. “Mr Speak­er,” he said, “I have just heard that the Bismarck has been sunk.” Members cheered and waved their papers, thankful that the cloud that had darkened their horizon for the last five days had been lifted.

But one member, the writer Har­old Nicolson, sat silent; more than some, he saw the thing in human terms, thought of the innumerable dead, sensed its tragedy. Nearly four thousand men were dead, half on either side, who felt no personal ill will towards each other, who in different circumstances might have played and laughed and sung to­gether, kissed each other’s sisters, visited each other’s homes.

The British knew that the Bis­marck was a menace that had to he destroyed, and vet to watch her die was not a pretty sight. Ships had always been Britain’s livelihood and life, and the Bismarck was a ship after all, perhaps the finest they had seen. Today, the battleship is extinct, but those of us who lived with, and in, those strange, lovely, vast, mysterious creatures, remember them with pride; are proud, too, to have been at sea in their company in that week when the Hood and the Bismarck sailed to glory and disaster.

The Rodney was only four miles from the enemy and closing when a shell from the Bismarck landed just off the starboard bow, jammed the sluice door of the starboard torpedo tube, rendering it useless. This was the nearest the Bismarck got to a direct hit. Afterwards her fire began to fall off rapidly. The British battle­ships closed the range and poured in salvo after salvo.

It was now possible to see some­thing of the damage being done. Two i5-inch guns were stuck at maximum depression, “drooping,” said one man, “like dead flowers.” The back of another turret had been blown over the side; one of its guns like a giant finger pointed at the sky. In the after turret one barrel had burst, leaving a stub like a peeled banana. Inside the hull flames were flickering in half a dozen places. And still, because there was life in the Bismarck and her flag flew, the huge shells went on being pumped into her. “I can’t say I enjoyed this part of the business much,” said Dalrymple-Hamilton, “but didn’t see what else I could do.”

By 1o a.m. the Bismarck was abattered burning wreck, her guns silent, but at the foremast her ad­miral’s flag and at the mainmast the German naval ensign were still bravely flying. In the British ships they looked at her with awe and admiration that her crew could fight so gallantly to the end. “Pray God I may never know,” said Guernsey, “what those shells did as they ex­ploded inside the hull.” Presently, in the British ships fire was checked; the Bismarck no longer menaced anyone.

Tovey had already stayed ten hours longer than he had said his fuel would allow, and U-boats would soon be on the scene, if they had not reached it already. He sig­nalled the Rodney to form up astern and gave orders to take the flagship home. As he left he made a general signal : “Any ship with torpedoes to close the Bismarck and torpedo her.”

Only one ship, the Dorsetshire, still had torpedoes. She had ant­icipated this order and, closing to a mile and a half, fired two into the Bismarck’s starboard side, both of which hit. She then went round the other side and fired another, which also hit.

In the King George V, half-way to the horizon, Tovey saw through his glasses the great ship keel over to port until her funnel was level with the water, and go on turning until she was completely upside down. The stern dipped below the surface, then the main keel. The great flared bows were the last to go. And then all that was left to show where the Bismarck had been were hundreds of men in lifebelts, swimming in oil and water.

Glory and Disaster

SOME died early in the BisLütjens some late, and the luckiest were those who knew nothing of it. Of those that survived the day, none at all came from the fore part, not from A and B turrets, the bridge or superstructure, the charthouse and gunnery control, the magazines and shell rooms below.

We do not therefore know how Liitjens and Lindemann and all the other officers of the admiral’s staff died. But there is much evi­dence of fires raging forward, both in the superstructure and below decks. It would seem that the peoMullenheim-Rechberg’slenheim-Rechberg’se burned to death by the fires or trapped behind them, and drowned when the ship turned turtle.

In ones and twos the survivors reached the upper deck aft, some through hatches that were still free, others up ammunition hoists, a few up the wiring tch-room to Miillenheim-Rechberg’s after control position. Some of the last men to come up were the people 1o-Ihe engine-room.

As a last resort you can take out a county court summons. And thanks to the revamped do-it-yourself procedure for dealing with money claims under £500, you don’t have to worry about costs. Even if you lose, you can normally be landed only with very modest court fees.

First, though, give the other side every chance to put matters right. In the case of unsatisfactory goods, contact the shop manager. Failing satisfaction, write a letter-giving full details – to the shop owner or managing director. (Check your local reference library for the name and address.) Keep a copy of this and all other letters. If you have a good case, he’ll probably arrange for a troubleshooter to sort things out. If he doesn’t, write a final letter saying you’ll go to court to get your money back unless you hear from them within seven days.

Write similar letters if your claim is against a person rather than a firm.

Still no joy? Simply go to the office of the county court covering the area where you bought the goods (the address is under “Courts” in the phone book). You fill in a request form for a default summons. This covers little more than your name and address, that of the company or person you’re claiming against and what your claim is for. Keep it simple-if possible, just for your money back and any clear-cut expenses like postage.

You also have to fill in two copies of another form headed “Particulars of Claim”. Put down exactly what went wrong and keep a copy for yourself. You’ll be given an extremely helpful free booklet and electronic cigarettes, Small Claims in the County Court.

When you hand in the forms, you pay a court fee ranging from £4 (for claims up to £40) to £28 (if £500 is involved). This sum is added to your claim, and so is the extra £4 if you want the summons served by a bailiff. Nowadays, though, it’s more usual to serve a summons by post, for which there’s no charge.

IF you have a good case, the other side will almost certainly pay up. For big firms especially, it’s not worth the trouble and expense of fighting a small claim. The court will send you your money, including the cost of the summons (and the serving of it by the bailiff, if applicable). And that’s that.

But suppose the other side decides to fight. They then enter a defence, saying why they think they should not pay you the money. The case is then referred to arbitration.

There’s usually a preliminary hearing which you both attend. Often the registrar (a sort of junior judge) is able to arrange an agreed settlement at this stage. If not, a date for the arbitra­tion is fixed and you’re told what documents you’ll need to bring.

The arbitrator (usually the registrar) doesn’t have to stick to the strict rules of evidence. The idea is to see that you each have a fair and equal chance of stating your case. Either of you can be represented by a solicitor, but the idea is to do without them.

The arbitrator decides between you. If you win, you get what you claimed plus the cost of the summons (but not your solicitor’s costs). If you lose, you forfeit the cost of the summons. But your opponent can’t normally claim his solicitor’s costs. Usually the DIY small claims procedure means free justice for the ordinary citizen. I know. I’ve used it myself.

Could the ship be steered by pro­pellers alone? On the bridge, where it was almost dark, Lindemann tried every combination of telegraph orders he could imagine : half ahead port, stop centre and star­board; half ahead port and centre, slow astern starboard; full ahead port, half ahead centre, stop star­board. The result was the same; for a while the ship’s head pointed more or less in the direction he wanted, then the jammed rudders brought the bows slowly back to­wards the north-west and danger, away from safety and home. There was nothing wrong with the en­gines or main armament, but this absurd 15 degrees of port rudder made the ship helpless as a babe.

“To the Fuhrer of the German Reich, Adolf Hitler,” Lütjens sig­nalled before midnight. “We fight to the last in our belief in you, my Führer, and in the firm faith in Germany’s victory.” Hitler replied from the Berghof two hours later, “I thank you in the name of the German people.”

From Group West came signals of more practical encouragement. All available U-boats were steering for the Bismarck; three tugs were on their way to take her in tow; protective squadrons of German bombers would be reaching the ship by dawn. Yet as time went by and the course and speed of the ship remained the same, there was a smell of death in the air. With every hour, the gap between themselves and the enemy was slowly but in­evitably closing; the final reckoning could not long be delayed.

Towards dawn, Baron von Mullenheim-Rechberg visited the bridge. He noticed Captain Linde­mann was wearing an inflated lifebelt, went over and saluted. Lindemann stared at him dully, didn’t return the salute. “He look­ed like a man doomed to destruc­tion, dead tired, waiting patiently for the end.” Mullenheim-Rechberg moved to the chart table and saw the drunken course the ship had been steering through the night, a picture that was self-explanatory.

No Longer a Menace

DURING the night Tovey planned his battle tactics. Several days ago the old battleship Rodney had set out for Boston for a refit, accom­panying four destroyers and a troop­ship. But she had been diverted to the pursuit and now trailed the King George V, along with the de­stroyers Tartar and Mashona. Five other destroyers, under Captain Philip Vian, had also come up, and throughout the night they sought to close the range on the Bismarck, launching their torpedoes. Then four of them took station round the crippled battleship.

The King George V and Rodney would approach the enemy head-on in line abreast. “I hoped,” said Tovey, “that the sight of two battle­ships steering straight for them would shake the nerves of the range-takers and control officers, who had already had four anxious days and nights.” The two ships would close as quickly as possible to seven or eight miles, then turn and fire broadsides.

At dawn Tovey went to his cabin,as Nelson had done before Trafal­gar, and prayed, as he put it, “for guidance and help.” The longer he prayed, the calmer he felt. It was, he said, “as if all responsibility had been taken from me and I knew everything would be all right.” He returned to the bridge refreshed and confident.

Officers and lookouts strained through binoculars to catch a first glimpse of the ship that for days had been in the very marrow of their lives. And then suddenly there she was, “veiled in distant rain­fall,” wrote Lieutenant-Command­er Hugh Guernsey, “a thick, squat ghost of a ship, very broad in the beam, coming straight towards us.” The time was 8.43 a.m.; the range, twelve and a half miles.

Four minutes later the Rodney fired, then the flagship. It was like a small earthquake. On the King George V the compass bounded out of its binnacle, Guernsey’s tin hat was blown on to the deck, a pile of signals was scattered to the winds.

The salvoes fell as the Bismarck was turning to bring all her guns to bear; great white clumps rose all round her, higher than her fore­mast. Then it was her turn. In the British ships they saw a ripple of orange fire down the length of her, followed by a pall of cordite smoke.

THE leader of the second striking force was Lieutenant-Commander Tim Coode. He and his 44 fellow pilots, observers and air-gunners had no illusions about what lay ahead; but on them now lay all the hopes of the Navy, and of England, for if they could not slow the Bis­mare k down, no one else could.

The weather was as bad as ever, angry seas, cloud at about 600 feet, frequent rain storms which at times blotted out visibility almost entirely. There had been a suggestion that the Fulmar fighters should also take off, to create a diversion during the attack, but in these conditions it was impossible; ironically, only the slow, ungainly, out-of-date Swordfish were operable.

At 7.10 p.m. the green flag went down, Coode opened his throttle, and his Swordfish trundled down the slippery deck. One by one the others followed.

They sighted the Sheffield at 8.35 p.m., and Captain Larcom sig­nalled to Coode, “The enemy is 12 miles dead ahead.” Coode led the striking force upwards, to meet above the cloud and there split up so as to approach the Bismarck from different directions. But the wall of cloud reached to io,000 feet. With no chance of carrying out a co-ordi­nated attack, each sub-flight of two or three planes must attack on its own. Coode’s own sub-flight was the first, and down through the grey murk they screamed.

Some minutes later those on the bridge of the Sheffield, 12 miles astern, saw stabs of light and the brown puffs of bursting shells on the Bismarck’s port side. The time was 8.53 p.m. The last attack had begun.

On the admiral’s bridge of the King George V and in the plotting-room just off it, Tovey and his offi­cers once more waited for news. There were no longer any calcula­tions to be made about the enemy’s position; questions of fuel and en­durance had long been decided; they knew that in less than three hours, barring a miracle, they would have to turn for home. Everyone was tired, physically and emotionally, and the movements of the ship did nothing to ease it.

And now the buzzer from the wireless office sounded; a signal had arrived. The Fleet Signal Officer unwrapped it, read, “From the leader of the striking force. Esti­mate no hits.” It was the final blow.

Although all hope was gone, the squadron steamed on; there was nothing else to do. Presently an­other signal arrived on Tovey’s bridge, this time from the Sheffield. “Enemy’s course 340 degrees,” it said. Tovey looked at it, baffled: 340 degrees was north-north-west, or directly towards them. “I fear Lar­com has joined the reciprocal club,” he said bitingly. What he meant was that Larcom had mistakenly judged the Bismarck to be moving from right to left instead of left to right. It was not an uncommon mis­take, especially at long range and in poor visibility, though hardly to be expected from so senior an officer.

But a few minutes later another signal arrived, this time from a shadowing Swordfish. “Enemy steering due north,” it said. A few more minutes passed in which no one knew quite what to think, then a further Swordfish report confirm­ed the Sheffield’s estimate of north-north-west. And then the Sheffield reported again, this time a course of north.

Now there was no doubt about it, something very serious had hap­pened to the Bismarck. Tovey and his officers looked at each other with incredulity and joy.

Helpless As a Babe

Coode, with three planes and joined by a fourth from another sub-flight, had dropped out of the cloud on the Bismarck’s port beam. Thirteen of the 15 torpedoes were fired at the enemy, but Goode ob­served no definite hits at this stage. Afterwards, Goode hung around in the low cloud and rain, but saw no other attacks and, assuming that they were the only planes to find  the target, he passed the signal to Tovey, “Estimate no hits.”

In fact, all the remaining Swordfish found the Bismarck. Re­turning to the Ark Royal, the pilots were debriefed, and as a result Cap­tain Maund reported to Tovey, “Estimate one hit amidships,” and a while later, “Possible second hit on starboard quarter.”

It was a correct estimation. The hit amidships exploded against the armour belt, did no damage. But the hit on the starboard quarter was another matter.

Leading Seaman Herzog, a load­er on the Bismarck’s starboard side aft, saw two planes coming towards him, wheels almost touching the wavetops, flying so low that at full depression his 37-mm flak gun could no longer bear. There was an explosion, and Herzog was thrown against other members of the crew. Down in the engine-room, Lieuten­ant-Commander Gerhard Junack saw the deck plates rise and fall “at least three feet.”

The ship was turning to port at high speed when the hit came. On the bridge Lindemann ordered the wheel to be centred. She refused to answer to it, went on swinging to port. The torpedo had struck right aft, at least 20 feet down, breached the steering-gear compartments and flooded them. The three pro­pellers were unharmed, but the rudders were jammed at 15 degrees port. Ordinary Seaman Herbert Blum, on damage-control duty, remembered the time in the Bal­tic when they had practised their response to damage in the steering-gear compartment, and his lieuten­ant saying, “The chances of such a hit are 100,000 tot against.”

The first thing to do was try to free the rudders. The ship was put at slow speed into the wind, and below, the hatch leading to the steering compartments was opened. At once the water came surging and gushing into the passageway. Quickly the hatch was secured and battened down; no diver could pos­sibly get down there, let alone move about and work.