It was a fine May day. The North Sea, so wild and inhospitable for much of the year, basked in the afternoon sun as the skipper of the trawler Crimond took a check on his vessel's bearings. Sixty miles east of Wick and no sign of another boat. It had been this way since the previous November, when the British Government had declared the North Sea a war zone. Fish catches were well down. All the naval reserves among the extensive British fishing fleet had been called up; thousands more young fishermen had tumbled over themselves to join the armed services. Lord Kitchener's call had everywhere fallen on eager ears. And now there was another negative to consider - a week previously torpedoes from the German submarine U-20 had sentenced 1,200 passengers on the liner Lusitania to a premature sea burial. Things could hardly be worse. Damned bloody war! http://www.internet-promotions.co.uk/archives/caithness/sub2.htm
