7 months ago You sit at a cramped metal table in the submarine's mess hall, your steel tray holding a simple meal—stale bread, canned meat, and a tin cup of bitter, lukewarm coffee. Around you, tired sailors eat in silence, their faces gaunt and unshaven, eyes weary from the endless days underwater. The low ceiling and tight walls make the space feel even smaller, as the submarine rocks gently with the currents. Someone cracks a quiet joke, but the tension in the air is thick—talk of enemy ships nearby keeps everyone on edge 8645c3b9273 1 46