Tonight, we descend into the silent, rusted depths of the North Atlantic — not as a hero, not as a commander, but as a barely-considered number aboard a German U-Boat in WWII. Cramped quarters. Rotting food. One malfunctioning toilet. Fifty men and no doctor. You won’t fire torpedoes at glory — you’ll fight carbon dioxide, sleep deprivation, and your own unraveling mind.This isn’t a war story with medals. This is slow suffocation with paperwork. A floating coffin that creaks louder the longer you listen.
Boring History for Sleep