Story #1

The view from the outside of the submarine was difficult, as was breathing. Normally either of these problems would have been too much for young Tommy Piper and his loyal dog Smut, but on this occasion they were spurred on by a love of freedom, decency and above all, the British Empire.

Young Tommy attached the last of the homemade limpet mines to the u-boat's hull and swam back to his small fishing ketch. He swam fast, knowing that if he were caught still in the water when the petrol/glycol mix ignited, his frail body would be simply crushed by the force-wave into so much small-orphan-flavoured paste. He surfaced and heaved himself into the ketch, fending off a furious licking from Smut. He threw himself onto the floor of the boat just as he felt more than heard the 20 or so magnetic mines explode, triggering sympathetic explosions that Tommy knew would rip a massive hole along the port side of the armoured wolf of the sea. Presently, Smut began to bark and Tommy peeped over the side. There, surfacing, was the crippled craft. Instantly, Tommy grabbed his helioscope and flashed a morse code message back to Constable Simpkins, who was waiting upon the shore. He recieved no answer, but the quiet drone of aircraft engines told him the his message had got through. Tommy pulled the sail about in triumph and headed for shore. As he stuck in the shallows of the cove near his remote Cornish fishing village, the Bristol Blenheims of RAF Coastal Patrol struck the drifting carcass of the u-boat with stunning accuracy, sundering it amidships and sending it and it's hurriedly-evacuating crew to Davy Jones' Locker.

"I say," said Constable Simpkins, standing on the shore with Tommy and Smut, "jolly good fireworks, eh what?"
They all laughed heartily and went to Mrs MacGregor's for tea. In the fullness of time, Tommy was awarded a D.S.O., his orphan status was officially wiped from the Crown records, the Germans stayed dead and we won the war. Again.