“Time...rolling along with the waves,
a thousand miles away...
holding you close in the rain
seems just like yesterday…
Lost...hope in a faraway place,
and in my hand remains
a black and white print of a face
I’ll never see again…”
Chapter 1
Today was a relatively quiet day at sea. For once, there were no sightings of enemy ships, submarines, aircraft - nothing. An eerie silence filled the area around the Prinz Erich and her fleet. The atmosphere around the fleet was so quiet, all that could be heard were the cold, crashing waves.
For Junior Lieutenant Klaus, any quiet day is a perfect day. The Naval aviator was already exhausted after a week of fighting. He stood at the edge of the Prinz Erich, looking at his prized picture of his girl back home. It was his only motivation for the entire war, his reason for fighting.
His trenchcoat flowed with the soft wind, he continued staring at the picture. An auburn haired girl with blue eyes smiled back at him, beckoning him back home. Oh, how he wished to have her with him at that moment, he imagined her hair flowing flawlessly in the wind, it seemed like just yesterday he was holding her tightly before he left for war. Her worried eyes were reassured by his kiss. But even he wasn’t so sure he was going to make it back. In that week alone, six sailors had been killed, two aviators. Two he knew.
With the red sun beginning to disappear on the horizon, the horn for supper pierced the air, every sailor in the entire fleet of 14 ships could hear it. The hull began to crowd with hungry sailors. Klaus stayed outside, not in the mood to stay in a crowded hull for the next hour. Two aircraft finished up the final patrol of the day, landing on the deck of the Prinz Erich, once again causing a disturbance in the atmosphere.
Klaus took a look at his dear Felicia one last time before discarding the photo in a heart shaped locket, zipping it away in his flightsuit. He walked up to the landed aircraft, with the crew running a landing inspection as the pilots left.
“You see anything interesting, Freisler?” He asked the first pilot.
“Nothing but water.” He replied, taking off his pilot gear.
“Those damn Oseans have been quiet for the last two days. Must be plotting something.” Said the other pilot.
“Yeah, Captain says that we probably got something in stock for us tomorrow.” Added Klaus.
“Well, shit. Better make this a good last meal for us. My flying’s gettin’ a little rusty, and I’ll bet y’ that I won’t be flyin’ should we encounter something like an ace tomorrow.” Sighed Freisler.
Klaus tipped his cover. “Well, supper is on. Might as well get in line now.” He walked to the strong steel doors of the Prinz Erich, holding them open for his fellow officers. “I heard they have sausage for us tonight.”
“Gotta love the cooks.” Jested Freisler.
“Yeah, always comfort food from the homeland.” Agreed the other pilot.
As they walked passed lower ranking, enlisted sailors, a barrage of “Good evening, sir” was fired at them. The Belkan Federal Navy was strong on customs and courtesies, much like the rest its fellow branches.
Klaus stepped in line, which was relatively short. Most of the sailors were already in the mess hall, eating away until their stomachs were content. He grabbed a plate, filling it with three sausages. He thanked the chef, walking into the audible mess hall. As predicted, the regularly drunken sailors would drink their weight in beer on Sunday nights. It was customary, like a tradition. There was the one sailor, Petty Officer Maxmillian, who was allowed to grow a beard with his uniform. The middle aged enlistedman had seen many wars.
