The Shadow of War, Jack Murray [story books for 5 year olds TXT] 📗

from a village south of Dresden. In many ways, hewas like Lothar. Short, squat and, as Gerhardt had pointed out to Manfred, notthe brightest. However, his open smile and manner had instantly appealed to thetwo boys.

‘Itcould get stormy,’ said Sepp,

‘Whatwould you know, country boy,’ mocked Gerhardt, good-naturedly.

Sepplooked unhappy. He looked up at the sky and said, ‘I heard one of the crew saythis. Let’s see how much you’re laughing when the sea whips up.’

Anotherrecruit, Christian, whom they had met at the officer training was alreadylooking green. Christian was quiet-spoken and seemed a mass of contradictions. Brightto the point where anything he said sounded more arrogant than helpful, he wasrescued from being ostracised by a cynicism that was as funny as it wasreckless. He never referred to Hitler as anything other than ‘the corporal’.This recklessness was calculated, however. He never made this reference in thepresence of senior officers.

Gerhardtglanced at their friend and then back to Sepp and Manfred, ‘I think one of usis ready to go.’

Thetwo boys laughed, albeit nervously. The prospect of being on a ship in theMediterranean Sea was dangerous enough without the weather adding complicationsto their journey.

‘That’sall we need,’ said Christian, to no one in particular.

‘Cheerup,’ replied Manfred, we’ll be there by tomorrowmorning.

‘Oh great, I was worried for a minute there,’ responded Christiansardonically. ‘I’m going back down below. Wake me when the war is over.’

Manfred stayed on deck and watched as the sky slowly changed frompastel to grey. Clouds lolled into view one after another until they formed anunbroken grey ceiling. By late afternoon this had become a grey-black stucco. Heavy, unyielding – a promise oftrouble. The sea changed also.

Thegentle pitch had become something steeper. Waves rose menacingly, slapping overthe side onto the deck. The rain had been released from the pregnant clouds.Sky and sea became one. Manfred watched all of this enthralled. It onlyoccurred to him that he was feeling unwell when he saw a few of his comradesrush onto the desk to throw up. Soon the deck was covered in sea water andvomit.

Manfredwent below deck hoping against hope that having something to eat might settlehis stomach. The galley was empty save for a few hardy souls intent on showingoff their strong stomachs and sea legs. He walked over to one soldier who wasin a hammock near to his.

‘Whatare they serving?’

‘Nothinghot. Apparently, the cook can’t keep the pans on the stove,’ replied thesoldier.

Manfrednodded and went to collect a tray. He returned a few minutes later with sausageand some bread.

‘Doyou mind if I join you?’

‘Goahead. Johann Kupsch,’ said the young man holding out his hand.

‘ManfredBrehme. You seem all right,’ said Manfred glancing seaward.

‘Isail. At least I used to sail. Before all this.’

‘Where?’asked Manfred genuinely interested.

‘Hamburg.It could be stormy there also,’ said Kupsch. He was slightly older thanManfred, very much the Aryan ideal. Like Manfred, he was a Fahnenjunker. Manfredlooked down at his food. It was as unappetising a meal as he had ever seen, buthe was committed now. He sensed the eyes of Kupsch on him. To turn back nowwould have been ignominious. He lifted the sausage and began to eat. Bile roseimmediately in his stomach and he fought hard to keep it down.

Heglanced up at Kupsch who had an amused look in his eye.

‘Enjoyingit?’

‘No,’replied Manfred truthfully, putting down the sausage with something approachingrelief.

‘Youdid well.’

‘Thanks.Doesn’t feel like it though.’

However,Manfred was quite pleased at the comment and risked another bite of thesausage. He lifted it up mechanically and did not look at it. This seemed tohelp, and he was able to swallow it without the desire to gag.

Asudden pitch in the ship had the two young men clutching their trays. Bothburst out laughing. The ship was now swooping, soaring then plunging in anendless cycle. Manfred accepted it was only a matter of time before he joinedthe others atop.

‘Onegood thing from all of this, though,’ pointed out Kupsch.

Manfredlooked up querulously. What could possibly be good about what he was feeling atthat moment, he wondered?

Kupschsmiled at Manfred’s reaction before continuing, ‘The British will hardly sendany planes out in this. Maybe we can get to Tripoli without being attacked.’

Thiswas cold comfort but yet it made sense. It was an awful trade off, though: feelinglike death on this ship or risking death in more clement weather if it meantrunning the gauntlet of RAF patrols from Malta.

Theyparted a few minutes later. Manfred made his way below deck. He moved along thecorridor like Charlie Chaplin, rolling and bumping against the walls; againstthe poor souls who had been unable to make it above and conducted theirbusiness in the corridor. The stench was horrible. There was little Manfredcould do for them when he was feeling every bit as bad.

Heheaded into the large area below deck where his hammock hung alongsideGerhardt’s. He saw his friend lying there, dead seemingly or, more likely, wishing to be so. Just behind Gerhardt lay Sepp. He waswide awake. He looked at Manfred. He could neither disguise the terror he feltas the waves crashed against the side of the ship nor the nausea. Moments laterhe turned away and retched on the other side of his hammock. A few otherrecruits made half-hearted efforts at complaint.

With an enormous effort of will, Manfred levered himself up intothe hammock and shut his eyes, praying to a God he barely believed in for somerespite.

There was none.

Forthe next few hours, the ship continued to pitch and roll violently. However, inthe hammock there was a rhythm to the movement of the ship. Whilst it may havebeen disastrous for his stomach, never mind his nerve, Manfred felt confidenthe could manage.

Thenoise was another thing. Menacing, strange noises were caused by water smashingagainst the side of the ship. The scream of the storm. The crashing andclattering of things falling to the ground and then rolling around the floor.The heartrending cries of his comrades ringing throughout the ship, accompaniedby the base groan of the metal stretching and rivets rasping in the tempest.Sleep was impossible.

Nightcame but without a break in the weather. If anything, it seemed worse, althoughManfred was past caring. He was now on