1. #1
    Sorry for the extenuating slowness of the progression of my story (I am quite busy)

    but as we all know

    Rien ne sert de courir ;
    il faut partir point

    If you wish me to post the entire story at the same time please say so and I will stop posting as I write.

    PART 1

    As I look through my periscope at bearing 347 and see a fishing boat peacefully going its way I cannot help but think how ironic the situation is. Fate, which is currently running underwater at 40 knots with enough explosives to... save a few fish, can be quite cruel and is always unheeding of us humans.

    Everything started in 1940. The events unraveled themselves which such rapidity and confusion that only to speak of them leaves me puzzled as to how I , Herman Rustburg, could have been caught up in them. Perhaps the madness of my nation was contagious; I never thought I would one day be part of such a terrible crusade. As the supreme race, we should father and guide the unfortunates, not destroy them.

    Yet, truth be told, I did join this terrible crusade. In an act of complete unselfishness and altruism I joined the war in the hope of saving a few of my countrymen. One might say I was drafted yet that is quite inaccurate. I wisely evaded the call-up by hiding in a cottage I had by the side of the sea. As I had planned, two SS officers came storming in my hut 2 days after the conscription. You see, this ruse put me in a position of power and importance. How could they deny the fact that I was of vital importance to them if they took the time to personally come and fetch me at my vacation house?

    Turns out a gross error was made. When they read that I fished out fifty thousand tons of fish out of the ocean every year, they didn€t doubt for a second that my fishing company Albatross could have anything to do with it. I was immediately promoted to captain and assigned a u-boat. I knew very little of the functioning of the U-boat, yet as a fervent defender of truth, I knew that revealing this one to the officers would mean that my dead body could never again guard it€s sacredness. Acting the part that was expected of me, I silently accepted the honors.

    PART 2

    Assigned to the 2nd flotilla, I met my assistant in Wilhelmshaven. Crew shortage, which I secretly think was partly responsible for my presence, signified that I would only have 1 sub-officer to assist me. His name: Gutenjeun Klagskig. His 6 feet 5 inches and deep blue eyes contributed to his mysterious character. Yet as very few people who look mysterious he had the characteristic of also looking very dumb. A large lump on his forehead, undoubtedly acquired by bumping his head roaming through the submarine, certainly did not help his case. I did not know whether to take this news as good or bad. On one hand, my incompetency would surely go unnoticed by such a man, on the other how the hell were we going to maneuver our boat. I knew that our mission would involve us leaving port and I was very uncertain if such an accomplishment was within reach.

    Nothing much can be said about the leaving party. My memory was drowned by alcohol and only a few shreds of it survived. There I met the 5 petty officers and 4 sailors that would obey me and Gutenjeun.. We left the next day with 1 petty officer short. My men told me he had been called back to his former function, fisherman. The nation needed food and all fisherman, farmer, growers and cultivators were called back home to feed the nation. Coincidence has it that he is one of my employees. He works for Albatross. Let us call the act of facing danger without seeing it bravery for as I now recall; no fear entered my thought at the moment of our departure. Unfortunately, I was not the only brave man onboard

    Very few know the details of the life of a U-boat commander. Seeing I do not fit in this category, let me tell you the details of the life of a fisherman trying his best to command 9 brave men in a type VIIC submarine. Only the guidance of our audacious Fuhrur could lead such an enterprise to a good end.

    Part 3

    Multitasking was the key. I decided that every sailor would have to be competent in all station if we wanted to have any chance of doing anything with our boat. Seeing I could not teach the men, Trial and error was our only hope. After a week or so of this mondus operandi I came to the conclusion that trails did not work and so only half a hope was left: error. That error was Frankoel Hommel. Apparently, he lived on the U-boat because I was quite sure not to have seen him at the official departure ceremony. I did not consider myself a religious person but a man cannot stay untouched by the sight of Frankoel. How else could such a man exist? God had obviously doodled on a piece of paper and in a moment of distraction had given life to these forms. These 4 foot 2 inches of dissymmetrical height were creepy and unnatural. His right arm and left leg were grossly taller than their opposite members. His eyes totally and irremediably blue, no speck of white surfaced. His ears protruded from his face and curled downwards because of their colossal size. The lack of hair on the totality of his body added to the strangeness of his figure. His tongue had mysteriously been cut out and no speech could be heard of him. Yet he was our savior, our half hope found. When assigned on deck he could man the deck gun, flack gun, stand watch, sleep and cook simultaneously and with great efficiency. When rotation was made, he came under and manned the hydrophone, radio, engines, the entire command room and all the other stations of which I still do not know the names.

    I was told (written) by Frankoel that our mission was to patrol a certain grid, BF 13 if I remember correctly. He drew a line on the map and indicated we would take that route. I could make no objection to this, I had no argument to support one and communicating with Frankoel was very dull and slow, so I wisely accepted. This route brought us around England by its northernmost tip and came down back to the south or Ireland reaching a spot In the Atlantic to the north-west of France. I thought such a trip would be vey romantic. Suffice to say it wasn€t. Apart from me, not one person was normal. Two sailors, aged 63 and 71, constantly roamed the u-boat searching for their dental plates. Having also lost their memories, they mutually and persistently babbled accusations of theft when they yet had their dental plates stuck in their mouths €¦
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  2. #2
    this is getting good but one question did they actually have old men on the boat of the age 63 and 71?
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  3. #3
    Originally posted by jlpilkey:
    this is getting good but one question did they actually have old men on the boat of the age 63 and 71?
    This is obviously a fictional story and should be interpreted as such. I base a few passage on my SH3 game play experience but I am a complete idiot when it comes to the kriegsmarine and submarines.

    Salutes from Herman Rustburg
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  4. #4
    ok just wanted to know but its very good story. iwas staring to get confused and started thinking about volkssturrm and the kriegsmarine

    keep writing your onto something good
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  5. #5
    tuddley3's Avatar Banned
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    Jul 2006
    I like the way you bring individual crew members along with their names, makes it more personal. Also, the little bit of humor you add to the story.

    There is also some moral to your writing. Such as Frankoel, He may be looked upon as a little deformed, but can do anything you ask him, and do it better perhaps than the one crew member assigned in that department. Good job. May this story continue as long as you feel.
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