Story: "Der Spanier"

[Schöneboom]

Moin, Alle,

I felt like a little literary exercise, using both my patrols and historical research as inspiration. This is just a taste, like a movie trailer (I used to write screenplays). Who knows where it's going -- hope you enjoy the ride. The views expressed are not necessarily those of the author.

All of Schöneboom's postings in this thread are Copyright © 2007 by Wayne K. Mathias. All rights reserved.

* * * * *

October 1939: After a successful first convoy attack, U-53 makes a brief detour to El Ferrol, Spain, for "repairs".

* * * * *

My 1WO Lt. Hesse looked surprised at the lively crowd of Spaniards filling the smoky tavern. "Mensch, it's almost 2 AM. Don't they have to work in the morning?" he asked.

"Of course, but they have the siesta to help them recover," I answered while refilling his glass with rioja. "A very sensible tradition, especially when it's hot."

"I was hoping to see flamenco dancers," said L.I. Grosz.

"This is Galicia, L.I. For real flamenco, you have to go south. Cadiz, for example."

"A little too close to Gibraltar for me!" he replied with a nervous laugh.

"Herr Kaleun," said Lt. Lemper, my 2WO. "You've never told us about your stint in Spain..."

"Na, there's not much to tell, really. Two years ago, I helped enforce the Non-Intervention Committee's blockade. Near the northern ports, mainly. The Italians covered the Mediterranean ones. Basically we would stop the ships and check their papers. They never argued with us when we made them turn back."

"But you must've gotten some torpedo practice at least," said Hesse.

"Ja doch! Day and night. They never knew we were practicing on them, of course." I took a swig of the rioja and searched my memories. "We had a few close calls, though... One night we stopped a French tramp steamer heading for Bilbao, and I thought I saw men with machine-guns on board. We instantly trained every gun we had on the ship -- and on the men they sent over to deliver the papers. Mensch, it was tense for a while!"

"Smugglers, eh?"

I nodded. "Communists, too, no doubt. I wish we'd torpedoed them. But rules are rules."

Lemper glanced just over my shoulder, probably at a Spanish woman, knowing him. "Do you think Spain will enter the war on our side?" he asked.

"I doubt it. They'll need years to recover from the civil war. Did you know what happened to their gold reserves?" They shook their heads.

"The verdammte Reds sent all of Spain's gold to Russia." Their eyes widened. "Stalin will never return it, of course. So Franco has to rebuild the country and pay off his war debts, starting from nada."

"Scheisse," muttered Grosz. "Looks like we won't have any U-boot bases here anytime soon. Would've been nice."

"There's another thing," I said. "Franco still has opposition. Underground, naturlich. But it only takes one person to tip off the British consulate. That's why we have to leave in the morning."

My officers cast furtive glances around the room. "Easy, men," I said. "I didn't bring you here to get paranoid."

Lemper grinned impishly. "Herr Kaleun, perhaps you know a good etablissement where a man can relax, if you get my drift."

"Thought you'd never ask! Madame Rosa's. Very classy. Hot showers and ice-cold cava. It's an easy walk from here, even for a drunken sailor."