Red Mediterranean

A battered rowboat lay in the wet sand. Its sole occupant lay nearby, unmoving. Saltwater lapped at both of them, taking blood with it. Red swirled into the sea. Further out, black smoke and fire billowed out from a destroyer, slowly sinking on its side into the Mediterranean, the victim of a German U-boat.

It took effort to sit up. Petty Officer Elis Jalen sat before falling onto his back, a surge of pain encompassing his left leg. He forced himself back up. Water plastered his dark blond hair to his forehead. His uniform was heavy and soaking.

What happened? What the hell happened? His eyes darted around the horizon frantically, then settled on the sinking destroyer. Memories came flooding back, as hard as the water that flooded the ship after a torpedo ripped through the hull. There was screaming and klaxons blaring. He vaguely remembered pushing his fellow sailors to the lifeboats. He vaguely remembered the submarine circling the wreck like a shark. He vaguely remembered some of his men panicking as they crammed into the lifeboats. He vaguely remembered giving up his spot for an injured sailor.

That’s why I’m here alone. I took this one when I made sure everyone else was out. Jalen closed his eyes, looking down at his lap as he continued regaining his senses and memory. He didn’t know if everyone else had survived. Every ship in the Royal Navy had a large crew. There was no way for him to keep track of everyone.

Where are they? Surely, they would’ve come here to this island. Jalen looked around, wincing with pain as he tried to get a sense of his surroundings. If I’m going to get out of this, I should patch up my leg.

He dragged himself over to the rowboat, finding a single first-aid kit. It was a long struggle to clean and cover the extensive gash on his calf, sustained when he tried leaping over the railing to get on the lifeboat before the destroyer fell on its side. Unable to lower it normally, he was forced to cut the ropes holding the boat in place as the destroyer was slowly turning, then he crashed down into the water below.

Jalen could walk, but every step was agonizing. He considered dragging the boat further up the beach to use as a shelter, but that would have to wait. His mind was a flurried mix of thoughts of survival and reuniting with his crew.

The weeks and months of training had prepared him for a situation like this, but at the same time, they didn’t. At least, they prepared him physically, but they hadn’t prepared him mentally. Not panicking was the first thing he was taught, but panicking was all he felt. Panic, despair, fear, anger, all pulsing at once through his veins.

He scanned the horizon for any other lifeboats, but all he could see was the destroyer—a place he had come to know as home since the war started—burning and sinking on its side. Every single one of his belongings were gone. Pictures of his family were gone. Pictures of his girlfriend and home in Aveley were gone. Pictures of his crew were gone. A black stone ring that had been in his family for generations was gone. That ring was in a box under his bunk, as he couldn’t wear it since it wasn’t a wedding band, and therefore not part of the uniform.

Realizing he would never get those back made him want to scream. The pain of loss overwhelmed the pain from the wound on his leg. His only means of identification were the tags around his neck, and the memories. Though the pictures were replaceable, his belongings were replaceable, he felt hollow without them. He had always been sentimental with every little object in his possession, and his family worried about him becoming a hoarder, especially when he joined the Royal Navy years ago.

Jalen had been content with mailing everything he couldn’t have back to England. At least he knew everything was safe and would be cared for. Only the most important things were kept in his tiny bunk. All lost to the Mediterranean, and hopeless to get back.

________________________________________

The sun had been high in the sky when Jalen washed up on the shore, and he had lost his compass. A few hours passed, allowing Jalen to pinpoint where he was when the sun moved westward. West was to his right. I know we were close to Sicily when the U-boat struck, but have I landed on the island? Perhaps I’ve landed on a different island. There’s no way I made it all the way to Italy itself.

Jalen limped up the sand to a small grove of trees, using his knife to cut down a stick to use as a cane. Having broken his leg years and years ago in a roofing accident, it wasn’t difficult to get used to the makeshift cane, but it was far from ideal. At least it was sturdy enough for him to lean on if he needed to.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found no signs that the Germans or Italians had set up camp nearby. In fact, there were no signs of anyone, not even civilians. The sun continued to set, and Jalen had a nagging feeling that he needed to find or build shelter soon. The desire to explore his new surroundings was stronger, though, and he occasionally peered through the leaves and bushes to see if anyone showed up.

He saw the sea going from blue to orange and red as the setting sun melted into it. Limping back onto the sand, Jalen scanned the horizon. The ship had sunk further as the hours had gone by, and nothing had washed up on the shore. Jalen had been worried about finding the bodies of his fellow sailors, but when that never happened, he wondered if that meant everyone escaped safely—or were taken as prisoners of war by the Germans.

Exhausted, Jalen sat down to change his bandages. As he did, he noticed something half-buried in the sand. Something small and black and shiny. It could’ve been anything, but when he picked it up, he saw it was his family’s stone ring. He was filled with hope and reassurance, and a smile spread across his face. All wasn’t lost. He washed the sand from the ring before putting it on. Never again. I’m not losing you ever again.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, and he looked up to see a ship fast approaching the shore. Several ships, in fact. As one of the cruisers drew closer, Jalen could see the Union Jack flying from the mast. He grunted with pain as he forced himself to stand with his makeshift crutch, waving his arms. Standing on both legs was painful, but the last thing he wanted to do was lose his chance at rescue. He stood, waving and waving, until he spotted a rowboat coming from the cruiser. One of the sailors waved back, and when the boat was resting against the sand, he jumped off to jog up to Jalen.

Jalen recognized him as one of his former crew. “I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Did . . . everyone make it?”

The other man’s smile faded. “Not everyone. We’ve found everything from tipped lifeboats and sailors who simply couldn’t get off the ship. Most of the survivors were found on an island several kilometers east of here. There were others, but—”

“Picked up by the U-boat,” Jalen said, solemnly.

“Most likely.”

Jalen regarded the rest of his crew as family. He returned to his earlier thought about how he could replace his belongings and photographs. He couldn’t replace people. He could only pray that everyone now likely being transported to Germany would be safe and well, but as he boarded the rowboat to rejoin the fleet, he began cursing his earlier desire to scream about the loss of his family photos. Such a loss seemed miniscule now.