Battlewagon sailors
May, 1916
1st Lieutenant John Stowe walked down the familiar coast of Scapa Flow, home of the British Grand Fleet. Stowe was not a traditional officer in the Royal Navy, the young Liverpudlian had grown up in a middle class family. His father worked in the ship yards, while his mother stayed at home. He often visited the yards at a young age, and became inspired to become an officer in the Royal Navy. Graduating the Brittania Royal Naval College in 1914, at the age of 18, where he developed a keen interest and expertise in navigation and engineering, his first deployment was on the Canopus-class battleship HMS Vengeance where he advised damage control crews, and had just recently recieved orders to report to the HMS Warspite, a Queen Elizabeth-class dreadnought battleship.
The only problem, he had no idea where it was. Sailors walked and ran, paced and search, all around the docks, as the ships in port towered over, their cannons creating a menacing look. The HMS Warspite, as far as John could tell, looked like any other battleship, And the whole port was filled with battleships, destroyers, battlecruisers, all of different sizes and caliber. He quickly found himself asking anyone near him, " 'Scuse me, do you know where..." and "Where is the....". A good 4 minutes passed before one sailor pointed to a large ship, her crew boarding, "That's the Warspite, sir". John thanked the man and quickly made his way past the sailors and to the Warspite. He pulled out a piece of paper, telegrammed on it was his orders. He had to make his way to the bridge and report to the captain.
"Bloody hell, first day and I'm already going to the skipper?" he groaned. He got on the deck, and it was even busier than the port! Sailors in uniform ran around, some carrying ropes and other various items, some talking. One man was getting a good ass-chewing, but John did not staay around to watch. He had to make his way to the bridge. He asked a petty officer advising a group of sailors, "Petty officer, which way to the bridge?". The man turned around and pointed to a door that led inside the ship, and the petty officer gave him directions. John thanked him and continued. Already, on the first day, he had to ask two people for directions. "What use is it to have navigational skills if you can't find the blasted ship!" he muttered to himself. He couldn't wait to get to his bunk, and for the day to end, he felt like the odd man out in such a large crew.
The same day, SMS Westfalen, Kiel, Germany.
Senior Petty Officer Hans Kollinger was pissed. "You idiot! You signed up for this, how the hell could you have dropped it?" he yelled at the young sailor in front of him. The sailor backed against the metallic wall, seemingly trying to go through it and escape. Hans didn't know if his yelling had scared the kid, or if his imposing Bavarian figure was the cause. The kid had dropped a live cannon round and watched as it rolled it's way overboard. Hans himself was in the way of it's path, and was almot tooken with it. "Now bugger off, you." he demanded. The young sailor quickly ran inside the ship, more than likely to his quarters.
Hans continued his work, repairing a broken part of the cannon. Hans was an old man to many of the sailors, at the age of 38, he had spent his whole life in the navy. His Weapons speciality ensured he'd be getting the great job of loading cannons and firing. The job was stressful, each round took to large hands and a tough physique to load, while the firing ensured that if you were careless, you'd go deaf. He had joined the navy when he was 20, in 1896, where he was assigned a cannon loader. His family lived in Bavaria, and were poor. He was the only one who held a steady job, and actually was payed fairly, most of that pay went back home.
Hans wiped the sweat off his forehead, he finally got the part fixed. He gave the order, and the cannon slowly moved, it's turrets also moving up and down, all part to test it's readiness for combat. As far as he knew, the High Seas Fleet was being deployed out in North Sea, to combat the British Royal Navy, and it was crucial that the guns worked. Many of the battleships and dreadnoughts were docked at Kiel, all undergoing training.
Kiel itself was filled with sailors getting on their ships, and civilians waving. Mother's, wives, and girlfriends threw flowers and kissed their loved ones goodbye, a common sight. Alarms rang out, signaling that the ships were leaving port. A slight jerk told Hans the Westfalen, the Nassau-class battleship he was stationed on, was underway. A final, large, cheer rang from the civilians, and many more items were thrown. Normally the sailors would be manning the rails, yet, this mission meant we needed to keep things going and keep ready for anything.
Hans leaned back against the cannon he was working with. It dwarfed him, and he felt safe knowing he had suck firepower at his disposal. He watched Kiel slowly drift out of sight, which did take a little while, and got back to work, making sure the shells were properly stored.
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