Entry: June 5, 1941

June 5th, 1941

Syracuse, Sicily

This was just in from the telegraph office a few days after my escape from the POW camp...

"BERLIN: KMS Bismarck SUNK! stop. 110 German sailors now prisoners! stop. Only Tirpitz is still afloat. stop. This is the ship that sunk the HMS HOOD a few days earlier. stop."

wow... of a crew of about 2000, only 110 survived. Sad indeed. While reading the telegram, I had a bit of a flash back while coming out of the telegraph office...

June 4th, 1941

I had left Saldina at her hotel late that night...
"Good night, Johannas." she said and smiled sweetly.
"Good night, Salinda." I responded and returned her smile.
After this, I soon caught up with Hans in the hotel bar. He was quite drunk, and was in no shape to drive us back to base. I found the kubelwagen parked outside and quickly picked his weighted body up and slung him over my shoulder. "My my, Hans. What have you've been up to?" I whispered to myself. I threw him to the passenger seat, and I retrieved the keys from him. The entire car shook as I started the puttering engine. I drove his drunken $@#! back to base, alarming the guard in the process. I presented my and Hans' I.D. The guard, almost asleep, let us pass into the base and I drove us to the barracks. "Hans." I said as I tugged at his uniform. He only gave a short moan before returning to his sleep. Again, I grabbed him by his uniform. Again, he was unresponsive. Plucking out my canteen from behind me, I emptied in on to Hans' face. This time, he awoke. Eyes blazing bloody red, he gave a yelp before he was sober. "Johannas? Where are we?" he inquired.
"At base. I found you completely drunk at the hotel bar..." I responded in a hushed tone.
Before I could finish explaining what had happened, Hans got up and lazily made a bee line for the barracks. I returned the car as quickly as I could, as quietly as I could. I made my way back to the barracks and fell asleep after I had found my bunk.

The next morning started like any ordinary day; the birds sung their sweet songs like that of an orchestra, the air was sweet from the morning dew, and the sun's piercing rays had not yet fully penetrated the horizon. I got up and did my morning tidying up; making the bunk, brushing my teeth, etc... After a hearty breakfast, I reported to the briefing room.
"Ah, Johannas! Just the man I was looking for! Please, sit." Said the colonel.
I took my seat and he went on explaining about the mission for today..
"It's been pushed back, I'm afraid. The bombers are having problems with their engines, so you have today all to yourself." He said. "But the new engines are expected to arrive by today, so they'll be up by tomorrow. Dismissed!" I saluted the colonel and exited the tent. I went to my plane and talked to the crew chief. I remarked that I had a different plane than that of what I had in North Africa. The plane was painted differently and had it's sand filter removed.
"It's still your plane." said the chief."Same layout, same guns, same cannon, only a different color!" After this, I made my way back to Syracuse. It was near noon by the time I met up with Salinda. She was in the market place, as I found her before. This time, we recognized each other immediately. We held one another for what seemed like an eternity. She then invited me to have lunch with her, I agreed with a smile. We ate and started to converse about the things happening at home and at war. When I asked how her uncle was, she started to cry. I went over to her and I tried to comfort her.
"He's dead" she finally said. "Killed when the Bismarck sunk." She then buried herself into my shoulder and cried. The birds stopped their songs of joy and now sounded like weeping, the sky was then darkened to a grey shade, and it let loose it's payload of rain. Luckily, I bought my umbrella and we left the restaurant. I went around, looking for a dry place to sit down. I found a park bench under a gazebo, and we sat there until the rain stopped. All the while, Salinda was still crying on my shoulder and I was trying my best to comfort her. She and her uncle were quite close, if I recall. He was one of her closet of friends. The man practically raised her when the "Great Depression" set in, and supported her family when they ran into the troubles. He had sent her though school and found her a job during those trying times. Now he was dead, somewhere intombed in the massive wreckage of the once mighty Bismarck.
When the storm subsided, Salinda had stopped crying. It was already near dinnertime, so we settled on Italian food once again. After the meal, I took her to her vacation house and we parted ways.