The following events took place May 28,1943, Grand Banks (North-Atlantic)
Sailor McEwen was a simple man. Before being drafted into the army and pulled into this horrid war, he had been a farmer. Back in England, the military told you that you had to fight, to defend your country. They told you that serving with the Royal Navy under the Council of the Admiralty was an honor, and that the RN would surely crush it’s inferior opposers. The reality of war had tought him otherwise.
“COVER!”
Barely seconds after having finished his sentence, McEwen saw first mate O’Connor caught in the midst of a tremendous explosion, that ripped a large part out of the hull and hurled what was left of his body into the sea. A second explosion followed shortly, and a third. The raw force of the blasts knocked McEwen against a solid steel door, scrambling to stay on his feet. Smoke, fire and debris littered the deck of the HMS Aphrodite. McEwen attempted to stay sharp, but his body urged him to faint. He looked at the battle raging on, attempting to make out friend and foe. Over 40 ships were firing their massive cannons, as entire squadrons of planes dogfighted in the sky, sometimes taking a large dive to deliver a deadly torpedo bomb to a doomed ship.
Only ten minutes ago, the Home Command had been surprised by the attacking US 7th Fleet, known to date to be the largest US fleet, and with that, the largest fleet to sail the Seven Seas. It consisted of at least 12 carriers, led by the massive carrier USS Saratoga, who was clearly visible at the horizon. McEwen atytempted to make out their leading ship, the carrier HMS Africa, but as he tried to focus four more massive blasts from a US Battleship rocked the Aphrodite, and McEwen was smacked on the ground again.
In his semi-unconscious state, McEwen could do little more but watch as the deck began leaning towards the left, and less fortunate sailors slid towards the edge, destined to meet their end in the vast, cold Atlantic. Behind him, the metallic voice of the captain sounded through the speakers attached to the bridge tower.
“All hands on deck: Abandon ship. I repeat, abandon ship. Life rafts are being l”
A sixth tremendous explosion quickly silenced the captain, as within seconds the entire bridge tower shattered to pieces like porcelain. Two US torpedoes had directly hit the ammunitions depot of the Carrier, which was now unevitably sinking. Panicking pilots quickly ran to the remaining aircraft, attempting to flee the destroyed ship by air. McEwen was suddenly brought back into reality by two strong hands who lifted him back to his feet.
“Get your shit together sailor! We’ve got to RUN!”
McEwen stared at the grizzled marine confusedly, still attempting to collect himself
“What are you, an idiot? This ship is sinking! We have to get the hell off before the fuel storage gives in to the water pressure!” The man did not wait for a reply, but rather grabbed McEwen by his collar, dragging him over the deck as US fighters blew craters all around them, shrapnel and debris flying everywhere. The entire ship crew was exiting onto the deck, many attempting to find a raft to escape on, most of them simply deciding to bide their chances and dive their way to freedom.
The marine dragged McEwen on, shrugging off the dust of another explosion.
“Bloody Americans!” The marine could do little more than shake his fist as another P-47 unleashed a hail of machinegun fire upon the fleeing sailors.
“Where the hell is our AA? They sent all of our damn fighters after the Saratoga, leaving none to defend our own ships. You know where the Saratoga is? There!”
The man pointed at the horizon, where McEwen could clearly make out the rear of a carrier sticking out of the sea, as the smoking wreck made it’s way to the bottom.
“It’s gone! We whacked the Saratoga! We can still win this anHOLY SHIT!”
An earsplitting explosion brightened up the horizon, and McEwen could see an enormous plume of smoke billowing up from a carrier nearby. He watched in horror as the carrier broke in half and a group of low-flying planes crashed into the rear, caught by surprise by the smoke. The marine observed the scene, petrified. His radio suddenly came to life, clicking and pinging to signal an incoming transmission.
“Everlee? Everlee is that you? They just sunk the Africa! Repeat, the bastards sunk the Africa! We’re getting the hell out of here, all our carriers are destroyed, all of them! I’m on the cruiser HMS Nova, we’re coming your way to pick up swimmers. Get the hell off the Aphrodite Everlee, dive off the edge if you must!” The marine grabbed his radio and responded
“Everlee here. I’m trying to get off this wreck, but I’ve got one heavily wounded sailor with me. I’ve got to find a way down!” McEwen looked down at his body, and noticed for the first time that everything below his knees was a bloody mess. His vision blurred again
“Damnit Everlee, you’ve got no time! Wait...” The radio fell silent again, the voice replaced by a combination of ambient sounds, the roar of aircraft engines and distant explosions
“Holy shit Everlee! There’s a squadron of torpedobombers headed your way. GET. THE HELL. OUT OF. THERE!”
Everlee panicked and looked up, but it was already too late. The torpedo bombers dropped their deadly payloads, and the bombs hit the deck allmost instantaniously. Both men were hurled off the deck by the potent explosion. The marine lost grip on McEwen’s collar, and McEwen looked down at the dark blue that was rapidly approaching. He knew that hitting the water at this speed would be like hitting concrete, so this would be the end for him. McEwen accepted his fate and closed his eyes. Hell, there were worse ways to die.
The sinking of the HMS Aphrodite
