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Georg E Mateos

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Books by Georg E Mateos
By Georg E Mateos
Posted: Thursday, March 04, 2010
Last edited: Thursday, March 04, 2010
This short story is rated "PG" by the Author.
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Recent stories by Georg E Mateos
· The Hell’s furnaces (Die Ofen von HOlle)
· The song of Death (Das Lied von Tot)
· Sailing in a steel coffins (Segel Stahlerner Sarg)
· Abraham's barbed wire (Abraham’s Stacheldraht )
· You too Brutus? (Und Sie auch, mein Sohn...)
· Sigfried's Death
· Sieg Heil
           >> View all 70
Niemand hat Krieg, der Furer hatte gesagt erwartet, dass niemand eine Gegenuberstellung mit Deutschland gewunscht hat, aber sie wollten Stationen kampfen, nicht wahr?

Nobody expected war, the Furer had said that nobody wished a confrontation with Germany, but they were going to battle stations, don"t they?

Excerpt from the book under work:
“The Life of Walther Alexander”

In October 1942, after basic training at the Kriegsmarine naval school, Walther found himself being an a long journey towards the southwest of France to the base of the 12th U-Boot Flotille where he was to finish his Radio Operator training under the malevolent Hauptmann Alfred Reinecke which hated everybody because he could and because he was the holder of a party book going back to the beer halls brawls when he was one more of the unemployed homeless veterans of the War to Finish all the Wars(?)

Alfred was by 1930 a near friend of Rudolf Diels (a protégé of Herman Göering) which was to be the head of the Gestapo from 1933 to 1934 when he was displaced by a political more powerful rival Reinhard Heydrich, and his woes didn’t end there but by his refusal in 1940 to order the arrest of Jews.
Because he had married a cousin of Göering he was protected, the friendship with fanatic Alfred cooled a lot, although Alfred knew where the butter lied on the toast and never broke totally the liaison with the man that had Göering’s ear, just in case.

For a mere Hauptmann, the son of a Junker General was like a provocation to let to the surface all the frustrations from old.
To any other seventeen years old the aging basilisk would have been intimidating, but Walther came not from a luxury cozy existence but from one that had hardened him to confront his elders with the same scorn any youth that experienced family indifference will have for the supposed to be respected and loved. If anything, he got to be a member of the loyal group that marched singing Alte Kameraden und Lili Marlene.
Also, subconscious, he knew that the Hauptmann could bark as loud as he pleased but bite he couldn’t, not if he didn’t wanted to lose his head under the “Fallbeil” (guillotine) as the Junkers had not yet fall from the Fürer’s grace, and being friendly with a “notorious dissident” like Diels would have given him the final push towards the chopping blade.

With time, Walther was the only one of the Kadetten that could endure eight hours at a stretch in a cubicle mimicking an U-Boot radio station, dispatching, receiving, encoding and decoding messages without any signs of wear and tear to the chagrin of Alfred that under his breath needed to acknowledge that the dumb brat wasn’t dumb not a brat, and the only one that could unblinkingly stay eye to eye in front of him like he was ready to spit in one of his.

The order papers came on the middle of February 1943 with the arrival of the first Deuchland’s U-Boot in a base full of nearly derelict Italian steel coffins.
Walther was to come onboard under an experienced radio-operator submariner, to share the communications burden.
With his duffel bag over the left shoulder and on his arm the badge of the NCO Radio Operator with the golden anchor crossed by a lightning, went up the gangway of U-178 under a camouflage net, saluted the flag astern and asked permission to the Watch Officer.
He was commanded to go down the tower’s way to the war-room and let the boss to see his face and his papers (and under his breath, “aren’t you kind of young?”)
The first thing Walther noticed was a big shining bronze plate with lettering saying that U-178 came from DeSchiMAG AG Weser Bremen. He being from Dresden didn’t have a thought for the Hansa crowd.
Then, he was in front of Fregattenkapitän Hans Ibekken that looked intensely at him and apparently he liked what he saw, smiled and welcomed the fresh radio-bug onboard.
With an imperceptible nod, he commanded a Matrose to pick the duffel bag and to guide the Radio Operator to his quarters.
As Walther followed, he thought that in his hears he was already hearing the CQ’s (general callings) and the mayday SOS of sinking ships.
He wasn’t then, thinking about being deep-sea charges attacked, not when you were one in a pack of wolves.


Reader Reviews for "Radio-bug"

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Reviewed by JMS Bell
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
"U-Boote fahren gar weit ins Meer hinaus. U-Boote jagen, Torpedos aus den Rohren raus. Jagen, England, England in den Tod."
Reviewed by Rose Rideout
Everything you write Georg draws our interest, great story.

Newfie Hugs, Rose
Reviewed by John Coppolella
Reviewed by Mr. Ed
Being a history buff, and a former radio-bug in the military, your story is most interesting, my friend.
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
Excellent story, Georg; well done! I love how you write ...

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :)

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