What do you feel as the waves close over you? As you sink deeper and deeper into Darkness – about to die? Is it a certain strange sadness that you can’t even hear the screams of your men, your friends and comrades until moments ago – now reduced to mere shadows, already fading into nothingness? If their screams had not been impossible, already so deep down in the water, … would it have been better?
Is it, in a way, better that lives are allowed to end with a scream, because that is how life began and the ability to make yourself heard is what ultimately makes you human – known – living … even to the end? That is a strange thought … but that is … somehow … what you were taught:
You must never be like those leaves that are always just swept away by stronger winds of history. You must be strong and stand on your own – and you must show it. So even the act of screaming for your life is better than … just being silenced by the darkness of the ocean. Because it shows the world that you are still fighting, still struggling. No matter how little, no matter how much in vain. You can still show your self.
But … the ocean just waits until your fighting is over. Then it makes you part of its eternal shadow, so close, just beneath the waves.
In a perverse way you may even have wished for it, without knowing what you wished for. The whole expansion to the East of your fleet, you leaving home to be a part of the squadron there, being part of a show of power to the world. It was an act of schizophrenia.
So you looked death straight in the eye, thought about it, talked about it, joked about it, you even seriously considered that you could win … and all the time you knew the cold facts:
That the Fleet of the Enemy would always be stronger than yours. You could never hope to match it. But … you always allowed yourself to imagine that it could be different. That you could find a way to cheat the Enemy … somehow.