Jutland Side Stories
Into Glory, Steam!
The Gunnery Officer
The Pasha
Return of the Dutchman

After Jutland
Side Stories
Hammerle and U-14
The Woes of June
A Moment's Respite
Ripples Across an Ocean
Symphony In Black
This is No Place for a Boy
Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen
The Wolves
The Letters of Abdul Hadi Pasha  

6/1/15 - Somewhere in the North Sea

TO: His Sublime Majesty, Mehmet V, Master of Europe and Asia, Protector of the Holy Cities, Standard-Bearer of the Faith, Viceroy to God, Sultan and Padishah

FROM: Your Pitiful Slave, Abdul Hadi Pasha, special envoy to Wilhelm, Ruler of the Germans

Beloved Master, please excuse the brevity of my salutation above, my hands are still trembling after the excitement of this evening, upon which I shall shortly elaborate.

So far, the mission Your Benevolence has chosen to grant the honor of charging me with has been. somewhat of a trial. Upon our arrival, Wilhelm put us up in drafty palace quarters with little for us to do, as he rarely summons us; even when he does, our misery is little relieved, as he spends all his time at an indoor pond he has had specially constructed, playing with motorized models of his favorite battlecruisers. One afternoon, he gave me an exquisitely crafted Goeben to present to Your Majesty, but then changed his mind and snatched it back. And Majesty, the food! It is no wonder these people are so humorless!

Our only consolation was the company of General von Falkenhayn, a most sympathetic, if depressed-looking, fellow who seems somehow attuned to our plight.

To my relief, Wilhelm finally insisted we go to Wilhelmshaven so that I could give Your Majesty a detailed first-hand description of his glorious High Seas Fleet; when a sortie was ordered soon after our arrival, I preferred my chances against the Royal Navy to those of my stomach versus German cuisine.

An odd happening at this point merits Your Majesty's attention: while heading to the piers to board the flagship Friedrich der Grosse, I kept hearing my name being called, as though someone was whispering it from a distance and could somehow still be heard, but I could see no one. Even more oddly, as the sun disappeared from sight, our German escort suddenly scurried away in a panic; we stood in confusion where we were, wondering what we should do.

Fortunately, at that moment, we were rescued by the sudden appearance of a woman dressed all in black and crimson. Even in the dark her eyes seemed as luminous as the emeralds of Your Majesty's treasury; and unlike all the other shockingly libertine women of the infidel West, her head was modestly covered with a hood of black gauze, revealing only a trace of the electric red of her hair, and yet not diminishing by a whit her beauty, unearthly though it was.

To my surprise, she spoke perfect Turkish; and as she led us to our ship, we discussed the sad condition of her people, who have suffered tragically under the heel of the cruel and arrogant English (I spit three times in their general direction). I have enclosed the letter and precious gift for Your Majesty with which she presented me (If Your Majesty please, try to be standing at least 10 feet away when you have it opened. Seriously.)

Admiral Scheer is a strange man, apt to lose his composure at the oddest provocation. For example, after our introduction, and as we making preparations to set sail, I excused myself, telling him I was retiring to my quarters to write letters. He swung about and shouted, "WHAT WAS THAT YOU SAID?!?" I repeated that I had dispatches to compose, and he returned to normal, but with a suspicious look about him.

As we sailed, I noticed that Admiral Scheer was looking even more pale than normal for these people (I was most concerned for him), and had to sit frequently as the fleet progressed; as word came in of the clash of scouting forces, a violent tick of his eye began to manifest. Shortly thereafter, he vomited, then collapsed, semi-conscious. Due to all the excitement, I feared for his neglect, and since I had no pressing duties, I went to check on his condition. He seemed so still I checked his pulse, causing him to awaken with a start, his eyes wild and bulging. I was so glad he was feeling better, and was about to help him back to the bridge when he gripped my arm and demanded, "Who... is... in... command?"

I responded, "Why, I'm told an Admiral Letters is the senior admiral present; he assumed command 20 minutes ago." Scheer's head began to jerk spasmodically; I thought he might be having a seizure, so I gave him a sedative to relax him. Majesty, how could I know he was allergic? Although the medics were able to restore his respiration eventually, it seemed unlikely he would be able to resume command in the near future.

The clash of the main fleets was a terrible confusion of explosions and lights; the concussion of the blasts must have affected our senses, as my aide aboard a ship further down the battleline reports that at one point he thought he saw through his glasses a blue-faced djin jumping up and down in the foretop of one of the British ships - or perhaps it was an agent of Shaitan sent to welcome so many infidel souls into the Deep.

If Your Majesty will excuse me, I must now rest; I will continue when we have reached port.

Living solely for the day I may return into the Light of Your August Presence,

A. Hadi Pasha

P.S. In retrospect, I think we got a good deal on the Goeben. ________________________________________

June 2, 1915 Evening - Wilhelmshaven

TO: His Sublime Majesty, Mehmet V, Master of Europe and Asia, Emperor of the Romans, Lord of Lords, King of Kings, Protector of the Holy Cities, Standard-Bearer of the Faith, Viceroy to God, Glory of Heaven, Sultan and Padishah

FROM: Your Most Exhausted Hierodule, Abdul Hadi Pasha, Special Envoy to Wilhelm, Ruler of the Germans


To continue my account, the battle began excessively well for us from the start. Counting the total destruction of the British (I spit three times, etc.) Battlecruiser force, no fewer than eight British capital ships had met their destiny within the first minutes of the main clash. I would not have thought it possible that British battleships could be so feeble, but then there it is.

Most ominously, there are rumors that the British have introduced a deadly new "Emperor of Canada" class battleship, one of which may have been present at the battle; we must increase our naval spending post haste to compensate!

If Your Majesty will excuse me, I believe I hear the baying of wolves again nearby, and must take refuge; more to follow.

Hoping for Your intercession with the Prophet, Your servant,

A. Hadi Pasha


June 3, 1915 Morning - Wilhelmshaven

TO: His Sublime Majesty, Mehmet V, Master of Europe and Asia, etc., etc.

FROM: Abdul Hadi Pasha, Special Envoy to Wilhelm, German Leader


Even though I had a rather full night's sleep, I feel strangely fatigued; and as I write I find I am troubled by fleeting and rapidly fading memories of disturbing dreams in which I was fleeing from someone, or something, in the bowels of a strange ship. but I digress.

Shortly after the aircraft attack which we suspect was launched by Emperor of Canada, Admiral Scheer regained consciousness again. I cannot tell Your Majesty how relieved I was to have another opportunity to be of assistance to this fine gentleman! He looked weaker than ever, but was able to muster the energy to ask "What is our position and heading?"

His staff seemed slow to answer, so I took it upon myself to respond. An officer nearby muttered something to the effect of "Oh, scheisse.", but as I am unfamiliar with this expression, I continued: "We are on course 000 in compliance with Baron Letters' order for a general pursuit of the Grand Fleet." He was evidently still fatigued, as he indicated his wish to resume his nap, or at least that is how I interpreted the gurgling sound (German is such a harsh language - it can be hard to distinguish words from bodily functions). A member of the staff at that point quickly ushered me away to the bridge; I imagine he was afraid I would miss important events to report to Your Majesty.

There was little to see, however, as the British cur (spit spit spit) had fled beyond range, for the moment. I was also disappointed that there did not seem to be any hurry to distribute Montrose's toast, as I was feeling a bit hungry, not that I had any hope that his cooking would be better than anyone else's around here.

More to follow; one of my aides has arrived to give his report - as he was stationed aboard Derfflinger, he doubtless has much to tell.

Your Dutiful Servant,

A. Hadi Pasha


From the journal of Lt. Mehmet Ali Bey, Aide to Abdul Hadi Pasha

5/24/15 - aboard Derfflinger returning to Wilhelmshaven

Who would have thought this could have turned out to be such an interesting day! It began with errands to prepare for the Pasha's arrival - I was able to fill his sedative prescription (I wish he would stop carrying those around - nothing good can come of it), but found upon return to my quarters that the German officer assigned to me was waiting. Derfflinger was about to sortie, and we were to board immediately! We were in pursuit of a ship - I don't know what all this was about, but I heard reference to plans to the new Mackensen-class battlecruisers, and a princess - I think it was Leah of Baden-Baden-Baden or something of the sort.

I reached the bridge as we were casting off, the crew a model of (dour) German efficiency. Standing quietly, staring off to sea, his hands behind his back, was a tall, stately man, wearing a Baron's insignia - could this be the mysterious Admiral Letters, I wondered? Although I had never so much as seen a picture of him, he seemed strangely familiar, though I could not place it.

Several hours into the chase, we caught up with a fast steamer - the Baron ordered a warning shot fired over her bow, and the small ship came to a full stop. During a brief boarding action, the ship's defenders were overcome, and the princess brought before us, where the following conversation ensued between her and the Baron:

P: Baron Letters, I should have known. Only you could be so bold. The Reichstag will not sit for this, when they hear you've attacked a diplomatic...

B: Don't play games with me, Your Highness. You weren't on any mercy mission this time. You passed directly through restricted waters. Several dispatches were brought aboard this ship by rebel spies. I want to know what happened to the plans they sent you.

P: I don't know what you're talking about. I'm a member of the Reichstag on a diplomatic mission to.

B: You're a part of the Alliance...and a traitor. Take her away!

And with a flurry of his cloak, he was away. I wish I could place what seemed so familiar about him.

Ahead to Chapter 2

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