By John Biggins
During this ironic, hilarious, and poignant tale, Otto Prohaska is a submarine captain serving the almost-landlocked Austro-Hungarian Empire. He faces a bunch of not likely conditions, from petrol poisoning to exploding toilets to trigger-happy Turks. All symptoms aspect to the complete cave in of the bloated empire he serves, yet Otto refuses to desert the Habsburgs of their hour of desire.
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Additional resources for A Sailor of Austria: In Which, Without Really Intending to, Otto Prohaska Becomes Official War Hero No. 27 of the Habsburg Empire (The Otto Prohaska Novels)
Example text
Young man,” I said, trying my best to sound like a newly commissioned Leutnant taking offence outside an ice-cream parlour, “I have to inform you that as an officer of the House of Habsburg it would once have been my duty to draw my sword and cut you down like a dog for so much as suggesting that I was not telling the truth; in fact I would have been court-martialled and cashiered for failing to kill you on the spot. ” To my surprise he became very contrite at this. . ” Then, moving up closer to me: “ ’Ere, how ’bout tellin’ 31 A Sailor of Austria me then?
The ornate plasterwork friezes in the corridors were grimy, while the carpets were much scuffed by seaboots and grubby with lubricating oil. Boxes of spare parts and stacks of papers stood everywhere. A 45cm torpedo, minus its warhead, lay half dismantled beside the reception desk. Somewhere in the building a gramophone was squawking its way through the “Blaue Adria”; and as I neared room 203 a door opened to let out a din of clattering typewriters and a cheerful-looking Warrant Officer who called back: “All right, on Saturday then,” before slamming the door behind him.
My only 36 John Big gins companions were a naval chaplain, evidently the worse for drink and not disposed to conversation, and a crate of live chickens. I also noticed two or three wooden crates packed with straw and stencilled austro-daimler gmbh, wiener neustadt. We had some time to wait, so I lit a cigar and looked about me; not out of any particular curiosity—the town and harbour were as familiar to me by now as the features of my own face—but rather out of a desire to see what had changed since I had last been here over a year before.