If there was one thing that Arthur Kirkland loved, it was the sea. It wasn't just the colors, the deep blue of the water, the way a warm rainbow seemed to fan out before it faded into purple and navy at sunset. It was the air. The slight salty edge that the wind brought into your face somehow had a refreshing quality about it. If Arthur couldn't be on a boat, then he would rather be on a beach,with the warm sand beneath him... far away from the water though. Nothing could beat it, or he had not come across anything that could at least. It was just how he was; no, it was who he was.
England was born to sail the seas.
And this journey had started out so well. They had set sail without a hitch, the massive war ship lumbering out of the harbor with the long blare of a horn. It was all so thrilling. The men went about their duties and Arthur joined them, his sharp navy uniform firmly pressed. They had prepared to make way for a location in the Atlantic, a line of ally ships on the horizon, a few others close by, and they were feeling a confidence that they perhaps should have avoided as they reached deeper waters, regardless of whether the shore line was still in sight. That fact would be reinforced later, but it would be too late to be of any help by then.
Somewhere, somehow, a German U-Boat had gone undetected, and they were sitting ducks.
The resulting blast was like a cacophony of everything foul, particularly in the underside where Arthur had found himself at the moment of impact. Clanking reverberated off of the walls as men rushed about and headed for safety. Arthur stayed behind, calling out to men further in the ship to give them directions and hopefully lead them to safety.
As a nation, England didn't have such concerns for himself, after all. The only thing that frightened him was the possibility of drowning, as he was unsure how he would come back to life when stuck at the bottom of the ocean. Still, being stubborn and unwilling to concede defeat, he ran further into the ship only to be repaid by a second torpedo and a giant section of the slowly sinking ship falling on top of him and crushing his legs.
The rest of the men had made it to the deck and were quickly boarding the life boats, making headway towards the closest ally ship, an American flag waving proudly above her hull.
"Bollocks..." He cursed through gritted teeth, trying to lift it up off of himself. Unfortunately he didn't quite have the leverage, and he was suddenly filled with dread as he felt water soaking his clothes. The room was flooding. "Shit..."