Mixed Media on wood, ready to hang.

Signed on the front.

Breakfast in a non-descript B&B outside of Osnabruck. Six old fellows, all well dressed in blue and grey felt coats, well into their twilight with walking sticks by their sides, hair slick and eyes bright sipping coffee over a chat at a table by the window. An acquaintance informs me this was their annual reunion - a submariner reunion. All six of them U-Boat Captains, meeting for a pre-Christmas catch-up in the last week before the new millenium. Of what do they speak those grey wolves of the sea? Tonnage sunk? Never-ending showers of depth charges from above? Friends and crew lost? Crewmen gone mad? What things had those old eyes seen through their periscopes. Torpedoes slamming into enemy hulls? Freighters splitting in two as their crews leap for their lives into the icy waters of the Atlantic? Visions of killing and being killed in turn? All gone now, all six wolves of the deep gone off into the big sleep in the cold green untersee happy hunting ground.