Cap Mandrake
Posts: 23184
Joined: 11/15/2002 From: Southern California Status: offline
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***********The Bridge of the Dutch Merchantman, Tjikarang, at anchor, Port Moresby harbor, 13:20, July 8, 1942************* Admiral Draemel picks up a fresh baked raisin roll with the undamaged fingers of his left land. He is beginning to like the ship and crew, and well he should for the crew of the Tjikarangare treating him like a king, especially since he has apparently broken his jinx, it now having been two days since a ship has been shot out from under him. The real reason is Port Morseby has fallen to the Australian 1st Corps after a sharp attack. The enemy are now concentrating on the airfields, which, in a major departure from plans, are too damaged to permit RAAF Kittyhawks to operate. Some Kittyhawks came in yesterday, but were chewed up on the ground and have now been evacuated. The harbor is completely wrecked so the crew are laboriously off-loading supplies to longboats for transfer to shore. Still, things are looking up. The ships tailor has let out the Admirals cuffs and repaired his seam so that neither his hairless shins nor the knee length underware his sister knitted for him are showing. He has even learned a few Dutch words. He savors a sip of fresh coffee until the calm is shattered by a report, "many bombers, North northeast!" They are the familiar Bettys, at least a dozen. He well knows what comes next. The Captain yells, "torpedoes in the water! All boats stand clear. Prepare to make steam." They are doomed, of course. The Admiral can see the bubble trails in the water now, even with his imperfect 65 year old eyes. One seems headed at him personally. As if an epiphany, it dawns on him, "The japs are trying to kill me! They are trying to kill ME!" He begins to sing with vigor: Ob's stürmt oder schneit, Ob die Sonne uns lacht, Der Tag glühend heiß Oder eiskalt die Nacht. Bestaubt sind die Gesichter..........
< Message edited by Cap Mandrake -- 6/2/2007 11:26:06 PM >
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