Do not worry, we know all that stuff about your goats :O:

And Brag, good work :DL

Maybe not but Balz sure is :DL

Look who is talking. "Camels, fresh camels" :D

If what you're saying is true, I think we can get him for false advertising... because those camels are definitely no longer "fresh." :O:

This seems like a thickening subplot. Does sub stands for sumbarine? Or a sub camel. Seems like a great polemical debatahoochie coming up

Subposedly "sub" means under, which puts the subplot under the plot. But you knew that. What you're trying to uncover is that "submarine" means underwater, which means that a subplot is usually all wet. "Bumbarine" can also be a sandwich, which is appropriate since the subplot is usually squeezed in between the bread-and-butter plot and is often tastier.

And, like myself, it sometimes takes a wrong turn.

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Do you know why I keep my crew out on 75-day patrols? So they won't be corrupted by you lot!

And here I was thinking it was because you're an arrogant Teutonic sadist who enjoys watching them suffer.

Silly me. :O:

After a 75 day patrol camels will look good :D

After a 75 day patrol, so will the camel dealer. :haha: :O:

Only numbers could tell you that this was the same place, numbers extracted from boring tables. Additions, subtractions, the calculations then converted into lines on a chart. Balz tapped his finger on the plotting sheet where the seven LOPs intersected like a cart wheel which represented a margin of error of two hundred meters. "Are you absolutely sure?" he asked.

"Jawhol, Herr Kaleun, in ten minutes," Lt. Norder answered pointing at The little cross Balz had plotted the day before.
"Danke," Balz took a cigar and climbed on the bridge. It was already completely dark. The earlier Prussian blue of the ocean converted into a softly heaving mass of ink. Norder stood next to him with a chronometer ticking. Balz sniffed the warm air and wished he could hear the noise of airplanes above the rumble of the diesels.
"It's time, Herr Kaleun," Norder said above a whisper,
From his pocket, Balz removed a sprig of parsley, tossed it overboard and saluted the grave of U-123.
The movement of the water was quite different from the night U-123 died. That faithful boat went down on a perfectly calm night where you could almost hear the buzz ofAfrican mosquitoes. An illusion. They didn´t hear the Catalina 'til it was nearly on top.
Balz wished it was daytime and he could see the cobalt blue of the ocean as if he could identify the grave in the ever changing ocean. From second to second the eternal sea changed in color, hue and shape.
How ironic that BDU had sent him to the same place his old command sank. Maybe it was not ironic but a joke in bad taste.
Balz lit the cigar with his eyes closed. The red cigar tip did not ruin one´s night vision. But, the way that Catalina had found him almost a year ago told him there was something more than good night vision involved.
Anyway, smoking a cigar out in the fresh air was something to die for. With satisfaction, he noticed his shirt was beginning to dry and cool his body..

"Schwooggie, fresh Schwooggie" :D

One hour later, refreshed from his time on the bridge, which made him feel like a sailor. Balz went below. "Any schwogogie?" he asked the sound man who stood in the Zentralle picking his nose.
"No sound schwooggie while on the surface, Herr Kaleun.."
Hearing the word schwooggie made him feel better. It was a confirmation of his great intellect. Balz stuck his head into the radio shack. "Any schwooggie from the spies in Freetown?"
"No schwooggie from anywhere," answered the Funker.
"No, schwoogie here, no schwoogie there, no schwoogie anywhere." Balz scratched his head." This was too depressing and it was too hot to wear his yellow duckie tea cozy, which always lifted his spirits.
That was when he had his great idea.
"Bernaaaard," he bellowed. The men in the forward quarters repeated the call,
Bernard fell off his bunk, got up, tripped on someone's shoes, fell again. He picked himself up and crashed into the cook who had just placed a tourine with Ayyayyay soup on the officer's table. Out of breath, he reached Balz.
"Bernard," Balz said, "I have an important and delicate job for you. You will take my penguin tea cozy and go on deck. With a boat hook you will dunk the tea cozy in the ocean water."
"On which ocean, Herr Kaleun?"
"The Atlantic, you idiot."
"I wanted to make sure I was right ocean dipping."
"There is no left ocean dipping, you majestic imbecile," Balz smiled, he loved inventing insults to Bernard. After you´ve done with the dipping, you bring the wet penguin cozy to me so that I can solemnly wear it while eating Ay yay yay soup. Alles klaar?"
"Jawhol, Herr Kaleun."

Five minutes later, Balz wondered what was delaying Bernard.
The alarm bell rang.

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This gripping war drama will continue on your screen shortly.

LOL :DL