I don't know sir, let me see if you can pose that question to the Admiral. Hello, Admiral Lockwood, sir? .......Yes, it's Captain MarkShot here to see you. He has some questions to ask.......What kind of questions? Well, he wants to hunt tonnage, sir, and he kinda sees other objectives as.......yes, sir? Send him right in? Yes, sir!
OK, I've greased the skids and you can go right in. No need to thank me, sir. You'll understand afterwards. Good luck, sir.
Come on in, son, have a seat. I understand you want to skip all that photographing enemy harbors, planting spies, rescuing airmen and other non-essential roles to get right to the nitty-gritty of just sinking enemy merchants. Well, that sounds right reasonable, and there's a place you can do all that: it's called Disneyland. Only one problem. It's not built yet.
This place where you're seated right now is what's called a war zone. You are a sub jockey and I'm the Admiral. That means I tell you to go to hell and you go there with a smile on your face. Any questions on that regard?
You might be a little careful in your response because there are a lot nastier jobs in this war than being a sub jockey. You can ask my aide right outside the door. He was a sub captain until he said something untoward about my favorite daughter's man, who happens to be a sub jockey like you. Now he smells funny and sinks barrels of garbage instead of enemy shipping.
Now he'd love to give up that swanky garbage scow and kowtowing to me all day to get your submarine. And I don't mind you picking some other job than what I order you to do. Just keep in mind that your only other choice is to trade places with "Rockin Garbage Scow" outside that door. Do I make myself clear?
DISMISSED!
How'd it go, sir? You look a little pale. PLEASE, sir, don't barf in that garbage can like that, I have to clean that up!
