[Bosje]

Lieutenant the Honorable Earl Ogilvie spent the rest of the morning raising hell at HQ but his effort went largely unnoticed due to affairs there already much resembling hell. The closest he got to a result was being brushed off by the duty officer from the Intelligence Corps. 'I know he is a bit weird but this guy comes straight from Europe and he's the best we've got available at this time. Just take care of your boat and let him take care of the enemy, alright? Now get outta here, we're busy.' Ogilvie skulked back to his beloved boat which was now no longer his and couldn't wait to initiate a nice bloody revolt against anything injust, spearheading the boat's staff, brandishing regulations and possibly a cutlass. This mental image cheered him right up and he had regained much of his usual arrogance by the time he reached USS Plunger again. He found the boat rife with gossip as he entered into the control room. Van Moon had been strutting around the submarine after he left, flashing his unnerving grins against anyone who got in the way and shaking the hands of the few brave ones who had stood their ground against the smell. 'Hi, Van Moon, how are you? Hi there! Van Moon is the name, what does this button do?' And so on.


Now, the new commander was in his hut, taking a short nap before lunch. The rest of the officers were having a private meeting on the aft deck, using the barrel of the 3” gun to slam their fists on if they needed to fortify an argument. They were contemplating the pros and cons of mutiny and they took quite a while to reach a decision, largely because they rather valued their current lifestyles. Young, well dressed navy officers were very much in fashion at the parties which were thrown so often these days. The nurses and the wrens in the city were making sure to enjoy themselves as long as it lasted. As an alternative, the firing squad just failed to compete. In the end, it was decided that the disgusting Dutchman should probably get a chance. 'But just the one!' the XO insisted.


Van Moon entered the officer's mess in a new woolen sweater. This one was yellow and slightly less stained. He had apparently discovered the small sink in his quarters as the beard was gone and so was most of the smell which had disturbed so many of the crew that morning. 'Hi,' he grinned, 'lunch is served?' 'Yes Sir.' Ensign Abercrombie made a confused exit and came back with the cook on his heels. They ate in silence and when the table was cleared and the coffee was being sipped, the air in the mess was pregnant with tension. Van Moon looked around and seemed satisfied. He pulled a cumbersomely large and terribly worn out dictionary from his pocket in which it had barely fitted and placed it before him on the table. 'Ok, I trained with the Germans before the war and I killed the Germans during the war. Now I am here with you. I am very good at shooting ships but I do not know how your boat works, ok? So, we make an appointment.' 'Appointment, Sir?' The Dutchman shook his head, sighed and reached for the dictionary which he began to browse. 'No, agreement! We reach an agreement. You do your boat thing, I do my killing ships thing, we learn from each other. Ok?' He looked round, nobody argued. 'Ok, anyone of you went to university perhaps?' Second Lieutenant Voge and Ensign Zabriskie raised their hands. 'Zabi, Zabiskr.. oh poop, Voge you will stay close to me and help me with the language. I want to learn American good.' 'Well, Sir,' Voge took to his new task with vigour: 'You learn American well.'


'Thank you, ok. This afternoon we make an inspection of the ship, tomorrow we sail. Questions?' Watch Officer Lieutenant Garrett gathered his courage and coughed. 'Excuse me, Sir, but how come a Dutchie gets to command one of our proud fleet boats?' Van Moon turned to him, grinned sheepishly and said: 'Because I asked them nicely, ok.' Lieutenant Symkiewicz went red and burst out: 'Oh come on now, that turkey just don't fly! What if...' but he stopped his outburst as Van Moon was casually scribbling a note into the dictionary. Voge peeked and laughed as he read the scribble: 'Rural - when angry: Turk he don't fly'


'Ok. Now, cigarette outside after lunch.' Another unnerving smile and Van Moon stood up, dictionary in one hand, a small bag of shag in the other. 'Smoking on board is only ok in an emergency,' he said, 'join me on the wintergarden if you want.' And he made his exit. 'The what?' 'Beats me.' Several officers went after him because they wanted to smoke, several more followed because they wondered what he meant. Van Moon was found standing on the aft AA platform, leaning against the tub wall and studying the 20mm while smoking another one of his foul reeking roll-ups. 'So how do you shoot at sea targets?' he inquired, pointing at the wall of the tub. 'We don't Sir, that's what the deck gun is for.' 'Oh,' he said with a sad frown. 'We must cut some of this down then. Where is the Skipper?' 'You are the Skipper, Sir.' 'No, I'm the commandant. Where is the skipper, the one who drives the boat?' Ensign Rufino caught on: 'Oh he means the chief engineer.' He went down to the control room to find chief petty officer Wickham. 'Hey chief! Where are you? Capt'n OK is asking for you, I think he wants to make some, ahem, modifications to the boat.' Rufino said with a malicious grin. He got the result he was looking for and the chief came screaming past him up the ladder, growling like a bull. 'Goddamn Dutchie better think twice before messing with my boat!'


XO the honorable Earl Ogilvie was rubbing his hands in anticipation of the clash between the chief and the commander but the clash never came, much to his disappointment. Rufino was sent to report on the goings on and he found the chief high up on the bridge, smiling down on the Dutchman who was lying on his stomach up on the forward deck, head sticking out over the deck by the bowplanes. 'Again!' he yelled. The chief passed down the word: 'Deploy dive planes.' The commander laughed and yelled: 'And now back!' And the chief made it so: 'Retract dive planes'. Van Moon got up, elated. 'Haha good, ok! What will you Yanks think of next.' He had found an easily gained friend in the chief, simply by liking the boat and all its technological and mechanical marvels. The two of them went on to enjoy all the other advanced bits of kit which were scattered throughout the boat. The new captain took it all in and the chief was delighted to have a fresh pair of ears for his rather long-winded technology lectures. Rufino let them be and returned to the mess to give the XO the bad news.