Capes and Crepes
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USAChapter 42 free porn video
After we finished up with the awards ... didn't I tell you? No? I got my second Order of the White Rose of Finland Suomen Valkoisen Ruusun ritarikunta, and the Medal of French Gratitude "Médaille de la Reconnaissance française" ... not that I could wear the French medal ... but I could go to my grave secure in the knowledge that France appreciated my actions by providing the information about the girls in South America.
Then the territorial police put the certificate in a file, stamped it TOP SECRET and put the file away in a safe at the Deuxième Bureau de l'État-major général (Second Bureau of the General Staff). France ... what can I say ... they're French.
As I was saying, as we finished up with the assorted Ambassadors and Chargé d'Affaires and everybody had left the Awards room, the Japanese Mission to the Collectivity of New Caledonia had sent its military representative, the Naval Intelligence officer to the gala. He was the only one left in the Awards room.
He cornered me to ask if I had seen a submarine on the way up from Norfolk.
"Yes, if you mean the one that twice tried to torpedo the Vellamo III."
"I wouldn't know anything about that, sir." His face was inscrutable ... like all well trained Japanese officers. "It couldn't have been Japanese. We, the Imperial Navy, would never try such a thing."
"Good to hear," I said. "Then I'm certain that you won't protest when I tell you we sunk it."
Inscrutable face dissolved into blood red. "Sunk it?"
"Blew the fucking thing all to hell. Killed every stinking, murdering, cocksucker on board. Dropped 12 sticks of good Dupont 2,4,6-trinitrotoluene right down the open hatch while they were having a party. The flame out of that hole must have been twenty feet tall."
"Sunk it!"
"Yes, blew every one of those slant eyed, bucktoothed, chickenshit bastards into mush. Sir ... quit scrabbling at your side ... your sword is in the cloak room."
Fire and ice shot from his ears and eyes.
"But you wouldn't know about that sub, would you?"
His composure returned. It was a struggle but he managed.
I left.
Noumea, on Grand Terre Island is the Territorial Capital of New Caledonia. Highly French, the population is some twenty thousand and very cosmopolitan.
The people are familiar with and at ease with many different cultures. European, Polynesian, Indonesian and Indochinese, as well as many Melanesian, Ni-Vanuatu and local Kanaks, a polyglot of humanity.
Because of the Tack and Turn we had done our fresh stocks all the way to none. It was time to restock our vittles. The prices in Noumea were higher than Norfolk ... that's saying a lot. Norfolk was the moon.
I took the girls ashore, leaving Artturi and Montgomery Scot in charge. Grand Terre is interesting. Not that many roads and those roads that existed went to a specific place ... like plantations to mines. Transport is by boat and therefore the towns and villages are mostly coastal. It didn't take but a once around the farmers market square for us to realize there was a reason for all the dugout canoes and steam launches parked along the wharf.
Back to the boat. While we were following a steam launch heading away from Noumea, Artturi informed me that they had had visitors. The visitors wanted to see the boat but Art said No. Just about the time the visitors were getting insistent, Scottie started dropping one eighth sticks of TNT over board. Whoever was inspecting our hull were found a week later drifting in the harbor. We were already gone.
Following the steam launch took us to Vincer Bay and the garden town of Tomo. There we replenished our fresh foods at a third of the cost in Noumea. In Tomo, we took on a local, Disa one fella Archie as a guide and coastal pilot.
Barbie
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