DESTROYER, part 3

       "What are you on about," asked Seaman Whatts.
   "I was First Mate on a Whaler for 7 years.'
   "So?"
   'So, I need 3 men- Jones, Whatts and Harris- to put out that fire. The rest of you need to clean the decks. I'll be on Watch, you too Steel. Then the dead need laying to rest."
   And they obeyed him. Perhaps because on that lonely sea, in that bloody chaos, no one else wanted the responsibility.
   With the radio down, and the rest of the convoy sunk, Jonahson could do as he wished.
   He wished to hunt Nazis.

   The next morning, after breakfast and rum, he addressed his men.
   "Lads, we are 17 men down. Number 2 gun is down, and the wheel house needs rebuilding. We've taken on a bit of water. But we have Number 1 and 3 guns, the machine guns and depth charges, and the engines are alright. We've got a lot of work to do.' 
   The first task was the sea burial of the dead. All available hands gathered on deck. The bodies of the war dead were wrapped in sheets made of mast.
   Jonahson's deep voice chanted the Naval Hymn as tradition demanded, all the time his face a rock of dignified misery;

  "Eternal Father, strong to save, whose arm doth bind the restless wave,
Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep its own appointed limits keep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea!

O Saviour, whose almighty word, the winds and waves submissive heard,
Who walked'st on the foaming deep, and calm amidst its rage didst sleep;
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, For those in peril on the sea!

O sacred Spirit, who didst brood, upon the chaos dark and rude,
Who bade its angry tumult cease, and gavest light and life and peace:
Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea!

O Trinity of love and power, our brethren shield in danger's hour;
From rock and tempest, fire and foe, protect them wheresoe'er they go;
And ever let there rise to Thee , glad hymns of praise from land and sea."

Then the buglers played the Last Post as the corpses were lowered into the icy waves.

   'If I die out here,' Jonahson grunted to his mate Harris afterwards, 'just throw me in the damn sea.' 

 

DESTROYER, continued.

09/04/1940

The crew of a Norwegian Whaler sat around their evening mess. The great southern ocean rolled gently around them. They had brought in a whale yesterday, so spirits were high despite the bitter cold. Their meal of corned beef and biscuits was almost finished, they sipped their rum and listened to the radio.

Suddenly, they fell silent, every ear strained to the crackling radio.

“Did you hear that, lads ?’ the Captain asked. ‘Sounds like it’s time to go home.’

‘Too bloody right,’ First Mate Jonahson nodded.

By the time they made it back to Europe, the hopelessly out gunned British force had been driven out of Norway, and their homeland was under Nazi occupation. The crew docked in Liverpool and volunteered for the British Navy immediately.

After being rushed through basic training, Jonahson found himself serving as Seaman on the Destroyer HMS Hardy, escorting convoys across the atlantic.

03/01/1941

Freezing under his oilskins and duffel coat, Jonahson stood on the forecastle, scanning the dark skies. The sea was calm, perfect for a U-Boat attack.The stars gleamed in the endless sky and the wind blew bitterly. His night watch was almost over. He lowered his binoculars from his strained, raw eyes and tried to blink the sleep away. He stamped some warmth into his huge, damp boots, then ran a dirty hand through his beard. He scanned the horizon, nothing but the Cruiser and Merchant Ships in front and vast open sea behind. Then he heard them coming.

“All hands on deck!’

The darkness erupted into a stamping on running boots, the roar of engines and a rattle of gunfire. Hell was raining down from the sky.

There was a time of blood and fire, air and water and red hot metal.

When it was over, Jonah was sat at the trigger of the front heavy machine gun, it’s crew a bloody pulp around him. He gripped that gun for dear life, blood and sweat ran down his face.

The mast had fallen and the wheel house was on fire. Bodies floated on the waves amongst pools of burning fuel and wreckage.

“All hands on the Iron Deck,’ he heard, and obeyed.

‘All the bloody officers and dead,’ Seaman Jones stated.

‘Not quite,’ Johanson grunted.

DESTROYER

Destroyer Captain Arne Jonahson looked down the barrel of his battered revolver at the two Nazi Officers who faced him.

‘Cannot you see you are out numbered?” the leading Nazi snarled. “Lay down your weapon or die.’

‘If you kill me,’ Jonahson replied, “tonight, I will be drinking with my ancestors… Where will you be when you die?’

The officer pondered this a moment. He hid not believe in any afterlife, but he had heard his Fuhrer did. His lieutenant had been raised Lutheran, and he conscience had been bothering him recently. 

In that moment of hesitation, Jonahson shot them both in the faces.

In Pre War Austria, the great Philosopher Karl Popper met a Nazi on a train. They fell into debate. When the Nazi could not hold his ground, he produced his pistol and leveled it at Popper.

“This is my argument”,he said.

Popper considered the man beneath reasoning with.

Later, Captain Jonahson shot that same Nazi repeatedly in the gut. The Nazi’s debate was invalid.

The Carnage ( a Dark Commedy)

The Carnage.

The point was that someone could kill people- literally murder a lot of people- in Hanoi, and no one would care.

“Did you suspect,” the journalist asked, ‘ that your former colleague was a murderer?’

“Yeah,” we nodded, “but we didn’t really care.”

When the police found him- knee deep in gore, covered in blood and with the gristle of human meat between his teeth- no one was really surprised.

His email address, the one he used to apply for jobs teaching children, included the word ‘carnage’. That ought to have been a clue. But he came to work on time, there were no complaints, he caused no problems. He was reliable, and quiet and inoffensive. His opinions were mild. He kept himself to himself.

As you might expect from a man who killed, butchered and ate people.

They say it started when his manager pushed him too far.

“Please teacher,help me,” she would say everyday.”Help me please teacher.’

“I’ll give you the help you need,” he said.

Then he pushed her off the balcony.

He needed to dispose of the body, and he was hungry, and he didn’t like pho.

After that, it seems he just killed and ate everyone who pushed him too far. They pushed him, and he pushed back, normally off something high. As for eating his victims,that was probable because of the lack of protein in the Vietnamese diet. And the massive number of people who he slaughtered? Hanoi is the type of place where you find yourself saying ‘for fuck sake’ at least 5 times a day. Too many people pushed him too far. I cannot really blame him

Some times it was as if he wanted to get caught. Like the time he hold me about the sound proof room in his new flat. “So I can listen to my music.” he explained. Why would he need to play his music so loud? Or the time he posted on ‘Hanoi Massive’ asking where he could buy a good wet stone.

Most memorable was the time we were in a restaurant to together and he was given a pair of chopsticks, which he could not use.

“This is no way for a man to eat his feed,” he said.”I need a knife and fork to eat this muck.’

The waiter did not understand, but eventually he gave him a tiny fork. A really, tiny fork.

“I’ll show him what he can do with his fork,” he said, and followed the waiter into the kitchen.

“He was quite a character,” he said when he emerged 20 minutes later.

As an English teacher, he used WAS, the past tense, on purpose.

There was the time when he went to Literature Lake, to talk to his favorite Bar Maid, a short plump girl with a sour face. 4 Vietnamese men came over to his table,and started cock-blocking. They interrupted his conversation to introduce themselves, tease the girl, and make jokes about him in Vietnamese.

“Can you swim?” he suddenly asked them.

"No", they all laughed..

“It’s alright lads, I’ll teach you.”

The next morning 4 bodies were found in the lake.

No one likes being cock-blocked.

The last I saw of him, he said that he had paid the police a thousand dollar bribe, and was off to get some Chinese...