Wednesday, June 2, 2010

The Journal of Water and Air III

“What was your position on the airship?” the captain asked. I suspected that he had already talked to a few of my companions, which would explain how bored he looked.

“I am a journalist, attached to the air force to cover the war, sir,” I reported. I might not be a soldier, indeed I had never received any military training, but I tried to act in a way that would not discredit the service to which I had been attached. I even came to attention in the way that I had seen the men on the ship do it when reporting to their captain.

“A pencil pusher survived? I understand that many of your enlisted men were not so lucky,” the scorn in the captain's voice made me bristle but I knew that it wouldn't be in my best interest to explain to the captain how such a thing had happened unless I was asked. I still hadn't decided how much information I was supposed to give away in such a situation, I wished that my captain was there to tell me. My mind drifted, wondering if my captain had been interviewed before me, or if they would let him sit for a while longer to wear him down. I hoped that they had given him the respect he deserved and spoken to him first. It took the captain's next question to snap me out of my reverie, really, normally I'm not like this, it had to be the hunger.

“When did you join the air ship?”

“Three weeks ago, sir,” I said. Counting the days was an easy thing when stranded in an inflatable raft.

“And one week of that was spent drifting on the ocean? You had a short run didn't you?” the captain asked. For the first time there was interest in his voice.

“Yes, sir. From a journalist perspective however this trip has not been a failure, I do not lack things to write about from my experience. However if you are looking information about the air force or the dirigible I know almost nothing.” I decided that the best way to make sure I didn't give away information I shouldn't was to deny having any information at all. The captain however was not going to give up so easily. Indeed my denial seemed to amuse him.

“I had your first mate in here before you, Mr. Brinehouse, he told me that you were frequently seen talking to your captain after you came aboard. I'm sure you do yourself a discredit when you say that you know nothing that would be of interest to me. I want you to tell me all about what you saw and heard after you came on board the airship, every detail. You may sit while you do so,” the captain added. I sat down and marshaled my thoughts. I knew that things might get ugly if I was contradicted on any point when he interrogated the others so my best bet was to remain honest. That didn't mean that I couldn't omit things from my account however. I would just have to hope that the captain would be understanding if I did.

“I took the elevated rail from my apartment to the airfield,” I said, remembering how my journal entry for that day began. “It was difficult carrying all of my luggage with me on public transportation but I managed. After all, it was all army issue and therefore meant to be carried around. I am not in the best of shape, so what I am sure a normal soldier would have been able to carry with easy, I felt buried under.” This, I decided, was the best course of action to make sure I didn't say anything I didn't mean to. I would recite the captain my journal and just skip over the parts he didn't need to know. If nothing else it was full so so much useless stuff from a military perspective that I could only hope he would only be half listening if I did let something slip that I shouldn't.

To be continued...

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