Dear Diary

Faced with the choice between ordering my crew to be executed and not ordering my crew to be executed I cleverly opted for a third option – stalling while working on a plan that was beginning to form deep within my captain’s brain.

“Before we execute them” I began, “shouldn’t they be given the traditional final meal?”

“Of course” agreed the Nazi, “we are not savages".

“What would you like?” I asked the man John.

“Minerals” he replied, “because, dammit, I’m a mineralogist not a diner. I’ll forgo food just this once if it means spending a few minutes with some good, old fashioned, you-can-always-rely-on-them minerals.” I couldn’t decide if John was following my subtle winking and therefore was playing along with the charade or if he was actually borderline insane again.

“If I told you that you couldn’t have minerals and had to have food, what would you choose?” I prompted.

“No minerals? What are you – Nazis or something?” shouted John.

“Of course we are Nazis” snapped the Nazi. “Now answer the question or I will give Nancy here something to play with.”

“What?” replied the man John.

“I’ll give my long leather friend a lashing good time” replied the Nazi.

“What? Dammit, I’m a mineralogist not a euphemist. I say what I mean, I mean what I say and I say you’re talking in riddles.”

“I’ll whip you until you cry” shouted the Nazi.

“Thank you” said John. “I’m with you now. I’ll have some beef.”

“We have no beef” I said quickly, winking some more.

“No beef?” replied John.

“We actually have be…” began the Nazi but I managed to silence him with a look.

“Elbow me again and you’ll be spending some time with Nancy” warned the Nazi.

“There is no beef on this ship” I lied. “What else do you like?”

“Steak.”

“Steak is beef” I explained.

“Is it? Well I never. What about pot roast?”

“Also beef.”

“A pork chop?”

“Still beef.”

“Dammit, Butch, what can I have for my last meal?”

“How about – and this is just a bit of blue sky thinking you understand – we let you cook your own last meal? You could be given a few minutes in the kitchen to put something together.”

“Dammit, Butch, you know I’m a mineralogist not a gourmand – I can no more cook than I can give birth to a nugget of cadmium.”

“Go on” I prompted, winking so heavily I thought I might lose my balance and end up cracking my head open on the deck.

“I always let Carol Richmond cook for me – after all she’s going to be my wife so why not let her get in some practice.”

“Tcha” tutted the Nazi. “What an outdated attitude.”

“And what does Carol Richmond usually cook for you?” I asked. By now I really did fear I would die of old age or incontinence before the man John wandered into my trap to save his life.

“Beef.”

“WE HAVE NO BEEF” I yelped. I regained my composure. “What else?”

“Scrambled eggs.”

“What else?”

“Poached egg on toast.”

“What else?”

“Boiled egg and soldiers.”

“What else?”

“Fried eggs and bacon.”

“What else?”

“Raw egg bodybuilding shakes.”

“What else?”

“Egg surprise.”

“What else?”

“Erm…”

“Yes – ommm”

“Omm?”

“Omm…”

“Omm?

“Ommllll”

”Dammit, Butch, are you having one of your spasms?”

“I don’t have spasms” I told him. I turned to my Nazi colleague and assured him I don’t have spasms. I even addressed the other Nazis on the bridge and explained with a light laugh that I’ve never suffered from spasms or any other kind of jerking, frothing or foaming ailments.

“Would you like an omelette?” asked Carol Richmond.

“Oh yes – I like your omelettes” said John, calm as you like.

“So you make good omelettes do you?” I asked in my best lawyerish voice. Finally I had got them to play their get-out-of-jail-free card. I was triumphant.

“Yes” said Carol.

“Are you sure you want to execute them sir?” I asked the captain. “I know how you’re desperate for a good omelette.”

“Of course we should execute them – I know myself how to make a good omelette but we have no eggs. Unless this female is capable of laying she is of no value to us.”

For the first time I realised the one weakness in my otherwise brilliant plan. I would have to think on my feet and quickly.

“John is a Nazi” I said quickly.

“Dammit, Butch, you make one remark about trains running on time and how small moustaches are neater than bushy ones and suddenly people start calling you names.”

“Carol is too.”

“I’m not” she said reproachfully. “I can’t even grow a moustache.”

“There seems to be some confusion” smiled the Nazi captain. “You three are no more Nazis than I am a professional wiffle ball player.”

“We’re undercover” I said desperately. “We’ve been trained not to admit we’re Nazis.”

“Undercover? You mean you have been infiltrating our enemy’s positions and carrying out your orders for the Reich?”

“Exactly.”

“Why did you not say so before?”

“Because we’ve been trained not to.”

“Of course! Well that explains everything. Ha ha ha” he laughed and gave me a hearty thump on the back. “What news from within the Ottoman empire?”

“Same as” I replied.

“Damned Ottomen.”

“Damned Ottomen” we replied in unison.

“Well then, all that remains is to feed and clothe these two fine Nazis and give you a damned good thrashing.”

“Excellent” I said before flinching. “A thrashing?”

“These proud Nazis did not betray their orders. They remained undercover and refused to break. You on the other hand fled and broke cover at the first opportunity.”

“Ah” I said.

“Guards – take him to the punishment block for punishment. On this ship we punish cowards.”

“I’m not a coward” I began but they dragged me away anyway. The last thing I heard was the Nazi offering John and Carol Richmond dinner. John ordered beef after the captain assured him I was wrong about them having no beef on board.

“Dammit, I do like a bit of beef” he said as I was carted out to be tortured by Nazis.