Read Online The Shouting in the Dark by Elleke Boehmer - Free Book Online Page A

into the Fort for our daily training drill felt like coming home.’
    Ko gives a nod, makes a tired gesture with his hand. Har has the floor, he seems to say, he has the best stories.
    â€˜There were four of us up for naval officer training that time and it took four months to knock us into shape. Tom, you’ll know what I mean. Chris Donker, Wim Vermeer, Hans van Alphen and I, we worked like devils till finally we were sent over to Colombo to be assigned to our positions. Chris the big fellow, built like a tank, he went to the great minelayer Willem van der Zaan . Tall Wim Vermeer found a temporary calling in the machine room of the Van Galen , our sister ship, but within no time he was back, joined us under our Frisian banner. Hans stayed quayside. I, glasses or no, became deck-officer on my beloved Tjerk Hiddes , as I’d hoped from day one. And I certainly slaved from day one, attached to artillery officer Crommelin who, due to some sickness, panic attack or bowel complaint, stayed often in his cabin when we were on missions. So I made myself handy in his stead.
    â€˜By this stage the Grand Oriental Hotel on Colombo harbour had turned into a sort of Allied Navy HQ, known among the men as the Great Old Hoer. We abused language, us lusty young fellows in Singapore’ – Ko nods again – ‘But it was nothing to touch the seafaring folk I now got to know. They called a hoer a hoer where they saw one, no translation needed, gentlemen. In those days, if you were unable to find a mate around Colombo, then he was sure to be in the courtyard bar of the hotel, knocking them back, arguing the toss. Hans, disappointed at his new land-hugging position, was bar prop number one. They loved the Hoer, the men, especially after our out-of-the-way life at Trinco. Especially after that accidental oil spill put a stop to water sports in the bay.
    â€˜You never heard about that, the oil spill?’ The father cocks his head at Tom’s raised eyebrow. ‘A visiting dignitary, we never were told who, some know-it-all idioot from London or The Hague, he one day experimentally pulled the pin on a torpedo, sped the missile straight into an oil tanker. Pandemonium. For a while we thought a Japanese sub had got into the bay.
    â€˜As for me, well, maybe losing my heart in Singapore had given me due warning about staking too much in Colombo, who knows? Ko has some idea. The sloe-dark eyes of Nancy Leong. I’d worked hard for my placement with our Frisian hero Tjerk. While we were at anchor I stuck on deck, avoided the Great Old Hoer. My task in any case was cut out. There was a massive back-log in our correspondence with British High Command, due to the fall of Singapore. None of us Dutch were great stars in the English language, but I was the best of a bad bunch. I bombed myself into the position of secretary and worked in my spare hours. No sacrifice. I took to your good old English language, Nobby, Tom. I enjoyed being on the side of the English. From the very first day I felt grateful to be on that ship and call it home, to be able to do something in return. I wouldn’t have exchanged my place there for the world.’
    â€˜You tempt me yet again to say you fellows were lucky.’ Ko blows a smoke-ring and watches it dissolve into the night air. Tom looks up, seems for a moment to listen more closely. ‘Lost generation or no. Bar prop or no. There you were, with your free training, your good berth, in the company of friends. No crawling up the Italian boot for you, Har, as for Tom. Not a detention centre in sight, not a kamp , as for me. That’s lucky.’
    â€˜Yes, that’s lucky,’ echoes Tom. ‘The luck of you seafaring Dutch.’
    â€˜Well, we were happy, at least at the time,’ Har continues. ‘We were sometimes even lucky. Certainly we were lucky with Klaas Sluijter at the helm. How could we not be happy? The Tjerk Hiddes was from the word go a happy ship .