New Adventure! A Startling Encounter with a senior officer

Albert Awakes from a terrible nightmare

Albert Dawber awoke with a start, his brow damp with sweat and the remnants of a terrible nightmare still clinging to the edges of his mind. The dream had been vivid, full of shadows and whispers, but now it was fading into the pale light of morning, leaving only a lingering unease in its wake. He sat up, rubbing his temples, trying to shake off the oppressive feeling that had settled over him.

His temporary billet was unremarkable as they came—just a bed, a chair, and a chipped wooden dresser. The walls were thin, and he could hear the muffled sounds of the city waking up around him. Seagulls cried out over the harbour, their voices sharp against the low hum of early-morning activity. With a sigh, Albert forced himself out of bed and dressed, trying to push the dream to the back of his mind.

Albert headed to the galley. The smell of cigarettes, fried eggs and bacon filled the air, turning Albert’s stomach. Albert collected a simple meal and ate in silence, his thoughts far away. The dream had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. It wasn’t just the dream itself, but the way it had felt—real, almost like a warning. Had he spent too much time at sea? The constant watching for U-Boats and Luftwaffe bombers were taking its toll.

After breakfast, Albert decided he needed some fresh air, something to clear his head. He pulled on his uniform and stepped out into the bustling streets of Portsmouth. The city was alive with the usual activity—dockworkers loading crates, merchants hawking their wares, and soldiers moving purposefully through the crowds. The war had changed Portsmouth, as it had changed everything, but the pubs remained the same, offering a brief respite from the worries of the world.

Albert made his way to one of the pubs near the harbour, a place he frequented when he needed to be alone with his thoughts. It was a dimly lit establishment, the kind where the conversation was low and the ale was strong. He found a seat in the corner, ordered a pint, and settled in, hoping to lose himself in the familiar routine.

But as he sat there, nursing his drink, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. He glanced around the room, but saw nothing out of the ordinary—just the usual mix of dockworkers, sailors, and a few other locals. Still, the sensation persisted, a prickling at the back of his neck that wouldn’t go away.

It wasn’t long before the door to the pub swung open, and a man stepped inside. He was tall, with a lean build and a sharp, angular face. His dark hair was neatly combed, and he wore a well-tailored suit, the kind that marked him as someone of importance. But it was his eyes that caught Albert’s attention—cold, calculating, with a glint of something else beneath the surface.

The man scanned the room, his gaze sweeping over the patrons until it landed on Albert. For a moment, their eyes met, and Albert felt a shiver run down his spine. There was something unsettling about the man, something that set him apart from the others. He moved with a quiet confidence, a predatory grace that made Albert instinctively wary.

The man made his way over to Albert’s table and, without asking, took the seat opposite him. He offered a polite smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Mind if I join you?” the man asked, his voice smooth and cultured.

Albert hesitated, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

The man nodded and signaled the bartender for a drink. For a moment, there was silence between them, the only sound the clink of glasses and the low murmur of conversation around them. Then the man spoke again, his tone casual but with a hint of something deeper.

“You’re Albert Dawber, aren’t you?”

Albert stiffened slightly, his hand tightening around his glass. “Who’s asking?”

The man’s smile widened, but it still didn’t reach his eyes. “My name is Commander Arthur Parish. I’ve been looking for you.”

Albert’s instincts screamed at him to be cautious, but there was something about the way Parish spoke, the way he held himself, that made it hard to dismiss him outright.

“And why would you be looking for me, Commander?” Albert asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Parish leaned in slightly, his eyes locked on Albert’s. “I represent a very specific interest, Mr. Dawber. We need men like you—men who can think on their feet, who aren’t afraid to take risks. The work I’m involved in is… delicate. High risk. But it’s also vital to the war effort. I think you might be the right man for the job.”

Albert’s heart raced, but he kept his expression neutral. “And what exactly is this job?”

Parish didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a sip of his drink, his gaze never leaving Albert’s. When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost a whisper.

“It’s not the kind of work you talk about in public, Mr. Dawber. But let’s just say it involves operations behind enemy lines. Dangerous, yes, but also crucial. The kind of work that could turn the tide of the war.”

Albert studied Parish for a long moment, trying to read the man’s intentions. There was something about him that was undeniably persuasive, a charisma that was hard to ignore. But there was also an edge to him, a hardness that hinted at the kind of things he’d seen, the kind of things he’d done.

“And why should I trust you?” Albert asked finally.

Parish leaned back in his chair, his smile returning. “Because I know what you’re capable of, Mr. Dawber. I’ve done my research. You were assigned to SUNFLOWER for a reason. Lieutenant Commander Arnold Smith has given you a glowing report. And because, in this line of work, trust is a necessity. But I’m not asking for your trust right now—I’m asking for your time. Meet with me again, somewhere more private, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

Albert considered the offer, his mind racing. There was something about Parish that made him uneasy, but there was also something compelling about the opportunity he was offering. It was dangerous, yes, but also the kind of challenge that Albert had been seeking ever since the war began. A way to make a real difference.

After a moment, Albert nodded. “Alright, Commander. I’ll hear you out.”

Parish’s smile widened, and this time it almost reached his eyes. “Good. I’ll be in touch.”

With that, he stood, finishing his drink in one smooth motion. He gave Albert a nod and then turned to leave, his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the pub. Albert watched him go, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. He didn’t know what he’d just gotten himself into, but one thing was certain—whatever it was, there was no turning back now.

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