First Impressions:

When I first saw my superior officer I remember a strange mixture of feeling. The first thing I remember feeling: amazement. I had been told that Captain O’Banly was a formidable person; not one to be disobeyed and hard to please. However, it their long descriptions of this terror they failed to mention that Captain O’Banly was a woman.

After I had gotten over the initial shock of realizing that my commanding officer was the opposite sex that I had imagined, I felt yet another emotion: awe. I had always viewed Captain O’Banly as a tall man with a deep-set face and piercing eyes. Oh how close I was; and yet so far away. Captain O’Banly was tall and her dark brown eyes were piercing. But her face was rigid; like stone. Her hair was granite grey with long streaks of dark blonde. It was pulled back severely from her face and pinned in a tight knot at the back of her head.

But what made me know that she was Captain O’Banly was the gentle smile that seemed to make her look softer; yet not soft. Only an officer of an extreme amount of experience and authority could know how to look so commanding. Captain O’Banly had reportedly been in the service for 40 years. I had not even been alive that long.

I had not had the courage to test out my hypothesis on whether she was indeed who I thought she was. Instead I stayed by the drink stand in the corner of the room with my buddies sipping on a drink that had long since been warm. I watched her speak with several higher-ranking officers who had more medals than I had buttons on their uniform fronts. I noted with admiration that the woman I supposed was Captain O’Banly had many of the same medals.

“Lieutenant Jefferson?” I had been distracted from watching when Baker, a buddy of mine had spilled his drink. I had not seen the woman leave the officers and come up so quietly behind me.

“Yes.” I said turning around quickly a foolish smile spread over my face. The woman’s voice was heavily accented and luxuriant. I could not pin point which state she was from but I knew that she was not from the southern states. It was not until I had offered to shake hands with her that I realized she was my supposed Captain O’Banly. I know I became pale, because my friend Lt. Marshes asked me if I was all right and even turned to look at me squarely.

“You are Lieutenant Commander Jefferson? Are you not, young man?” New England, I finally decided. The accent was a New England accent.

“Yes, sir.” I gave a stiff salute and straightened my posture. “Captain O’Banly?”

It was bold, but as they say curiosity killed the cat.

“At ease, Lieutenant.” She gave me a quick size over and nodded. “They said you were a Jefferson. I had a hard time believing them.” Captain O’Banly shook my hand and walked away. If she hadn’t I would have had a hard time knowing what to say or what to do. Somehow I think she knew that.