Bar, Monday, 12 February 1940
He sat in his day cabin, contemplating the orders he had just received from the Naval Staff. Captain Anton Lokar of the destroyer Pristina felt a surge of pride tempered with concern. His command was one of the Royal Yugoslav Navy’s newest ships, fresh from her builders and still working up, but the orders offered an opportunity to show his ship, and the Royal Yugoslav Navy, to the world. “Pass the word for the Executive Officer,” Lokar called to the yeoman in the outer cabin.
Commander Ivan Babic appeared in a few moments. “Reporting as ordered sir,” he said, after saluting.
“Sit down Number One”, Lokar replied, “and take a look at these”. He passed the Naval Staff’s orders to Babic for his perusal. After quickly skimming them Babic emitted a low whistle. “They repost utmost confidence in us,” he quoted, and shook his head. “If all goes well, it’s promotions for certain, what with the new ships coming off the ways. If we have trouble…” his words trailed off.
“Yeoman,” called Captain Lokar, summoning his clerk. “Take a signal to Podgorica. My compliments to Commander Petrovic. Have him report aboard Pristina as soon as possible.”
Lokar and Babic spent the next half-hour poring over charts and making calculations. A knock at the cabin door and the yeoman’s words, “Podgorica arriving”, announced the entry of Commander Vladimir Petrovic, captain of the destroyer Podgorica. “Sir,” he spoke; Petrovic tended to be sparing with words.
“We have orders,” Lokar announced. “As part of our working up the Naval Staff wants to show us off to the world.” He passed a copy of the orders to Petrovic. “We are ordered to sail for Malta on Saturday, the seventeenth.” Petrovic raised an eyebrow. “Only five days…”
“From Malta we sail to Crete, and thence to Byzantium. Truly showing the flag.” Lokar’s voice expressed the thoughts of all three officers – anticipation mixed with concern. The Royal Yugoslav Navy had never made so ambitious a cruise.
“At least we have the easy part,” Petrovic observed. “We are sailing to meet friends.”
Bar, Saturday, 17 February 1940
Lokar stood on the bridge of the Pristina and gave one last look about. The past five days of hurried preparation had called for the best from his crews, and they had given it willingly. Tons of supplies filled every store room and locker. A draft of replacements had brought his watch bills up to full strength. “Number One,” he called, “Cast off and set course for our rendezvous point.” To his signals officer he simply said, “Make to Podgorica – Execute Prijateljstvo.”