"I missed the fourth because of this ridiculously short red cap, I cant wait for the new Papa Nui's Combat Corsair Cap, it'll keep me flying on target".
" Damn you Papa Nui and damn your hats! You montebank! You huckster! You dry goods salesman! Not only have I got half the base out of regulations wearing those ridiculous 'sun bonnets' of yours, but now I can't find a native anywhere on this godforsaken island to do a days work for the Navy because YOU, have the entire village employed to support your shenanigans!"
Old Halsey was a bullish man, a giant of tireless energy and brilliant mind, a commander who truly loved his men. He sighed deeply and then slumped into one of my chairs seemingly dejected.
"Admiral", I soothed, "Please, allow me to fix you a drink".
He raised an eyebrow as I poured him a shot of my locally distilled torpedo juice, tempered with just the right amount of coconut water and lime. Lifting the glass to his lips he refreshed his parched throat and then held me in his steely glare. " Papa", he said, " I'm worried about my fly boys. Those fearless lads are out in their Corsairs all day, mission after mission and what have they got for sun protection? Those piddly short brimmed mechanics caps, that's what! Why, just last week that incessant glare off the coral airstrip sent two of my boys off to the base hospital until their eyes recovered."
The Admiral sluiced the last of his drink and added, "That flimsy piece of HBT is all that stands between them and that damn Oriental sun and I wont stand for it Papa, I wont! For god sake man couldn't you design something that will protect my aviators?"
"Admiral", I said, I've got just the thing! How about a deeper crown and a more substantial peak? A multi-stitched wider brim clad out of our regulation OD herringbone twill with a sweatband and inner taping trimmed out in Marine pattern frog skin?
Halsey eyed me off and smiled, "Genius Papa, pure genius. Reduce the glare and keep my boys focused on them meatballs! Now get to it man, I want those caps as soon as possible! The coconut express sails in a few weeks and I want my aviators outfitted. Understood?
"Aye aye Sir", I replied as Halsey removed himself from my shack.
And so the task is set. The Papa assembles his crew, nimble fingered Marys, resourceful Sea bees. The 'union specials' are cranking and production begins day and night.
On the side however, the Papa produces a secret stash. Extras. Over runs from his Navy Supply contract. Enough additional caps to outfit his loyal battalion of followers. Soon the word will be out, coast watchers will signal the fleet but until then the Papa works tirelessly on, making those limited edition magnificent items for you to have. Stay tuned my friends, support the Papa effort and surf in freedom for those that can't.