Hey CF,
Since Gridley is in port for a few days can we see LCDR Stickney's Bio?
Ship of Steel, Men of Valor - Cuttlefish (A) versus Cribtop (J)
Moderators: wdolson, MOD_War-in-the-Pacific-Admirals-Edition
RE: February 8, 1942
"Alea iacta est." Caius Julius
"If you can't beat your computer at chess, try kickboxing." Emo Philips
"Caedite eos! Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius." Abbot Arnaud Amalric
"If you can't beat your computer at chess, try kickboxing." Emo Philips
"Caedite eos! Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius." Abbot Arnaud Amalric
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Cuttlefish
- Posts: 2454
- Joined: Wed Jan 24, 2007 5:03 am
- Location: Oregon, USA
RE: February 8, 1942
Blackhorse: thanks for sharing that!
Menser: yeah, we'll get to that while Gridley is in port. But first, a stirring tale of romance and tragedy...
Menser: yeah, we'll get to that while Gridley is in port. But first, a stirring tale of romance and tragedy...
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Cuttlefish
- Posts: 2454
- Joined: Wed Jan 24, 2007 5:03 am
- Location: Oregon, USA
RE: February 25, 1942
February 25, 1942
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 9, engine damage 0
Fuel: 525 (100%)
Jake Reedy, Gus Becken, and Bill Bonderman were strolling along the Honolulu waterfront. It was still too early for serious drinking and the men were enjoying being ashore. There was solid ground under their feet, shops of all kinds around them, and, best of all, there were women.
Young ones, old ones, pretty ones, they were everywhere. All three men walked with their heads constantly swiveling about, just taking it all in. Never before, thought Reedy, had he truly appreciated just what marvelously esthetic creatures women were. The way they walked, the way they moved, everything about them was a wonder. He thought with a pang of Cathy, so far away in Scranton.
Suddenly all three men slowed, and then stopped. Sitting on a bench in a small park across the street was a strikingly beautiful woman. She was wearing a floral print dress and had long dark hair that tumbled across her shoulders. She was sitting with her hands clasped in her lap, looking down at the ground with a sad expression on her face. Gus smoothed back his hair.
“Boys,” he said, “there sits a lonely woman. A dose of the famous Becken wit and charm, that’s what’s called for here. Wish me luck!”
“Luck,” said Reedy in amusement. Gus was only okay looking, but he was fearless where women were concerned. He thought nothing at all about getting shot down nine times if he succeeded with the tenth. Becken strolled across the street and approached the woman.
“Come on,” Reedy told Bonderman. “This should be interesting.” The two men moved to the shade of a nearby tree and watched to see what would happen.
Gus spoke to her, and she looked up and answered. They talked, and after a moment Becken sat on the bench beside her, giving her his full attention. Their conversation became more animated. The woman did most of the talking, encouraged every now and then by a question or gesture from the sailor. Her hands became animated, at one point seeming to describe swooping planes.
Finally Gus stood. He patted the woman on the shoulder and came back over to his two friends.
“Come on,” he said, “Let’s go.”
“Struck out, did you?” asked Reedy as the men began walking again. Becken shook his head.
“I want no part of that,” he said. “That woman has more problems than even I want to deal with.” When he said nothing more Bonderman spoke up.
“Well?” he said. “What did she tell you?”
“She’s a nurse,” said Becken. “She got involved with some air force pilot before the war. Well, it seems the boyfriend wasn’t willing to wait for war to start, so he went and joined the RAF.”
“Wait, what?” said Bonderman.
“I thought there were regs against…” Reedy said, but Becken continued.
“So to hear her tell it the boyfriend practically beats the Luftwaffe single-handedly…” he said.
“The English will be so glad to hear that,” murmured Reedy.
“…but he gets shot down over the Channel and is reported killed.”
“No wonder she’s sad,” says Bonderman.
“No, wait,” Becken said. “It gets worse. She takes up with his best friend, another pilot, to console herself, you know?”
“It happens,” Reedy noted.
“Well, what do you know,” continued Becken. “The first boyfriend shows up, alive, right here at Pearl the day before the Japanese attack. No letter, no cable, no phone call, he just appears.”
“Wait, what?” said Bonderman.
“The woman only has time to realize that she’s in a real pickle when the Japs attack,” Becken said. “Both boyfriends take off, and both shoot down a lot of Japs.”
“I thought none of our planes got off the ground that first day,” said Reedy.
“Look,” said Becken, “I’m just telling you what she told me. Anyway, now she’s torn between two men. She really wants boyfriend number one, but she discovers that boyfriend number two has knocked her up.” Reedy whistled softly.
“So she’s trying to figure out what to do,” Becken finished. “To make matters worse, both boyfriends have disappeared, assigned to some kind of top secret bombing mission.”
“I thought they were fighter pilots?” said Reedy. Becken shrugged.
“I guess if you can fly one kind of plane you can fly them all,” he says.
“I think you were right to walk away from that one, Gus,” said Reedy. Lanky Bill Bonderman just shook his head.
“That,” he drawled, “is the stupidest story I ever heard.”
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 9, engine damage 0
Fuel: 525 (100%)
Jake Reedy, Gus Becken, and Bill Bonderman were strolling along the Honolulu waterfront. It was still too early for serious drinking and the men were enjoying being ashore. There was solid ground under their feet, shops of all kinds around them, and, best of all, there were women.
Young ones, old ones, pretty ones, they were everywhere. All three men walked with their heads constantly swiveling about, just taking it all in. Never before, thought Reedy, had he truly appreciated just what marvelously esthetic creatures women were. The way they walked, the way they moved, everything about them was a wonder. He thought with a pang of Cathy, so far away in Scranton.
Suddenly all three men slowed, and then stopped. Sitting on a bench in a small park across the street was a strikingly beautiful woman. She was wearing a floral print dress and had long dark hair that tumbled across her shoulders. She was sitting with her hands clasped in her lap, looking down at the ground with a sad expression on her face. Gus smoothed back his hair.
“Boys,” he said, “there sits a lonely woman. A dose of the famous Becken wit and charm, that’s what’s called for here. Wish me luck!”
“Luck,” said Reedy in amusement. Gus was only okay looking, but he was fearless where women were concerned. He thought nothing at all about getting shot down nine times if he succeeded with the tenth. Becken strolled across the street and approached the woman.
“Come on,” Reedy told Bonderman. “This should be interesting.” The two men moved to the shade of a nearby tree and watched to see what would happen.
Gus spoke to her, and she looked up and answered. They talked, and after a moment Becken sat on the bench beside her, giving her his full attention. Their conversation became more animated. The woman did most of the talking, encouraged every now and then by a question or gesture from the sailor. Her hands became animated, at one point seeming to describe swooping planes.
Finally Gus stood. He patted the woman on the shoulder and came back over to his two friends.
“Come on,” he said, “Let’s go.”
“Struck out, did you?” asked Reedy as the men began walking again. Becken shook his head.
“I want no part of that,” he said. “That woman has more problems than even I want to deal with.” When he said nothing more Bonderman spoke up.
“Well?” he said. “What did she tell you?”
“She’s a nurse,” said Becken. “She got involved with some air force pilot before the war. Well, it seems the boyfriend wasn’t willing to wait for war to start, so he went and joined the RAF.”
“Wait, what?” said Bonderman.
“I thought there were regs against…” Reedy said, but Becken continued.
“So to hear her tell it the boyfriend practically beats the Luftwaffe single-handedly…” he said.
“The English will be so glad to hear that,” murmured Reedy.
“…but he gets shot down over the Channel and is reported killed.”
“No wonder she’s sad,” says Bonderman.
“No, wait,” Becken said. “It gets worse. She takes up with his best friend, another pilot, to console herself, you know?”
“It happens,” Reedy noted.
“Well, what do you know,” continued Becken. “The first boyfriend shows up, alive, right here at Pearl the day before the Japanese attack. No letter, no cable, no phone call, he just appears.”
“Wait, what?” said Bonderman.
“The woman only has time to realize that she’s in a real pickle when the Japs attack,” Becken said. “Both boyfriends take off, and both shoot down a lot of Japs.”
“I thought none of our planes got off the ground that first day,” said Reedy.
“Look,” said Becken, “I’m just telling you what she told me. Anyway, now she’s torn between two men. She really wants boyfriend number one, but she discovers that boyfriend number two has knocked her up.” Reedy whistled softly.
“So she’s trying to figure out what to do,” Becken finished. “To make matters worse, both boyfriends have disappeared, assigned to some kind of top secret bombing mission.”
“I thought they were fighter pilots?” said Reedy. Becken shrugged.
“I guess if you can fly one kind of plane you can fly them all,” he says.
“I think you were right to walk away from that one, Gus,” said Reedy. Lanky Bill Bonderman just shook his head.
“That,” he drawled, “is the stupidest story I ever heard.”
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Blackhorse
- Posts: 1415
- Joined: Sun Aug 20, 2000 8:00 am
- Location: Eastern US
RE: February 25, 1942
ROTFL
WitP-AE -- US LCU & AI Stuff
Oddball: Why don't you knock it off with them negative waves? Why don't you dig how beautiful it is out here? Why don't you say something righteous and hopeful for a change?
Moriarty: Crap!
Oddball: Why don't you knock it off with them negative waves? Why don't you dig how beautiful it is out here? Why don't you say something righteous and hopeful for a change?
Moriarty: Crap!
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nashvillen
- Posts: 3835
- Joined: Mon Jul 03, 2006 3:07 am
- Location: Christiana, TN
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thegreatwent
- Posts: 3011
- Joined: Tue Aug 24, 2004 3:42 am
- Location: Denver, CO
RE: February 25, 1942
+1[:D]
Just walk away...
Just walk away...
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Onime No Kyo
- Posts: 16846
- Joined: Wed Apr 28, 2004 5:55 am
RE: February 25, 1942
[:D][:D][:D][:D][:D][:D][:D][:D]
[&o]
Thank you CF, I needed that.
[:D][:D][:D][:D][:D][:D][:D][:D]
[&o]
Thank you CF, I needed that.
[:D][:D][:D][:D][:D][:D][:D][:D]
"Mighty is the Thread! Great are its works and insane are its inhabitants!" -Brother Mynok
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Admiral DadMan
- Posts: 3402
- Joined: Fri Feb 22, 2002 10:00 am
- Location: A Lion uses all its might to catch a Rabbit
RE: February 25, 1942
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
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Cuttlefish
- Posts: 2454
- Joined: Wed Jan 24, 2007 5:03 am
- Location: Oregon, USA
RE: February 25, 1942
February 26, 1942
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 9
Fuel: 525 (100%)
“Now this,” Reedy said in satisfaction, “is a gun!” He was looking in admiration at the 20mm Oerlikon, still shiny and new, that had replaced his old .50 caliber machine gun. It was bolted to the deck in a tub installed just abaft of the stack on the starboard side. He stepped into the gunner’s position and, fitting his shoulders into the curved, padded braces, peered through the optical sight mounted on the 8-foot barrel.
Gus Becken grabbed a rag and mopped a trace of cosmoline off the gun mount.
“I hear the magazines weigh 60 pounds,” he commented.
“It’ll be good for you,” said Reedy with a grin. “You’re starting to look a little scrawny anyway. Pack on some muscle to go with those soulful brown eyes and the ladies won’t be able to resist you.”
“I do all right,” protested Becken. “Anyway, I do better than you.”
“I’m not looking,” said Reedy. “I’ve got a girl back home, remember?”
“Ah yes,” said Becken. “The famous Cathy, she of the hot cross buns. Has it occurred to you that Cathy is thousands of miles away and that what she doesn’t know won’t hurt you?”
Reedy didn’t reply. In truth that thought had occurred to him, though so far he had resisted temptation. He changed the subject by gesturing to the cable and pulley system attached to the gun.
“Sucker has to be cocked before it can fire,” he said. Becken squinted at it, and at the heavy recoil spring
“That’s a two-man job,” he said. Reedy nodded.
“We’re going to need at least one more man,” he said, “maybe two. And a lot of practice with everything. I bet as soon as we…” He was interrupted by the arrival of Greg Belchik, a member of the crew of one of the five inch guns. Belchik regarded the new gun.
“Very nice,” he said. “For a toy.” White teeth showed through his neatly trimmed black beard.
“You’ll appreciate this toy when those Jap planes come calling,” said Reedy. Belchik gave an acknowledging nod.
“Could be,” he said. “Hey, I just heard. The British have called for a cease-fire at Singapore. They’re going to surrender.”
“Damn,” said Reedy with feeling. “You sure?”
“Yep,” said Belchik. “So much for the impregnable fortress, huh?” He shook his head and strolled along.
“Well, that’s a real unpleasant surprise,” said Becken after he had gone.
“Yeah,” said Reedy. “Just imagine how the Brits feel.”
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 9
Fuel: 525 (100%)
“Now this,” Reedy said in satisfaction, “is a gun!” He was looking in admiration at the 20mm Oerlikon, still shiny and new, that had replaced his old .50 caliber machine gun. It was bolted to the deck in a tub installed just abaft of the stack on the starboard side. He stepped into the gunner’s position and, fitting his shoulders into the curved, padded braces, peered through the optical sight mounted on the 8-foot barrel.
Gus Becken grabbed a rag and mopped a trace of cosmoline off the gun mount.
“I hear the magazines weigh 60 pounds,” he commented.
“It’ll be good for you,” said Reedy with a grin. “You’re starting to look a little scrawny anyway. Pack on some muscle to go with those soulful brown eyes and the ladies won’t be able to resist you.”
“I do all right,” protested Becken. “Anyway, I do better than you.”
“I’m not looking,” said Reedy. “I’ve got a girl back home, remember?”
“Ah yes,” said Becken. “The famous Cathy, she of the hot cross buns. Has it occurred to you that Cathy is thousands of miles away and that what she doesn’t know won’t hurt you?”
Reedy didn’t reply. In truth that thought had occurred to him, though so far he had resisted temptation. He changed the subject by gesturing to the cable and pulley system attached to the gun.
“Sucker has to be cocked before it can fire,” he said. Becken squinted at it, and at the heavy recoil spring
“That’s a two-man job,” he said. Reedy nodded.
“We’re going to need at least one more man,” he said, “maybe two. And a lot of practice with everything. I bet as soon as we…” He was interrupted by the arrival of Greg Belchik, a member of the crew of one of the five inch guns. Belchik regarded the new gun.
“Very nice,” he said. “For a toy.” White teeth showed through his neatly trimmed black beard.
“You’ll appreciate this toy when those Jap planes come calling,” said Reedy. Belchik gave an acknowledging nod.
“Could be,” he said. “Hey, I just heard. The British have called for a cease-fire at Singapore. They’re going to surrender.”
“Damn,” said Reedy with feeling. “You sure?”
“Yep,” said Belchik. “So much for the impregnable fortress, huh?” He shook his head and strolled along.
“Well, that’s a real unpleasant surprise,” said Becken after he had gone.
“Yeah,” said Reedy. “Just imagine how the Brits feel.”
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Cuttlefish
- Posts: 2454
- Joined: Wed Jan 24, 2007 5:03 am
- Location: Oregon, USA
A Note
I apologize for the lack of updates lately. I have been unusually busy lately. But things are getting back to normal and I should be able to resume (almost) daily updates again.
CF
CF
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Cuttlefish
- Posts: 2454
- Joined: Wed Jan 24, 2007 5:03 am
- Location: Oregon, USA
RE: February 27, 1942
February 27, 1942
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 9
Fuel: 525 (100%)
Installing the radars aboard Gridley was the easy part. More difficult was deciding where to put the CIC that would be needed to get the best use out of them and the information they provided.
Captain Stickney wanted the displays to be available but after talking with the technicians he and the ship’s other officers agreed that there was no practical way to put them on the bridge. It was already too crowded, too exposed to the elements, and too bright. They decided to turn the charthouse, one level below the bridge, into the CIC.
To this end the large, heavy chart table was unbolted from the corner where it sat and moved far enough out into the room to allow access from all sides. Into the top of the table was set a translucent screen, with a projector beneath that would show Gridley at the center of the display with the radar image continuously updated around it. At one end was set the circular SC radar display.
Gridley had no general phone system but the charthouse was connected to the bridge by voice tube. This would be used in preference to the sound-powered phone system, as using talkers would introduce too many delays in communication and none of the officers involved would have a hand free for a phone handset.
Two status boards, which would be used to keep track of station assignments, ship’s code-names, and other vital information, were mounted on the forward bulkhead. There would be just enough light to read them by.
It would require training and practice to get the most out of the new equipment. Old officers assumed new duties and some of the new officers aboard joined them as part of the CIC team. Gridley’s men were extremely pleased with the system from the first day it was operational. It now seemed to them that they had been sailing with one eye shut, so much better was their view of the world around them now.
Neither the ship nor most of the crew was ready to leave Pearl yet and head back into the war. But with the new equipment and a bit of rest already the prospect seemed a little less daunting.
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 9
Fuel: 525 (100%)
Installing the radars aboard Gridley was the easy part. More difficult was deciding where to put the CIC that would be needed to get the best use out of them and the information they provided.
Captain Stickney wanted the displays to be available but after talking with the technicians he and the ship’s other officers agreed that there was no practical way to put them on the bridge. It was already too crowded, too exposed to the elements, and too bright. They decided to turn the charthouse, one level below the bridge, into the CIC.
To this end the large, heavy chart table was unbolted from the corner where it sat and moved far enough out into the room to allow access from all sides. Into the top of the table was set a translucent screen, with a projector beneath that would show Gridley at the center of the display with the radar image continuously updated around it. At one end was set the circular SC radar display.
Gridley had no general phone system but the charthouse was connected to the bridge by voice tube. This would be used in preference to the sound-powered phone system, as using talkers would introduce too many delays in communication and none of the officers involved would have a hand free for a phone handset.
Two status boards, which would be used to keep track of station assignments, ship’s code-names, and other vital information, were mounted on the forward bulkhead. There would be just enough light to read them by.
It would require training and practice to get the most out of the new equipment. Old officers assumed new duties and some of the new officers aboard joined them as part of the CIC team. Gridley’s men were extremely pleased with the system from the first day it was operational. It now seemed to them that they had been sailing with one eye shut, so much better was their view of the world around them now.
Neither the ship nor most of the crew was ready to leave Pearl yet and head back into the war. But with the new equipment and a bit of rest already the prospect seemed a little less daunting.
-
Cuttlefish
- Posts: 2454
- Joined: Wed Jan 24, 2007 5:03 am
- Location: Oregon, USA
RE: February 28, 1942
February 28, 1942
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 8
Fuel: 525 (100%)
The place was called The Sugar Bowl, and it was packed with sailors. The band was good, the women were pretty, and the beer was cold. There were three tables filled with Gridley men, and none of them could ask for anything more.
Bill Bonderman, Jake Reedy, and Rudy Bronkhorst sat at one table. They were watching Gus Becken, who was out on the dance floor with a woman he had just met. The band was playing Artie Shaw’s “Summit Ridge Drive” and Becken and the young lady were putting on a pretty good show. Becken was good and his partner was laughing as he spun her through the moves. Reedy tapped his feet to the rhythm as they watched.
“Wish I could dance,” said Bronkhorst. Reedy nodded.
“Show a woman a good time on the dance floor,” he agreed, “and the next thing you know she’s making you breakfast.”
“Ask Becken,” suggested Bonderman. “Bet he’d teach you.”
“That’s a good idea, Texas,” said Reedy with enthusiasm. “In fact, we could talk to Steubens about dance classes aboard ship. Becken’s really good, and I know that one of the C and S guys is really good too.”
“Hell, I couldn’t do that,” Bronkhorst said. “Tanner and them guys would laugh at me.” Reedy drank some beer and set down the bottle.
“You’d get the last laugh when you showed up with some beauty on your arm,” he said. Further conversation was forestalled by a commotion behind them.
Reedy turned his head and saw a woman trying to rise from a chair next to a large, ruddy-faced sailor with a shock of blond hair. The sailor had a hand on her arm and was trying to keep her from leaving. The woman was trying without success to peel his hand from her arm.
“Let go of me!” she demanded. She was short and, Reedy thought, quite pretty. She had a snub nose and a scattering of freckles and a neat bob of auburn hair. She might have almost seemed to be a mere girl if it weren’t for her decidedly grown-up curves. She was wearing a blue blouse and skirt.
“Aw, June, we were just getting acquainted,” complained the sailor. His hand remained clamped on her arm.
“My name is Joan!” snapped the woman, and sank the red-polished nails of her left hand into the restraining wrist. The sailor yowled and drew back his free hand.
Reedy didn’t see Bonderman move. One moment the tall Texan was sitting down, the next he was standing there holding the big sailor’s upraised left arm in his right hand. The sailor glared and tried to free his arm, but he might as well have been trying to yank it out of a vise. The woman took advantage of his distraction to pull her hand away. She rubbed her reddened wrist where she had been held.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” snarled the blond sailor at Bonderman.
“My Daddy,” said Bonderman in his slow drawl, “always told me that it’s a cowardly thing to strike a woman. Now, I know none of you boys are cowards.” His grip remained implacable upon the sailor’s arm. “What ship are you boys all from?”
“Pyro,” said one of the men sitting across the table. He and his friends had pushed back their chairs.
“Pyro!” said Bonderman. He suddenly released the sailor’s arm and, hitching a foot around the leg of his own abandoned chair, drew it to him. He turned it around and sat, right between Joan and her would-be assailant.
“Why, it takes guts to crew one of those ammunition ships, sure enough,” he said. “Am I right?” The Pyro men looked and each other. There were a few nods and assents. “I never did figure you all got enough credit,” Bonderman continued. “Tough, dangerous work and few enough thanks. Well, I’m here to thank all of you and buy you a round, if you’re willin’.”
“Well…sure,” said one of the sailors. Reedy blinked at how quickly the attitude at the other table had changed. He had been poised to jump up but now leaned back and motioned to the others to do the same.
Bonderman signaled a waitress and ordered the drinks. He got the men talking about their work, listening mostly, asking a few questions and making a few comments. Becken and the lady they were dancing with came over and sat downnext to Reedy. Speaking in a low voice, Reedy filled Becken in.
“Well, said Bonderman finally. “I figure I’ve taken up enough of your time. You fellows keep up the good work, you hear?” Several of the men protested at his departure, but Bonderman raised a hand. “Duty calls,” he said, and stood up. He extended a hand to the woman beside him. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss,” he said as he helped her rise. “May I see you out?” The woman stared at him for a moment, then shook her head.
“No thanks,” she said. “I think I’ve had my fill of sailors for the day.” She picked up her handbag and walked out. Bonderman watched her go, then returned to his shipmates.
“Thought for a moment we were going to have a brawl,” Reedy said.
“A soft answer turneth away wrath,” Bonderman murmured, “but a grievous word stirreth up anger.”
“Aw, we could have taken them,” Bronkhorst said. Bonderman didn’t say anything, but Reedy saw his gaze stray back to the door through which the woman had disappeared.
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 8
Fuel: 525 (100%)
The place was called The Sugar Bowl, and it was packed with sailors. The band was good, the women were pretty, and the beer was cold. There were three tables filled with Gridley men, and none of them could ask for anything more.
Bill Bonderman, Jake Reedy, and Rudy Bronkhorst sat at one table. They were watching Gus Becken, who was out on the dance floor with a woman he had just met. The band was playing Artie Shaw’s “Summit Ridge Drive” and Becken and the young lady were putting on a pretty good show. Becken was good and his partner was laughing as he spun her through the moves. Reedy tapped his feet to the rhythm as they watched.
“Wish I could dance,” said Bronkhorst. Reedy nodded.
“Show a woman a good time on the dance floor,” he agreed, “and the next thing you know she’s making you breakfast.”
“Ask Becken,” suggested Bonderman. “Bet he’d teach you.”
“That’s a good idea, Texas,” said Reedy with enthusiasm. “In fact, we could talk to Steubens about dance classes aboard ship. Becken’s really good, and I know that one of the C and S guys is really good too.”
“Hell, I couldn’t do that,” Bronkhorst said. “Tanner and them guys would laugh at me.” Reedy drank some beer and set down the bottle.
“You’d get the last laugh when you showed up with some beauty on your arm,” he said. Further conversation was forestalled by a commotion behind them.
Reedy turned his head and saw a woman trying to rise from a chair next to a large, ruddy-faced sailor with a shock of blond hair. The sailor had a hand on her arm and was trying to keep her from leaving. The woman was trying without success to peel his hand from her arm.
“Let go of me!” she demanded. She was short and, Reedy thought, quite pretty. She had a snub nose and a scattering of freckles and a neat bob of auburn hair. She might have almost seemed to be a mere girl if it weren’t for her decidedly grown-up curves. She was wearing a blue blouse and skirt.
“Aw, June, we were just getting acquainted,” complained the sailor. His hand remained clamped on her arm.
“My name is Joan!” snapped the woman, and sank the red-polished nails of her left hand into the restraining wrist. The sailor yowled and drew back his free hand.
Reedy didn’t see Bonderman move. One moment the tall Texan was sitting down, the next he was standing there holding the big sailor’s upraised left arm in his right hand. The sailor glared and tried to free his arm, but he might as well have been trying to yank it out of a vise. The woman took advantage of his distraction to pull her hand away. She rubbed her reddened wrist where she had been held.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” snarled the blond sailor at Bonderman.
“My Daddy,” said Bonderman in his slow drawl, “always told me that it’s a cowardly thing to strike a woman. Now, I know none of you boys are cowards.” His grip remained implacable upon the sailor’s arm. “What ship are you boys all from?”
“Pyro,” said one of the men sitting across the table. He and his friends had pushed back their chairs.
“Pyro!” said Bonderman. He suddenly released the sailor’s arm and, hitching a foot around the leg of his own abandoned chair, drew it to him. He turned it around and sat, right between Joan and her would-be assailant.
“Why, it takes guts to crew one of those ammunition ships, sure enough,” he said. “Am I right?” The Pyro men looked and each other. There were a few nods and assents. “I never did figure you all got enough credit,” Bonderman continued. “Tough, dangerous work and few enough thanks. Well, I’m here to thank all of you and buy you a round, if you’re willin’.”
“Well…sure,” said one of the sailors. Reedy blinked at how quickly the attitude at the other table had changed. He had been poised to jump up but now leaned back and motioned to the others to do the same.
Bonderman signaled a waitress and ordered the drinks. He got the men talking about their work, listening mostly, asking a few questions and making a few comments. Becken and the lady they were dancing with came over and sat downnext to Reedy. Speaking in a low voice, Reedy filled Becken in.
“Well, said Bonderman finally. “I figure I’ve taken up enough of your time. You fellows keep up the good work, you hear?” Several of the men protested at his departure, but Bonderman raised a hand. “Duty calls,” he said, and stood up. He extended a hand to the woman beside him. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss,” he said as he helped her rise. “May I see you out?” The woman stared at him for a moment, then shook her head.
“No thanks,” she said. “I think I’ve had my fill of sailors for the day.” She picked up her handbag and walked out. Bonderman watched her go, then returned to his shipmates.
“Thought for a moment we were going to have a brawl,” Reedy said.
“A soft answer turneth away wrath,” Bonderman murmured, “but a grievous word stirreth up anger.”
“Aw, we could have taken them,” Bronkhorst said. Bonderman didn’t say anything, but Reedy saw his gaze stray back to the door through which the woman had disappeared.
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Cuttlefish
- Posts: 2454
- Joined: Wed Jan 24, 2007 5:03 am
- Location: Oregon, USA
RE:March 1, 1942
March 1, 1942
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 7
Fuel: 525 (100%)
“The shells come up here,” Starkweather said, indicating the passing scuttle in the shelter built into the aft end of the deckhouse. “Your job is going to be to grab them, carry them over here and hand them off to the fuse setter, then go back for another shell.” He and Joe Beaumont were standing just forward of turret 54. Around them the ship rattled to the sound of pneumatic hammers and other equipment.
“Where do the shells come from?” asked Beaumont.
“We get ours from the lower handling rooms,” said Starkweather. “It’s nice and quiet down there, and well lighted. Lots of guys volunteer for that duty.” He grinned at Joe. “None of that peace and quiet for you and me.” He gestured at the passing scuttle.
“What I want you to do may sound easy,” said Starkweather, his grin now gone. “It isn’t. The shells weigh 54 pounds. You can lift that, sure, but we average twenty shells a minute in loading drills. You have to be more than just strong to keep up, you have to be quick and you have to be tough.”
“I can do it, Mr. Starkweather,” said Beaumont.
“Wait, it gets better,” said the gun captain. “The powder man is following the same path you are, carrying the cartridges to that rack, there. At night you’ll be doing it in the dark, on a pitching deck – and this one will probably be wet. You’ll be blinded and deafened by the firing of the gun. It isn’t pitching bales of hay back home.” Joe looked at him curiously.
“How did you know about the hay?” he asked. Starkweather’s piratical grin returned.
“Lucky guess,” he said. “So there you have it, Joe. I want us to be the best damned gun crew on this ship. You help me get there and you’ll earn your rating.
“I’ll help you, Mr. Starkweather,” Beaumont said with quiet confidence.
“We’ll see,” Starkweather said. “We’ll start tomorrow morning, after muster, at the practice loading machine. It’s amidships, just above the machine shop.”
After Beaumont had departed Dan Rucker came over.
“Seems like a good kid,” he said. Starkweather nodded.
“Yeah,” he said, “it’s hard not to like him. Pass the word. No one takes it easy on him tomorrow. I want to push him, push him hard right from the start.”
“You got it, Harry,” Rucker said.
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 7
Fuel: 525 (100%)
“The shells come up here,” Starkweather said, indicating the passing scuttle in the shelter built into the aft end of the deckhouse. “Your job is going to be to grab them, carry them over here and hand them off to the fuse setter, then go back for another shell.” He and Joe Beaumont were standing just forward of turret 54. Around them the ship rattled to the sound of pneumatic hammers and other equipment.
“Where do the shells come from?” asked Beaumont.
“We get ours from the lower handling rooms,” said Starkweather. “It’s nice and quiet down there, and well lighted. Lots of guys volunteer for that duty.” He grinned at Joe. “None of that peace and quiet for you and me.” He gestured at the passing scuttle.
“What I want you to do may sound easy,” said Starkweather, his grin now gone. “It isn’t. The shells weigh 54 pounds. You can lift that, sure, but we average twenty shells a minute in loading drills. You have to be more than just strong to keep up, you have to be quick and you have to be tough.”
“I can do it, Mr. Starkweather,” said Beaumont.
“Wait, it gets better,” said the gun captain. “The powder man is following the same path you are, carrying the cartridges to that rack, there. At night you’ll be doing it in the dark, on a pitching deck – and this one will probably be wet. You’ll be blinded and deafened by the firing of the gun. It isn’t pitching bales of hay back home.” Joe looked at him curiously.
“How did you know about the hay?” he asked. Starkweather’s piratical grin returned.
“Lucky guess,” he said. “So there you have it, Joe. I want us to be the best damned gun crew on this ship. You help me get there and you’ll earn your rating.
“I’ll help you, Mr. Starkweather,” Beaumont said with quiet confidence.
“We’ll see,” Starkweather said. “We’ll start tomorrow morning, after muster, at the practice loading machine. It’s amidships, just above the machine shop.”
After Beaumont had departed Dan Rucker came over.
“Seems like a good kid,” he said. Starkweather nodded.
“Yeah,” he said, “it’s hard not to like him. Pass the word. No one takes it easy on him tomorrow. I want to push him, push him hard right from the start.”
“You got it, Harry,” Rucker said.
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House Stark
- Posts: 184
- Joined: Sat Apr 30, 2011 6:30 pm
RE: RE:March 1, 1942
Fun AAR as always. Felt I couldn't let a Cuttlefish AAR get so far down the page. A month ago or so I noticed this AAR, and wasn't too terribly interested by the style, but I noticed a bunch of people were raving about a previous AAR following some ship called Hibiki. The first time I saw that AAR I decided I wasn't reading 200 pages. The second time I tried the AAR I read the whole thing in a week, and then went back to this one. Now I guess I'm a Cuttlefish AAR fan, and noticing the Hibiki and Gridley in my games.
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Cuttlefish
- Posts: 2454
- Joined: Wed Jan 24, 2007 5:03 am
- Location: Oregon, USA
RE: RE:March 1, 1942
ORIGINAL: House Stark
Fun AAR as always. Felt I couldn't let a Cuttlefish AAR get so far down the page. A month ago or so I noticed this AAR, and wasn't too terribly interested by the style, but I noticed a bunch of people were raving about a previous AAR following some ship called Hibiki. The first time I saw that AAR I decided I wasn't reading 200 pages. The second time I tried the AAR I read the whole thing in a week, and then went back to this one. Now I guess I'm a Cuttlefish AAR fan, and noticing the Hibiki and Gridley in my games.
Welcome aboard, and thanks for the post!
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Cuttlefish
- Posts: 2454
- Joined: Wed Jan 24, 2007 5:03 am
- Location: Oregon, USA
RE: RE: March 2, 1942
March 2, 1942
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 6
Fuel: 525 (100%)
Night lay over Pearl Harbor. There were few lights showing. Nothing really seemed to be beyond the capabilities of the Japanese at the moment, so blackout restrictions remained in effect to guard against the possibility of another attack. The moon was full though, bathing the huge naval facility in pale light. A gentle breeze wafted down from the island heights, bringing scents of sugar cane and tropical flowers to mingle with the more familiar smells of oil, creosote, and harbor mud.
Jake Reedy, who had come out on deck for some fresh air before turning in, thought it was a fine night. He strolled forward along the starboard rail, looking out over the ghostly forest of masts sprouting from the waters of the South Loch. Ahead another man stood leaning against the rail, head down. There easily enough light for Reedy to see that it was one of the new recruits. Reedy didn’t know the guy’s name yet but he was a big man.
Another man emerged from the shadows forward and approached the new guy. Reedy recognized Al Tanner and pulled back into the shadows by the aft deckhouse. He did not like Tanner. He peered beyond Tanner and, sure enough, saw Tanner’s usual shadows, Ranker and Vick, lurking further forward. Tanner was a weasel of a man, Reedy knew, small and mean, but he liked to surround himself with larger, tougher men, easily manipulated fellows who he kept close with flattery and favors. Rudy Bronkhorst had been part of that crowd but was rarely seen with them anymore since striking for Radioman.
“Hey there, kid,” Reedy heard Tanner say. “You look bushed. Tough day?” The big recruit raised his head.
“Yeah,” he said. His voice was deep and slow. “I lifted about five hundred shells today, I bet.” He pronounced “about” as “aboot.”
“”Sounds tough,” said Tanner sympathetically. “Big guy like you, though, you bet they’ll work you like a draft horse. By the way, I’m Al Tanner.” He extended his hand and the recruit shook it.
“I’m Joe Beaumont,” said the recruit.
“Look, kid,” said Tanner. “I hate to see a nice guy like you get a raw deal. Those gunners are a heartless bunch. Now, over in the deck force we take care of our own. If you were with us I could see you got some breaks. If you wanted I could pull a few strings, get you out of that crew and in with me.” Beaumont stood silently for a moment. Reedy couldn’t see his face well enough in the moonlight to be able to tell his expression.
“Well, what do you say?” Tanner said after a moment. “There’s no point in killing yourself, is there? If you want to catch any slack in this man’s Navy you’ve got to look out for yourself, and that’s a fact.” Beaumont was silent a moment longer.
“Well, I want to thank you,” Beaumont finally said. “But I signed on to do a job and I figure Mr. Starkweather, well, he needs me. And I don’t mind hard work. I’m used to it.” He spoke quietly but firmly. Tanner shrugged.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “But if you change your mind, look me up. It pays to have friends on this ship, you’ll see.”
“Thank you,” Beaumont said. “I do appreciate your kindness. You have a good night, now.”
“You too, hayseed,” said Tanner dismissively. He picked up his two shadows and went below.
Good for you, Beaumont, Reedy thought to himself. He faded back the other way. After a last look at the full moon he too headed below.
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 6
Fuel: 525 (100%)
Night lay over Pearl Harbor. There were few lights showing. Nothing really seemed to be beyond the capabilities of the Japanese at the moment, so blackout restrictions remained in effect to guard against the possibility of another attack. The moon was full though, bathing the huge naval facility in pale light. A gentle breeze wafted down from the island heights, bringing scents of sugar cane and tropical flowers to mingle with the more familiar smells of oil, creosote, and harbor mud.
Jake Reedy, who had come out on deck for some fresh air before turning in, thought it was a fine night. He strolled forward along the starboard rail, looking out over the ghostly forest of masts sprouting from the waters of the South Loch. Ahead another man stood leaning against the rail, head down. There easily enough light for Reedy to see that it was one of the new recruits. Reedy didn’t know the guy’s name yet but he was a big man.
Another man emerged from the shadows forward and approached the new guy. Reedy recognized Al Tanner and pulled back into the shadows by the aft deckhouse. He did not like Tanner. He peered beyond Tanner and, sure enough, saw Tanner’s usual shadows, Ranker and Vick, lurking further forward. Tanner was a weasel of a man, Reedy knew, small and mean, but he liked to surround himself with larger, tougher men, easily manipulated fellows who he kept close with flattery and favors. Rudy Bronkhorst had been part of that crowd but was rarely seen with them anymore since striking for Radioman.
“Hey there, kid,” Reedy heard Tanner say. “You look bushed. Tough day?” The big recruit raised his head.
“Yeah,” he said. His voice was deep and slow. “I lifted about five hundred shells today, I bet.” He pronounced “about” as “aboot.”
“”Sounds tough,” said Tanner sympathetically. “Big guy like you, though, you bet they’ll work you like a draft horse. By the way, I’m Al Tanner.” He extended his hand and the recruit shook it.
“I’m Joe Beaumont,” said the recruit.
“Look, kid,” said Tanner. “I hate to see a nice guy like you get a raw deal. Those gunners are a heartless bunch. Now, over in the deck force we take care of our own. If you were with us I could see you got some breaks. If you wanted I could pull a few strings, get you out of that crew and in with me.” Beaumont stood silently for a moment. Reedy couldn’t see his face well enough in the moonlight to be able to tell his expression.
“Well, what do you say?” Tanner said after a moment. “There’s no point in killing yourself, is there? If you want to catch any slack in this man’s Navy you’ve got to look out for yourself, and that’s a fact.” Beaumont was silent a moment longer.
“Well, I want to thank you,” Beaumont finally said. “But I signed on to do a job and I figure Mr. Starkweather, well, he needs me. And I don’t mind hard work. I’m used to it.” He spoke quietly but firmly. Tanner shrugged.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “But if you change your mind, look me up. It pays to have friends on this ship, you’ll see.”
“Thank you,” Beaumont said. “I do appreciate your kindness. You have a good night, now.”
“You too, hayseed,” said Tanner dismissively. He picked up his two shadows and went below.
Good for you, Beaumont, Reedy thought to himself. He faded back the other way. After a last look at the full moon he too headed below.
-
Cuttlefish
- Posts: 2454
- Joined: Wed Jan 24, 2007 5:03 am
- Location: Oregon, USA
RE: RE: March 3, 1942
March 3, 1942
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 6
Fuel: 525 (100%)
While Gridley and her crew rested the war continued outside the confines of Pearl Harbor. From the news that reached the destroyer’s men, it was not going well.
In the Pacific the Japanese were staying mostly quiet, though they were consolidating their hold upon the Gilberts, the Solomons, and New Guinea. But in the Dutch East Indies the Dutch were bracing for the blows that were certain to fall up Java and Sumatra now that Singapore had capitulated. British forces were in full retreat in Burma. The Japanese had already driven as far as Mandalay against almost no opposition as their foes sought to escape across the frontier into India. Japanese paratroops had captured Akyab in a daring raid and so far the Japanese had held against efforts to retake it by poorly led and poorly equipped Indian troops.
In China Japanese forces had inflicted a major defeat upon the Chinese in the north and were preparing to lay siege to the key city of Sian. Reports told of Chinese troops massing to make an attack in the south in an effort to relieve pressure on Sian but few thought they stood much chance against the invincible Japanese.
The forces of the United States were quiet. There were four carriers in Pearl Harbor. One of them, Saratoga, was undergoing refit. A fifth carrier, Hornet, was en route from the Atlantic. Several of the battleships damaged in the attacks three months ago had been patched up enough to make the journey to the mainland for repairs, though none of them were expected back in the war for at least six months. Efforts were underway to refloat West Virginia.
Steps were being taken to build up bases in the South Pacific, and places like Pago Pago and Vava’u were becoming well known to sailors as convoys called there carrying troops and equipment. In the north the Japanese had tightened their grip on the western Aleutians and there was fear back home that an invasion of Alaska was imminent. Dutch Harbor was fast becoming the major forward American bastion of the Aleutians, though there were still too few troops there to resist a determined attack.
So far the recapture of Canton Island remained the lone bright spot of the war for the Americans. Amid fear and speculation about Japan’s next targets, demands were increasing upon the Navy to take the war to the Japanese and strike back. But the men at Pearl Harbor knew that while the Navy’s strength was increasing almost daily they were not yet ready to take on the seemingly unstoppable Japanese fleet.
Though the Japanese might force the issue by striking at a target that had to be defended, such as Australia, Alaska, or Fiji. Their armed forces, once the subject of jokes, now seemed to be capable of almost anything. They held the initiative, and no one seemed able to take it away from them.
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 6
Fuel: 525 (100%)
While Gridley and her crew rested the war continued outside the confines of Pearl Harbor. From the news that reached the destroyer’s men, it was not going well.
In the Pacific the Japanese were staying mostly quiet, though they were consolidating their hold upon the Gilberts, the Solomons, and New Guinea. But in the Dutch East Indies the Dutch were bracing for the blows that were certain to fall up Java and Sumatra now that Singapore had capitulated. British forces were in full retreat in Burma. The Japanese had already driven as far as Mandalay against almost no opposition as their foes sought to escape across the frontier into India. Japanese paratroops had captured Akyab in a daring raid and so far the Japanese had held against efforts to retake it by poorly led and poorly equipped Indian troops.
In China Japanese forces had inflicted a major defeat upon the Chinese in the north and were preparing to lay siege to the key city of Sian. Reports told of Chinese troops massing to make an attack in the south in an effort to relieve pressure on Sian but few thought they stood much chance against the invincible Japanese.
The forces of the United States were quiet. There were four carriers in Pearl Harbor. One of them, Saratoga, was undergoing refit. A fifth carrier, Hornet, was en route from the Atlantic. Several of the battleships damaged in the attacks three months ago had been patched up enough to make the journey to the mainland for repairs, though none of them were expected back in the war for at least six months. Efforts were underway to refloat West Virginia.
Steps were being taken to build up bases in the South Pacific, and places like Pago Pago and Vava’u were becoming well known to sailors as convoys called there carrying troops and equipment. In the north the Japanese had tightened their grip on the western Aleutians and there was fear back home that an invasion of Alaska was imminent. Dutch Harbor was fast becoming the major forward American bastion of the Aleutians, though there were still too few troops there to resist a determined attack.
So far the recapture of Canton Island remained the lone bright spot of the war for the Americans. Amid fear and speculation about Japan’s next targets, demands were increasing upon the Navy to take the war to the Japanese and strike back. But the men at Pearl Harbor knew that while the Navy’s strength was increasing almost daily they were not yet ready to take on the seemingly unstoppable Japanese fleet.
Though the Japanese might force the issue by striking at a target that had to be defended, such as Australia, Alaska, or Fiji. Their armed forces, once the subject of jokes, now seemed to be capable of almost anything. They held the initiative, and no one seemed able to take it away from them.
-
Cuttlefish
- Posts: 2454
- Joined: Wed Jan 24, 2007 5:03 am
- Location: Oregon, USA
RE: RE: March 4, 1942
March 4, 1942
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 4
Fuel: 525 (100%)
No one could have blamed Gridley’s medical officer, Dr. Albert Corwin, if he had been a bit bored. Corwin was a fully qualified surgeon, with a medical degree from the University of California San Francisco. A naval reservist, he had left his practice in the Bay Area and joined Gridley’s crew a couple of months before the outbreak of the war. So far, though, the bulk of his duties had consisted of treating seasickness, the common cold, and a few cases of venereal disease.
Corwin wasn’t bored, though. He wished he had more chance to practice his surgical skills. In fact he had taken to doing card tricks as a way to keep his fingers nimble. But he wasn’t bored.
The doctor took a keen interest in all facets of Gridley’s operation. He followed the installation of the new radars, stood watches with the officers, and wandered the ship talking to the men about their work. It fascinated him how all facets of the destroyer’s operation meshed together to produce a smoothly functioning warship.
He also spent some time pondering what might happen when his skills were needed. If Gridley was ever hit by enemy fire he might find himself suddenly confronted with a good many trauma cases, perhaps even dozens of them. He had two pharmacist’s mates. Both were capable men. But they could be overwhelmed by a rush of casualties.
In talking with his counterparts on other destroyers Corwin had heard of a program started on one or two of them to give some of the crew medical training, enough at least to triage a group of wounded men and keep the badly injured ones alive until a doctor could get to them. This struck Corwin as a profoundly good idea and he resolved to discuss the matter with Captain Stickney. A dozen men, ones with compassion, steadiness, and intelligence, might make a huge difference in a crisis.
With luck they would never be needed. But Dr. Corwin had already grasped that naval duty in wartime was composed of long periods of boredom and short intervals of action. The trick was to be ready for action when it came.
Aboard USS Gridley
Location: Pearl Harbor
Course: None
Attached to: Disbanded in port
Mission: None
Ship's Status: Sys damage 4
Fuel: 525 (100%)
No one could have blamed Gridley’s medical officer, Dr. Albert Corwin, if he had been a bit bored. Corwin was a fully qualified surgeon, with a medical degree from the University of California San Francisco. A naval reservist, he had left his practice in the Bay Area and joined Gridley’s crew a couple of months before the outbreak of the war. So far, though, the bulk of his duties had consisted of treating seasickness, the common cold, and a few cases of venereal disease.
Corwin wasn’t bored, though. He wished he had more chance to practice his surgical skills. In fact he had taken to doing card tricks as a way to keep his fingers nimble. But he wasn’t bored.
The doctor took a keen interest in all facets of Gridley’s operation. He followed the installation of the new radars, stood watches with the officers, and wandered the ship talking to the men about their work. It fascinated him how all facets of the destroyer’s operation meshed together to produce a smoothly functioning warship.
He also spent some time pondering what might happen when his skills were needed. If Gridley was ever hit by enemy fire he might find himself suddenly confronted with a good many trauma cases, perhaps even dozens of them. He had two pharmacist’s mates. Both were capable men. But they could be overwhelmed by a rush of casualties.
In talking with his counterparts on other destroyers Corwin had heard of a program started on one or two of them to give some of the crew medical training, enough at least to triage a group of wounded men and keep the badly injured ones alive until a doctor could get to them. This struck Corwin as a profoundly good idea and he resolved to discuss the matter with Captain Stickney. A dozen men, ones with compassion, steadiness, and intelligence, might make a huge difference in a crisis.
With luck they would never be needed. But Dr. Corwin had already grasped that naval duty in wartime was composed of long periods of boredom and short intervals of action. The trick was to be ready for action when it came.