The adage "be careful what you wish for" might apply here! Hal
The little ship that could.
Moderators: wdolson, MOD_War-in-the-Pacific-Admirals-Edition
RE: carrier Battle!
Hosho has new boots.
I fact, things have considerably changed, and changed for the better.
112th regiment, currently assigned to 25th army, is moving by train (a rattling collection of empty coal carts, flat bed trailers, and other carriages totally non passenger like) south ward through Burma towards Prome
Rumours, as usual, abound. Assignment to 15th Army, and a pending stiffening of defences of Akyab have filled the Officer briefings almost daily.
Hosho cannot give a stuff, to be frank. He has a full belly, and for once, the miles are flowing under his arse, not being conquered by his feet.
Right now the train has stopped, resting on a small siding nestled on a curve in the track.
The main line is on the outer side of the hill they are parked against, with a valley rather steeply sliding away below, to the jungle and river unseen.
It is a rather beautiful valley, green, vibrant, hills either side.
On their side, a steep embankment, fully twenty feet high, muddy, topped by more jungle. The sun is rather evilly reflecting of this bank, and many of the men have abandoned the train, seeking shade between the train itself, and the other track.
Hosho has refrained, he has a rather good position at the head of his carriage, a jury rigged platform, mounting a twin 25mm cannon.
There is shade enough here.
Another train is coming up the track, the third in this hour, another one full (he suspects) of those glum, dark Burmese troops. These are the troops who have relieved them. And not a man amongst his Company regrets that……not a man in the Imperial Army trusts these Burmese troops…….they are, well, they have no loyalty, no courage, no fighting spirit.
Garrison duty is good enough for them.
The train slowly clangs past, swaying violently even at this 20 mph pace.
Hosho yawns, reaches for his water bottle……..and in a continuous movement, is up and moving to the gun
He is not the only one to have heard it….”ACTION!, AIRCRAFT ALARM!”
There is no sound like it in the world, loved, hated. But so well known
The snarl of multiple merlins sweeping into the attack….
The twenty five mm is already manned –and Hosho moves behind, drawing his sword..how natural that act seemed, how, how meant to be it felt , and he points it, his keen eyes already picking out the three low shapes wheeling in .
The sound dies to a hum, as the hurricanes come straight in, wings twinkling. and the cannon opens fire : Crash CRASH<CRASH< CRASH , SNARLING< WHISTLING, the hurricanes blast over, fountains of dirt, smashing cannon fire, screams, dust, blood.
BUKA”s!
His gun swings uselessly, and Hosho is yelling, screaming at them, for another three fighter bombers are sweeping in, and this time two small bombs are falling,.explodig, throwing the engine of the thia train, up, and up, and over, and down, down into the valley, three carriages, so many sausages, following in a nightmare of destruction…….
Two more fighters are wheeling in, down there, down the valley, and his gunners are trying to reload, flinging, jamming the new ammo cases into the breeches, dragging at the cases holding the next.
These three are turning, turning, banking, opening the angles, ready to sweep the length of the trains, his trains, his men, with cannon fire, .
There is no escape, no where to hide, the embankment……….back wall for the firing squad, .
The snarl of the merlins rise to the scream, and no fire comes, for the Oscars, the eagles are there, the hurricanes jerk, fling hard away, racing overhead, the japanese birds hard on their tails…….
And silence, so abruptly shattered, returns.. Mostly.
Hosho looks down the length of his train, at the small bundles , once, moments ago, men, scattered down its length, at the burning, smoking remains of the engine.
A right royal mess
Hosho examines his boots. How many miles, he thinks, will they have to carry him now?
In Burma, Japans Armies are on the move. As are the allies. Overhead, determined to slow, or stop them, the allies send Huricanes, B-26/25’s
The Japanese, employing almost the entire bulk of its KI43 force, try to stop them.
Much, in the future months, depends on whether Hosho’s experience is a one off, or becomes the norm.
Zuiho is coming alive again. 1A, 1B boilers glow again, raising steam, establishing chemistry. The Port boiler room is almost presentable.
The starboard boilers are being washed out, freshly filled, tests complete. Tomorrow, Gods willing, they will be ready for a basin trial.
The Bearing spins in a chuck, in a gigantic Lathe on the repair ship.
It nears completion.
Tan watches the work, watches closely. He thinks about this lathe.
It represents much about the world, about this war, about how he got here.
It’s a british lathe, this lathe, manufactured in leeds, 1914. Probably helped build some of the british fleet they now fight. Post war, bought by a nation hungry for machines…………unable to build its own.
Tan has spent his years on the railways, helped the industrial revolution grow in Japan. How valuable these machines, unseen in those factories, had been.
And he has seen what happens when a voracious military takes them from you.
Tan watches the lathe work, the lathe operator. And he wonders, no, he knows, that across the ocean, his enemies, have thousands, and upon thousands more of these vital war cogs than Japan can dream of.
Herbiesan, again, contemplates his map.
In moments like this, the reality is hard to escape.
The Americans refuse to give up
The British pressure grows in Burma
Australia floats as a fortress.
Three fronts, opened, ostensively, to solve ‘the problem of China’
And now, dam it, that dragon is stirring again.
He looks up, views his Commander in Chief. “The offensive is approved. Let it be known, they broke the truce, not us. Take Wunchow”
I fact, things have considerably changed, and changed for the better.
112th regiment, currently assigned to 25th army, is moving by train (a rattling collection of empty coal carts, flat bed trailers, and other carriages totally non passenger like) south ward through Burma towards Prome
Rumours, as usual, abound. Assignment to 15th Army, and a pending stiffening of defences of Akyab have filled the Officer briefings almost daily.
Hosho cannot give a stuff, to be frank. He has a full belly, and for once, the miles are flowing under his arse, not being conquered by his feet.
Right now the train has stopped, resting on a small siding nestled on a curve in the track.
The main line is on the outer side of the hill they are parked against, with a valley rather steeply sliding away below, to the jungle and river unseen.
It is a rather beautiful valley, green, vibrant, hills either side.
On their side, a steep embankment, fully twenty feet high, muddy, topped by more jungle. The sun is rather evilly reflecting of this bank, and many of the men have abandoned the train, seeking shade between the train itself, and the other track.
Hosho has refrained, he has a rather good position at the head of his carriage, a jury rigged platform, mounting a twin 25mm cannon.
There is shade enough here.
Another train is coming up the track, the third in this hour, another one full (he suspects) of those glum, dark Burmese troops. These are the troops who have relieved them. And not a man amongst his Company regrets that……not a man in the Imperial Army trusts these Burmese troops…….they are, well, they have no loyalty, no courage, no fighting spirit.
Garrison duty is good enough for them.
The train slowly clangs past, swaying violently even at this 20 mph pace.
Hosho yawns, reaches for his water bottle……..and in a continuous movement, is up and moving to the gun
He is not the only one to have heard it….”ACTION!, AIRCRAFT ALARM!”
There is no sound like it in the world, loved, hated. But so well known
The snarl of multiple merlins sweeping into the attack….
The twenty five mm is already manned –and Hosho moves behind, drawing his sword..how natural that act seemed, how, how meant to be it felt , and he points it, his keen eyes already picking out the three low shapes wheeling in .
The sound dies to a hum, as the hurricanes come straight in, wings twinkling. and the cannon opens fire : Crash CRASH<CRASH< CRASH , SNARLING< WHISTLING, the hurricanes blast over, fountains of dirt, smashing cannon fire, screams, dust, blood.
BUKA”s!
His gun swings uselessly, and Hosho is yelling, screaming at them, for another three fighter bombers are sweeping in, and this time two small bombs are falling,.explodig, throwing the engine of the thia train, up, and up, and over, and down, down into the valley, three carriages, so many sausages, following in a nightmare of destruction…….
Two more fighters are wheeling in, down there, down the valley, and his gunners are trying to reload, flinging, jamming the new ammo cases into the breeches, dragging at the cases holding the next.
These three are turning, turning, banking, opening the angles, ready to sweep the length of the trains, his trains, his men, with cannon fire, .
There is no escape, no where to hide, the embankment……….back wall for the firing squad, .
The snarl of the merlins rise to the scream, and no fire comes, for the Oscars, the eagles are there, the hurricanes jerk, fling hard away, racing overhead, the japanese birds hard on their tails…….
And silence, so abruptly shattered, returns.. Mostly.
Hosho looks down the length of his train, at the small bundles , once, moments ago, men, scattered down its length, at the burning, smoking remains of the engine.
A right royal mess
Hosho examines his boots. How many miles, he thinks, will they have to carry him now?
In Burma, Japans Armies are on the move. As are the allies. Overhead, determined to slow, or stop them, the allies send Huricanes, B-26/25’s
The Japanese, employing almost the entire bulk of its KI43 force, try to stop them.
Much, in the future months, depends on whether Hosho’s experience is a one off, or becomes the norm.
Zuiho is coming alive again. 1A, 1B boilers glow again, raising steam, establishing chemistry. The Port boiler room is almost presentable.
The starboard boilers are being washed out, freshly filled, tests complete. Tomorrow, Gods willing, they will be ready for a basin trial.
The Bearing spins in a chuck, in a gigantic Lathe on the repair ship.
It nears completion.
Tan watches the work, watches closely. He thinks about this lathe.
It represents much about the world, about this war, about how he got here.
It’s a british lathe, this lathe, manufactured in leeds, 1914. Probably helped build some of the british fleet they now fight. Post war, bought by a nation hungry for machines…………unable to build its own.
Tan has spent his years on the railways, helped the industrial revolution grow in Japan. How valuable these machines, unseen in those factories, had been.
And he has seen what happens when a voracious military takes them from you.
Tan watches the lathe work, the lathe operator. And he wonders, no, he knows, that across the ocean, his enemies, have thousands, and upon thousands more of these vital war cogs than Japan can dream of.
Herbiesan, again, contemplates his map.
In moments like this, the reality is hard to escape.
The Americans refuse to give up
The British pressure grows in Burma
Australia floats as a fortress.
Three fronts, opened, ostensively, to solve ‘the problem of China’
And now, dam it, that dragon is stirring again.
He looks up, views his Commander in Chief. “The offensive is approved. Let it be known, they broke the truce, not us. Take Wunchow”
big seas, fast ships, life tastes better with salt
RE: carrier Battle!
It is late , very late in the evening of the 28th.
A small group of men are sitting in Tans cabin
Tan, the Charge, the CPO Chippie, the CPO Grennie, several of the petty officers.
In the background, if you listen very carefully, you can hear the steady sound of a Forced draft blower.
It signifies much, that sound.
After another frantic 24hours, it has all fallen together. Basin trial complete
Captains rounds, complete
All defects, complete
Tan ,( and here, at this moment, has conducted a very impressive evolution) has produced a crate of japans finest beer.
Zuiho sails for war again tomorrow.
Making these sweeter drinks all the more
Hidaka paces the hanger deck, closely inspecting the eagles. He takes them in, each one, lightly touching, peering, smelling that heady mix of oil, fuel, dope, paint.
The hanger is quiet today, his pilots ashore, the crews ashore as well, reward for another good effort.
There are footsteps behind him, and he turns.
Captain Kato joins him
Hidaka , for a moment, recalls another time, another captain, back then, in the early days.
He misses his friend
He stiffens, salutes. A week, and still he does not know this man, has been unable to penetrate the cold barrier he extrudes.
“Are you ready Hidaka?’
‘Yes. Yes, we are sir”
‘Good”. In one swift, practiced movement, as if putting on a well worn suit, he clambers up the zeros side, and settles into its cockpit.
Hidaka joins him, standing on the wing
Kato wobbles the stick, and Hidaka sees’ the easy movement, recognises that here too, is a flyer
Kato looks up “ I have examined our pilots list. Good men all I see”
‘yes, good men sir. A credit to the ship”
“Do you like them Hidaka?”
Like them?. A strange question. How to answer?
Answer truthfully
‘Yes I do sir. Some of them have seen many battles, done many things. “
Kato’s face hardens. The coldness touches his eyes.
“That is a mistake Hidaka. They are arrows, arrows in our quiver. Remember this. In battle, many arrows are shot. None are shot with intention for return”
Zuiho sleeps.
The work is done. She is clean. She is defect free. Fuel, so long awaited, now brims to the limits in her tanks.
In this great lagoon, darkness falls on the great shapes that float so serenely in the calm waters.
Tomorrow, Zuikaku, Shokaku, Hiryu, zuiho, four battle cruisers, 6 cruisers, and Yamato, that massive moving mountain, will cover the sailing of fourth division.
Hyuga, Fuso, accompany the transports.
In theory, nothing stands in the way.
Tarawa is the target.
In practice, every man who matters, the Admirals, the generals, think that this is a pointless exercise.
Sometimes war is very much about will.
There is little in it in the command of this fleet.
A small group of men are sitting in Tans cabin
Tan, the Charge, the CPO Chippie, the CPO Grennie, several of the petty officers.
In the background, if you listen very carefully, you can hear the steady sound of a Forced draft blower.
It signifies much, that sound.
After another frantic 24hours, it has all fallen together. Basin trial complete
Captains rounds, complete
All defects, complete
Tan ,( and here, at this moment, has conducted a very impressive evolution) has produced a crate of japans finest beer.
Zuiho sails for war again tomorrow.
Making these sweeter drinks all the more
Hidaka paces the hanger deck, closely inspecting the eagles. He takes them in, each one, lightly touching, peering, smelling that heady mix of oil, fuel, dope, paint.
The hanger is quiet today, his pilots ashore, the crews ashore as well, reward for another good effort.
There are footsteps behind him, and he turns.
Captain Kato joins him
Hidaka , for a moment, recalls another time, another captain, back then, in the early days.
He misses his friend
He stiffens, salutes. A week, and still he does not know this man, has been unable to penetrate the cold barrier he extrudes.
“Are you ready Hidaka?’
‘Yes. Yes, we are sir”
‘Good”. In one swift, practiced movement, as if putting on a well worn suit, he clambers up the zeros side, and settles into its cockpit.
Hidaka joins him, standing on the wing
Kato wobbles the stick, and Hidaka sees’ the easy movement, recognises that here too, is a flyer
Kato looks up “ I have examined our pilots list. Good men all I see”
‘yes, good men sir. A credit to the ship”
“Do you like them Hidaka?”
Like them?. A strange question. How to answer?
Answer truthfully
‘Yes I do sir. Some of them have seen many battles, done many things. “
Kato’s face hardens. The coldness touches his eyes.
“That is a mistake Hidaka. They are arrows, arrows in our quiver. Remember this. In battle, many arrows are shot. None are shot with intention for return”
Zuiho sleeps.
The work is done. She is clean. She is defect free. Fuel, so long awaited, now brims to the limits in her tanks.
In this great lagoon, darkness falls on the great shapes that float so serenely in the calm waters.
Tomorrow, Zuikaku, Shokaku, Hiryu, zuiho, four battle cruisers, 6 cruisers, and Yamato, that massive moving mountain, will cover the sailing of fourth division.
Hyuga, Fuso, accompany the transports.
In theory, nothing stands in the way.
Tarawa is the target.
In practice, every man who matters, the Admirals, the generals, think that this is a pointless exercise.
Sometimes war is very much about will.
There is little in it in the command of this fleet.
big seas, fast ships, life tastes better with salt
RE: carrier Battle!
0800 hrs
“Ship is ready for sea sir”
‘very good, standby to release lines”
Throughout Zuiho, the miracle has occurred again
Below, the steaming watch has begun at midnight, raising pressure in all 4 boilers.
They have connected by 0400 hours, and Tan has observed the Charge test main engines by 0500.
Her diesel generators have been tested, her fuel tanks topped up.
Her fire main is pressurised.
To a man, 150 odd men have attended to their duty.
None are late, nor is the department.
Routine
From midnight, 30 odd men have attended to the feeding of 850 plus. Food has been brought up from stores deep below, prepared, served, eaten. The waste removed, the bowls washed, the galley scrubbed, and secured for action.
The next meal already being prepared
Routine
The ships boats are slung out. The anchor is prepared, the gangway to the Repair ship removed. Her ropes, her mast rigged and ready. Men stand at the ready with fenders lowered, protection against the AR’s rough side.
A dozen men, or more, man the lookouts. More man the helm, the bridge, the telegraphs.
Many men
All ready, none missing.
Routine
Nine fighters sit on the aft flight deck, fuelled, armed, chocked. Many men have laboured since before dawn preparing them, performing a thousand intricate and delicate tasks to ensure that these eagles can safely take to the skies.
All ready
Routine
Her guns are manned, ammunition at the breech, in the lockers, guns free, and functional. Directors manned.
More men.
All ready
routine
Her comms men wait at the flags, are at work in the radio shack, sit by the searchlights. Her mediscs, her storemen, the supply branch, the coxswains.
850 men. All, as routine, have done their duty today.
And the XO salutes Kato as he reports
But not in a million years would he ever say “Zuiho’s MEN, have got her ready for sea sir”
History records ships, and Captains
And this, I suppose, is routine too.
Yamaguchi leads them out in line ahead through the North Gap promptly at 0900 hours
At 1000 hours, the formation assumes the standard Japanese circular formation, carriers in the centre, battleships on the flanks, destroyers on the horizon almost on the outer
Heavy cruisers Tone, Chikuma race ahead to the very horizon, advance pickets.
At 1100 hours, clear of the submarine threat (hopefully), the fleet settles down to 15 knots, and ponderously turns due east.
The seas are white horse capped, choppy, the wind brisk. Periscopes will be hard to spot.
Truk falls behind, Zuiho falls out from action stations, assumes the routine of defence watches again.
Once again, she goes to war.
Kato turns to his Officer of the Watch
‘The ship is yours, I will be in my cabin”
He stops for a moment…..and points to the chair on the stbd side of the bridge, the chair he has been walking around all morning.
Hasegawa’s old perch
“have this removed at once, there will be no sitting on this bridge”
As cabins go, it is good enough.
He moves to the bunk, small, narrow, too hard. Sits on it.
So far, so good Kato. He has gotten away, with no incidents. A pig to handle –as they warned him. And the bridge: the visibility!!!!!!
The crew appear good, polished. A testament to Hasegawa then.
He lies down on the bunk.
Zuiho is going to war. And Kato is no fool. Sleep is bankable. And when action comes –as it must, he must be ready.
And he must show he trusts the OOW .
He closes his eyes
At least she rides better than a destroyer. And then , as most old campaigners can attest, it is an easy matter to fall instantly asleep.
“Ship is ready for sea sir”
‘very good, standby to release lines”
Throughout Zuiho, the miracle has occurred again
Below, the steaming watch has begun at midnight, raising pressure in all 4 boilers.
They have connected by 0400 hours, and Tan has observed the Charge test main engines by 0500.
Her diesel generators have been tested, her fuel tanks topped up.
Her fire main is pressurised.
To a man, 150 odd men have attended to their duty.
None are late, nor is the department.
Routine
From midnight, 30 odd men have attended to the feeding of 850 plus. Food has been brought up from stores deep below, prepared, served, eaten. The waste removed, the bowls washed, the galley scrubbed, and secured for action.
The next meal already being prepared
Routine
The ships boats are slung out. The anchor is prepared, the gangway to the Repair ship removed. Her ropes, her mast rigged and ready. Men stand at the ready with fenders lowered, protection against the AR’s rough side.
A dozen men, or more, man the lookouts. More man the helm, the bridge, the telegraphs.
Many men
All ready, none missing.
Routine
Nine fighters sit on the aft flight deck, fuelled, armed, chocked. Many men have laboured since before dawn preparing them, performing a thousand intricate and delicate tasks to ensure that these eagles can safely take to the skies.
All ready
Routine
Her guns are manned, ammunition at the breech, in the lockers, guns free, and functional. Directors manned.
More men.
All ready
routine
Her comms men wait at the flags, are at work in the radio shack, sit by the searchlights. Her mediscs, her storemen, the supply branch, the coxswains.
850 men. All, as routine, have done their duty today.
And the XO salutes Kato as he reports
But not in a million years would he ever say “Zuiho’s MEN, have got her ready for sea sir”
History records ships, and Captains
And this, I suppose, is routine too.
Yamaguchi leads them out in line ahead through the North Gap promptly at 0900 hours
At 1000 hours, the formation assumes the standard Japanese circular formation, carriers in the centre, battleships on the flanks, destroyers on the horizon almost on the outer
Heavy cruisers Tone, Chikuma race ahead to the very horizon, advance pickets.
At 1100 hours, clear of the submarine threat (hopefully), the fleet settles down to 15 knots, and ponderously turns due east.
The seas are white horse capped, choppy, the wind brisk. Periscopes will be hard to spot.
Truk falls behind, Zuiho falls out from action stations, assumes the routine of defence watches again.
Once again, she goes to war.
Kato turns to his Officer of the Watch
‘The ship is yours, I will be in my cabin”
He stops for a moment…..and points to the chair on the stbd side of the bridge, the chair he has been walking around all morning.
Hasegawa’s old perch
“have this removed at once, there will be no sitting on this bridge”
As cabins go, it is good enough.
He moves to the bunk, small, narrow, too hard. Sits on it.
So far, so good Kato. He has gotten away, with no incidents. A pig to handle –as they warned him. And the bridge: the visibility!!!!!!
The crew appear good, polished. A testament to Hasegawa then.
He lies down on the bunk.
Zuiho is going to war. And Kato is no fool. Sleep is bankable. And when action comes –as it must, he must be ready.
And he must show he trusts the OOW .
He closes his eyes
At least she rides better than a destroyer. And then , as most old campaigners can attest, it is an easy matter to fall instantly asleep.
big seas, fast ships, life tastes better with salt
ouch
No posts for a couple of days -me and my bicycle lost an argument with a car....................
1/10/42...(we have jumped 2 days of nothing)
A quiet 24hrs
Another one of those days that history will not remark upon
..........japanes fleet steamed due east for twenty four hours, arriving in the marshall islands midnight............
Another twenty four hours however with little rest, and much tension.
Three times today, the great silver liberators appear briefly on the horizon, three times they scuttle away before the CAP can intercept.
It is galling, and very frustrating.
At one stage, enemy radio intercepts leave little doubt that the whole world knows where they are........."from Milli......is any barsted covering us, the whole godam Nip navy is coming our way......"
But orders are orders.
Yamaguchi turns the fleet south, increases to full speed.
The heavy ships detach. Action must come at dawn
1/10/42...(we have jumped 2 days of nothing)
A quiet 24hrs
Another one of those days that history will not remark upon
..........japanes fleet steamed due east for twenty four hours, arriving in the marshall islands midnight............
Another twenty four hours however with little rest, and much tension.
Three times today, the great silver liberators appear briefly on the horizon, three times they scuttle away before the CAP can intercept.
It is galling, and very frustrating.
At one stage, enemy radio intercepts leave little doubt that the whole world knows where they are........."from Milli......is any barsted covering us, the whole godam Nip navy is coming our way......"
But orders are orders.
Yamaguchi turns the fleet south, increases to full speed.
The heavy ships detach. Action must come at dawn
big seas, fast ships, life tastes better with salt
RE: ouch
it is when he gives a false name and address.....grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
I am a bit sore yes
For us, there is (or was) the space shuttle. Or a formula one car leaving the starting line. Or the blue Angels streaking across the sky as the super bowl approaches its start.
Great sights. Magnificent sights. Machinery that actually can stir mens hearts.
But we are not unique. Always, since man bolted two pieces of copper together, he has made magnificent things
Yamaguichi stands on his bridge wing, and views a sight that matches the shuttle in every way.
Battleship Yamato, battleships Hiei, Haranua, Kongo, Kirishima, turn together, breaking away from the fleet.
Great bows cream the darkening ocean, and greater barrels swing too, as the great guns test machinery, drill a last time.
Huge white wakes kick from the sterns as the squadron heads for the horizon, and a date against Mili’s guns.
It is a sight, that if you close your eyes, you might just imagine
And don’t you wish, just once or twice, that there was a chance to see such a sight again?
I am a bit sore yes
For us, there is (or was) the space shuttle. Or a formula one car leaving the starting line. Or the blue Angels streaking across the sky as the super bowl approaches its start.
Great sights. Magnificent sights. Machinery that actually can stir mens hearts.
But we are not unique. Always, since man bolted two pieces of copper together, he has made magnificent things
Yamaguichi stands on his bridge wing, and views a sight that matches the shuttle in every way.
Battleship Yamato, battleships Hiei, Haranua, Kongo, Kirishima, turn together, breaking away from the fleet.
Great bows cream the darkening ocean, and greater barrels swing too, as the great guns test machinery, drill a last time.
Huge white wakes kick from the sterns as the squadron heads for the horizon, and a date against Mili’s guns.
It is a sight, that if you close your eyes, you might just imagine
And don’t you wish, just once or twice, that there was a chance to see such a sight again?
big seas, fast ships, life tastes better with salt
RE: ouch
Hey, take it easy. Help yourself to an extra "beverage" (medicinal only) and get well.
Haven't been clipped in a long time, but I still have the "cheese grater" on my legs from the contact, so understand exactly what you're going through. Take Care. Heal up.
Haven't been clipped in a long time, but I still have the "cheese grater" on my legs from the contact, so understand exactly what you're going through. Take Care. Heal up.
Pax
RE: ouch
2/10/42
It is time to bring the sword from its sheath again.
It is hard, this sword now, forged in the furnace of combat, hardened by the shock of battle and blood.
On Zuiho, it is very, very sharp indeed, and its blade is bright.
They gather in the ready room, in the narrow passage outside, necks craning to hear what Hidaka has to say.
‘Airfield strike men, Mili. The battleships should have worked it over. Finish the job. Take off 0500, course to target, 170 degrees, range at launch, 200 miles.”
That is all that is needed to be said.
What once took days of planning, deliberation, discussion………..distilled by experience to what war is truly about.
Essentials
Diogawa and Ogawa stand side by side during this briefest of briefs. As they turn away, begin to gather their things, Diogawa places one hand on Ogawa’s shoulder, gives it a squeeze.
It is enough this squeeze. I will be with you, wingman. I will follow you what may come.
Okura mechanically does his duty, checks his kate a final time. Nods in acknowledgement to his crew, and waits until the have boarded before climbing into the cockpit himself.
It is getting tattered this cockpit, more aluminum than paint now. But every inch is home.
And then to work, throttle set, mixture set, magneto’s on. Check controls yet again, check the deck crew.
The great blade hesitates, kicks, explodes into life, and home becomes the vibrating office
Okura smiles. It will be good to be aloft again
Captain Kato stands on the edge of the flight deck, observing closely his flight deck operations
All is good. Hidaka is as good as his reputation. The deck crews efficient., he takes in the smell, the sound, the vibrations. No finer sight, than a deck packed , waiting to launch.. he turns, calls down to the waiting seaman below. ‘tell the OOW, bring her into the wind , full ahead all”
‘Hie!’
Flags fall. Lights flash. A bell rings. Men scatter from the wheels of each growling beast, and then, one by one, they barrel down the deck, take to the growing dawn, and join the growing formation overhead.
Mili
‘Cease fire”
Silence, stunning silence. Throughout her great length, many ears will continue to ring for hours to come.
Yamato’s great cannons fall silent , the paint cracked and blackened around the gaping mouths of the barrels.
At 8000 yards, she has opened fire, taking down a helpless transport in literally the first salvo. Then, at a mere 3000 yards, she has marched her fire back and forth across the atoll.
Her fire, and that of her companions, has literally altered its shape, cratering it, blasting it, sweeping everything upon it into oblivion..
For the 5th marine regiment, it is a dawn that will remain in memory forever.
Yamaguchi’s strike will have pitifully little to finish off.
Yamaguchi listens to the strike.
Opposition………nil.
Flak……..non existant
“target obscured by many fires…..bombing good. Target neutralized”
Good. Very good. But what now? Does he invade, or do we move to the next island in the chain?. He will need to see the battle wagon expenditures first.
He turns to Zuikaku’s captain. “Let me know when we begin recovery operations, I will take breakfast now”
But breakfast will be delayed.
With a sickening thud, the submarine torpedo strikes…………………
It is time to bring the sword from its sheath again.
It is hard, this sword now, forged in the furnace of combat, hardened by the shock of battle and blood.
On Zuiho, it is very, very sharp indeed, and its blade is bright.
They gather in the ready room, in the narrow passage outside, necks craning to hear what Hidaka has to say.
‘Airfield strike men, Mili. The battleships should have worked it over. Finish the job. Take off 0500, course to target, 170 degrees, range at launch, 200 miles.”
That is all that is needed to be said.
What once took days of planning, deliberation, discussion………..distilled by experience to what war is truly about.
Essentials
Diogawa and Ogawa stand side by side during this briefest of briefs. As they turn away, begin to gather their things, Diogawa places one hand on Ogawa’s shoulder, gives it a squeeze.
It is enough this squeeze. I will be with you, wingman. I will follow you what may come.
Okura mechanically does his duty, checks his kate a final time. Nods in acknowledgement to his crew, and waits until the have boarded before climbing into the cockpit himself.
It is getting tattered this cockpit, more aluminum than paint now. But every inch is home.
And then to work, throttle set, mixture set, magneto’s on. Check controls yet again, check the deck crew.
The great blade hesitates, kicks, explodes into life, and home becomes the vibrating office
Okura smiles. It will be good to be aloft again
Captain Kato stands on the edge of the flight deck, observing closely his flight deck operations
All is good. Hidaka is as good as his reputation. The deck crews efficient., he takes in the smell, the sound, the vibrations. No finer sight, than a deck packed , waiting to launch.. he turns, calls down to the waiting seaman below. ‘tell the OOW, bring her into the wind , full ahead all”
‘Hie!’
Flags fall. Lights flash. A bell rings. Men scatter from the wheels of each growling beast, and then, one by one, they barrel down the deck, take to the growing dawn, and join the growing formation overhead.
Mili
‘Cease fire”
Silence, stunning silence. Throughout her great length, many ears will continue to ring for hours to come.
Yamato’s great cannons fall silent , the paint cracked and blackened around the gaping mouths of the barrels.
At 8000 yards, she has opened fire, taking down a helpless transport in literally the first salvo. Then, at a mere 3000 yards, she has marched her fire back and forth across the atoll.
Her fire, and that of her companions, has literally altered its shape, cratering it, blasting it, sweeping everything upon it into oblivion..
For the 5th marine regiment, it is a dawn that will remain in memory forever.
Yamaguchi’s strike will have pitifully little to finish off.
Yamaguchi listens to the strike.
Opposition………nil.
Flak……..non existant
“target obscured by many fires…..bombing good. Target neutralized”
Good. Very good. But what now? Does he invade, or do we move to the next island in the chain?. He will need to see the battle wagon expenditures first.
He turns to Zuikaku’s captain. “Let me know when we begin recovery operations, I will take breakfast now”
But breakfast will be delayed.
With a sickening thud, the submarine torpedo strikes…………………
big seas, fast ships, life tastes better with salt
RE: ouch
perhaps just a thud as it is heard on the bridge from some distance across the water? Would spoil breakfast but not the AAR....
RE: ouch
Thanks guys for interest, and patience, I have had a few issues here...........all sorted now.
War can continue..........
There is actually, little drama in the strike, no towering column of water, no heart wrenching explosion, just a tremendous shake through out the length and breadth of the carrier.
Then, for a stunned moment or two, all seems well. The seas remain blue, the escorts steam alongside as normal. Speed remains the same, a zero actually propels itself down the great length of deck.
Up forward, on the starboard flank, some of the light gun crews stare curiously over the side, pointing at the expanding mass of white water……….evidence of the strike. There is, on the bridge, a minute, that minute , where mens hearts always wish for the best in the face of disaster, that it appears this strike has done little harm.
That minute passes, and then slowly, but definitely, the inclination lever begins to move, and Zuikaku begins to heel, one degree, another, another. Three degrees. Not much really, in the scheme of things.
But a great distance on a carrier.
The damage reports begin to arrive. They take time, these reports, and many, at first, are contrary, confusing, or obviously wrong.
Yamaguchi struggles to control his temper, fighting the urge to go and look himself………..to see what the bloody hell is happening down there.
But he cannot. That is unthinkable. Instead, he must remain rooted on this bridge, appear calm, appear in control, as if the now definite trim forward as well is nothing to be concerned about………
“message from invasion fleet sir”
It startles him………his mind down below, trying to figure out why the list, why the trim………
‘Have been struck by enemy SS attack. One transport sunk. One BB hit by duds. Three SS attacked by escorts in last hour”
maybe the SS reports are exaggerated. Maybe even wrong. But……….
This whole operation is a turd Yamaguchi…….how did you allow Army to put this on your plate?
Zuikaku’s list falls over another degree…………another degree and his deck is closed.
And then a terrible thought. Another hit…………might be fatal
He turns to his communications Officer .”make signal to all ships. Operation cancelled. Recover strike, then all ships shall return to Truk”
“Captain, what in the hell do you think the Buka busted?”
Zuikaku’s Captain looks up………he is deep in conversation with the Engineer, ships drawings spread between them…….’Too truking much sir……….a real mess”
It has struck deep this fish, cracking fuel tanks, a feed tank, and flooding a great many store rooms, an auxiliary pump room. 5000 tons of water is onboard…….2000 tons of fuel and feed lost.
And 50 % of her Aviation fuel….lost because of those drowned pumps.
Zuikaku will need a month in dock, if she makes one.
Kato lowers his glasses. Return to Truk?
Why? Mili lies shattered, his pilots tell him it’s a crater. And they return?
Damnation………has everyone suddenly gone soft? Convinced the war is won, now no longer to risk anything?
Galling.
But orders are orders.
Zuiho heels, follows his flagship due west again for home.
Okura wearily climbs from his kate. He signs the maintenance log from his crew chief, removes his helmet. His crew follow, and he gives a short bow. “Thankyou for your work men. The bombing was good. Now get some food, I expect we have more work ahead”
He moves to the ladder leading down, takes it, enters via the walkway…the balcony., the ready room. He needs a drink, a wash….then….well then, let us let fate take us where she will ney?.
There is a great shout, breaking him from his inner thought……….’Okura!!!!……and then he see’s the small cake, and Hidaka is there grinning, a bottle of scotch, red ribbon wrapped in his hand. . “Well done Okura……..100 missions in a Kate……….
War can continue..........
There is actually, little drama in the strike, no towering column of water, no heart wrenching explosion, just a tremendous shake through out the length and breadth of the carrier.
Then, for a stunned moment or two, all seems well. The seas remain blue, the escorts steam alongside as normal. Speed remains the same, a zero actually propels itself down the great length of deck.
Up forward, on the starboard flank, some of the light gun crews stare curiously over the side, pointing at the expanding mass of white water……….evidence of the strike. There is, on the bridge, a minute, that minute , where mens hearts always wish for the best in the face of disaster, that it appears this strike has done little harm.
That minute passes, and then slowly, but definitely, the inclination lever begins to move, and Zuikaku begins to heel, one degree, another, another. Three degrees. Not much really, in the scheme of things.
But a great distance on a carrier.
The damage reports begin to arrive. They take time, these reports, and many, at first, are contrary, confusing, or obviously wrong.
Yamaguchi struggles to control his temper, fighting the urge to go and look himself………..to see what the bloody hell is happening down there.
But he cannot. That is unthinkable. Instead, he must remain rooted on this bridge, appear calm, appear in control, as if the now definite trim forward as well is nothing to be concerned about………
“message from invasion fleet sir”
It startles him………his mind down below, trying to figure out why the list, why the trim………
‘Have been struck by enemy SS attack. One transport sunk. One BB hit by duds. Three SS attacked by escorts in last hour”
maybe the SS reports are exaggerated. Maybe even wrong. But……….
This whole operation is a turd Yamaguchi…….how did you allow Army to put this on your plate?
Zuikaku’s list falls over another degree…………another degree and his deck is closed.
And then a terrible thought. Another hit…………might be fatal
He turns to his communications Officer .”make signal to all ships. Operation cancelled. Recover strike, then all ships shall return to Truk”
“Captain, what in the hell do you think the Buka busted?”
Zuikaku’s Captain looks up………he is deep in conversation with the Engineer, ships drawings spread between them…….’Too truking much sir……….a real mess”
It has struck deep this fish, cracking fuel tanks, a feed tank, and flooding a great many store rooms, an auxiliary pump room. 5000 tons of water is onboard…….2000 tons of fuel and feed lost.
And 50 % of her Aviation fuel….lost because of those drowned pumps.
Zuikaku will need a month in dock, if she makes one.
Kato lowers his glasses. Return to Truk?
Why? Mili lies shattered, his pilots tell him it’s a crater. And they return?
Damnation………has everyone suddenly gone soft? Convinced the war is won, now no longer to risk anything?
Galling.
But orders are orders.
Zuiho heels, follows his flagship due west again for home.
Okura wearily climbs from his kate. He signs the maintenance log from his crew chief, removes his helmet. His crew follow, and he gives a short bow. “Thankyou for your work men. The bombing was good. Now get some food, I expect we have more work ahead”
He moves to the ladder leading down, takes it, enters via the walkway…the balcony., the ready room. He needs a drink, a wash….then….well then, let us let fate take us where she will ney?.
There is a great shout, breaking him from his inner thought……….’Okura!!!!……and then he see’s the small cake, and Hidaka is there grinning, a bottle of scotch, red ribbon wrapped in his hand. . “Well done Okura……..100 missions in a Kate……….
big seas, fast ships, life tastes better with salt
RE: ouch
ORIGINAL: 1275psi
it is when he gives a false name and address.....grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
I am a bit sore yes
For us, there is (or was) the space shuttle. Or a formula one car leaving the starting line. Or the blue Angels streaking across the sky as the super bowl approaches its start.
Great sights. Magnificent sights. Machinery that actually can stir mens hearts.
But we are not unique. Always, since man bolted two pieces of copper together, he has made magnificent things
Yamaguichi stands on his bridge wing, and views a sight that matches the shuttle in every way.
Battleship Yamato, battleships Hiei, Haranua, Kongo, Kirishima, turn together, breaking away from the fleet.
Great bows cream the darkening ocean, and greater barrels swing too, as the great guns test machinery, drill a last time.
Huge white wakes kick from the sterns as the squadron heads for the horizon, and a date against Mili’s guns.
It is a sight, that if you close your eyes, you might just imagine
And don’t you wish, just once or twice, that there was a chance to see such a sight again?
I bicycle to the university when it isn't raining. UK drivers, especially white van drivers, tend to treat bicyclists as vermin, so I get hit from time to time. BUT, I carry a camera. Comes in useful.
I've seen a shuttle launch. Same feeling.
Harry Erwin
"For a number to make sense in the game, someone has to calibrate it and program code. There are too many significant numbers that behave non-linearly to expect that. It's just a game. Enjoy it." herwin@btinternet.com
"For a number to make sense in the game, someone has to calibrate it and program code. There are too many significant numbers that behave non-linearly to expect that. It's just a game. Enjoy it." herwin@btinternet.com